Two of a kind

Comics Sean Hughes and Owen O'Neill tell Michael Paterson exactly how different they are just like all married couples

THE paparazzi are out in force in Hammersmith, London, on the night two new plays by Sean Hughes and Owen O'Neill have a pre-Fringe performance.

A truckload of stars has donned glad-rags for a night at the big opening in town. The usual former soap actors who would turn up at the opening of a stamped, addressed envelope are present. So are such kitsch icons of yesteryear as Leo Sayer, David Soul and, funniest of all, Glenn Hoddle. But, unfortunately, the celebrities are spending the evening at the 2000-capacity Hammersmith Apollo watching Oh! What A Night, the latest 1970s revival musical, starring Kid Creole.

Two minutes' walk away, a solitary celebrity has turned up at a studio seating 80 to see the two Irish comedians road test their plays, Dehydrated and Travellin' Light. The celeb is a Scot. He is Edwyn Collins, former lead singer with Orange Juice. His night out is not enhanced by the theatre manager playing his CD, Hellbent On Compromise, as the audience waits for the show.

Afterwards, as Collins waits in the bar to congratulate the duo on their performance, undoubtedly the best theatrical experience to be had in Hammersmith that evening, Sean Hughes sips a Guinness contemplatively. The comedian-cum-playwright-cum-novelist is pondering a question the Sunday Herald has cheekily sneaked into the chat about his plays. Which guest has he fancied most on the BBC2 pop quiz show, Never Mind the Buzzcocks, in which he is a team captain? "Meatloaf," Hughes says. No, no, using comedy to deflect a question will not do. Try again. "Well, I felt very protective towards Billie. When Billie was a guest, I realised that I was quite old. But I didn't go, 'Woarrgh'. I felt protective in a good way," he says. "Billy?" queries his writing partner, nearly choking on his tonic water. O'Neill momentarily thinks he might be glimpsing a hitherto unknown side of Hughes' character. Hughes, who, at 33, is 11 years his junior, explains the Swindon teenybop sensation is a girl.

O'Neill would not be disturbed if Hughes used this interview to be the latest celebrity to come out in the pages of a newspaper. Indeed, last year, the older of the two gave a Belfast Festival lecture championing the writing of the gay Spanish Civil War martyr, Federico Garcia Lorca. But what would shock him would be finding out there was something about Hughes that he did not know already.

While almost everyone's initial reaction to this spread will be to wonder who the guy in the picture with Sean Hughes is, the two have worked closely together several times, since an initial chance meeting in Beijing in 1989 to perform in a floating comedy club. They appeared together on the Fringe eight years ago, in their wistful comedy, Patrick's Day, about two barmen in London who dream of moving to Boston, Massachusetts. It won the Edinburgh critics' award for best comedy.

Despite the equal partnership, there is no doubt that Hughes' name will draw the majority of the audience to see the one-act, two-man plays in a 350-seat theatre in the Assembly Rooms. But hardcore Hughes fans beware, the plays are a far cry from the startled-rabbit impersonation which typified the work which first made him a household name.

Both are set in rural Ireland and deal with issues common to almost any work set there - oppressive parents, Catholicism, alcohol and death, plus less familiar issues such as genital mutilation and the Russians killing Dana. Each play has a high joke count. There is even a cleverly-placed, anti-Rangers gag. But each story is also bleak, with unpleasant twists and a sting in the tail. Both agree that the format was influenced by ITV's legendary, Tales of the Unexpected. Hughes says: "We even asked if that lady in the silhouettes would come on at the beginning, but she said we were perverts."

The pair are due to share a flat throughout their two-week run on the Fringe. As flatmates, they will be the Fringe's equivalent to the Odd Couple. For a start, they have chosen very different profiles. Since winning the Perrier award, the Fringe's comedy Oscar, in 1990, Hughes, a career comedian, has been a regular on TV. The Channel 4 mock sitcom, Sean's Show, ran for two series and was followed by Sean's Shorts on BBC2. He's best known for Never Mind which starts filming a sixth series the day after the Fringe run ends.

As a sideline, Hughes' second novel, It's What He Would Have Wanted, is published this month ("It's about suicide it's partly autobiographical.") He'll be reading from it at the Book Festival tomorrow.

While Hughes grew up in Dublin (although he was born in London), O'Neill, a fellow Catholic, is from Northern Ireland. One of 12 children, he left school at 15 and worked in an abattoir before moving to London and becoming a bricklayer. He began reading his own poems to small gatherings in the 1980s, then forgot his notes one night and ad-libbed through a routine, getting a taste for stand-up.

Unfortunately, O'Neill's taste for liquor became excessive, though he's been on the wagon since 1991. His Fringe show, Off My Face, was a partly-autobiographical story about the pitfalls of alcoholism. Many of the anecdotes about breaking bones while drunk were true, including one about falling out of a helicopter.

O'Neill's face is less well-known than his partner's partly because his mistrust of television producers has led him to turn down various offers. When he appeared on Channel 4's The Stand-Up Show, he sat in the editing suite to make sure his material was not ruined in transmission. His writer's CV, which already includes TV plays, will have an impressive addition next year when the BBC screens The Fitz, a tale of a large Irish family.

While looking forward to their time on the Fringe, Hughes confidently predicts: "We will get on each other's nerves," and claims, straight-faced, "We're not opposites, we just have totally different personality traits." O'Neill pigeonholes their characteristics thus: "Sean smokes and drinks; I don't. He's vegetarian; I'm not. He's punctual; I'm not." He then describes Hughes abusively, adding, with a sweet smile, "and I'm not".

The plays were written using their tried and tested approach - six-hour sessions in Hughes' house in Crouch End, north London - and they have spent enough time together to interject instinctively and finish one another's sentences. Neither can remember whose inspiration triggered the writing of the plays, but the answer to that question runs seamlessly and is typical of how they talk.

O'Neill: "Neither of us wants to work with anybody else so, because we've been really busy, these ideas have been in our minds " Hughes: " festering " O: " maturing, I'd call it " H: " definitely festering " O: " for a long time " H: " and because we work well together, we can never remember afterwards who wrote which line."

Another interesting aspect of conversation with two stand-up comedians, even if they claim to think of themselves now as writers first and foremost, is that each automatically looks to make a joke from what the other has just said. If possible, another joke is added in retaliation until the dialogue enters the realms of the ludicrous or, equally likely, the disgusting. For example, shocked that a friend of theirs has called the plays "evil", O'Neill concedes the works are "not the product of healthy minds". Hughes adds: " just healthy bodies. I mean this man's in great shape for his age," nodding towards O'Neill, 10 years older than he looks. He is a walking advertisement for the benefits of reckless living. Then, reflecting on their close and dynamic working relationship, Hughes says: "We have days when we want to kill each other. We're a bit like a married couple," opening the door for O'Neill to add: "We're always arguing or making soup."

Will Hughes look a gift horse in the mouth? No. He retaliates with: "Of course, we have sex, on occasion." Do tell. O'Neill has the final word, declining in mock indignant tones. "It's the Sunday Herald, not the Sunday Sport."

Dehydrated & Travellin' Light are on at the Assembly Rooms, George St, at 6.50pm from August 17-30, except the 24th. Tickets #9/#10 (concs available). Tel: 0131-226 2428. Sean Hughes reads from It's What He Would Have Wanted at the Spiegeltent, tomorrow 1pm. Tickets #4. Tel: 0131-624 5050.

Name: Owen O'Neill Age: 44 Awards: Perrier nominee 1994 and 1996 Career: Solo Fringe shows include Shouting From The Scaffold and Off My Face Films: Michael Collins (acting); Arise and Go Now (writing) (BBC Screen 2) Name: Sean Hughes Age: 33 Awards: Perrier winner 1990

TV: Sean's Show; Sean's Shorts; Never Mind the Buzzcocks Film: The Commitments and The Butcher's Boy Novels: The Detainees; It's What He Would Have Wanted

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