‘Your career choices were unemployed or Australian’: Dara Ó Briain

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Dara Ó Briain. The Irish comedian, TV presenter and author, 54, has hosted BBC TV shows, including Robot Wars and Mock the Week, for more than two decades. He has also penned a number of children’s science books.

MONEY

OK, we’re going to talk about money first off. Do you need money? Is this a way of bringing it up?

Yes, but first I’d love to know your birthday, bank-account details … and my mother’s maiden name [nods sagely].

Looking back, did you grow up poor, working-class, middle-class or rich? Technically, we were lower-middle-class. We lived in a faded seaside resort outside of Dublin and our house got turned into a B&B every summer, which required kicking the kids out of the bedroom. We’d all just sleep on the floor of various other parts of the house. So we were also hustling in the sense that we were monetising our own bedrooms for the summer.

You studied maths and theoretical physics. What was your vision of your earning future? I knew I wanted to study those and there was a very good grant system in Ireland, which allowed you to get your education for free and have a little bit of pocket money. I was eligible for that. But there was a joke that in the 1990s in Ireland, your two career choices were unemployed or Australian. You either did nothing or you had to emigrate. But my hustling continued into university, where I became a debater. I did it for the pure joy of it, but you could also win money. I’d win those debates, get 100 Irish pounds [about $400-$500 today] for best speaker or whatever and subsidise my lifestyle by being funny for cash.

Nowadays, you earn money as a comedian, TV presenter, columnist and author. Have I missed anything? No, but honestly, there’s nothing worse than people with a big, long list of jobs: “Don’t forget: activist and model!”

RELIGION

You’re Irish. Some will assume you’re Catholic, but you’ve publicly declared you’re an atheist. Square that circle for me. Oh, it’s very easy to leave the Catholic Church. As a kid, you’re brought to Mass all the time and I had a fantastic education in the Church. But in my teen years, I went, “Jesus, this isn’t making any sense to me at all!” and shed it like a heavy coat. I’m not judgmental of those who are religious. I see religion in both its positives and negatives. Religion offers easy answers to difficult questions – which may be a huge comfort to people – or it may placate people so they don’t search for more difficult answers.

Of the Seven Deadly Sins, to which are you most susceptible? Can we just presume lust and gluttony? Occasional wrath. Some pride, I will admit to that. There’s envy, but envy’s good. It gets things done.

What do you mean by that? And who – or what – do you envy? Relatively little. Except I have comedian friends who do tours, and they play places I haven’t played. They’ll post on Instagram: “Oh, look at this amazing theatre.” And I go, “Oh, god, that’s great. I’d love to do that!” I get envious of that. Hopefully, you’re happy with your life, choices and family, but you do occasionally see Jimmy Carr post a picture, and I’ll go, “Oh, that looks like a good room to play.” It’s not a bad thing, envy.

What are your personal commandments for good comedy? Thou shalt find your voice. Get past that phase where you do impersonations of other people, which I certainly did at the start of my career. Also: gig, gig, gig, gig, gig. Do lots of work. Because that allows you to find your voice.

Complete this sentence. “Other people go to church. I …” … go to Emirates Stadium [English Premier League club Arsenal’s London stadium]. I worship there; it is my cathedral and communal moment as it’s 60,000 of us wailing at the same time. It’s irrational and I give myself over to the irrationality of it. That’s religion. At one stage, the stadium allowed you to put your name on your chair. I’ve had the same seat there for 20 years. There’s a small plaque on it that says, “Dara Ó Briain, if not on tour.”

BODIES

We’ve landed on bodies … Well, here’s an interesting thing. Over the course of my showbiz career, I’ve had a total of one conversation about my weight. I’m fairly big. Not as big as I used to be, but I’m a big guy. But when you’re a man, no one ever mentions it.

It’s striking that you’re aware of those double standards, which is rare for us men. Who brought up your body with you? What did they say? Stephen Nolan, a Northern Irish broadcaster, who famously has a whole thing about his own weight. But the [media’s] a lot less rough on men than it is on women, by some distance.

What are you liking and disliking about your body lately? Well, I went bald in my 20s …

Which is very young. Yeah. So I basically emerged as the pretty-much-bald, big guy. But I’m in the gym a lot now because I decided I should probably leave my 50s in a better state than when I entered them. I enjoy the physical action of getting a little bit fitter. I do this bike interval thing and the soundtrack is quite gay disco! And I can still reach things on a high shelf because I’m six foot four [193 centimetres]. I’m still the person called upon to do that.

You’re the BFG! Exactly. Being six foot four alone is a thing that gives you a certain presence.

What superpower do you have? Well, all of my wife’s answers would be malevolent and dismissive [laughs], but there’s a phrase a friend uses, “Dara Ó Briain and his life of delights”, which I’m very, very happy with.

So that’s your superpower. [Nods] Having a delightful life. “Dara Ó Briain and his life of delights”.

Dara Ó Briain tours Australia from November 4-11.

diceytopics@goodweekend.com.au

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