Funnyman Jason Byrne tells MARION SAUVEBOIS why he will never retire...

HE is adulated by the crowds, the darling of critics and has a string of awards proving he is one the funniest men in the land but, no matter his kudos, at home Jason Byrne is universally panned.

The Irish comic doesn't take it too personally. Being treated as a living, breathing embarrassment regardless of virtually every last scrap of evidence to the contrary, is every parent's cross to bear.

Thankfully while his 16-year-old is in the throes of acute teenage rebellion, to his youngest he is still the world's coolest dad.

"The oldest is 16 so that's his job to call you an a***hole and not think you’re’ funny," he says magnanimous, a warm belly laugh bubbling up.

"Jesus, he just hates everything. But I think he’ll probably turn around at 18 and think I’m funny again.

"But my nine-year-old is a prince of a little man. He even said to me, 'I promise I’m not going to be like my brother when I grow up’. So hopefully that’ll work out. He calls me Jason Byrne now and again. He goes, ‘What’s Jason Byrne doing today?’”

But adolescence will soon rear its surly head and Jason is only too aware his days as a debonair demi-God are numbered in the Byrne household.

"He is a star because he's nine. He will soon hit 13 and he’s off and all that."

"But my wife," he booms, warming to his theme. "She is the winner of all that. I don't get to live a celebrity lifestyle because my wife and my family won't let me."

Then again the stand-up never bought into the whole VIP circus or star worship. He won't hear of anyone lugging his overnight bag for him and wears his “normality” (churlish teen, unfazed wife and all) like a badge of honour - unlike some who shall remained... named.

"I’m so normal it’s ridiculous," he insists. “That’s why I don’t mix with celebrities. I hate people doing s**t for me, that’s my pet hate. I could never be with people making my food and getting my stuff. There are these bands, like Westlife, those lads got everything done for them since they were kids so they grew up like that. So now when they go round they still have a helper with them because they don’t know how to operate without. I call these helpers gimps; and the gimp also goes, ‘Oh yes I’m very good friends with them.’ Oh are you really? I’m sure my mate would love to go and collect my suits,” he burst out laughing.

While this may be the case, one cannot help but wonder if his increasingly perilous stage stunts (“I was injured quite a bit in my last tour,” he admits) aren’t a subconscious attempt to overcompensate for his lack of validation at home.

Not so, he explains. He is only doing due diligence. On the back of his previous tour, the public asked for more props. And he was happy to oblige.

In Propped Up, the master of audience participation will lure spectators onto the stage with more oversized contraptions and thingamabobs, from giant ducks, rubber hands, horse and dolphin’s heads to big wooden pegs. As usual he is at pains to describe how his many feats of lunacy will pan out or what his latest panoply of comedy aids look like.

“Basically punters wear them and do the show with me,” he says, clearly lost for words. “It’s too visual. This is like me trying to explain quantum physics when I can’t. It’s just funny,” he throws in the towel. “You don’t leave my show learning anything about politics or the meaning of life, you just leave happy. That’s my goal.”

His dedication to his craft and complete disregard for his own health all for the sake of entertainment are commendable. It is hard to believe he was once reticent to give up his “proper job” for stand-up.

“I never wanted to do it,” he says firmly. “I wanted to manage a cool hotel in New York, somewhere,” says Byrne who ended up quite happily earning a living as an electrician. “But I started going to gigs and one night my mate said to the guy running the gig, ‘My friend really likes comedy’. The guy said, ‘Why don’t you do a couple of open spots?’ I said no. But my mate said yes. So I did it, and actually used quite a lot of props. My parents kept telling me to keep doing it but I kept saying it wasn’t a steady job. I got more gigs and I carried on.”

His parents were clearly onto something. Over the last 20 years he has emerged as one of most recognisable names in stand-up, received more gongs and nominations he can shake a stick at, including the Sony radio Gold Award for his BBC show, and been hailed as the biggest-selling comedian of the Edinburgh Fringe.

But he puts the breaks on any suggestion “he has arrived.”

“I would be the worst mountain climber. I‘d get to the top of Everest and I’d go, ‘It’s not high enough. I’m one of those people who keeps going. All these accolades are amazing but you get them because of your drive.

“I was speaking to Nicholas Parsons, he was doing a show in Edinburgh at 92. And I said, ‘I’m not doing a show at 92.’ He said, ‘My dear boy if you don’t, you’ll simply die’. I’ll never retire.”

Jason Byrne will be at the Wyvern on October 15. To book visit swindontheatres.co.uk or call 01793 524481.