“[Show business] is essentially a classy way of being egotistical. It’s the most polite way you can be completely self-obsessed and to not have people call you out on it,” muses Rhys Nicholson. “Basically, if you look what I’ve done this year, I’m asking people to pay money to listen to me talk. On paper, that is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”
An existential funk has inspired Nicholson’s new show Forward. “Every now and again I have this little existential crisis, just going ‘What have I done? What am I doing?! Will I die being remembered as the person who made these primal noises come out of people?’ I always wonder where I’m going to be in a week, let alone 50 years. I’ve been saying I’ll be on my death bed thinking about what my last gig is going to be or what my last words are going to be. I’m obsessed with it. So that’s what Forward is about: not being sure what’s going to happen. Don’t get me wrong, it is mostly dick jokes.”
Nicholson is convinced of the tenuousness of his chosen career. It’s not for the faint of heart, this comedy game: most people dread public speaking, let alone trying to draw a laugh at the same time. So why would anyone do it? According to Nicholson, there’s a very simple explanation. “I think we’re all terrified of not being remembered and just disappearing,” he declares. “I think that’s the reason that most people go into comedy or show business in general: to be remembered.”
While Forward concerns notions of legacy, Nicholson wishes to allay fears that his new hour might be a little on the heavy side. “I’m trying not to make this a wank show. This is not my funeral,” he states. “I’m also very aware that I’m 25 years old and I don’t want people to come and think that these are my thoughts about life, because I have no thoughts about life.”
Following a successful year of presenting his previous festival show Eurgh, Nicholson has opted to change things up a bit. “This year I have definitely made a point to make just a stand-up show. It’s got that through-line in it, but I’m trying to do just pretty solid stand-up. There’s no inflatable llamas, there’s no lip-syncing to songs at the end. But you never know, maybe the ending isn’t good, so I’ll have to change it.”
For all his anxieties, Nicholson’s profile continues to grow and, pleasingly, the right people are taking notice. “I’m in better rooms, now: I’m in the Town Hall this year, which is a big step for me. It’s a small room, but it’s nice to feel liked by the festival. It makes me feel like they trust me to not just say the C-word for an hour.”
But it’s been Nicholson’s experiences abroad that have helped reinforced his comedy credentials, each trip another personal accomplishment. “The weird thing about this job – and I talk about it in this show, too – is that no one ever tells you what to do or whether you’re doing it right. I went to Edinburgh, did that for the second time and did better. I did London, I did a show at the Soho Theatre and got good reviews and good houses. Edinburgh and London were definitely the two things that made me feel like I’m doing something right. But you never know. You never know. It could all turn around,” he quips. “I’m one off-colour comment from being cut-off from everyone.”
BY NICK MASON
