Who are you?
I’m Andrew Clover. I’m 37. I have a wife, and three daughters, who are five, four, and nought.
What sort of child were you?
At school, I was a clever, eager-to-please weirdo. I used to have my hand up so long I had to hold it up with the other one. I wouldn’t be invited to a lot of parties. At home I’d spend hours and hours on my own, thinking thoughts like: “If I can kick this football, at that flower pot, then I will save family from death… Oops… I’ve killed them again.” Killing the family felt evil, but strangely satisfying, a bit like pulling the hair out of a nostril.
Where were you educated?
At the European School of Luxembourg.
European school?
Yeah. Nationalities from all European countries. At breaktime the British would link arms with the Scandinavians, and we’d march round the playground chanting: “We won the war! In nineteen sixty-four!” We didn’t know what war we were singing about. We just knew we’d won it. When it snowed, we all went outside the school ground and we re-enacted World War 2 in a massive snowball fight against the Germans and Italians. When it emerged we were winning, the Italians swapped sides. Some Americans joined into the International Snowball Fight, once it was basically over. They kicked down the German’s snow fortifications. Then one of them invited me over to their school, to do Bible Class.
Did you spend your whole childhood in Luxembourg?
Enough of it. I went to boarding school in England when I was nine. It was basically a Fascist establishment, run by a bulldog headmaster, who was the sort of old-fashioned psychopath who believed in Latin, rugby, and sending kids on long cross country runs, wearing no pants. Every day, we had to learn fifteen pages of Greek Grammar. Once a matron caught me learning it in bed. She told the headmaster: “Clover was reading.” He got my big brother out of bed, and threw him down a flight of stairs. When told he’d got the wrong Clover, he got me out of bed. He dragged me by my ear, to my brother, who was bruised and weeping. He said: “Apologise to your brother”. I said: “Sorry Robert.” I didn’t say what I dearly wanted to say, which was: “Apologise to him yourself, you fat, violent tub of lard.”
So you went to a boarding school – you’re posh then?
I suppose so. Next I won a scholarship to Winchester College, where other boys called me Kevin, ‘cos they didn’t think I was as posh as them. I was expelled after an incident, in which I organised a firework attack against one of the teachers. After that I ran away to Paris. I had a girlfriend who was a street-girl called Bizou, and we would sleep together in car parks and roundabouts. After that I went to Oxford University, where I studied English Literature, Drama, and Creative Drug Abuse. I was good at acting, and twice won the prize of Oxford University’s Best Actor. I tended to play edgy /
extreme parts - King Lear in King Lear, Alan Strang in Equus -
whereas, as a professional actor, I've been doctors or lawyers, more
ordinary parts I'm less good at. This autumn, however, I've been
playing the Angel of Death in Ashes to Ashes, and have felt more
comfortable.
What was your first job on leaving Oxford?
Actor. I was in the original cast of Shopping and Fucking at the Royal Court. I appeared in several movies and TV shows, but basically I was in films that weren’t distributed, and TV shows broadcast while there was something on the other channel. I was in Cardiac Arrest, Dressing for Breakfast, Is It Legal?, Grass, Inspector Linley Murders, Murder In Mind, and Gimme, Gimme, Gimme. I love acting, but it ceased to earn me much money. When I met my future wife, Liv, I was living in Harlesden and so poor that when I walked to the shop to buy milk I’d scour the road for two pence pieces. After I met Liv, I started sponging off her which, believe me, is a lot less fun that it sounds. When we had kids, I started looking after them. Not because I wanted to. Because I wasn’t earning enough money to pay someone else to do it. And at first I was rubbish. I had the domestic instinct of the average smack addict. People would say: “oh you’re looking after your kids, you must be great at that. You must find that so fulfilling.” And I’d want to say: “I’m a man. If I’m good at something, I expect awards. Cash. I don’t expect to be changing nappies at 2 am: working with sewage, for someone who shouts at me.”
What changed for you?
My daughters taught me how to be happy. That’s what Dad Rules is about. In writing it, I stopped seeing myself as a stay-at-home dad. I saw myself as a Trophy Husband. And I became like a male JK Rowling: I’d get the kids to sleep, using Calpol if necessary, and I’d write my own material. I started doing stand-up comedy. My first Edinburgh show, was called A Man of Substance In A World of Filth. It was a demented monologue about an excitable geek too frightened to leave his mother’s house. It got nominated for the Perrier Award. After that I did four more one man shows at Edinburgh. I got two five star reviews from The Scotsman.
About two nights a week. I’ve performed at the Comedy Store and Jongleurs and places like that. Although, to be honest, when I perform at Jongleurs they usually just stare at me with the sort of look of hatred and confusion you’d normally display to a man at your door saying: “Hello. I’m from Sintel Sunshine. What energy provider are you currently using?” Basically I’m concentrating on the writing now, although I’m doing some school visits to promote Dirty Angels.
Oh yes. Dirty Angels. How does that fit in with Dad Rules.
It doesn’t. Dad Rules is for people with kids, who want to
(1) laugh, and
(2) reflect slightly on how they could make their lives happier.
Dirty Angels is aimed at teenagers who dress in skateboarding clothes, and who like sneaking round to each other’s houses to smoke and listen to music. Mind you, I’m also hoping Dirty Angels will appeal to the crossover audience - adults who read Harry Potter or Philip Pullman. |
