‘Aren’t I doing great?’
One of the country’s fastest-rising stand-up comedians, Vittorio Angelone, talks identity, activism and what makes Liverpool special ahead of his Philharmonic show next month
Words | Lawrence Saunders
Could you briefly introduce yourself – where you grew up and your heritage?
I grew up in Belfast, and I’m half Italian, half Irish – that covers the basics of it really!
Your identity and sense of belonging play a big part in your stand-up material, don’t they?
100%. I remember my brother made fun of me once, saying: ‘Oh, what’s the new show about? Identity, is it?’ I was like ‘well, yeah!’ [Stand-up] is a very personal art form. You write it, you perform it – from start to finish, it’s you. So inherently, no matter what you’re doing, even with a one-liner, comedians are giving a little bit of who they are and showing that over the course of a show. I may just be slightly more explicit about it.
I also come from a place that’s obsessed with identity. My new show explores what it means to be from Northern Ireland without having personally experienced The Troubles, but still existing in their wake. It’s about what that means moving forward, and how I hope my generation in the North can define ourselves outside the context of the conflict. Of course, we can’t pretend it didn’t happen, and it didn’t affect how we grew up, but I think we also have a sort of blank canvas to paint on – at least to some extent.
Your new show also looks at whether comedians should be activists or use their platform for good – do you have a responsibility to tackle political and social issues?
I think there’s a lot of conversation in the art world generally about artists as activists, and whether all art has an obligation to be politically engaged. I’m probably not somebody who believes that, but I do think if the art of stand-up comedy is talking to an audience for 60 minutes – or whatever it is – I struggle to talk to my friends for 60 minutes without Palestine coming up, or Ukraine, or something horrendous happening somewhere in the world, and us wrestling with questions like, what can we do? What are we supposed to do? Are we doing enough?
Nobody is doing absolutely everything they can to solve all the problems in the world, and I’m not saying it’s our responsibility. But I think the new show wrestles with that idea, because it’s a concern on a lot of people’s minds, and I want to represent that feeling. There are lots of people online who will say things like, ‘How dare you not speak out about this? How dare you not attend this march? How dare you buy this product because it’s on the boycott list?’ And you think, okay, yes, right – not everyone can do everything.
It’s very difficult to live ethically in the world as it currently stands. We’re all making mistakes, and we’re all doing our best. I think it’s helpful for people to hear someone say, ‘Look, you should try your best, but you’re not a bad person if you order from Amazon once in a while’. I mean, I’m talking to you on an iPhone right now, and if you trace where any of its elements come from, it’s not a positive story. But some people will lambast you for making a tiny mistake, and I don’t think that’s the way to achieve anything positive.
A lot of people have discovered you through clips on social media. Do online platforms now play a vital role in a comedian’s success, or can stand-ups still break through without them?
I’d say it would be very, very difficult these days, because I don’t really know how anyone would find out about you if you don’t have any social media presence. But one of the biggest success stories of the social media stand-up age is Paul Smith, who’s a Liverpool local. He hasn’t had what you’d call mainstream success – TV, awards, Edinburgh Fringe – but I don’t know what’s more mainstream than selling out arenas in every city in the country.
I don’t think I even know what ‘mainstream success’ really means anymore, because a lot of TV shows don’t pay as much as they used to, and fewer people watch them. You can’t really build a touring career solely off the back of ‘mainstream success’. It’s hard to quantify. I grew up watching Live at the Apollo and Mock the Week – Mock the Week is gone (supposedly coming back on a different channel, I think) – and Live at the Apollo doesn’t seem to be massively on the cards for me. But I am performing at the Apollo on my tour.
It’s difficult because I started stand-up comedy inspired by those shows, so to reframe success in my mind and not include what inspired me to start is tricky. But if you step back, a lot of the people on Live at the Apollo and Mock the Week did it because they wanted to tour big, exciting venues – and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
So, in a way, it feels like I’ve skipped a step. It doesn’t feel quite as gratifying to look at the number at the top of your Instagram page and say, ‘Aren’t I doing great?’
You competed on BBC Two’s House of Games last November, and Richard Osman later gave you a shout-out on his podcast – I understand that had a big impact on your profile and opportunities?
Yeah. The Rest Is Entertainment – a lot of industry producers, commissioners, and TV people listen to. That’s what made it a gamechanger: once Richard name-checked me as someone worth paying attention to, it had an immediate impact. I’ve never had so many messages from industry people saying, ‘Oh, you got a shout-out on this podcast, that’s so cool!’ It really legitimized me in their minds, and now TV opportunities have started to come in.
It also feels nice to have an achievement that your granny can understand. I can show her as many viral videos as I like, and it still won’t make sense to her. But if I say, ‘Oh, I recorded 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown recently,’ she’ll go, ‘Oh, I watch Countdown!’ [laughs]
Aside from Cats Does Countdown, have you been working on any other TV projects?
We’re working on a few things, like building up to maybe writing a sitcom and getting some projects into development. It’s really about figuring out which opportunities I want to take and learning to say no when I need to. That’s definitely part of the focus for this year, alongside doing a tour all around the world! Everything’s going well, but I’d love to just sit down and play FIFA once in a while [laughs].
What are your memories of performing here in Liverpool?
On my first tour, I did one or two shows in Liverpool, and then we filmed my first special at Phase One Records. It looks really nice, and it allowed me to include little easter eggs that absolutely nobody has noticed. I had albums on the shelf behind the stage representing all the different sections of the show, and in the last two years, not a single person has ever spotted them. What a waste of time rooting out all those albums, but I like it – I like little easter eggs. I like to think I’m a bit like Taylor Swift on some level. I do love performing in Liverpool. I have a lot of good mates there – Adam [Rowe], Paul [Smith], and the Have a Word podcast team, who have supported me from early on. I’m hugely appreciative of them.
Speaking to other comedians, there’s almost a wariness about playing [Liverpool] – people say, ‘Now, the audience in Liverpool is very funny, and they know it, so if you aren’t doing the job, they’ll just take over’. I’ve experienced that, maybe to a small degree, but I enjoy a little back-and-forth with the audience, and that’s something I thrive on. Some comedians freeze in those moments, but I like it. The Philharmonic Hall is such a gorgeous venue as well. I performed in the small side room last year, and I remember seeing Adam Rowe film his special Imperious there a couple of years ago. Coming from a classical music background, it’s an incredible space – I’ve listened to recordings of Shostakovich symphonies that were made in that room. Now, I’m going to be performing there myself. It feels completely surreal. I’m trying to hang on to how incredible some of these links are and remind myself: if five years ago someone told me I’d be performing in the Philharmonic, I would have bitten their hand off for the opportunity.
It’s often said that the Irish and Scousers are very similar – do you feel that when you’re here, or is it a bit overplayed?
Yeah! It’s the 33rd county! It just has such an Irish feeling to it, with the pubs and the overall vibe. I always say it’s not distinct but if you ask somebody from Limerick if Belfast feels Irish, I’m sure they’d say it’s not exactly the same Irish as them. But Irish can mean lots of different things, and I think Liverpool is such an impressive place in so many ways. It marches to the beat of its own drum, and I love how independent so many of the shops, bars, and restaurants are.
One of the privileges of being a comedian is seeing every little nook and cranny of the UK – all these random towns and big cities. Liverpool really stands out. A lot of cities feel the same now – it’s a Starbucks, a McDonald’s, a Subway – and yes, there are streets in Liverpool like that too. But there are also so many unique spots where you think, ‘They don’t have this anywhere else’. Although I’m starting to get annoyed that my cool Liverpool recommendation, ‘Go to Mowgli, it’s great’, has now become far too mainstream [laughs].
With everything you’ve got planned this year, will you still have time to record your weekly podcast, Mike & Vittorio’s Guide to Parenting, with fellow Irish comedian Mike Rice?
It’s still going strong! We’re figuring out [when we can record episodes], there’s a lot of admin involved. You start comedy thinking, ‘I hate admin, I don’t want a proper job’, and then suddenly you’ve got spreadsheets for everything – [it’s like] ‘Mike, when are your tour dates? When are my tour dates? When can we record the podcast?’ It’s a lot to juggle.
But yes, the podcast is going strong. Despite it being called Mike & Vittorio’s Guide to Parenting, neither of us have kids, and we don’t actually talk about parenting at all. The secret is we were just trying to attract an audience of young mums – and it’s going rather well actually [laughs].











