ABSTRACT
In July 2012, I interviewed the English stand-up, Russell Kane, at his flat in North London (Friedman, 2013c). Two years earlier Kane had won the coveted Edinburgh Comedy Award, and since then had carved out a successful niche straddling different ends of the cultural hierarchy. The critical acclaim of his comedy had been augmented by the successful staging of his play, Fakespeare, with the Royal Shakespeare Company and the recent publication of his debut novel, The Humourist. But at the same time Kane had also established himself as an unashamed patron of pop culture, regularly presenting the distinctly less acclaimed reality-television shows Big Brother's Big Mouth, I'm a Celebrity Get Me out of Here and Geordie Shore. Glancing at the contents of Kane's flat, I was struck by the curious taste-adventure aesthetic of his home decor. A colossal flat-screen TV dominated the living room, and opposite sat a similarly flashy brown corner sofa. But jostling for place among the chrome and leather was also a substantial collection of vintage furniture, at least three bookcases stuffed full of classic literature, and a majestic copy of Pissarro's ‘Hyde Park’. After Kane had finished giving me the grand tour, he led me outside to his ‘pièce de résistance’ — a rather romantic wooden shed at the bottom of the garden where he was writing his most recent stand-up show. Lowering himself cross-legged into a battered armchair, he reflected on his omnivorous tastes:
I can walk into the hardest pub in Cheshunt, full of Garys and Daves, walk straight up to them, have a pint, and talk about anything. But the next day I might also go to the Iris Murdoch convention at St Anne's College and be in my absolute element.
