Jason Manford on his Irish roots, and how humour kept him out of trouble in Manchester
Jason Manford is currently touring Ireland, including an upcoming appearance at the Everyman in Cork. (Photo by John Phillips/John Phillips/Getty)
Jason Manford likely got the performing bug from his mother’s side of the family. His maternal grandparents, a folk-singing duo called The Peates, emigrated from Dublin to Manchester in the 1950s. Later, they jumped on the showband wagon. As a kid, Manford, now 44, remembers his grandmother, Nora, playing in Irish bars on Sunday afternoons in the 1980s.
“My memory of those afternoons is sitting under the pool table with me brothers eating crisps hearing my nana singing, or At some point, my parents worked out that I was able to sing. Nana took a shine to me because of that. As soon as I was able to sing, I’d get up and sing a few songs with her.
“I think, always, I had an idea of what might be funny. From an early age, maybe eight, I used to sing by Elvis, which is not a funny song, but obviously it's funny because an eight-year-old is singing it. I would try and do a bit of an Elvis impression – the karate kick, a lip curl and shaking the hips. I remember it used to make people laugh.
“My Uncle Michael, the eldest, probably the only one of my uncles and aunties born in Ireland, and the only one with an Irish accent, was hilarious. I loved watching him because he was such a funny performer. He was talented. He did everything – he sang, he played the guitar. He could properly yodel, which is such a funny thing to do. That classic Irish thing where almost the talking between the songs is as entertaining as the songs.”
During summer months, Manford came over to Ireland for a couple of weeks’ holidays, running amok with his cousins around Templeogue, Dublin. His father is “very English”, so religion wasn’t a big part of their lives growing up. He was shocked by how long mass lasted in a Catholic church.
“In C of E, you’re in and out,” he says. “In 25 minutes, he’s said his thing. Off you go. In Dublin, it was a case of, ‘Are we still here?’ It felt like everything in Ireland was a little bit stricter because of the religious element. There were a lot more rules – ‘You can’t do that,’ ‘you can’t say that’ kind of thing. Back in Manchester, things felt a bit more feral.”
He adds: “It's funny, in the UK when I’m on tour, a cousin somewhere or an uncle will occasionally get in touch, and go, ‘Oh, Jason, I know you’re in Preston this week. I wondered if it's possible to get two tickets. I don't mind paying.’ Then I come to Dublin, and I get a phone call from some cousin I've seen three times in me life: ‘Jason, can I get 40 tickets?’ They ask for all sorts. ‘Can you do a meet-and-greet with my girlfriend?’ They’re not shy about coming forward in Ireland.”
Manford grew up on Moss Side, part of inner-city Manchester, home to Manchester City’s old stadium, Maine Road. It was a tough neighbourhood, notoriously dubbed “The Triangle of Death” because of gang violence. Many of Manford’s classmates are either dead or in prison. He used his knack for humour as a survival tool.
“Humour was massive for me during my childhood – learning to have a laugh,” he says. “Learning to laugh at yourself is the most important thing you can learn as a human being. If you don't take things seriously, you're not quick to snap if someone says something provocative. You've always got a way of getting out of things with words rather than actions or being physical.
“If you’re funny at school, you can have a laugh with everybody, whether it’s the nerds or the bullies. You can get away with things. Bullies didn’t pick on me necessarily because I always had something to say, I might be a bit mouthy. Generally, bullies are not good with their words so they wouldn't go toe to toe with you when it comes to arguments, certainly in front of other people or girls. Humour kept me out of trouble.
“Comedy was always something I was interested in. Being witty meant grown-ups noticed me more. The odd teacher noticed me and thought of me for certain things. When I got to high school, our deputy head teacher, Mr. Wiley, if there were any presenting things he needed doing, he would often ask me. Obviously, that's part of the reason my life has shaped the way it is because of someone like him.”
Manford was still a teenager when he first did live stand-up in 1999. He was working at a comedy club in Manchester as a glass collector when a comedian booked to perform failed to show up. Manford stepped into the breach and never looked back. He’s built an impressive career on the stand-up circuit and is a regular on UK television light entertainment shows.
In 2012, Manford made his West End debut in a musical; he’s performed lead roles in several musicals, including Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk and Prince Charming in Cinderella. He hasn’t yodelled on stage yet, like his Uncle Michael, but his quick-fire comedy chops are always on hand to get him out of a jam if needed. He recalls an incident on stage in Northern Ireland a few years after a 1996 Provisional IRA bombing of city-centre Manchester, close to a shopping centre.
“I remember one of my very early gigs was in Belfast,” he says. “Belfast now is very different to Belfast around the time coming out of the Northern Ireland Peace Process. We were one of the first sets of English comics to go over and play in the centre of Belfast. There was a guy on, from London before me, and the audience ruined him. I went on, and I said, ‘I’m from Manchester.’ A guy made a heckle, ‘Did you enjoy the bomb?’ The whole crowd were like, ‘Ooh, that’s too far.’ I said, ‘Well, nobody died, and we got a new NEXT.’ That helped to diffuse the situation.”
- Jason Manford is on a nationwide tour, including Cork’s The Everyman, Friday, July 25. See: www.jasonmanford.com
“Today a man knocked on my door and asked for a small donation towards the local swimming pool. I gave him a glass of water.”
“I spent two years in therapy for my Phil Collins addiction, but I did it. Against all odds. Just take a look at me now.”
“Me and my wife decided we don't want kids. So, if anyone wants them, we can drop them off tomorrow.”
“I don't hate ginger people. Don't get me wrong, I like ginger people. They were the only people who stopped me from getting bullied at school.”
“'Do not touch' must be the worst thing to read in braille.”
