Cork comedian Kyla Cobbler: I love words, but the letters were betraying me

Diagnosed with dyslexia and dyspraxia, Kyla Cobbler felt let down by the Irish school system. She emigrated aged 18 feeling, in her own words, 'stupid'. Today, she is emerging as a force in Irish comedy.

Sun, 05 May, 2024 - 07:23

Mary Cate Smith

“Ballincollig is very fancy now,” says comedian Kyla Cobbler of her native town. “There was no McDonald’s when I was there.”

Hearing about Kyla’s background and her pared-back lifestyle, you can see why she’d gauge the fast food restaurant as a barometer of fanciness. This is a woman with no notions.

“I’m quite regular. I’m not living a crazy life. I’m a very normal person. I’m a barista, I don’t do this full-time. When people tell me I’m getting a bit too big for my boots, I’m like; ‘I’m barefoot, get out of my way’.”

Still, Kyla would be forgiven for having a notion or two.

With over 98k followers on Instagram alone, her content resonates far beyond the west side of Cork.

She’s also been part of the Fabulous Pharmacist’s sell-out live tour, Viva La Vulva. Nothing was off limits — from periods to sex. And it made for refreshing, honest stand-up.

“I share my life all the time on Instagram. My stories are very organic, and I’ve always been very open. I was just telling my truth,” she says.

It wasn’t a conscious decision on Kyla’s part to gain followers or rack up the likes.

“I’ve always told the parishes — that’s what I call my Instagram page — everything. I am a representation of so many women who are just trying to ‘be’ in the world — to be successful, healthy, and to show up for themselves.”

She doesn’t shy away from difficult topics. She’s spoken about dating mishaps, her struggles with alcohol and the war in Gaza.

She has a platform and she’s not afraid to use it.

Comedian Kyla Cobbler. Picture Dan Linehan

If Kyla honed her craft on social media, she learned the art of storytelling in the pubs she grew up in.

“I used to work in the Angler’s in Carrigrohane. All my family are fishermen, they all have their photos on the walls.”

Storytelling is an art that requires skill, timing, and practice and Kyla learned the craft from observing a local raconteur in that same pub.

“Paddy Brennan — God rest his soul — he was such a good storyteller. He wasn’t the loudest in the room. Paddy would sit there with his pint of Beamish and a drop of whiskey, the rain pelting down.

“Suddenly, there’d be a lull in conversation where there wouldn’t be much craic. It’d be a winter’s night, dark, and Paddy would just be like; ‘You’ll never guess what.’ Forget captivating your audience on TikTok, this man would silence an entire room of grumpy Irish men,” Kyla says.

The performing bug was nipping at her heels but she suppressed the urge to satiate it for years.

For years, she grappled with feeling disenfranchised, in a restrictive school system that seemed to suppress any element of creativity she had.

“I was always considered dumb but I was never afraid to ask questions,” she explains.

That curiosity kept Kyla learning — on her own terms — although she was segregated from her classmates and put in a separate room with a scribe.

She has been diagnosed with dyslexia and dyspraxia.

“Even though I was a disaster, my mam always read to me. I suppose you lean more on imagination when the academic is lacking, don’t you?

“I just hated school, it was such a mess. I don’t know what it’s like for students now but it was horrible.”

You can hear it in her voice when she talks about school; it still weighs heavy on her mind. Yet, she looks back and laughs at the absurdity of it all.

“Something I’ve always thought about — you’re dressing children up in office wear. I remember being like; ‘Why am I in a shirt and tie? This is the most annoying thing ever. I can’t breathe.’

Intelligence isn’t one-size-fits-all and with some time and distance, Kyla began to realise that she was capable and clever, irrespective of the results on her Leaving Certificate.

“You have to give room for people to be who they are and how they navigate the world. You don’t have that in the classroom.”

But onstage, Kyla finally feels that power, even more so since she gave up drinking alcohol.

“It’s a presence thing. When you’re laughing, you’re not thinking about the future or the past. I feel that onstage when I make people laugh. They’re there with you. In the world we live in today, to get that reaction… people not picking up the phone. That’s power.”

The irony isn’t lost on Kyla — she’s thriving in an occupation that requires verbal mastery — irrespective of how you define intelligence.

Her Instagram reels run the gamut from ‘Irish women expressing tiredness without ever using the word tired’ to ‘the unspoken power of the Irish wink.’

She’s sharp and clever with language, yet the one thing her mam always heard at parent-teacher meetings was; “Kyla’s great craic but she’s not going to pass her exams.”

She started performing stand-up during the pandemic and she’s been going from strength to strength ever since. It wasn’t necessarily a linear journey but she embraces the diversions, all fodder for her comedic arsenal.

“Some people want a job, a mortgage, university, and to meet ‘the guy’. I totally get that but to me, that is my idea of a nightmare. I would feel so trapped. I’m so lucky my mam always told me intelligence comes in different ways.” Her mother was always her greatest cheerleader.

“I was so down and felt so stupid, and I just hated it. And she just kept saying, just get your exams.”

Her career highlight, so far, was selling out the Cork Opera House in February.

“As I get older, I look at my skill set and what I’ve done in my life and I would love to go back to school and talk to students. I would never say; ‘Don’t do your best’ but it’s not the end of the world.

“There’s so much emphasis put on this one exam — you’re 17, chill out.

“I don’t look back on it in a sad way. I just feel proud of myself more than anything else.”

Comedian Kyla Cobbler with Penny and Pip. Picture Dan Linehan

A yoga enthusiast, Kyla appears in tune with her body, so what’s it’s telling her now?

“I really want to be a mother. That’s something I’ve always wanted.”

She’s dating someone in Barcelona and his name is Simon. So far, there are no red flags.

“The dating world has become such a cesspit. It’s just so hard — he was so nice and I was like; ‘What the hell?’”

She had never had a long-term relationship before this one. “I was single for seven years. I literally never got the ride. I don’t have an ex-boyfriend. Then I met Simon and he’s amazing. It’s scary to let go. He takes care of me and it was so hard to let him do that.”

As for gigging in her hometown? She’s “still processing” the high that followed.

“I can’t even explain to you. I worked so hard for that show. I don’t have words yet of the feeling of what it was like to perform in front of 1,000 people and get a standing ovation. “It felt like this moment of; ‘Ok, it took a little bit longer but we’re here. And we crushed it.’”