I’m the type of bloke who gets a flatpack cabinet from Ikea, puts it together without reading the instructions, then gets the drill out because the holes are in the wrong place.
I did gigs alongside Oxford students and I thought being working class I’d feel inferior. But the thing is you don’t feel inferior if you’re getting more laughs than the other bloke on the bill.
I still get knickers thrown on stage, but not as much as they used to. In fact, I get bloke’s boxer shorts thrown on and someone rolled a coconut on stage the other night.
Extras changed the public’s perception of me hugely – they saw there was more to me than just this bloke off the telly.
It’s probably a generalisation to say this, but occasionally I’ll see a bloke who laughs only after he’s checked his girlfriend did. I tend to imagine that’s a rocky relationship, to be fair.
If an audience is watching you and you’re a bloke – it’s the same as if you’re a woman. They’re expecting the same: to be entertained.
When I read or study, I don’t do it for the degree – if I fail, it doesn’t matter, but it just takes me out of this world where you’re the centre of attention all the time. You just become a normal bloke when you’re setting yourself those kinds of targets.
So I was getting into my car, and this bloke says to me ‘Can you give me a lift?’ I said ‘Sure, you look great, the world’s your oyster, go for it.’
A blind bloke walks into a shop with a guide dog. He picks the Dog up and starts swinging it around his head. Alarmed, a shop assistant calls out: ‘Can I help, sir?’ ‘No thanks,’ says the blind bloke. ‘Just looking.’
I’m not a blokey bloke. I don’t take myself too seriously. But that doesn’t stop me being a bad person sometimes and doing things I regret. Such as having a child with someone you’ve split up with, then falling in love and wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone else. That’s quite difficult.
I’m a very objective-driven bloke, so to have a goal in mind and to have something to do is very important to me.
The interesting thing about Hain is that he’s not a very interesting character. He’s not fabulously clever. He’s not a great policeman. He’s not hugely charismatic. I’d describe him as a kind-of Chekhovian character. He’s an ordinary bloke, to whom extraordinary things have happened. Which is quite hard to play, I have to say.
Once you don’t smile on film, they say, ‘Let’s have that bloke who doesn’t smile.’
Some bloke came up to me in Tesco a couple of years ago at 11:30 pm and said: ‘Excuse me, would you mind telling my son here that you’re Uncle Vernon?’ I said: ‘Get a grip. It’s 11:30 at night – what’s he doing out of bed? I’m not here to entertain people at this time of night.
I’m a very objective-driven bloke, so to have a goal in mind and to have something to do is very important to me.
The interesting thing about Hain is that he’s not a very interesting character. He’s not fabulously clever. He’s not a great policeman. He’s not hugely charismatic. I’d describe him as a kind-of Chekhovian character. He’s an ordinary bloke, to whom extraordinary things have happened. Which is quite hard to play, I have to say.
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