School for comedians

"I still have about twenty minutes to write. It’s a fairly big task, actually," notes Phil Nichol of his new show, A Deadpan Poet Sings Quiet Songs Quietly…, when I catch up with him back in July. "There’s no point worrying," he remarks, and with reason: after arriving in Edinburgh in 2006 without any show at all, and then going on to win the If.comeddie award with The Naked Racist, Nichol is well aware that sometimes the best things happen organically.

Given his packed schedule this August, staying relaxed will be no mean feat. In addition to A Deadpan Poet, Nichol—alongside the Comedians’ Theatre Company, which he co-founded—will be appearing in and producing both Gregory Burke’s social comedy-drama Gagarin Way (originally staged at the Traverse Theatre in 2001), and the classic Restoration comedy The School for Scandal, as well holding down a nightly compering slot. After an effective hiatus from the Fringe last year, which saw him performing in weekend "best of" shows and travelling during the week ("it was really nice just to leave Edinburgh and go to Amsterdam or the Outer Hebrides or Norway while everyone else was slaving away") this year Nichol is, once again, one of the busiest men on the Fringe.

But thanks to a strict fitness regime ("the last few years I’ve been doing endurance events and stuff") the prospect of the infamous festival burnout does not worry him. In fact, the only downside he foresees is the lack of opportunities to watch other shows—something he views as essential to personal development as a performer—and the logistical nightmare of travelling between several venues every day. Still, there's no questioning his devotion to these three weeks every summer. "I’m just addicted to it, you know? I love it, I love it, it’s the biggest arts festival in the world.... It’s been good to me because it’s allowed me to create all these different types of shows and personas. I wouldn’t have a venue to do it in otherwise."

Nichol’s Edinburgh career, which now spans almost two decades—during our conversation, he corrects himself after referring to his persona in A Deadpan Poet as a "young man"—has provided him with both the opportunities and the contacts to develop the artfully comic, sell-out theatre productions for which he's celebrated. While he set up the Comedians’ Theatre company "to give us opportunities to perform in ways we hadn’t performed before," he is now regularly approached by comedians keen to branch out into acting. Nichol is at pains to stress that, from the outset, these productions have evolved naturally. "Without wanting to be cheesy," he says, "I’m trying to keep it as organic and as natural as possible. I don’t want it to feel forced, ever."

His latest production, a "traditional-looking" and yet tongue-in-cheek version of Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s "great farce" The School for Scandal, finds Nichol again teaming up with Maggie Inchley, the Comedians’ Theatre Company co-founder, whom he worked alongside on the 2005 sell-out show Zoo Story. The pair, who met through a mutual friend, set out to stage a play "that you wouldn’t think comedians could do." Having considered a number of classics— a production of Othello starring Reginald D. Hunter remains, tantalisingly, on ice—they settled for The School for Scandal, with Cal McCrystal (whose previous Fringe directing credits include Office Party and Gavin & Gavin) the natural choice as director. "The play is hilarious," Nichol glows, "and what Cal is doing with it is hilarious."

Nichol stars as Joseph Surface, a duplicitous, womanising "complete cad" and fully paid-up member of the titular school for scandal presided over by Lady Sneerwell (Miss Behave) – the counterfoil to his "honest-to-goodness" yet misguided brother Charles (Marcus Brigstocke). While the ostensible plot concerns whether Joseph or Charles will receive their father’s inheritance, its farcical comedy necessarily takes centre stage. The cast are "playing up to the fact that we’re knowingly sending ourselves up by doing the play," Nichol points out, adding that any play which features Paul Foot as Stephen K. Amos’s uncle has got to be funny. It's hard to disagree.

For all the loud humour, Nichol is keen to stress the contemporary significance of his latest project: "you see Piers Morgan on the front of the paper with Simon Cowell and you realise they're all in league...that’s what this play is about, making fun of these people that just use and abuse each other," he says.

The tendency to retreat from or send up contemporary social situations is evident in all of Nichol’s shows this year (his persona in A Deadpan Poet, in stark contrast with his normally exuberant stage presence, is "incredibly miserable and disenfranchised and a bit lonely"), and he feels this is part of a wider movement among comedians "because of the political correctness of the mainstream". "Comedians are the ones that are the standard bearers for freedom of speech," he notes, adding that "whether you’re a political comedian or not, all comedy is political."

Despite this, life, for Nichol, could not be sweeter. Citing the "corny but true" adage that "you take [from life] what you put into it," he situates himself far from the typically dark comic territory, insisting that his packed Fringe schedule, despite any political undercurrents, is "supposed to be fun, I enjoy it, and that’s why I do it". So three shows at Edinburgh is maybe not such a crazy idea after all? "Exactly", he concurs, "[but] I don’t expect other people to do it!"