This much I know: Erik ‘The Lizardman’ Sprague

My biggest asset is also my biggest liability. I’m green with a sharped tongue and horns.

I think people are scared of me at times. I’ve come to understand that reaction.

There is a certain amount of pain involved in the body modification I’ve had done and in the performances I do. I can take the pain if it gives someone else a moment of joy. This work requires discomfort.

The best advice I ever got was: if you are going do something dumb, you might as well let people watch and damn well get paid for it.

My parents were very encouraging of anything I wanted to do, but I don’t think it was obvious that I’d become a performer.

I was a fairly confident kid, when I had the belief in my ability to do something. The kind who’d shout ‘I do’ if we were asked ‘who wants to go down this massive slide?’

I was headed down an academic path.

I studied philosophy and became a professor. I have taught the subject at every level.

Within the first year working on my PhD I was reminded of how much I loved academics but hated campus politics.

And I felt that serious philosophical stuff didn’t connect with real people, not in the way perfromance can. I believed I could do more and have more impact as a performer.

When the politics of academia really got to me, I started transforming my body in earnest.

It was at existential moment in my life, knowing that I was about to embark on a path that would radically change my appearance for the rest of my life.

I chose a reptilian theme almost as a matter of asethetics.

I was like - what do I want to look at every day? Polka dots, mazes, words? Reptiles play a big role in human myth.

As artists we try to create powerful symbols. By transforming myself, I became the symbol itself.

The most obvious body work I’ve had done is 700 hours of tatooing. I’ve covered my body completely. It’s like a colouring book.

There are basically another 100 hours of filling in left to go.

I’ve had implants in my forehead. My teeth have been filed to points by a dentist’s drill.

They carved the outer enamel. It’s perfectly safe, as long as they don’t touch your gums.

And the big one of course is that my tongue is split. I had the first surgical tongue splitting in the world.

Come to my stage show while I’m in Ireland, and see my body modifications.

I’lll show you what years of practice with a split tongue can do. I can move both pieces independently of each other.

I also do original stunts. I take sword swallowing in directions which have not been done before. I put a giant corkscrew through my face.

I know it sounds gruesome but I promise it is a family friendly show.

I was born in Kentucky, grew up in New York and live in Austin, Texas. My idea of misery is having to commute to work on a daily basis.

I travel ten months of the year but I couldn’t stand having to deal with local traffic.

I met my wife Meghan at one of my shows in Austin, we are approaching our 13th anniversary. She’s a nurse.

The thing that scares me most is the idea of a Trump president.

I love performing. My idea of bliss is having a whole bunch of people watch me on stage with rapt attention.

As an entertainer, I have a hard time keeping a straight face sometimes. Anything is potenetially funny.

If I could be someone else for a day I’d choose to go into the mind of someone horrible like Hitler, so that I could try to understand them.

I don’t believe in an afterlife, or in punishment. I’m a pure materialist - physical matter falls apart and that’s it.

I used to teach karate and have been meditating since I was twelve.

So far life has taught me the importance of being nice to other people.

My biggest challenge is having people accept my decision to transform my body into looking like a green lizard.

It upsets me that some people seem scared by my appearance. But then, I guess, what can I expect…

The Lizardman performs at Laya Healthcare’s City Spectacular which runs in Dublin’s Merrion Square July 8-10 and Cork’s Fitzgerald Park on July 16-17.

Entry is free. www.cityspectacular.com