This much I know: Andrew Stanley, comedian

You can’t beat a round of applause.I don’t know if it’s the approval that I love when I’m doing stand-up.

I like to think of myself as part of the audience and that I’m working the room until everyone is on the same wavelength, getting that big laugh or that applause.

There is no worse feeling than getting no response at all. I’d prefer heckling or even booing.

I was a cheeky little kid, always pushing the boundaries of what I could say, not exactly the class clown, but definitely trying to get away with stuff. And it seemed to work as I think I was also quite charming as a child.

I grew up in Swords and was mad into sports and always very competitive.

My parents weren’t in showbiz. My dad worked for the council and my mother worked in a cab company — but dad was very much a showman.

He had done some stand-up years ago and I probably got it from him.

School was effortless for me and I was always in the top class. Never A1s, but Bs and above, maybe the odd C. I was interested in things.

If something didn’t have an answer, I wanted to find out the answer myself rather than asking the teacher, so that I could then show off my knowledge.

I wanted to be a pilot but when I applied to Aer Lingus I found out I was colour blind.

I got into law in university but decided not to do it, and started working in computer programming instead. I attended the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 1999 and saw some stand up for the first time and wondered — can I do that?

For the next three months I asked everybody in my life if they thought I was good enough, wrecking their heads. My first gig was in Dublin’s Ha’penny Bridge Inn, on open mic night. I was so nervous I was sick.

I was awkward on stage. Although I’d been in a band briefly the only other time I’d been on stage was for school nativity plays.

I continued working as a programmer and fitting in my comedy gigs at night until 2005. One year I used up all my holidays and sick days in one go and went to London for the whole summer to do shows.

When I started to get work in the UK it was harder to combine it with the day job and I took voluntary redundancy.

I was handed the reins of The Comedy Cellar in 2006 and then the television work started with I Dare Ya with Damo. My biggest challenge was when that particular show ended. It was well received and got good ratings.

It was a real slap in the face. Damo and myself had worked for on it for two years and I thought I was bullet-proof.

I don’t believe in fate but I do believe in luck and being in the right place at the right time.

I’ve learnt that nerves are really good — they don’t hinder you as much as you think.

The more you can embrace the nervousness the better it is as they give your performance an another level of sharpness.

I keep fit. I recently joined a gym and I’ve lost good bit of weight.

I play golf and football twice a week. I’m laidback and easygoing. It is hard to get very annoyed about stuff when I realise that I’m in the fewer than 1% of people who love their jobs. My biggest fault is impatience.

My biggest fear is about career longevity. Should I start to look into something else? I know I am successful but it’s that fear of never making it to the top. Up until recently, I would have said I’m an atheist. But since my father died I have definitely been questioning things.

It would be sad if that was simply the end. Acting in the television series Charlie was the most nerve-wracking experience of my life.

I had no acting training and it was completely different to any screen work I’d done before, where I am usually the main star of the show.

I had to take direction, remember my lines and get used to 15 people moving around me at the same time. I didn’t tell anyone about it before it was screened.

I was sure they’d cut me out. So far life has taught me not to take everything too seriously. There are worse things than not getting a laugh on stage.

Andrew Stanley recently launched and supports Foróige’s #BigBrotherBigSister campaign which encourages volunteers to become a role model and mentor to a young person who is in need of some guidance and support which is not available at home.

In conversation with Hilary Fennell