Bill Bailey: “Face the Front and Keep Saying Funny Things”
By Darren Croft
It’s been almost a quarter of a century since Bill Bailey last spoke to Loaded, but some things clearly haven’t changed. The comedian, musician, actor and unlikely Strictly Come Dancing champion is still capable of turning an innocent question about kazoos into a story involving customs officials, a feather and alleged drug paraphernalia.
Now, as he prepares to take his new show Vaudevillean around Australia and then the UK, Bailey is looking back as well as forward. His latest tour celebrates the chaotic, communal spirit of Vaudeville. It’s a world of comedy, music, theatre, spectacle and acts designed to grab an audience’s attention before the next one takes the stage. It’s a fitting description of Bailey’s own career, which has always resisted being neatly pigeonholed.
From his early days finding his voice in rowdy comedy clubs, to musical experiments, political songs, eccentric bands, dancing with Oti Mabuse and encounters with some very memorable dogs, Bailey has spent decades doing things his own way. And, as he explains, there is still one piece of advice that remains as relevant as ever: face the front and keep saying funny things.
Bill is relaxing at home when we chat, preparing for his tour of Australia.
You last spoke to Loaded in 2002, almost a quarter-of-a-century ago. That can’t be right, can it?
There must have been some kind of time slip.
You did get a mention recently when I spoke to Alan Davies. He said your advice for comedians is to “Face the front and keep saying funny things”. Do you stand by that?
Yes, I’d say that’s pretty solid advice. Definitely don’t turn your back on them. Also, I think on a deeper, intellectual level it works. You could say “Face the front” means you should have confidence and don’t be afraid to tackle difficult subjects. Don’t focus on the past and don’t fret too much about the future. Be present…God, there’s so much to unpack from this very simple advice, isn’t there?
When you’re a comic- as I have been for many years- you go through all kinds of phases in your life. When you start, it’s all a great big adventure, and you’re trying to find your own voice. For me that took about three years. You’re trying to find a way to get audiences to not hate you. Then you find that breakthrough moment, as I did when I found I was doing comedy a certain way.
I was in a double-act, and we were often put on at the end of the night. Clubs were pretty rowdy in those days, so you had to put something on that would grab their attention. Then I had an epiphany when my double-act partner was away on holiday, and I got booked as a solo stand-up. It was a proper light bulb moment when I thought, “This is the kind of comedy I should be doing.”
My kind of comedy being the shaggy-dog stories, things going off on a tangent then coming back, observation stuff and all that. When I realised that, it was quite a revelation. You still have to make it funny and engaging, but when you find that, you have to always remember your job is still to face the front and say funny things.
In your previous interview, you said you’d love to see Slipknot at Glastonbury. Is that still the case?
It would be a great booking. It really would. At the time, it wouldn’t have seemed that likely, but you know what, they’re a terrific live band. They really put on a show. It wasn’t that long ago that Metallica headlined, after they probably weren’t looking for a metal band to headline. So, it might happen. In fact, I’d be delighted if that prediction came true.
Have any newer acts caught your attention?
Oh, Angine de Poitrine. They’re extraordinary. A bit of theatre with some loop pedals thrown in. Great stuff. There’s another band called Henge. They’ve got an alien playing the keyboards, and another guy has a working fan on his head. It’s brilliant!
When I first saw Angine, I thought, “This can’t get any better.” Then the guitarist twanged his nose.
Yeah, rock, jazz, theatre, and prog suddenly reached an apotheosis. If you interview them, you’ll need to dress up a bit. Maybe do the whole thing incognito.
I’ve been a football mascot before. I don’t need an excuse.
Haha. Well, I think there’s definitely an appetite at the moment for something more theatrical. Great music where the costumes light up, and there’s a bit of mystery surrounding them. That’s why they’re a terrific live band.
Look, Slipknot are all wearing masks. They’re all characters. It’s a great spectacle.
In 2002, you stated that the kazoo is the world’s best instrument. Is that still the case?
Well, I’m not sure now. I did have a collection at one point. They’re still knocking around in my studio somewhere. I probably said that because I was in New Zealand just before that interview, and I got stopped at customs and the kazoo was confiscated. They thought it was some kind of drug paraphernalia. I don’t think the customs guy knew what a kazoo was.
He took one look at me with my long beard and hair and thought I clearly looked dodgy. It was profiling. I had to take it apart, which I’d never done before, and there was a feather inside (‘cause it was a posh kazoo, obviously.) He took the feather off me and told me they were banned from New Zealand! He confiscated my kazoo!
At least the sniffer dog didn’t eat it.
That might have been a better ending, with the dog farting and playing the kazoo out of its arse.
A number of comedians I’ve spoken to have noticed a change in audience reaction when it comes to politics. Have you seen that?
I don’t think so. I was always one to mock everyone, and that principle stays true now. That’s our job, really. The show I’m doing now is Vaudevillean, and I was doing some research into Vaudeville. All throughout its history, it was about mocking people in power. It was the people’s entertainment.
I think politics has become a bit more tribal. Brexit was a very divisive thing, and it polarised Britain for a long time. I did sense there was a heightened sensitivity to it. When the subject came up, everyone’s guard went up. I ended up writing a song about it to the tune of “We’re All Going on a Summer Holiday.”
It was about us being done with Europe, and we were going to do our own thing now. You have to find the right balance with these things. It seemed to work in places where there was a strong ‘Remain’ section or very ‘Pro-Leave’. It found that tiny spot in between where both sets could enjoy it. As a comic, you should be able to find that sweet spot.
Your tour celebrates the era of Vaudeville, which seemed to hit that sweet spot back in the day.
Yes, it kicked off in France in the 1400s, and it was all about everyone gathering in one place, forgetting their hardships, laughing and singing songs together. I think you can trace stand-up comedy right back to that era. It was entertainment by the people, for the people.
Then it evolved and went to America. That’s when it really took off. The Americans ran with it and turned it into hugely popular family entertainment. Before that it had been really blokey and rowdy entertainment performed in sawdust bars.
What the American promoters realised was that there was this huge audience of men, women and children who would flock to see these shows. They weren’t really being catered for previously, and that’s how it all took off.
With Vaudeville’s huge variety of acts, do you think it could make a comeback in this era of short attention spans?
Yes, absolutely. That was the essence of it. You’ve got a few minutes to grab people’s attention, then there’s another act on the stage: a juggler, a singer, an actor, or maybe a dog act. That was the structure of the show. There were all kinds of different acts from diverse backgrounds.
I suppose I identify with that. When I did my first Edinburgh show, I had to fill an hour’s slot. That meant throwing the kitchen sink at it. A few songs, some jokes, a keyboard thing, and some longer jokes. I packed it with a variety of styles, languages, and music. I suppose that’s become my trademark.
If only you’d known back then that you were a dancer.
Yes! I mean, how did that happen? My 2002 self would never have predicted that.
Do you think your talent as a musician helped you to land the Strictly trophy?
I struggled with the fact that dancers count in a completely different way. A musician counts “1,2,3,4”. They count “5,6,7,8”. Most of the heated conversations I had with Oti were about what happened to numbers one to four. I had to start thinking like a dancer. We tried it my way, but when I cocked it up, she’d say, “See?”
A lot of people would say that being a musician helps, but no. It doesn’t follow at all. If anything, it was a hindrance.
There are so many factors. You have to be very disciplined to be a good dancer. I thought I’d really struggle with the physicality of it. And it’s not just your legs; it’s the toes, ankles, your neck, your back, the lot. Every single part of the body is being employed in this. That was a huge revelation, as was the concentration to get all the steps right.
Will there be any dancing in your new show?
Oh, absolutely. It’d be churlish not to.
Will you be dressing up in a burlesque outfit and doing the Can-Can?
I can’t get that image out of my head now.
Perhaps more importantly, will there be any animals in the show?
I did seriously think about that. In fact, one of my very first jobs on TV was being a pianist for a mind-reading dog. That was my first introduction to the hierarchy of showbiz. The dog had a proper dressing room with a star on the door. On my door it had “Pianist for Dog” written in Biro on a bit of A4 paper.
I used to have a dog called Rocky who my wife brought along to a theatre show I was doing. He was at the side of the stage and then saw me and ran up to me. I made a fuss of him, and everyone was going, “Oh, it’s a dog,” and all that. ‘Cause everyone loves a dog on stage. Then I started playing something on the keyboard, and right on cue he curled up and went to sleep.
Cue the massive round of applause. Eventually, my wife managed to tempt him off stage with a biscuit. If she’d been waving a falafel, I might have gone too. At this point everyone’s shouting, “Get the dog back on!”
Animals aside, Vaudevillean sounds like a celebration of everything you do.
The show is definitely a celebration of Vaudeville, which is something that brings people together. It’s a communal experience. There’s nothing that really quite replicates being in an audience and watching a live performance. This was the original live performance, before radio, TV and streaming.
I think it has a place, probably more so than ever before in this era of AI. Being part of something that’s live and happening right in front of you is an important part of the human experience. I hope the audience comes away from the show with a renewed love of the live experience.
Bill Bailey’s Vaudevillean is touring from 5 November to 13 December 2026. Vaudevillean is at Theatre Royal Haymarket from 16 December 2026 to 6 February 2027. Tickets are on sale now www.BillBailey.co.uk.