Heggie Duty: An interview with Luke Heggie

Written by: Si Hawkins
Published: Monday 8th July 2019

Luke Heggie makes a welcome return to London's Soho Theatre, but his previous UK trips haven't always gone entirely to plan.

You get used to barmy hyperbole in the entertainment business - and most other businesses nowadays, come to think of it - as our screens whip up avalanches of wild claims and weirdly inappropriate exclamation marks. Honestly, remember when punctuation actually meant something, goddammit?

Ironically, what tends to really stand out within all that white noise is the person who refuses to play ball, at all. Look at the great stand-ups who've ever graced the world's stages and a lot of real icons were uncompromising souls who couldn't leap on the kiss-ass showbiz bandwagon even if they wanted to.

And on that note, let's introduce Luke Heggie to anyone who hasn't looked his way before. The Aussie comic is as straight-talking and down-to-earth as can be; in fact he famously still holds down other jobs while winning huge acclaim back home. Not that he's one of these shock-tactics guys; he just has an impressive knack for hitting the nail on the head.

Heggie is back in the UK this week at London's Soho Theatre, although his previous UK shows weren't always plain sailing. Having started performing in his mid-30s he wound up doing a disastrous Edinburgh run only a few gigs in, after winning a contest. More on that in our chat below. And he endured a few walk-outs during his last Soho Theatre run. More on that too.

But that's the best stand-up for you; it's not for everyone. Now almost ten years in, Heggie is a unique comedic force. He just won't be bragging about it, much.

You did loads of different jobs before comedy - what were the best and worst?

I was once a moderator for a phone introduction line, pre-internet. I listened all night to people trying to pick each other up. That was good. As was being a snowmaker (like God).

The worst were probably hospitality related. People are awful as a general rule.

Was there a lightbulb moment where you decided, 'I'm trying stand-up', even though you'd barely seen any before?

No. It was and remains a strange decision. I never worshipped anyone like you see the young smelly hopefuls doing before attempting stand-up. Nor was I a born-to-entertain type like you see, with their shameless confidence comedy.

Tell us about that early Edinburgh Fringe trip - did it almost put you off British gigs altogether?

It was terrible. I was roundly hated. I have no real desire to go back there. I don't see it as a challenge to go and lose money year in year out, feeding middlemen, and leaving my family for another month of the year, in the hope that one day I may be accepted by the Scottish public.

As for the rest of this joint, I really enjoy coming here.

Your debut show, Master of None, was nearly 10 years ago - what have you mastered in the meantime?

Nothing. I've gotten better at stand up, and being a decent parent, and I can whip a tablecloth off a set table with mixed results.

Some of your stuff has become pretty legendary - do you have a favourite bit?

The stuff that goes the best and my favourite bits are quite different. I don't think any of my bits would be considered legendary, until someone more TV palatable is changing them slightly and re-telling them a few years from now. My favourite bits are always the ones that get misconstrued by people who should have gone to see a comedian whose face they know and love.

Tell us about this latest show; are there particular topics and targets you were itching to talk about?

It's a bunch of club stand-up, and also a chunk about people who blame anything but themselves for the state of their lives. Some people hate this sort of thing being talked about, because it's about them. If there's one thing dickheads hate, it's being made aware that they're dickheads. Fun should be poked at others.

A couple of people walked out during your previous Soho run - what did they object to, and how do you feel about that happening?

It's impossible to predict what people will object to.

In my limited experience, there is a growing tendency for your more socially progressive, tolerant (and yet somehow still quite violent) cities such as London and Melbourne to house theatregoers who will make a stand against something with which they disagree/misunderstand by storming out and going home to send a strongly-worded email; making a positive difference to the world.

Or maybe, like thousands of deluded pretenders, I'm just not funny.

Will you still be doing comedy in 10, 20 years time, having started late - or will the planet have melted by then anyway?

The planet won't have quite given up, but when I started, I didn't think I'd be doing this for more than a month. I'm not planning on stopping writing and creating shows, but I will become irrelevant without notice at any time. I'd like to be able to give up my day job and be a full-time comedian for a little while before that happens, but who knows.