Al Murrary: the Pub Landlord and me But you're nothing like him. I've been playing the Pub Landlord for the best part of 20 years now and I'm still amazed when people say this. "Of course, I'm nothing like him," I say. After all, as far as I can tell, the Pub Landlord is so preposterous, so ghastly, so plainly - how can I put this? - a joke, I find myself marvelling at the idea that anyone could be like him, let alone me. This is just one of the occupational hazards of playing an alter ego, but one that I'm fine with. Because the gap between him and me is one of the things that, I think, allow the character to work. Ten minutes before the first show I had what, in retrospect, was a Eureka moment. As we were playing in a bar, and the show was called *Pub Internationale*, why not say the compère hadn't shown up (which was true, figuratively speaking) and that the barman, the Pub Landlord, had offered to fill in? Harry said "Yeah OK fine whatever," and 10 minutes later, with some stuff jotted down, on I went. It worked. While Harry did his set, I jotted some more. The following day I cut off my hair, the Edinburgh run was a big hit, we went on tour and six months later I had an hour of material ­ - in other words, an act. The quest for authenticity in stand-up is one I can't really relate to. Performance is so tied up in ritual and repetition that the idea of "telling the truth" seems to me to be impossible, if not bogus (not to mention solipsistic). Surely authenticity or telling the truth - like being "edgy," which has somehow been elevated to become "the point of comedy" by people who simply haven't thought about what they're saying - are merely tools at comedy's disposal? Means, not ends. Also, instead of being "truthful," why not create something? Most of all, I find certainty and being definite very difficult. I have a habit of seeing both sides of lots of things, an attitude which really doesn't cut it in a stand-up environment. Stand-up involves being definite, certain, sure-footed. And being definite in real life can land you in all sorts of trouble - in fact, it's often pretty absurd. This is why the Pub Landlord is so certain about lots of things - and often wrong. Or he starts off somewhere reasonable enough and then pushes his argument to the point of certain destruction. I like the act to contain ambiguity and ambivalence: what are we meant to be laughing at here? What is the point he's making? If the Pub Landlord contradicts himself, even better. If he confuses some people, then good. Getting into character isn't something I spend a great deal of time on, and the elements of the Pub Landlord's back story that I've invented have been created as and when they've been required and included so long as they're funny. So the four pub fires the Pub Landlord has died in for tax and insurance purposes, his blighted family life (eg his wife running off with a Frenchman) and his chaotic and frustrated sex life have all come about when looking for laughs. Strictly speaking, he still doesn't have a name - but a series of billing cock-ups and the erosion of years means my name has been tangled up with the character. I've been asked if Al is my real name - which somewhere along the line implies my name is a comedy name. The costume hasn't changed since the second year of playing him when, one night in a club in Bristol, my stuff was stolen, the guv'nor there let me into his wardrobe to lend me some clothes, and he had the same jacket, trousers and short white-sleeved shirt as the Pub Landlord - it felt like a cosmic blessing of the character's look. So why has the Pub Landlord lasted? Partly because I've simply stuck with him (perseverance pays off) and the margins of the character are so well worked out. It's also because, as he's developed, he's taken on a new mantle of preposterous self-importance and run with it. This year's touring show sees the Landlord trying to deliver a national pep talk, because our leaders have let us down and lost the way; he promises to set the country free, while taking in topics such as the euro, figuring out which was the worst government ever, vajazzles, Scottish independence, free speech, and Pippa Middleton's bum. Something for everyone, I hope. 'The Only Way is Epic" is at the Queen's Theatre, London, on Nov 4 and 18 as part of an extended nationwide tour. A DVD of the show will be available on Nov 19. Tour details and tickets: thepublandlord.com