Author Aubrey Malone looks at the extensive creative journey of comic, writer and performer Brendan O'Carroll.
Brendan turned 70 in September. It’s hard to believe. He always looks like such a scamp. Maybe comedy keeps you young. I’ve just finished reading his autobiography, Call Me Mrs Brown, a page-turner for sure. Under a photograph of that lady herself lies a caption which reads: “This is the woman who bought my home for me, educated my children and bought their homes for them too.”
Who would have predicted after all his stand-up shows, it would be a TV performance – dressed as a woman – which would make him so rich and famous? This is proof that we never know where that make-or-break moment is going to come from.
Brendan's path to fame hasn’t been without problems. He lost vast sums of money on business ventures, lived through unimaginable grief, and suffered with his mental health. And yet setbacks like this never stopped him. Every time he got an idea into his head, he followed it.
Humble Beginnings
Brendan, or Brendan Desmond Jarlath Francis to give him his full name, is one of a family of ten who originally hailed from Stoneybatter. Brendan’s grandfather, a prominent republican, was shot dead by the MI5 in 1920. His father was also shot, but not fatally. Brendan wasn’t too close to his father, who then died in 1965.
His mother, Maureen O’Carroll, spent some time training to be a nun before she decided such a life wasn’t for her. Instead, she became a teacher and then the first female Labour Party TD, serving in Dublin North Central. When she lost her seat, they had to sell their house in Ballymun Avenue and move to a smaller one in Finglas. This is where Brendan's real story began.
His brother Michael saved up fivepence to give to his mother to “buy” him a little brother at the time. Since that day, Brendan insists, “He owns me.”
Brendan was nicknamed “BOC” because of his initials. One day his mother came home with some beautifully enamelled “BOC” initials for him. When he asked her where they came from, she revealed they weren't custom pieces, rather from Bewley’s Oriental Café.
Times were inevitably tough. Brendan’s mother received help from St Vincent de Paul when he was growing up. Brendan vowed that if he ever became rich, he would pay them back, and he did. He has a good heart.
While Brendan was a bit of a scallywag in youth, even engaging in some petty thievery at points, at school he was the class clown. A truant, he gave up his studies at age 12. With his infectious personality and that cheeky grin? Maybe a life of comedy was destined for him.
This route, however, was a circuitous one. Brendan worked as a milkman, a window cleaner, a cartoonist, an advertising salesman, a publican and lots of other things besides. But laughter was what fuelled him. His mother was his first audience, he says. A favourite "bit" for her was his Hal Roach routines, where he mimicked Hal’s voice. He caused her to laugh until she cried – often
Brendan faced tragedy early on with the loss of his son. Shortly after he was born, Brendan Jr. passed in 1976. Brendan Sr.'s first marriage, to his childhood sweetheart Doreen, broke up in 1999. When his beloved mother died in 1984, it broke his heart. She never lived to see her son become a novelist, a playwright, a screenwriter or even a professional comedian. This all lay ahead of him.
Cooking Up Trouble
Before showbiz beckoned, Brendan also worked as a commis chef. He served everyone from Helmut Kohl to Robert Mugabe, to Ronald Reagan, to Jacques Chirac, to Margaret Thatcher. He’s a socialist in principle. A “Commie” chef? And as a young working-class man from Finglas, his politics were 180 degrees to the left of Ms Thatcher.
Yet despite these opposing views, he was still impressed by her. During his shift in Dublin Castle, he served her salt instead of caster sugar just before she was due to give a speech on live TV. As she dipped a strawberry into the salt, Brendan’s heart missed a beat. He thought he was going to be sacked, but she carried on. She put a serviette up to her lips as if she was politely wiping away an errant crumb. But he knew what she was really doing: spitting the strawberry into it. “That’s class,” he commented. Perhaps even more surprising was how, before she left that night, that she remembered the names of his two children, Danny and Fiona (Eric would be arrive on the scene later).
Brendan's journey to the Castle to serve Reagan was equally eventful. Having overslept, Brendan had to hitchhike to the venue. The people who picked him up were heading to the same venue - to protest. When they got there, he made a hasty retreat, distancing himself from them and (again) risking his job. Security for the presidential visit was so tight, Brendan quipped that even the potholes on the way to the castle were welded shut. The secret service warned him that night that if Brendan moved towards Reagan without being summoned, he’d be shot. It’s a pity they weren’t as vigilant when Reagan was nearly assassinated by John Hinckley in 1981.
The Big Break
Like so many other people in public life, he credits Gay Byrne with being the single most influential person on his journey to have his name in lights. Getting on The Late Late Show made this budding comedian a household name. From there, success soon followed: “The very next day it seemed like everyone in Ireland knew my name.”
Having said that, there have been many troubled projects in his career, one of which cost him his life’s savings. That was the boxing film Sparrow’s Trap, which ran out of money midway through the shoot and had to be shut down. That wouldn't stop him. Later on, he still re-mortgaged his house for another project.
1992 was a seminal year for Brendan. It was the year his radio play Mrs Brown’s Boys played over the airwaves on RTÉ. Little did he know that it would change everything. He wrote a number of books in the aftermath: The Mammy, The Granny, The Chisellers and The Scrapper.
In 1999 he landed a big fish when he got Anjelica Huston to star in the drama Agnes Browne, based on The Mammy. At first, she didn’t like the script, but Brendan persevered, even going to her LA home to try and win her round. This tenacity paid off, as it tends to do for him. She accepted the part.
In the years after, Brendan travelled Ireland and abroad, touring with his plays. Brendan doesn’t mind people accusing him of nepotism as even back then, he put his wife, Jennifer Gibney, his sister, and his children into his productions. One night, however...disaster struck, but the show must go on. One night, in his comedy stage play adaptation of Mrs Brown’s Boys the actress he originally hired didn’t turn up. That's when he decided to play Mrs Brown himself; out of such accidents are reputations made.
This adaptation from a radio play to a book, then a film and then a play, did well, but the real heights were scaled when, in 2011, this beloved family were turned into the TV sitcom. For so many years, having gone through so much, he kept a tight rein on his emotions. He didn’t cry when he was beaten at school, or even at his mother’s funeral. But he did when he was offered a pilot of Mrs Brown by the BBC. This was an instant hit. Three years, a growing loyal audience, and several Christmas specials later, it became a film once again with Mrs Brown’s Boys D’Movie.
Still Grounded
While his comedy isn’t to everyone’s taste, few can find fault with his delivery or timing. And Brendan has never let success go to his head. In his book, he reveals the awe he felt meeting stars like Anjelica, Gabriel Byrne and Roddy Doyle. Also, even the most snobbish of critics must admit that his glib observations and one-liners are classic:
“The school I went to was so tough, the arms of the chairs even had tattoos on them.”
“I used to know a man who was so lazy he’d sit in front of the fire and cry out, ‘Help – I’m burning!’”
Brendan's never afraid to crack a joke at his own expense either:
“When I asked my wife what she’d like for Christmas one year, she said, ‘Something with diamonds,’ so I bought her a pack of cards.”
“I gave up smoking for Lent one year. It was the longest hour of my life.”
“Some day I’d like to write an Irish trilogy. That’s one with four books in it.”
“My grandson is named after the two Irish popes: Bono and John Paul.”
Or: “I agree that Nicorette is the best cure for nicotine addiction. Just put a patch over each eye and you won’t be able to find your cigarettes.”
In 2015 Brendan was awarded an IFTA for his contribution to Irish television. Look down your nose at his brand of comedy if you will. He doesn’t care. He’s too busy making people laugh.
We hope you had a happy birthday, Brendan. No doubt, the best punchlines are yet to come.
Aubrey Malone has an MA in English and was a primary school teacher before he then went into journalism, freelancing for publications including the Evening Press, The Cork Examiner and the Sunday Independent. He was the movie critic for Image magazine and for Modern Woman, a supplement to the Meath Chronicle. His books are available to buy online now, including Hollywood Wit,MYSTICAL CROONER: The Lives of Leonard Cohen, and Michael Collins : [a Neil Jordan film].
