A lot has changed since Rod Gilbert started The Book of John tour in 2019 – a tour that hasn’t ended yet. It was first interrupted by a pandemic. You may have heard of it. Then, in 2022, Gilbert again had to cut his tour short due to an ongoing, unexplained throat problem. Trekking to Cuba to raise money for the Velindre Cancer Center in Cardiff, of which he is a long-time patron, Gilbert discovered the problem was actually cancer – for which he has been treated at Velindre ever since. “I’m sitting there having chemo,” he tells me, “with a picture of me on the wall as a fundraiser. You couldn’t make it up, honestly.
The tone of voice, via Zoom from Wales, is recognizable to anyone familiar with the 54-year-old’s stand-up. Escalating anxiety is the key note. On stage it rises to full expression and stays there. Or so it was. “It’s softened up a bit now,” says Gilbert. It’s also: Gilbert has to take care of himself. This is his first interview with a national newspaper since his stage four cancer diagnosis in July while he recovers from surgery, radiation and chemotherapy. “I feel really weird,” he admits. “I don’t know how much to talk about cancer. I really don’t know what to say. I’m more than happy to talk about it, but I haven’t had time to process it at all.
Until this show, all my material was fictional. Almost everything was completely made up
He emerged from his recovery (“Some days I’m well enough to search, and other days, or whole weeks, I’m in bed”) to discuss the digital and DVD edition of the Book of John. The show marks a departure for the Carmarthen man and a career high (however we take 2008’s Rhod Gilbert and the Award-Winning Mince Pie for the ages). After years of tackling life’s lighter irritants – gas stations, baked potatoes, the duvet rankings – with apoplectic fury, he’s back after a seven-year hiatus with a show that tackles matters of great importance: bereavement; recent mini stroke; difficulties conceiving a child with his wife, comedy writer Sian Harris. Overheating was still Gilbert’s possession in trade, but now he had everything to be overheated for.
For the ages … 2008 Rod Gilbert and the award-winning mince pie
What’s remarkable about the show is Gilbert’s candor and, despite charting territory he hadn’t previously reached in 20 years of stand-up, how funny he makes it all. This is partly due to the fact that his roaring mouse, however “toned down”, remains cheerful. This is also due to John. John was Gilbert’s chauffeur for the duration of the show’s run, as following his mini-stroke the comic was not allowed to drive. Always on hand with some idiocy as Gilbert’s life comes crashing down around him, John’s stupid conversation is the grease that greases the show’s wheels.
I consider John to be an armored device for bringing lightness to heavy materials. “A device? What!” Gilbert replies, and I’m worried that with my thinly veiled skepticism about whether John actually exists, I’ve provoked another rant. But no: there’s a glint in Gilbert’s eye. “Until this show,” he says, “my whole stand-up was made up. I think almost everything was completely made up. And in this show, it’s not. These are all real things that happened: the stroke, my mother’s Alzheimer’s, the infertility treatment. And John exists. I hired a driver for this year . But yes, there is some comedic license taken with our arguments. He pauses. “To say more than that would spoil it, wouldn’t it?
The book of John was not the first time Gilbert publicly addressed male infertility. With shows such as Rod Gilbert’s Work Experience and Rod Gilbert’s Growing Pains, many will know the Welshman more as a TV presenter than as a stand-up, and in this role he fronted two intimate and autobiographical BBC documentaries, in 2018 and 2021, on social anxiety and infertility. They had a big impact – and changed the direction of his career.
By his 2012 live show, The Man With the Flaming Battenberg Tattoo, Gilbert had felt that his stand-up was stalling. “I had to look for things to be angry about that fit what I did,” he says. “And that’s obviously diminishing returns. I felt that and I think the audience felt it. When that tour ended, he announced his retirement from live comedy. And for seven years, “I didn’t miss him at all. He didn’t write a word. I am not motivated in any way to do so.
But the experience of making these documentaries and all the other “life stuff” he was involved with opened Gilbert up to a new way of working. A man who had only lied on stage began to tell the plain truth. A man with extreme social anxiety began talking to strangers about his most intimate experiences. “As I got older, I started to feel — and maybe this is a little weird — that I had a little bit of a platform here. And I need to do more with it than just talk about toothbrushes. More than that, though, he adds, “I’ve definitely become a person who wants to be really open and talk about things, and who sees the value in talking.” It’s the same with his cancer today, he says.
Me and my driver… on the scene with the Book of John. Photo: Hugh John/NBC Universal Pictures
“There were basically two reactions to my comedy,” says Gilbert. “You’re either funny or you’re not.” Whereas now I get letters and emails from all over the world from people talking about their own experience with a stroke, or their parents’ Alzheimer’s, or infertility. That’s a completely different answer. And I really like it.” Offstage, Gilbert says, “years ago, if I’d gone for a walk on the beach with the dog, I’d keep my head down and not engage with anyone. Whereas now, if someone stops me, I’ll be done in an hour talking about infertility or cancer or whatever. The most intimate conversations.” It’s a twist – and an unusual role for a comic. I tell Gilbert I can’t imagine Jimmy Carr having a heart-to-heart on the beach. He replies, “I can’t imagine Jimmy Carr on the beach, to be honest.”
Gilbert is so committed to his new no-filter lifestyle that he’s already making plans for a stand-up show that deals with his experiences with cancer. “If I survive this,” he says, then breaks off. “I have to stop saying that. People deny me. When you’re going through cancer, any sign of doubt or negativity is nipped in the bud very quickly.” And so he begins again: “When I’m through that, the next show will be in a similar vein. Cancer is on my mind 24/7, but when I’m well enough to write I jot down a few things. And there’s definitely humor.”
This belief represents another reversal from Gilbert, who doubted he would ever write another stand-up show. “Every Edinburgh I was like, ‘How on earth am I going to write another show next year?’ How am I going to write for five more minutes?” Whereas now I’m crazy fired up. I have a 250 page document with things in motion. Don’t rule out a return of the star outside the Book of John scene either. “John’s response is just crazy,” says Gilbert. “People waiting backstage are asking, ‘Is John here?'” He’s like a folk hero! He’s more popular than me!”
I feel strangely good. I am happy, optimistic and hopeful
All of this gives Gilbert something to focus on as he goes through a tough time. “All my work is gone. My social life is gone. Everything is gone. Everything. It’s really just me and this damn cancer.” The postponed final seven dates of The Book of John tour are planned for 2023: “Having them is something we’re really looking forward to. But I’m making things sound very bleak, and they’re not.”
Today, he is cheered by the fact that his friends – Rob Brydon, Greg Davis and others – are rallying to his aid, promoting the Book of John edition on social media and beyond, because Gilbert is not well enough to do it himself you are “I’m really aware of mental health now,” he says, “and I check in with myself every day. I feel good, weird. I am happy, optimistic and hope that next year everything will be fine.”
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