What made you get into comedy?
Benny Hill was my inspiration as a child. I wanted to run about chasing women in swimsuits around trees. Sadly, the 80s politically correct culture swooped in and made this an unviable career choice so more traditional standup seemed to be a safer bet.
What advice would you give to up-and-coming comedians?
Love the audience. They have paid good money to watch you fill the void in your soul so love them without caring who they are or who they vote for. Don’t start out your career imagining you are going to teach them something. Learn to make the audience laugh hard first.
Can you recall a gig so bad, it’s now funny?
Glastonbury 1998, I think it was. I was brand new and lied that I had half an hour of material. I only had five minutes. I tried to faint so I didn’t have to go on. I got kind of booed-off at 10 minutes. Then I managed to wet myself in the loos and got a lift home with another comic who I was never able to look in the eye again. Actually. No. Can’t laugh. It’s still a trauma.
Who did you look up to when you were starting out?
In a previous life I was an African American banjo-playing welder, so Richard Pryor and Billy Connolly were, and remain, my heroes. The comics on the circuit I was obsessed with when I started were Phil Nichol for his anarchic, rockstar persona and Mark Steel for his intellectual ridiculousness. I had a huge crush on Mark, which I can say now that he is my beau.
A year ago, you decided to change your name back to Shaparak (from Shappi). Has the reaction been what you expected?
We live in a time of huge sensitivity around identity and I’ve felt bad how some people have been terrified of pronouncing it wrong for fear of being seen as a big fat racist. It is not racist to mispronounce a name you are unfamiliar with! For me, it’s no different to a Cathy asking to be billed as Catherine. Shappi is still my nickname and I’m very happy for folk to use it. I just want my real name to no longer be something I hide. It means “butterfly” and it’s beautiful.
Your current show is called It Was the 90s. What do you miss from that decade?
I miss running out into the night to meet my friends with no clue what it will bring. I really miss the vibrant and vast amount of comedy clubs, and the culture of seeing comics live rather than on TV. The comedy circuit was the closest thing we had to punk.
Best heckle?
“You are almost as funny as your dad.”
Who on the circuit always makes you laugh?
Seann Walsh, Mark Steel and Esther Manito are people who I can rely on to make me howl with laughter.
What’s an important lesson you’ve learned from being a standup?
You have to have fun, proper fun, like when you were a kid. If you are not having fun, the audience doesn’t have a prayer.
Shaparak Khorsandi: It Was the 90s is on tour in the UK until 10 December.
