Jarlath Regan: 'Why do we accept that a children's hospital can cost that much money? Questioning is the centre of comedy'

WHEN Jarlath Regan was a child, being a comedian didn’t seem like an option. It was only in his twenties that he realised you can actually do that for a living.

“It just wasn't a thing people did, unlike this generation where it's an actual career choice,” he says.

Now, every comedian owns their own TV station - thanks to social media - a tool that has completely changed the world of comedy and entertainment, in Jarlath’s opinion.

“Comedians previously would've had to beg, borrow, and steal to try and get some airtime on a TV channel like the BBC in order to be seen in the homes of families across the country, across both islands,” he says. “But now you have that power in your hand, and I really feel like social media is the new TV. That's where 99% of the people that come to my shows have seen me. I only ever put up clips of material that I've done and am really proud of. It’s the perfect place for them to get a taste of you to understand what you do and then come and see a live show.”

Originally from The Curragh in Co Kildare, Jarlath worked in graphic design before going into comedy full-time. Aside from the comedy shows, he also has two podcasts, An Irishman Abroad and a parenting podcast co-hosted with his wife, Honey You’re Ruining Our Kid.

No longer abroad, the Irishman moved back home this summer after living in London. As a youngster, he was very taken by the airport.

“One of my earliest memories is loving being in the airport in the sense that anywhere and anything could be reached. I've got to see both sides of the coin and I'm very happy to be home.”

Speaking of his childhood in Kildare, he recalls: “I grew up where it's just a wide sweeping landscape of grass and sheep and horses. The only sound was the odd train that passed by our house. You grew so accustomed to that, it was so silent, and maybe that's why I love silence so much now. It was a very isolated life in that I had to cycle three miles to get to the nearest town. I was very envious of kids that lived in town.”

Jarlath says so much of his material is conversational. “A lot of it will be generated from chatting to my wife over coffee. Then, she’ll say something and I'll just think that's hilarious and I will extrapolate based on that,” he says.

Although, his jokes can be both observational and personal, he once wrote about donating a kidney to his brother.

Speaking of being a donor, he says: “On the one hand, it was absolutely a no-brainer. Your brother's gonna die, so you wanna stop that from happening.

“On the other hand, my wife has kidney issues too, and will probably need a kidney herself in time. And if you know that your wife is at risk, you are putting yourself at risk in an operation that's of no benefit to you. You've only got one kid. All of these things start to become consideration, and while you have this overwhelming urge to do the right thing for your brother, you do start to think about these other things.”

By writing a comedy show about kidney donation, he aimed to open up a conversation.

"Right now, there's so many people waiting for kidneys all across the world in hospital beds, while all of us walk around with two in the back pocket and one we don't need. I would happily talk to anyone who reads this and wants advice on what to do and how to do it, and if they're gonna put themselves forward as a live donor. I always say that my emails and DMs are open at any time because you do need to talk to those that have been through it.”

According to Jarlath, comedy is about questioning the way things are. Not one to settle, he is always trying to improve, to do more.

“I definitely think settling and any advice related to the idea of being happy with what you have is boll**ks. I'm never settling. The second you settle, it's all over. I just believe in always trying to improve every single day. The concept of settling is a broad one because you're just accepting that there isn't better available or that you can't do more. One of the reasons we see the difficulties we see in our country is the settling for that's as good as it gets.”

For him, lowering expectations can cause a lot of harm. “Why do we accept that a children's hospital can cost that much money? Why did we all accept that people in RTÉ were paid that amount of money? Questioning is the centre of comedy.”

Speaking of, Jarlath worked in RTÉ for a little while, where he got an insight into broadcasting. When the scandal came to light, he was upset.

“I was a bit disillusioned because the whole time, they were telling everybody, ‘we've no money’. It's like the guy you go out for a drink with, he says I can’t buy a round, and then you see him in the chipper right next door afterwards. It's very upsetting.”

Over the years, the comedian has had some crazy interactions while on stage. Once, a woman laughed so hard she leaned back in her chair and caught fire because of a candle.

“Her hair went up in flames. A man at that table just started slapping her across the head to put out the flames. And she was like, keep telling the jokes. That’s probably the maddest thing that's ever happened while I've been on stage,” he recalls.

Jarlath will play his new show, Yer Man, in the Belltable in Limerick on September 30 and January 13 - a wide-ranging, observational standup show about the current life we lead and why we can be so “thick-headed.”

Jarlath hopes to tell jokes forever. But, most of all, he hopes he won’t turn into an old cranky bast**d.

“That early-onset cranky bast**d is a big problem with Irish men. If I could talk to my 85 year-old-self, I would remind them not be cranky,” he laughs. “I hope that when I'm 85, if I get there, I’ll be a happy individual who is still doing shows, that would be my dream. I think I want to tell jokes forever. I want to do it right to the end.”