Doug Stanhope: "I’d rather have no hate whatsoever, never put on the news again"

Anyone who knows Stanhope will know he’s not a 10am kind of guy, unless that's the time he’s staggering home at. So it’s a bit of a surprise when he picks up the phone on the first ring with a cheery "Good morning!" At first, I think maybe Stanhope has gone soft, but soon I hear the hangover kicking in. He's been up all night tweeting jokes about the Japanese earthquake. I ask him if he thinks that it's too soon to start making jokes about that, considering his first tweet was only four hours after the disaster. "I thought it was only an hour and a half?" he says, slightly hurt. "Either way, it was only like, 90 seconds after I turned on the news."

Outrage is Stanhope’s specialty. He’s been booed, bottled and has incited mass walkouts. In America he mainly tours rock clubs, having long been banned from most comedy venues. In Ireland, his first gig ended after ten minutes and was reported in the Irish tabloids under the headline 'Irish women are too ugly to rape! Comic booed after shocking jibe'.

"Anyone who listened would not be offended," says Stanhope. It’s true. For all the fratboy affectations, Stanhope’s reputation is really built on his sharp insight and a keen bullshit detector. A typical Stanhope joke is easy to get offended by but hard to argue with. Not that he agrees with this analysis himself. "I'm not religious about it, like 'Oh, it has to have a point'. If I have a funny joke that's just a joke, it’s in there. Some of my shit doesn't have a point. Me sitting up all night making Japanese tsunami jokes doesn’t have any point other than me being a dick."

Most of his jokes do have a point though. For example, his jokes about abortion are backed up by his support of The Lillith Fund, a Texan charity that funds abortions for underprivileged women. "I still give $500 a year to them. Last year I donated in the name of the guy who killed that abortion doctor. I've got to find some other lunatic for this year." Although, sadly, it seems that the rumour that his will allocates half of his estate to the foundation of the Sarah J Palin Abortion Fund is just a rumour.

The mix of anger and politics bring an inevitable comparison to Bill Hicks. "Yeah," he growls. "It's been a hard decade to live through and people are looking for a voice like Bill's to guide them through it." Some have picked Stanhope as his successor. Is that a burden? "Not really. It did start to get bothersome for a while. I find it a really inaccurate comparison. He was deliberate, sober, paced, where I am drunk, frenetic, a total mess. He’s one of those guys that’s probably better off… Comics don’t last. I defy you to name me three comedians over the age of sixty who are funny and relevant. That guy needed to die to keep his reputation. Eventually we all get soft and old."

At 43, Stanhope has now outlived Hicks by a clear decade. He doesn’t sound soft or old. Despite the time, he can still break off into an articulate rant about gay marriage or the Westboro Baptist church. So what does he think? Is he getting complacent as he gets older? "I’m complacent in my soul," he replies, "which makes me hate going on stage, which makes me try harder, which makes me angry, which makes it work. But I’d rather have no hate whatsoever, never put on the news again, sit here in a small town and pretend life is perfect." Is he worried about losing his edge? "There’s nothing really edgy in comedy any more. There’s no more bridges to cross."

So where do we go from here?

"I dunno. Somewhere else. Or we just sit back and wait for the next 9/11."