Circuit Training 100: The Gifted Tony Law

And here we are. After thinking long and hard (not that long, not that hard) about what on earth to do for Circuit Training's century, an idea emerged fully-formed. We'd already been planning to talk to the uniquely charismatic Canadian Tony Law about his upcoming Leicester Square Theatre run (and his tumultuous couple of years), when it was suggested from Tone's end that we all go dog-walking with his massive hound, Wolfy. Perfect!

Unfortunately, that fell through - our fault - so we ended up meeting at a local café, sans dog. Shame. Still, it being CT 100, there were at least presents. Law now lives somewhere around Islington which is charity shop heaven, so Circuit Training pitched up early and spent a whole fiver in Sue Ryder getting a trio of potential gifts together, for Tone to pick from. We'll reveal his selection later.

If you need the lowdown on Law, he's the hairy Alberta farmboy who gained a loyal following with his time-traveling flights of fancy then got proper famous a few years back, then had a breakdown, but is now sober, lots healthier and actively planning to "push the rock back up the mountain" career-wise, starting with this latest show, A Law Undo His-elf What Welcome. Clearly he hasn't morphed into John Bishop just yet.

CT was planning to broach the breakdown business much later on in truth, but - fitter, happier, more productive - Tony barrelled straight into it. We'd actually started off chatting about the other rock he's into...

Aren't you a fan of The Who? I remember that cropped up in one of your shows.

It did, in a couple of shows in a row actually. That's interesting. It hasn't since.

Was it a Who phase?

No, I've just been going back to everything I was into as a kid. Kind of like a journey: I was pushing the rock up a hill for a long time, then as soon as the rock got near the top and was about to go over - things were going really well - then I let the rock slip. So The Who was an inspiration to keep going. Something like that.

Your career did hit a peak a couple of years ago, fame-wise...

Then I let the rock roll right to the bottom, and now I'm pushing it back up. I'm a new ambitious guy, I'm going to the top! I've been making all these bad moves, like phoning people I know who now work at the BBC and going 'Hey, I'm sober now! Can you put me on a show?'

The live following is still healthy - you're an absolute institution in Edinburgh.

Yeah, I get everyone from 12 to about 90, I get these old geezers in. I remember there was one, three rows back in the middle, three years ago at The Stand [in Edinburgh], every day it was the 90 Year-Old Man Chair. For three days, and in the same seat.

That's odd, they usually sit on the end of the row, in case of emergency.

I'm worried that I lost a bit of audience in 2015, when I was wearing a horse's head: I was having my breakdown very openly, and I knew that at the end of the run I was gonna get this sorted.

The only time I've seen your stuff not work was at a new material show years ago, which was interesting - you always make it look so off the cuff.

Yeah, there's more goes into it. In order to be able to riff and have those magic moments I have to have something to hang it on.

So it needs to be well-honed for you to get into the Tone Zone?

Definitely. And if it is, then you don't even need to go back to it: sometimes I skip out entire bits of the show. My wife gets furious. But I had a bit about my trampolining career that started off as just a very short bit about, like, depression - some really obvious metaphor - and now it's this really epic thing.

Only four times at the [Edinburgh] Fringe this year I achieved that perfect thing, people crying and in actual hysterics, but I couldn't figure out why; it was such a puzzle, just beautiful. The other gigs were really good, but I want to get to where people are not just laughing, but going 'what was THAT?'

I'd be careful, you may kill someone - that 90 year-old guy...

That's true! But it's like that Led Zeppelin thing, 'you gotta be tight to be loose.' Like on panel shows, you've gotta go bing! Bang! That's why I liked [Never Mind the] Buzzcocks, because there's no prep - 'no, don't do any prep, it doesn't look good' - the other ones apparently have lots of prep.

How about Have I Got News For You, which you've also done?

No, none, just reading the papers. There are some specific things like 'this picture's gonna come up' but the rest of it, I absolutely adored it. The first time I was on, I spent most of it just doing this [looks around, slightly awestruck], with a big smile. And I'll always see Hislop - because I'm always with Merton - Hislop's always looking at me, just smiling, because he can see I'm just a big kid going 'this is awesome!'

One time, I didn't get as much in when Jeremy Clarkson was the host, he blocked me a bit, but the edit looked good. And another one, I felt like I was just the funniest person on earth for two hours, then the edit was less. So it's interesting. Mock The Week won't even look at me! Maybe I'm too surreal.

The newer comics must get panel game training I reckon - keep it short and easy to edit. A nutribullet of material.

Yeah, whereas I like a more artisticky, free-flowing style. But I'm actively trying to get where these young guns are: I'll sit down and try to craft a joke. And you know, one day I'll get there.

What sort of stuff were you doing when you started? I don't know much about your backstory.

So I grew up on a farm, and spent a lot of time in Trinidad and Tobago because my mum's from there, then went traveling round Europe in 1990, left home at 18, used London as a base for four years, came back full time in '94, not qualified to do anything, but also no confidence to take any chances doing anything. So I was working in bars, selling paintings door to door - they turned out to be copies. I worked for the Royal Parks...

How did comedy happen?

A pub I was working at in Chiswick, Lenny Henry's brother was in there, and he said 'you're funny, you should do a gig.' So I got hammered and did a gig, and I thought 'well, that'll do, what happens now? The TV come and put you on it?' I was terrible at it really - I tried to do what I thought you were supposed to do. I'd talk about Canada a lot.

I can't imagine you doing normal stand-up.

I wasn't being myself, that's for sure. At some point I thought, ah, fuck it - I think it was after seeing Simon Munnery and The Mighty Boosh and thinking 'Oh right, they can do stand up like that? Well, I'll just say whatever's in my head.' But I never had the confidence or the self-esteem, and I was always battling drink. From being a sober person, it went south, regretfully, but now I'm back again.

The first full show I saw of yours was in Edinburgh, in that tiny Stand venue at midday, where you were wearing a skin-tight onesie.

The first relaunch! The first gig of that run, I had one person in who'd paid, two reviewers, two journalists, and two mates. By the end it was selling out, and the next year it sold out, so they had to move me to halfway through the run down to Stand One.

You got nominated for the big award in 2012, and I remember suddenly random people down south were talking about you too.

Yeah it was starting to roll!

Did you have lots of TV meetings?

They sort of did happen, but success came at the wrong time, it was panic, the farm boy caught up with me. But yeah, what can you do [on TV] with that sort of show I do? I think it's really a live thing. But I'm continually cooking up ideas, and it might end up that what I do is not related to the stand up

Who knows where TV comedy will be in a few years. BBC Three is already online: surreal ramblings might be the way forward.

I'll end up doing a BBC Four show. Mark Steel does that thing, traveling around, talking about a place. I'd do one, traveling round the UK but making it all up, then sell it back to Canada and the States: 'You can never enter this part of town because ISIS control it...' Make up these horrific stories about Britain.

Did you mess up any particular opportunities while you were drinking?

Nah, it was kinda nebulous, more the simple things, not being at your best - but I don't let too many regrets come in. You can't look back. I've already done all that with therapy.

You clearly didn't mess everything up - the family and dog all sound pretty intact?

On the one hand, I held it together - if there was an award ceremony for the person who showed the most internal strength to hang on with some semblance of normality, I would totally win that. I had too much pride. But now it feels like I'm going out on the pitch with no injuries.

So how's it been going, doing the stand up as a less messed-up person, with no booze?

The stand-up comes out more mental. Now I realise it's a therapeutic thing for myself and people who like it, so I give it more respect. I think, well, this is my medicine, and you've got to give people the best mental you can.

Have you seen newer comics who are influenced by you?

I haven't, but I've heard from friends, and I really like that - I hope they're taking the right parts of it!

I can imagine young comics seeing you and thinking 'damn, I can't do regular stand-up now...'

I guess I got it in my mind that you're supposed to be as different from the next guy as you could, and it kind of became a mantra, I just thought that I have to make everything as unique as possible. Really, that's me playing to the other acts [on the bill] - if I make them laugh I must be doing something right. But they're at the back thinking 'well, he's no threat to us...'

I get the impression that comics only really enjoy watching other comics who are really pushing the envelope...

I remember Sean Lock saying 'I'm tired of getting laughs from the back only.' Well, I'm tired of getting laughs from the back only too! But thanks to the internet, and people running their own gigs, the back is getting bigger.

And on that note we head into...

The CT 100 Islington Thrift Store Gift Selection

So, there are three books for Tony to choose from:

Filthy English: The How, Why, When and What of Everyday Swearing, by Peter Silverton
(Yep, it's a book about swearing. The contents page is absolutely sensational)

"I won't take that one because there's a guy in Manchester doing an hour show about swearing, so I'll go to that instead of taking that."

The Corbyn Colouring Book, by James Nunn
(Typical that you'd find this in Corbyn's hood. It's entirely plausible that Jezza donated it)

"Oh no, I might reveal too much of myself with that one: 'No nuclear deterrent? Come on buddy!' Actually this looks quite funny though. Is there a picture of Stalin?"

Holidays on Ice, by David Sedaris
(Six festive tales, from the fine American wit)

"Right, I'm gonna get this, and read them all, and two or three years down the line some of that will fall into my show and I'll think it was my own."

Sedaris it is. Time for Tone to ramble off then; well, actually we head outside to take a few photos, where he announces off-microphone that (a) he once had a potential project on the go with a very famous British comedy actor, which may be rekindled if that fellah's other projects inexplicably dry up. Fingers crossed, eh?

And (b) he has a more concrete collaboration lined up with one of our other favourite comedy sons later this year; a popular podcaster, sometime radio type and fellow dog-walking fan. More news as we get it.

Oh, and while hurtling around Islington, avec massive dog, he's nearly run over Jeremy Corbyn a few times. Well, who hasn't?