Stand-up comedians often talk about the technique of their craft, sometimes adopting a macho lingo of their own, as if they were World War I pilots unwinding in the mess room.
It was a relief then, three years ago, when Johnny Vegas meandered on to an Edinburgh stage as if by accident and with no apparent strategy. Drunk, dishevelled and unruly, he was a complete contrast to all those unflappable, smart-aleck, observational comics.
Johnny was lecherous, out of control and he stumbled out in front of the audience with a potter's wheel under his arm. This last gimmick, naturally, marked him out from the crowd, but it was not simply a stunt. Vegas, whose real name is Michael Pennington, is a devoted potter and he was prepared to prove it on stage.
'It was like the audience were thinking, "Well, if it is true about the pottery, maybe all the other stuff he is saying, like about being a redcoat, is real too",' Vegas remembers.
The novelty pottery act worked like a dream, chiefly because audiences were looking for more than just another comedy 'character' along the lines of Al Murray, the pub landlord. Johnny's personality was interchangeable with that of his creator.
'In fact, though, I wasn't ever a Butlins redcoat. I just used to go there a lot for my holidays due to a kind of inverted snobbery,' he says.
Vegas, 29, is a determined debunker and is about as far away from a theatrical darling as it is possible to imagine. So it is surprising to learn that he is taking to the boards this festival in his first scripted play, The Erpingham Camp , by Joe Orton.
'The comics probably won't talk to me this year,' he says. 'There is a kind of rivalry between actors and comics and so I was worried about meeting the cast at first. I really didn't want to be another comedian who thinks he can act. At first we were going to do the play just with comedians, but it is much better like this.'
Vegas says the cast have generously taught him a lot. He has also had to learn to sing and dance a little. 'I have to do, "It was in a little gypsy tearoom", and it's done me throat in,' Vegas explains in a croaky Lancastrian lilt. 'The singing teacher said I reminded her of Josef Locke,' he goes on proudly, 'though on the second day she wasn't so sure.'
Vegas is cast as a put-upon, ultimately homicidal, holiday-camp entertainer and he has tried to bring all his fictional redcoat history to bear. Less fortuitously, he has had to have a radical haircut for the part. This would not matter so much if Johnny Vegas, the comic, was not also supposed to be in Edinburgh this summer.
'We are doing a game show for five nights,' he explains. 'We'll have prizes for each night, including a car for the end, I think. It is partly a crack at what the Fringe has become these days and it is partly because I wanted to make my act more interactive.
'The idea is Johnny hasn't worked out that as a host you are supposed to be impartial. He is so fickle, one minute rooting for team A then team B, which is what drunks are like, saying, "I love you" or "I hate you".'
Tales of Johnny's own drinking habits are already folklore on the circuit, but before the play at least, he has agreed to steer clear of his usual vodka and red wine chaser. The Erpingham Camp is a dark and violent bit of comedy and the actors need their wits about them.
'My dad is coming up to see the show, but I don't know what he will make of all the violence. He loves Fiddler on the Roof .'
Vegas, who grew up in St Helens, is the attention-seeking youngest child of a carpenter. 'I have two brothers who went into joinery like my dad. I am the black-sheep potter of the family,' he says.
For a while Vegas considered becoming a priest and went on to work at Argos. But pottery was his salvation; his work has now been exhibited around the country and four months ago one of his 60-second teapots was accepted by the Victoria and Albert Museum.
'I even did a show there and half the audience were potters, so all the jokes about glazes went down really well.'
At the same time, he is sceptical about a growing serious interest in his ceramic work. 'People want to buy my pots now in case I pop my clogs,' he notes.
The Erpingham Camp is at the Assembly Rooms from 3-27 August
