Paul Foot comes to Just the Tonic, Leicester
Have you heard? Kenny Larch is Dead. It's a trick question, really. You see, Kenny Larch didn't exist.
Well, he did, in that there were probably a handful of Kenny Larch's scattered around the country, who died. But this particular Kenny Larch, the one dreamt up by slightly kooky comedian Paul Foot, was never actually real.
Confused? Well you should be. That's what comedians do when they make up show titles which bear no resemblance to what the actual show is about. It's comedic licence.
"So we've ascertained, my show, Kenny Larch is Dead, isn't about Kenny Larch, then," says Paul.
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"In the show, we learn nothing about Kenny Larch, apart from the fact he is dead. The show won't offer his hopes, ambitions or fears. They're all gone now."
Right, we get it.
We also get this is part of Paul's "eccentric", "mind blowing", "original" and "truly alternative" style of merry making.
"Well, I don't know whether I am these things. I don't think I'm mad. It's up to others to say so. I just do the most logical and obvious things. I'm myself. People seem to find that funny."
Since giving comedy a go as an undergraduate about 20 years ago, Paul has forged a career out of the unconventional.
But then what is conventional? What is normal?
"Well, against the benchmark of normality, there's nothing more normal as Leicester on a Sunday night. It's the epitome of ordinary."
And is that a good thing?
"I like Leicester, I really do. Looking back, at darker days of touring round the country, I didn't always go down well. But in Leicester, I'm always well received."
So, to mention it again, what does Kenny Larch is Dead actually have in store?
"To start, it's about 40 minutes of absolute childishness; silly made-up stories from my head, combined with a number of childish and transparent lies.
"After that, it's supermarket anagrams times – all the shows ought to feature some and this doesn't disappoint.
"Then it's time for 'my madness'. Me, saying random words for eight minutes, which make no sense at all. Meaningless words which are inexplicably funny, but no-one knows why – including me."
Paul thinks up these words and other funny things, he says, while he retreats at country house hotels with his muse.
"I did it in May," he explains, "sitting in the garden with peacocks. Sometimes I work in the bath – I was in the bath when you rang me. Now I'm out.
"Sometimes, when I'm being creative, my assistant Aaron will join me – and when I say that, I mean shower curtain across, bubbles all over me, him at the other end of the bathroom taking notes. It works."
If you're a follower of Paul online, you'll know he doesn't have fans. He has connoisseurs.
If you are a connoisseur of his comedy, you may join the Guild of Paul Foot Connoisseurs.
"There are thousands," he says.
"Some join on my website, which means they're most committed and sign up to receive e-mails from me, while others follow on Twitter.
"I follow five people on Twitter: two staff members, my fan club, one connoisseur I've followed from the beginning and don't see changing, and Fearne Cotton – because she's my friend.
"There are no plans to increase this number from five. While I might be persuaded, it's a big step. It was once six and seven, but I never talk of those days."
On a serious note, Paul does think highly of Twitter and YouTube, in this technological age of social media.
"It's immediate. You talk, and they talk back. Being able to view a comedian and judge whether you like them from a clip is great.
"A successful comedian is one who finds an audience who shares the same sense of humour as them."
And clearly many of us do. Paul's show was a sell-out at this year's Edinburgh Fringe and regular appearances on programmes such as Never Mind the Buzzcocks, is enticing new "connoisseurs" into theatres up and down the country.
They might also be attracted by his shiny silver jacket, floral tie or showbiz shoes and contrasting socks.
"Ah, the socks are nice and jolly. Once I was doing a show and I lifted my leg and someone saw my brightly coloured sock, and how it didn't match, and then they smiled.
"Here, I thought, with just the use of a sock I can cheer someone up.
"It made me think, if one person was down about life and they thought, 'I'm going to shoot myself tonight', but instead that smile made them rethink and maybe see the doctor, or call the Samaritans to seek help, or join an origami class, where at first they'd be weeping, not speaking to anyone, but gradually coming out of their shell – enough to meet someone there who says: 'I'm drawn to you, you're full of joy really, even though you wept a lot before,' and then they fall in love and live happily ever after until their companion dies, and then they're sad and though they realise they must accept this and carry on without them, until they too die, they then decide that maybe tonight they should shoot themselves..."
Yes, we ended the conversation there. Before sanity set sail.
Paul Foot brings his show, Kenny Larch is Dead, to Just the Tonic, Leicester, on Sunday. For tickets, call 0116 262 5050 or visit: