'Im angry, but it’s a controlled anger’: Omid Djalili brings calm fury to stage

Persian comedy powerhouse Omid Djalili is returning to Nottingham – and this time he will be bowing peacefully to his inner fury.

Having entertained audiences across the country with his Good Times tour, audiences for his new show Namaste are promised a torrent of comedic vitriol upon the current state of the planet.

As he took to the road, he spoke to Mark Wareham about putting a funny spin on the state of the world and how being cancelled post-9/11 makes him the perfect comedy ambassador for these tumultuous times.

Can you explain a bit about the new show?

Well, I’ve always tried to be nice about people but this time I can’t. The world is in such a terrible state. At the end of the day the whole purpose of comedy is not just making people laugh. That’s not the end game. When you talk about the means to an end, the means is comedy but the end is to actually make sense of what’s going on. And because I’m from the Middle East, I feel I do have some answers. People come to me as some kind of bridge, like a cultural stopgap, as someone to spread light on things. People don’t get what’s going on. They don’t get the connection between Iran and what’s going on in Gaza. It’s me trying to use comedy to make it more palatable for a British audience to understand what’s going on. So I’ve put my hat in the ring.

So it’s a more considered, rational response, rather than a Mr Angry approach?

Yeah, the tour poster is a picture of me with steam coming out of my ears. I’m angry but it’s a controlled anger and it’s considered. Audiences are really appreciative of that. So many people want to hang around afterwards. They say ‘thank you’, not ‘oh mate, that was hilarious.’ It’s making sense of things. You give them a glimmer so people have some sort of handle on the situation.

Do the cancel culture warriors need to be on high alert for this tour?

Cancel culture is a real thing. We’re always on the edge of being cancelled. We’re one joke away from having a TV series taken away or being kicked off a film. But I feel I’m old enough not to care anymore. I’ve been watching people like Seann Walsh and Louis CK and I kind of wish that I was cancelled ‘cos they reach a level in their comedy where they just don’t care. Seann Walsh was this wide-eyed young guy doing Strictly and didn’t realise he was going to be so pilloried in the press. It’s given him a kind of ‘I don’t care anymore’ attitude. It’s a release. Nothing can get worse and you’ve nothing to lose. And that’s when people are at their funniest. So you either do that by getting cancelled or just by getting old. In my case, I’m just too old to care.

It’s almost 30 years since your debut. Do you feel your material has changed a lot in that time?

I was terrible back then. I look back at myself and it was appalling. I didn’t really want to do it. All my friends used to say you’re funny, you should get up there and do it. So I thought I’d give it a shot, but I didn’t really care much about it. It was only when 9/11 happened and I thought this is something serious I could have a voice about. I worked with Whoopi Goldberg 20 years ago when we did a sitcom together in America. I did some shows in New York and people were saying he’s good but he’s not quite top level. And Whoopi said, ‘Yeah, that’s what they said about Richard Pryor’. And she made this connection between me and Pryor, and I said I’m not having that. But she said, ‘No. For your people,’ – and we’re talking about a whole gamut of countries and cultures from the Arab States, Iran, Pakistan, India – ‘for brown people, you are the first’. So, like Richard Pryor, you do stuff that is geared towards white, middle America or middle England, and they will love you for it, but you won’t get really good until you become authentic. That’s what she was saying. As you get older that authentic voice will emerge. So she made me promise not to stop doing stand-up. And she said soon you’ll see others being inspired by you. And I thought, really? But I have seen people come through like Guz Khan, Romesh Ranganathan, who’ve told me I gave them the confidence to do it. So if I have inspired people that’s great. But Omid Djalili in the 1990s is definitely not my cup of tea. I looked a mess. I didn’t know how to dress, wore the wrong colour boots with the suit, but I was at least trying to write recognisably good stand-up. So I try and forgive myself, but I’m much happier with what I’m doing now.

Do you feel, intrinsically, because of who you are, it’s impossible for your act not to be political?

Yeah, it’s impossible. People would just be disappointed. I love Tim Vine. I went to see his show and he made me laugh from beginning to end. But if I did that to my fans I’d be hanged from a lamppost. They’d say, ‘What are you doing? There’s all this stuff going on. Are you seriously not going to mention the Woman, Life, Freedom movement? Are you seriously not going to make fun of this regime?’. So I do feel obligated, yes. For someone in my position and from my background, it would be remiss not to. But unless it’s funny, I’m not even going to bother. I’ve got reams and reams of notes of things that have outraged me, but if there’s no joke there then I won’t inflict it on the audience.

Omid Djalili comes to the Playhouse on Wednesday June 25. Visit nottinghamplayhouse.co.uk or call 0115 941 9419 to book.