Chris Kent: Bright spark swaps the building site for the comedy stage
Chris Kent headlines the Jokes for Stroke comedy event in the Everyman in Cork in April. Picture: Steve Ullathorne
Chris Kent’s comedy career came to a shuddering halt in March 2020. The arrival of Covid-19 drew a veil across the performing arts. Work dried up for Kent and other stage performers when a series of lockdowns meant that venues in the UK – where he was living at the time – and Ireland shuttered.
It was an acute blow for Kent, as his career was taking off after a decade grafting in smaller clubs. He was in the middle of a big tour, which included his debut gig at Vicar Street in Dublin, a holy site for stand-up comedians. He’d spent a year writing his show and six months promoting it. He’d already spent the money from ticket sales in his head. Then everything went kaput.
A scheduled move back to Ireland with his wife and two young kids was accelerated. He was back living in his childhood bedroom in Knocknaheeny, a neighbourhood on Cork’s northside. Back to square one. He even took up his old trade, working as an electrician.
Kent enjoyed working as a “sparky” again, using a different part of his brain, working to a process, solving problems. He liked a guaranteed wage in his bank account every Friday, too, and the holiday pay. No more chasing people for cheques, no more need to stress filling his diary as a gigging comedian. The transition back to the nine-to-five world was not without its awkward moments, however.
“Before I went back on the tools I was on the cusp of breaking in comedy and I didn’t break,” says Kent. “It was extremely rare if someone recognised me on the street. When I went back on the building sites, I had to get my Safe Pass. I got out of my car and didn’t the Safe Pass man recognise me. He asked me for a selfie with him. All my time doing comedy I’d never been asked to do a selfie. Of course for the selfie we were two metres apart. It was the most depressing selfie of all time. When it felt like comedy was dead and buried, here’s a guy asking me for one.
“On the building sites, initially, there was one or two people going, ‘Tell us a joke, Chris’ in impossible situations – we were at work. There was no malice in it. At the time, I remember getting annoyed, but then I relaxed, and I had a laugh, not necessarily telling jokes but feeling more comfortable.”
When the country started opening up again, in fits and starts, Kent remembers getting called to do a gig with Neil Delamere in the car park outside Coughlan’s in Cork. The pair did two shows in one night. Because of social distancing, there was a capacity of 15 punters for each gig.
“It was surreal,” says Kent. “We were on a stage. It was raining. I could see my breath. I was so happy to be there. The audience were as well. They were delighted. I did a good few of those gigs with Neil. I remember we did another one in Kilkenny in an amphitheatre outdoors and it was lashing rain. We were under the stage covers. I felt terrible for the crowd who were out in the rain. They all had ponchos on and were drinking cups of tea and laughing really hard.”
Kent’s passion for comedy never dwindled during his sabbatical. For a while, he double jobbed – working on the building sites during the day, and comedy clubs at night. Often, he’d jump in the car after work and do his soundcheck at, say, Cork’s Everyman Theatre in his work gear. Something had to give. It was no contest – Kent decided to go back doing comedy full-time after a two-year break.
He’s never had it so good. He’s in the middle of his biggest tour, a hundred dates across Ireland and the UK, including several shows at The Everyman and Vicar St. The tour, aptly enough, is titled Back at It. It includes material mined from his exasperating efforts to buy a three-bedroom house in Cork city during Ireland’s housing crisis.
“I had two jobs,” says Kent. “My wife is a primary school teacher. We have two kids. If we could have got them jobs, we would have. We had savings, the mortgage, people who were willing to help with a loan if needed, and we still couldn’t make it work. It felt like an impossible dream. You get desperate. My wife and I could see a rift developing between us. Your kids pick up on it. I remember we were leaving a house after a viewing and one of our kids, who was about five years old at the time, said, ‘You can have my money too, Mam and Dad.’
“This isn’t in the show, but myself and my wife moved to Dublin years ago. We were going to view an apartment. There was an auld estate agent there. He was showing us around and he said, ‘You’re not from Dublin, are ye?’ We said, ‘No.’ My wife is from Tipp and I’m from Cork. He said, ‘I knew that because ye have culchie features. You’d know ye are not Dubs.’ I was lost for words.
“You’re always seizing up other people viewing the property as well. They’d pull up in a nice car. ‘Oh, God, he has his shirt tucked in. We might as well give up now.’ I’d be dressed as an electrician. I joke about this in the show. I’d try to put people off. I’d pretend I was working and have a little look in the fuse board and go on the phone, saying, ‘It’s a mess. I wouldn’t go near it. I’m not touching this one'."
- Chris Kent will headline the charity gig, Jokes for Stroke, with a number of other comedians, at The Everyman, Cork, on Thursday, April 11. See: www.everymancork.com
“Tommy Tiernan is different. I’ve seen him do the same routines over and over, but I’d still be laughing, I still get a kick out of him. He’s always pushing it to the edge. He has a glint in the eye, a mischievous way about him. That’s what we’re all here for – to have the craic.”
“D’Unbelievables were a big influence. They appealed to all ages. Pat Shortt and Jon Kenny were brilliant at using a crowd as a soundboard, giving audience members a persona, and riffing off that. Getting the crowd involved yet ingeniously not taking the mick out of someone personally.”
“The American comic Nate Bargatze is great. I was told I was similar to him – cadence-wise, slowly speaking, silly material. He tries to get every ounce out of something that is so small and insignificant. He will stay on it and rinse it, and bring it as far as he can.”
“Bill Burr is fantastic. I got to support him many years ago. I like that he goes after both sides – the left and the right. He does it very well.”
“Eleanor Tiernan always has an angle on something I’m not expecting, and she’s articulate. She’s a nice blend of satire and silly observations. She catches you off guard. She could hop from talking about Brexit to hand-dryers or feminism, to an interaction with a stranger.”
