I was born in Dublin. I initially lived in Tallaght, and then when I was about six or so, my family made the massive pilgrimage to Rathfarnham. Ever since then I have been living in various different places around that area of Dublin.
My memories of growing up in Tallaght are that we lived on a road that was very exciting. There were loads of kids, always something going on. Italia ‘90 is a big thing in my memory. I think when I was six, I reached my peak in terms of football knowledge. I knew Steve Staunton, Ray Houghton, Tony Cascarino, Packie Bonner. A neighbour of ours went to one of the matches and came home with one of the souvenirs from it – a little figurine of that famous save that Bonner made. So, when I think of Tallaght, I think of Italia ‘90.
I love being Irish and I think we have a particular way about ourselves. Stereotypically, I think Irish people are quite helpful. And because we live on an island, we know a lot about other places that mightn’t know a lot about us – we’re outward looking.
Before the end of last year, I was doing a run of UK dates, and somebody messaged me after one of the gigs and said: “You really love being Irish.” When I started comedy, there would have been more whispers of, “When you go over to the UK, you have to get rid of all that stuff; they wouldn’t be interested in hearing about that.” I feel like there’s more confidence now in just unapologetically being Irish.
There’s something in the way Irish people speak to each other, and the way we laugh and joke with each other. Years ago, I was doing support for Marc Maron and he told me that when he was going through passport control, they asked why he was in Ireland. He said he was doing comedy gigs. And the guy in passport control just looked at him and said: “Never heard of you.” He thought this was such a strange interaction. And I was like: “No, no. Welcome to Ireland.” He was debating whether or not to tell the audience about it, and I said: “Tell the audience. They will 100 per cent get that.”
I did my first comedy gig in a place called the Ha’penny Bridge Inn. They did an open mic there on a Tuesday and a Thursday, and you could literally just email them and say I want to do a gig, and they’d say here’s a date.
I was 29 and I thought, “Oh my God, I’m so old. I’ve left it too late.” I was on maternity leave with my second child. My daughter was 10 – I had her when I was 18, doing the Leaving Certificate – but then 10 years later, I’d managed to get a degree, I’d moved out, I had a partner, I’d kind of tried really hard to catch up and establish myself as an adult. And I started thinking: that 10 years has gone so fast. Here I am, pregnant again, and in everything I’ve done I’ve been quite sensible, and I wouldn’t naturally be an overly sensible person. I had sent a showreel to someone in TV, who actually said to me: you should do stand up. I thought do you know what, I’m going to do it.
I did that first time, and my thinking was never that it would be my job or anything. I thought it would be a good way to meet people who were involved in doing funny stuff. I felt like somebody else would be in charge – like somebody might ask me to write something or act in something. But I went there, got addicted, and I didn’t stop.
[ Emma Doran: ‘I was a single parent at 18, so I started saving for a house’Opens in new window ]
The Irish comedy scene is very accessible, but I think it’s hard when you’re starting out. When it’s your own show, people have come to see you. But when you start out, people don’t know you and it’s like: who cares? The vast majority of people who start don’t hang on. And you do have to be kind of deranged to think: this is a good idea. Because it’s a long internship.
The starting point for my latest show, Dilemma, was that I turned 40 in June. I also had a 21-year-old and I had never experienced adult life without being a parent. Forty is kind of middle aged. I don’t know how long everyone’s expecting to live until, but it’s pretty close. And I was like, “Oh my God, how did that happen?” I was looking at some of the decisions I made along the way. One of the things I explore is: could I be a lesbian? Because we didn’t really grow up in a time where it was gender fluid and people talked about all that.
Every day is different. Some days I might be at home, and I might think of an idea for a video and make it myself and really enjoy putting it up. It is nice to do stuff with other people as well. Stand-up can be quite lonely. When you come to do stuff with other people it is great, especially other comics. But I don’t look at the things I do as separate. Sometimes I get an idea for a sketch, and I think I might want to explore that onstage. They’re all connected. It’s the variety that I like.
In conversation with Niamh Donnelly. This interview, part of a series, was edited for clarity and length. Emma Doran plays Vicar Street on March 7th. For a full list of dates and venues, see emmadorancomedy.com.
