It changes from time to time. I’m very proud that I managed to produce two novels. When I was a kid, I didn’t know about comedy, I didn’t really ever see myself as an actor. I surrounded myself with books when I was a kid. So I suppose if I had any sort of notions about myself, artistically, it would have been to be a writer. And having sort of managed – spaced apart over a span of 25 years – to produce two, I am quite proud of that. The razor-sharp, violent and darkly comic second novel from actor, comedian and writer Ardal O'Hanlon. I would generally tell people to not take advice from me. I’ve always been very unsure of myself, like I’ve tended to work reasonably hard at most things but sort of to go with the flow to some extent. I’ve not been very assertive, I’ve never been very certain about what it was I wanted to do or what I was able to do. So I’ve tended to sort of drift. Drift sounds a bit more aimless than I mean, but I just go where the work took me.

It is through art that you inform people,” says O’Hanlon. “This is why we write, because politics doesn’t always work. Journalism can be a bit too dry and factual. Art is really the way forward. And there’s an appetite for it, particularly among the younger generation, who are totally pissed off with politics as we know it.” This was a wee bit heavy going until I managed to settle in to the author's writing style, which did take a bit longer than usual for me. But, once that was done, I was away...And, of course, for most of Ardal O’Hanlon’s life, there was the shadow of the Troubles. Brouhaha takes place in the period just after the Good Friday Agreement, a time where there was always a question lurking around any disappearance in the region: “is there a paramilitary involvement?” Ardal has published two novels, 25 years apart: The Talk Of The Town in 1998, and Brouhaha in 2022 (Picture: WireImage)

And I had a similar impression of that thing I just finished watching last night, which is The Last Of Us. You know, zombie apocalypse scenario, which we’ve seen a million times before, and again the consensus, the commentary, is that it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before. It’s amazing, and, yes, two or three of the episodes were really, really good and well-written. And the world was quite impressive, but it would fall apart eventually. The writing is good and some of the characters are really good, but we’ve seen this story a million times. You very kindly refer to me as professional but I’m not sure that’s the case to be honest with you. I really enjoy it, I love acting, and I love that grown men and women, we just get to play. And the work is very considered, don’t get me wrong, everyone takes it very seriously most of the time, but it’s inevitable that it’s going to break down. Sunday scrubs or Sunday best? Sometimes I don’t get out of my tennis gear, so I’m kind of flopping around in shorts and some sort of sports shirt. By the time you’ve walked the dogs and played the tennis, what’s the point? Most small towns in Ireland are wonderful places in so many ways. There's a great sense of community. But, under the surface, there's all sorts of things going on But Strictly Come Dancing would be a step too far. ‘I have been asked a lot of times over the years and I’m torn because my family loves the show, I love it. But the scrutiny… it’s a whole other level.’

Summary

Sundays growing up? We were a conventionally religious family. We would have gone to mass at 11, and had an ice-cream on the way home. My father would have bought a mountain of newspapers – all the Irish newspapers, all the British newspapers – and we’d go through them all systematically. There was very little chat. I know people made the observation that people in Britain in particular learned more about Northern Irish politics in an hour’s comedy than they might have after 20 years of watching the news and reading the papers. You recently appeared in Disney+ superhero sitcom Extraordinary, it’s a bit of a departure from your usual roles. Determined as he was to pursue another venture in writing when the right idea came along, it’s clear to see that Brouhaha is a labour of love, inspired by many times and places throughout his life. Here’s hoping it won’t be another 25 years before we see his next written work! Dove's funeral brings this unlikely trio together as they strive to finally discover what happened to Dove and Sandra.

As I get older, I kind of tend to treasure the weekends more – I spent most of my adulthood up to the last 10 years working weekends, whether it’s stand-up comedy or filming or, God forbid, doing theatre. I grew up in a lovely small town, a beautiful town. Very happy childhood,” he says. “And you could easily ignore the underbelly but, as a writer, you’re drawn to the dark side. You can’t afford to be squeamish as a writer, whether you’re a journalist, a fiction writer, or a stand-up comedian. You want to look into the abyss.”

I was living with my then girlfriend, now my wife, in a tiny terrace house and relying on rent allowance. We made sandwiches from the cheapest sliced meat you could buy and drank wine from boxes, but it was actually a very enjoyable time in our lives. Was there a financial turning point in your career? It’s like an addiction. It’s more than a job; it’s a vocation, if that’s not too grandiose a term. You know, I’ve tried to stop, but it’s like this itch that needs a scratch.

He was well-used, anyway, to having “fallow periods, when you sit at home and think the world is falling apart”. But the two-year release from performing proved a sort of emotional sabbatical. In terms of advice that I would give my younger self, I don’t know. I suppose the main thing is not to too closely mimic somebody else. Whatever your chosen field is, whether it’s in the arts or anywhere else, you’ve got to figure things out for yourself. I think people do take shortcuts they just kind of copy what other people are doing. You’ve got to try and be your own person, but it’s very difficult to do, and you’ve got to learn and fail and get up again. You’re launching into rehearsals at the National Theatre for Dancing At Lughnasa. What has it been like so far? But, under the surface, there’s all sorts of things going on. I personally have met at least three people who have killed other people. I just have. And maybe many more for all I know.” As for the local sense of comedy, he has found echoes elsewhere too. “Even watching Fargo, the Coen Brothers. That felt very familiar the first time. Everyone’s laughing in the cinema and I’m going: that’s the kind of milieu I grew up in. The deadpan tone. You don’t quite know what people mean when they’re talking to you because they keep a very straight face.”His story was inspired “by a feature-length article I read about a very strange case, about 10 years ago, while touring”.