Do you ever lie awake at night and ponder the origins of our very own Edwardian Animal Impersonator, Vincent Figgins, wonder where such a man can harness the ability to produce such astoundingly authentic noises, almost becoming the animal itself. Well I have, so I caught up with him one evening in a Blackheath boozer and discovered he’s actually called Simon Berridge. We discussed the beginnings of Vincent Figgins, the finer details of the act and his background in music which lead him to create his own record label.
When did you meet Martin and Vivienne?
It was through Martha, their niece, my wife. I do remember it very well actually (Laughs). t was quite a funny evening. I went out with Martha back in 2001, then we split up for a bit before getting back together and getting married. So I met Martin the first time round, maybe New Years Eve or something. We went round to their house, and they had converted the garden into some dancing space, so I remember dancing – not all night (laughs) – but for quite a long time in Martin’s back garden with Martha and probably a few other people. I remember it being a really funny night, so that was my first impression of them.
How did Vincent Figgins come about?
That came about because for a long time I have done animal noises just for fun at work or wherever, any excuse to show off I suppose. And I think it was a Christmas three or four years ago with Martin, so I said to him, I do these noises – he had just started PTOO – do you reckon I might be able to do them live. I’d always thought about it, so he said yes and agreed. Shortly after this he had been for a walk in Nunhead Cemetery and had seen this big old, ornate Victorian tombstone for Vincent Figgins, so he rang me up and said I’ve got it, you’re Vincent Figgins – Edwardian Animal Impersonator. I wasn’t envisaging anything like that, I just thought I’d get up there and make noises, but obviously you realise as time goes on its the delivery that is as important as anything else and Martin, being a pro, is well aware of that. So he has put the package together. He invented it basically, I just offered my services and he said right, this is what we’ll do.
So you’re first performance would have been around 2008 in the Ivy House?
Yea I did a few in Nunhead. In fact I started doing it with Viv on Stage, then one time Martin did it dressed up as the Vegas show girl and that just stuck. That seemed to be the combination, so we have done it like that ever since. Vicky, as she is called.
Have you ever taken Vincent Figgins anywhere else?
No, although if one of my gigs used to be going badly I would resort to animal noises because I always knew it would get a reaction. Quite often anyway at my gigs I’ll end up doing an animal noise, just because I may as well (laughs).
You have your own record label, Scratchy Records, when did you start this?
That was around 1996/1997. I left my proper job in about 1988 and thought I’d try and get a record deal, but had no luck so I’d been in bands since then. Someone at the time was sort of mentoring me and said, right you should go and record you’re debut album and record it yourself, so I said alright I will (Laughs). So I did, and this started from that really. We have never had any big success but we have managed to get a few reviews, I did a few things myself, then it went a bit quiet until I picked up a band called The Rocks. Who were around the time of The Libertines, all that kind of thing, a very exciting band so I became their manager and started to put them out on the label. It’s a proper label now, in a sense that it has had half a dozen different acts on it, but it’s still a hobby. No one’s made any money out of it, but I’m not just releasing my own stuff, which is quite often why people start their own label. It’s had a sniff at being a proper label, and hopefully it will be if anything ever takes off really.
It’s an especially hard time now to go into anything like that, as a full time job…
Yes god! But then again it is real roulette with music, still. Even today if you get just one song picked up by a film, it’s that one little break, so nothing like that has really changed. If you get a hit you’re going to get money, as you would have done then. I guess what has changed is the lower tiers of making a little bit of money, have probably vanished. You’re either in it now, or you’re just giving away your music for free. There is a big divide, that’s what has changed.
Would you be planning to do Vincent Figgins outside of Pull The Other One?
I don’t know, going down to Hastings was the first time breaking out of Peckham. I think a few years ago Martin said his friend had said we could go and do something in Hackney, or somewhere. We didn’t, but then again maybe what we are doing wasn’t as defined then as it is now. Maybe it’s more ready to go and do somewhere else; I’d be up for doing it if anyone wants to pay us to do it.
Do you think your background in music helped out when bringing it to the stage and actually having a presence, not everyone who makes noises at work would be able to jump up on stage and make a crowd laugh?
I think you are right, I think it has come from playing music live. I think it’s just about figuring out how to reach a person, which is ultimately what you are trying to do. Just getting up on stage and playing a song on its own definitely isn’t ‘it’, or maybe it is, maybe if you are an amazing song writer. The nice thing is that no one really knows what it is that creates the bond between the performer and the audience. It’s certainly not just about technical prowess, it’s an invisible thing. So maybe it has been easier for me to go and do the animal noises, having done music. I hadn’t really thought about it like that, perhaps if I had just done the animals without my background I wouldn’t be so keen to get up on stage and do it. It’s been funny actually, because ever since I’ve been doing it with Martin, if someone at work asks me to give them an animal noise, just sitting at a desk, without the build up and costume – I’ll do a noise and it almost feels a bit flat. Whereas before that would have been my stage at work, but now whenever that happens I realise now how important the delivery is. And the whole thing about theatre and performing, the unwritten contract you go into as an audience member and performer, about the different roles you have and how it works.
I find the build up before the sounds make the difference, the silence created beforehand build an anticipation within the audience, ultimately making the impression funnier…
I am seriously trying to channel the animal; I’m not just counting down. That is odd to me, to be able to make a noise properly, I feel like I have to be that animal. So I have to get into that mind state, and I happen to know that people like the gap.
It must be hard coming back time and time again to the PTOO audience because of them perhaps knowing the act, having come back regularly?
Yea – although I had quite a big gap. I did a few and then I had a gap of perhaps a year. And then recently, I think it has only been this year that it suddenly seemed to get going again. The first one I done coming back after a time was Herne Hill, and that was good. It feels like by having a gap, when you come back to it, it is a bit more focused. And that is how it feels this time really, it was good to have that gap, I suppose to realise as well that I still want to do it.
With the rich history of 80s experimental comedy behind them, the PTOO team aims to generate a real sense of congeniality and affection for the art of comedy and variety, whilst creating a nurturing environment for both artist and audience. To book your ticket in advance click here.