Craic Dealer

Tommy Tiernan is one of those rare comedians, more philosopher than funnyman. Sure, the jokes come thick and fast, but they're woven from experience and plumb deep notions: death, love, sex, religion, identity. One of the Galway-based 44-year-old's favourite subjects is what it means to be Irish, especially since the Celtic Tiger lost its roar and the economic boom of the '90s in Ireland collapsed.

Tiernan's Australian tour is titled Stray Sod, recalling a mythological Irish concept. “A stray sod is something that you stand on in a field, that makes you disoriented, so my notion is, could Ireland be the stray sod of the world? Could there be something so totally not in tune with the rest of the planet about our country that encourages that? People here no longer know one end of an economy from the other, so this is a lamentation about that – a desire for strangeness, a refusal to see the world in purely economical terms. Money is ugly. I think it's left a really bad taste in people's mouths here that we're suffering economically. I think what's going on in Ireland now is that a lot of people are thinking, 'Hang on, this isn't right. This [capitalist] system can't be working given what it's doing to us'. Now, there isn't a viable other system to hand at the minute but I think people are struggling with the idea that we've ended up in a situation where banks own everybody's houses. How did we end up like that?”

Tiernan gets out to all the usual international comedy festivals, but has a slavish devotion to his countrymen. That's why he fills the time between with his 'World Tours' of the counties of Ireland, playing small venues, driving from town to town, off the beaten track. “It's a great way for me to work,” he says, on the eve of his 'World Tour of Leitrim'. “When I'm doing press for these shows, it's local papers like the Leitrim Observer or the Meath Chronicle. This Australian tour, I'm doing national press and it's almost like there's a degree of importance to it. But doing regional stuff, it's wonderful and normal and ordinary and gentle. But it's challenging in terms of stand-up – you're going to places where the audience are delighted you've come because nobody else comes to their town. Maybe a C&W singer passes through every now and again but not a comedian. So they bring that energy to the show, of being excited that you're there. But you're definitely in their country and they let you know really quickly if you're not up to scratch. It's very good, creatively, for my stand-up.”  

One of the more memorable spots Tiernan recently played is a pub in Waterford called Henry Downes – a cavernous old place with, seemingly unwisely, its own rifle range. “I don't know under what vision giving people guns when they're drunk is a good idea. They make their own whiskey in that pub as well, which they're very happy to let you buy. What could possibly go wrong?”