Culture That Made Me: Bernard O'Shea reveals his influences through the years
Bernard O'Shea.
My biggest telly memory growing up was watching comedians on the Late Late Show. My first memory is Spike Milligan. I'd say I was maybe six. I remember genuinely thinking, how did this crazy guy get on telly? He told this story about his father being an Irishman – from Sligo – who was a soldier in India.
They lived in a little council house. Two up, one down, he called it. I remember thinking this is so mad – this guy’s not even telling jokes. He was so surreal. The punchline to his story was that his father came into his bedroom one night, woke him up, shook him and said: “I never shot that tiger.” It made no sense.
I’d go to bed on a Friday night and I would say to my parents: “If the funny fella comes on the television wake me up.” That was the deal – I’d go to bed early on Friday, but if there was a comedian, they would have to tell me.
I loved watching The Den. It was a big part of my life growing up. My memory from primary school was that I’d come home from school to watch The Den, but some days RTÉ would have horse racing on. I remember thinking years later: Why is horse racing so popular in Ireland? Because seven- and eight-year-olds had to watch it because there was nothing else on.
After school, you’d think you were gonna watch Captain Planet and you’d have to watch the 3.40 from The Curragh, and every day there was horse racing on it was raining so you couldn't even go outside.
As a teenager, I loved The End, which was an odd programme that Sean Moncrieff and Barry Murphy hosted. It was on late at night on RTÉ.
They intercut it with old comedies like The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin.
Inbetween, they would do bizarre interviews and monologues to camera.
I remember one of them brought in characters from Wanderly Wagon. They’d have Judge on except Judge was filthy.
It was a big thing because you didn’t really see Irish stand-ups that much on telly at the time. If you did, it was very staged.
The origins of RTÉ Two as a station is interesting. Originally, it was set up as a money-making machine – buy in programmes and put advertising to them. It was not there as a vehicle for new comedy or new anything.
One of the positive repercussions for me is that the sitcoms I remember growing up were all American sitcoms. The sitcoms we parodied on Bridget & Eamon were American ones like The Golden Girls, Wings, Alf, Cheers.
When Irish comedians do Montreal or Aspen comedy festivals, we can reference these weird American sitcoms and television programmes like Airwolf. I remember doing a tour with a Canadian comedian and talking to him about The Beachcombers.
He went: “How the hell do you know The Beachcombers?” Because somebody in RTÉ had a contact where they could buy these distributed programmes on the cheap!
You might think Frasier is just a spin off from Cheers – which was an immaculate sitcom, cast brilliantly, with major characters being replaced and only getting better – but it’s better. Frasier’s character is so rounded. This highly intellectual snob that everybody gets. You don't need to know who Tchaikovsky is, but if Frasier says “Tchaikovsky”, you know it’s something posh and fancy.
Every character was there to push the story and the gag. It never jarred that his father lived with him. He was the everyman. The combination of Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde Pierce as Niles is so brilliant. There isn’t a bad line in the whole thing.
If you've never seen Frasier, you can put on Season 6, Episode 2 and within 20 seconds, you'll know which character is who and what's going on. Like with a succinct tabloid headline which captures the essence of a news story.
From 13 to 18, I gigged with my dad playing Irish traditional music.
It was the most un-coolest thing. I played guitar with him. I've done more Irish music gigs then comedy gigs and I'm 20 years doing stand-up.
We played four or five nights a week and it was relentless. I remember my dad would set up the full PA, testing microphones for his accordion, at two or three o’clock in the morning.
We’d be all crying: “I can’t sleep, dad.”
I listened to Irish music, but I never listened to it on CDs or tapes because I was listening to it all the time. All the reels and the polkas, I don’t know their names, but if somebody starts one, I can play it.
It was drilled into me. I was surrounded by it in the house.
The biggest music influence by far on me – and I learned every single one of their songs – is The Beatles.
Abbey Road was lying around the house. One of my sisters had it. By the time I was 13 or 14, I was obsessed with them.
I’m a massive Beatles nerd. My favourite Beatles song is a Lennon song: She Said She Said off Revolver.
And Revolver would be my favourite album. I would still listen to Revolver about once a month.
The first film I watched and realised there’s definitely more to a film than entertainment’s sake was Raising Arizona by the Coen brothers. This idea that a film can be a piece of art. I went to London to see it again. It was when I was footloose and fancy-free!
The Coen Brothers were at the screening. In the film, Nicholas Cage is a criminal married to an ex-cop. There’s a brilliant scene where they bring the baby back to where they're living. There's this weird yellow colour in the kitchen. I remember thinking that's so odd; it gives this weird light.
She's trying to quieten the baby and his head is spinning a thousand miles an hour because they stole it. This nuts conversation ensues. Somebody who’s supposed to uphold the law rationalises stealing a child and somebody who’s a criminal tries to de-rationalise the law, while they’re in this bright, bright kitchen.
The scene encapsulates all the things you can do when good things come together at once.
- Born in 1979, comedian Bernard O’Shea grew up in Durrow, Co Laois. Manopause: Bernard O’Shea is Having a Mid-life Crisis is published by Gill Books.
