Arjy Barjy

A huge bag of organic apples sits on the table where I’m meeting Arj Barker. The Californian comic has taken a Sikh oath of dietary discipline, but is looking rough after a heavy night of drinking at the Kilkenny Comedy Festival. “Feels good,” he deadpans. “Apples, nuts... whisky. I just went out, saw some friends, big night.” He proffers a cashew then, after casually popping one in his mouth, starts choking.

It’s reminiscent of Dave, the deluded blowhard he plays in the Flight of the Conchords sitcom, forever dispensing relationship advice to Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement, yet still sharing an apartment with his dad.

Except Barker, when he recovers, is completely serious about the oath—“It’s based on my heritage and my family’s honour. I don’t make them lightly”—and is considerably more self-aware and worldly-wise than his “cool, but sort of an asshole” stage persona. Or indeed Dave, who confuses New Zealand with Never Never Land.

“I honestly think Dave is based on Bret and Jemaine’s early perceptions of me,” Barker acknowledges.

“Obviously, they don’t think I’m that stupid, arrogant or misogynist. But there are elements. All the characters in the show are bigger, more cartoonish versions of themselves. Which is smart, you know? Instead of having people trying to act, why not let them play themselves?”

Supporting his friends on their recent international tour was “amazing” but an experience that took him out of his comfort zone, especially when the Conchords played the 17,000-seater Hollywood Bowl.

“That stage is so large, it was a 100-metres walk from when they introduced me to the microphone! It’s unbelievably hard for a crowd to keep cheering that long!

“Like most people, I sing in my car. But to be onstage with those guys, who I really respect—not just comedically, but as musicians—I felt a little bit out of my league. I almost hyperventilated during my rap.”

Returning to the Fringe for the first time in a decade, Barker’s sitcom appearances have boosted the 35-year-old’s profile to such an extent that he considered calling his hour Oh my God! It’s Dave From Flight of the Conchords! “Great title, a little desperate though,” he smiles. Having won the Perrier Best Newcomer Award in 1997, he recalls his first year in Edinburgh as “tumultuous, intense”.

“You’re just so afraid of failing, but the show went really well. At the same time though, I was obsessionally in love with this girl, who came up and told me it was a one-way feeling. That really hurt.

“But then another girl came up to the festival. And she was keen, so that sort of helped. It was like summer camp – crying one day, walking on clouds the next.

"Ultimately though, I got a bit tired of Edinburgh and didn’t feel as if my heart was in the shows. So I walked away on a less memorable note than I would have liked. But I feel refreshed now after my 10-year break.”

Currently dividing his career across four continents, but focusing most consistently on Australia, where his fanbase is considerably larger than in his homeland, Barker misses his cat but loves “meeting so many different places and people".

“I don’t know why things have really picked up for me in Australia, but they have, and I try to spend as much time as I can over there. But now I’m really taking a long hard look at the UK and Europe again, seeing what’s possible here.”

His standup has changed considerably since he began performing at 19.

“I was more of a monotone talking head when I started,” he explains. “Which was fine, I was getting laughs, but over the years my style has become more animated, a lot more textured. I don’t consider myself extremely physical, but I use my vocal range – sometimes I like to yell, sometimes I go really quiet, there’s a lot of mic technique.

“In my earlier years, I smoked a lot of pot and did a lot of pot jokes. But then, throughout the process of the Marijuana-logues, a parody of the Vagina Monologues I wrote with some friends, I went off it. I miss it, but I couldn’t relax and enjoy a joint anymore – it made me anxious. So despite myself, I’ve quit smoking and it’s something I’m less inclined to talk about. I’m not a stoner anymore but it must have left its mark.”

When he moved to New York to shoot the sitcom, it left him with a lot of free time. So when he wasn’t playing clubs at night, he had to find new hobbies.

“I played a lot of World of Warcraft during season one,” he recalls. “By season two, I’d taken up golf instead. It got me outside more.”

After the Fringe, he’ll be returning to Australia for “an undetermined amount of time” to pursue his own television project, “a single camera, non-laugh track sitcom in the vein of Conchords or Curb Your Enthusiasm.

“Hopefully, it’s going to be universally enjoyable, because I want to make it there and show it to networks all over the world. I don’t want to go into too many details, but one way or another, I’m going to make a TV show in the next year or so.

“That’s a Sikh oath. Even if it’s the worst piece of shit you ever saw!”