Comedy the new rock’n’roll? That’s so 1990s. These days, comedy is the new opera. June 14 sees stand-up’s answer to the Three Tenors: the Three Fellas – a trio of Ireland’s funniest comics sharing a stage in front of 10,000 people at the Liverpool Echo Arena as part of the European Capital of Culture celebrations. Dylan Moran, Tommy Tiernan and Ardal O’Hanlon met around a table in an upstairs room of a Dublin pub to try to work out why they were doing this.

Stephen Armstrong So why are you . . .?

Tommy Tiernan Money. That’s why. It’s not like a Dadaist movement or anything.

Ardal O’Hanlon We have a promoter in common, and he’s from Liverpool. And there’s a strong connection between Ireland and Liverpool. At one time, I think, most of the population of Liverpool were Irish.

Dylan Moran It’s also the money.

TT The idea was, you went to Liverpool to go to America.

DM But people thought they were in America, didn’t they? They thought, hey, that wasn’t so bad, I thought it was going to be really tough. Then generations later they found out.

SA What’s the format?

DM There’s a very good comic called John Bishop, then Ardal goes on, then I go on, then Tommy goes on.

SA So will we see an Irish comedy style?

AH There’s a kind of disrespect of the medium over here.

DM We’re really taking the piss out of it by talking about it at this length. We’re asking to be done in.

TT This is for an English paper, though.

DM True. They don’t mind this stuff.

AH An Irish comic can get away with more hard-hitting material than their British or American counterparts.

TT People know we’re just messing.

AH There is a winning way we have.

DM But what is it that takes the edge off it?

AH It’s our vulnerability.

DM I think that’s in the area. It’s not accusing, in the way the British tradition of satire has it. If a social foible is pointed out there, it’s “that lot” that do it, the fat cats. Or the chavs. In Ireland, it’s much more about the fact that you do it and therefore everybody does.

AH There’s a British comic I know who has no self-doubt, but I think we have self-doubt in bucketloads.

TT I don’t think I have.

DM Actually, Ardal, that’s just you.

AH Well, I’ve got more than I had a few minutes ago. Or maybe what I mean is that we’re aware of how futile it all is.

DM Yes, I think there’s a certain sense of shame – I’m serious – in that you’re thinking, this is just rubbish, I should be trying to write a book. I think that’s an Irish thing.

SA Do all of you want to write a book? (Awkward pause, then laughter.)

AH I have, but I’d like to write another one.

TT Yeah, I’ve finished a novel the publisher sent back as unpublishable. But that might just be us growing up in the 1970s and 1980s and who we looked up to.

AH Because comedy was so new and seductive, it claimed a lot of people who would have been drawn to other, more meaningful occupations.

SA Interestingly, few British comedians can talk about children and make it funny, yet you can.

DM I think that’s really important, actually. Not just children. Family life. Community life. Ordinary life. And I’ve seen young male reviewers make snarling comments as though it’s offering saccharine to the audience. And that’s piss of the palest order. Because you have to talk about these things that are the stuff of every day.

TT Piss of the palest order . . .

DM Well, it is. Because otherwise it’s just a slew of jokey references to films or bands.

TT I think you need the humility not to be clever and just say, “This is a story about my children. It’s not groundbreaking. It’s not daring. I’m not taking stand-up to the next level.”

DM That would be a great way to introduce a joke: “I’m not taking stand-up to the next level, I’m just treading water.”

AH It’s about doing that thing Tommy does better than anyone: he leaves everything on stage. You’re on for that hour, and you just leave everything there. And it’s a big mess.

TT It’s pungent. It’s piss of the palest order.

DM I’m going to step upstairs for a smoke. (Leaves.)

SA Will you have to cut down your set and add more gags per minute? Is there going to be any competitiveness?

TT Well, Dylan would be the most competitive. It’s difficult for me and Ardal to work with him. To be in the same room with him. He also does a lot of other comics’ material.

AH He steals a lot from us two. That’s why I’m going on first. To do my jokes before he does.

TT He’s not really gone to have a cigarette; he’s got a notebook to write down the funny things we said.

DM (returning): It’s about awareness, because it’s the main substance of what you’ve got to do your job.

AH I think the best thing you can do is just do your own set.

DM You’re thinking that? You’re so f***ed. Come on with flames, at least.

TT I’m doing Cirque du Soleil at the start.

SA And what about the ending? Any big joke-jams?

TT It’s hard. If you’re musicians, you can all throw a song together. Comedians – it’s hard to think of something.

DM It’s the idea of sharing. So repulsive.

TT It would mean working for week.

DM It would mean work, in short.

AH I said I’d like to go first.

TT But that’s just you saying you’d like to get yours out of the way as quickly as possible, in a veil of modesty.

AH It’s partly that, but also, I think I’m the nicest by a long way, while Tommy is ridiculous. Then Dylan’s the musical act in the middle. We can’t go wrong.

SA You all worked together in the Comedy Cellar in Dublin in the early 1990s. Was there a joke that you all told?

TT That might be an interesting finale. A joke we could all tell.

DM You can’t just put something together. You see those huge charity shows, and someone’s doing a skit or parody and it usually tanks. (Long pause.)

AH It’s a harebrained scheme, essentially.

The Three Fellas, Liverpool Echo Arena, June 14; to book, call 0844 800 0400 or go to www.accliverpool.com

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