Hero Worship: Dylan Moran

There is that adage which suggests you should never meet your hero, as the end result can only be disappointment. Turns out this is quite true, although the disappointment in question can take many forms. I was working in a pub a couple of years back when Dylan Moran ambled to the bar and ordered a coffee. I am a big fan of his work, have seen him live endlessly and adore the shambolic mess that is Black Books, and was quite looking forward to chatting with him. However, when I returned with the coffee Dylan had inexplicably disappeared. Being the prick I am, I lay in wait for his eventual return and watched in self-amusement as he fingered the cup reticently, before eventually being brave enough to try a sip, when I pounced.

“Coffee alright there Mr Moran?” I asked in my best Irish peasant, which is fine because I am an Irish peasant.
“Am…”
“Congrats on Friday by the way, quite the coup!”

Dylan’s live show Monster had aired on Channel 4 the previous week, it was the only proper icebreaker I could think of as I poured him a fresh cup.

“Thanks, did you enjoy it?”
“Well, I was off my face on mushrooms while it was on. So yes, I laughed… a lot.”

Inexplicably, given the deplorable standard of badinage, Dylan invited me to join him for a drink after my shift had finished. I did, and it was fun. We talked about music, Christopher Hitchens, Chinese Imperialism (well, he did, I really don’t know my Ming from my Flash Gordon) in between good humoured banter with the autograph hunters (I insisted that he sign some too, haha).

Three, maybe more, Lagavulins in and eventually the grating sycophancy that you’ll hope to coolly avoid when you do meet someone of wide renown began to bubble to the surface. With a dram-induced flourish, I revealed that the freewheeling bursts of limitless whimsy and seemingly stream of consciousness observation of early Dylan Moran was probably my favourite comedy of all time.

Dylan shot me a wide-eyed stare which remained in place when he repeated my words. “Early (murderous pause)…Dylan Moran?”

Oops. The stare remained fixed on me just long enough to discern that my stumbling efforts of a retraction or explanation were really not proving adequate before disappearing tablewards where they were to remain for the rest of our time together, which wasn’t very long. And so, whilst under no illusions as to the lasting impact of my careless faux pas on Mr Moran’s impressive career, I did manage to disappoint him momentarily. And so, I would like to try and make some form of amends by saying now, to my hero: “Dylan, your new stuff is great too!”