Rich Hall: Otis interruptus

It was as the southern Gothic character of Otis Lee Crenshaw, redneck, jailbird and country singer, that the American comedian Rich Hall made his breakthrough three years ago. Now, as he tells Steve Jelbert, he's decided to kill him off

"If you're a comedian, some people think you don't have a right to write a book," complains Rich Hall. The 48-year-old American, famously craggy of face and voice and winner of the Perrier Award in 2000, has just published his third. Things Snowball is a highly entertaining collection of short stories, delightfully cutting observational essays and some truly inspired surrealist riffs on modern day idiocies, poised somewhere between the classic prose efforts of Woody Allen and the more measured eye of David Sedaris, both of whom are admitted inspirations.

It's not a novel though. Despite the slew of stand-ups rushing to flood an already saturated market with their takes on chick and lad lit, Hall is very aware of the pitfalls. "In order to be a really good writer you have to understand characters, but when you're a comedian you reduce characters to their simplest traits. Comedians get by on giving away just enough information to make a joke about," he says. Though one day he might go further. "If I had a really good story to tell I probably would write a novel. A short one," he concedes.

For this effort he says, "I cleared out my comedy closet. I spent a good part of the winter back in Montana where there's few distractions except snow. I wanted to take each idea as far as I could. If it was only three pages, fine."

Anyone who's seen Hall's ferociously resigned stand-up performances will be aware of the sheer disgust he puts into what might be mere polemic in less skilled hands. This year's somewhat chaotic Edinburgh show, a double hander with the Canadian comic Mike Wilmot, featured the sharpest attacks on the absurdity of President Bush's permanent "state of alert" the Fringe could offer.

"As long as he keeps stringing it out that America's in crisis people aren't going to switch horses. I'm trying my best to hate him and continue to question everything he does," says Hall, resolutely unimpressed. "He astounds me in how unslick he is, as opposed to Clinton who was great at manipulating things his way. He's the luckiest guy in the world. There's a dictatorial thing going on right now."

What? A new McCarthyism?

"Oh, definitely. It's as if America thrives on crises. If they don't have one there's another right round the corner," he observes. His second homeland is a bit different. "Britain is obsessed with scandals. It's all just celebrities and hookers and coke and butlers. It's refreshing in a way." He sounds unconvinced nonetheless. "I live in a country where the president can get a blow job and his popularity stays the same. Here you do a little coke and you're drummed out of a TV show. What do you think celebrities do with their time? They've got nothing better to do," he laughs. He's appeared on Have I Got News For You enough times to know.

Though based in Montana, he's now better appreciated here than in his own country. Once a writer for David Letterman, at one point succumbing to a bit of old-fashioned rock'n'roll excess, he found his love for live performance rekindled after a stint on the Fringe ("I performed in a fireplace at the university") and, as he says, "I've kinda been here ever since."

Thus he's uniquely qualified to analyse both cultures. There's an excellent essay in Things Snowball contrasting the equally absurd firearms and licensing laws of the two nations for instance. ("I have calculated that the actual waiting time for a pint in London is longer than that for a gun in America...Try to find a beer in London after 11pm. You need a gun.")

"New American West" pointedly argues that Las Vegas is anything but the family friendly holiday destination it's so often sold as. Instead "the pavement is littered with come-on photos and phone numbers of silicone technologists with names like Tawny and Tiffany". It's indisputably seedy, isn't it? "People need to be reminded," he says.

"I am fascinated by the whole theme of the disappearing West, the ethics, the culture and the whole mythology of it. I don't know if that's too interesting to people in this country but it is to me."

Is there actually a Western culture any more?

"Yeah. There definitely is a culture that's agrarian, a very wide open lifestyle. Most people I know have guns, yet there hasn't been a murder in my town since the Twenties. [He lives near Bozeman, across the state from the famous literary outpost of Missoula]

"I'm totally against guns in urban environments – basically handguns – but there's something I kind of like about the idea that out West you can drive around in a big pickup truck and carry your gun to defend yourself, preferably against animals bigger than you. You shouldn't shoot anything smaller than you," he says. "Unless it's a badger," he adds, apropos of nothing.

Then there's the visual glory. "You're overtaken by the majesty of it all, the big mountains, the range, so everything you do is larger than life. Even if you're walking to the dry-cleaners it's a John Ford trip to the dry-cleaners," he enthuses, "I grew up in the South, but I wouldn't live there again."

There's not much to do though, so when an opportunity to hit the boards arose, Hall couldn't resist. "Around February we had a local talent show and I went on as Otis and tried some new songs. It went really well. People really thought I was straight out of prison. That's how desperate I was to get on stage," he recalls.

Ah, Otis Lee Crenshaw. Hall's most irresistible creation, the downhome country singer, bruised by life and women called Brenda, the writer of such classics as "Women Call It Stalking" ("it's just selective walking") and the touching prison ballad "He Almost Looks Like You", simply refuses to die. This year sees his farewell tour, at least over here, though of course country singers never truly retire. Even when dead.

"I only ever did it to have fun, but I realised I'm never going to get tired of doing it, so I probably need to kill him off. I didn't have an idea of how to do that until the Moscow theatre siege, but when we go on tour..." he muses, somewhat melodramatically.

America, however, is just starting to get the joke. Otis and his (English) band, the Black Liars are recording a special for the Comedy Central channel. They're probably too good to fit into the contemporary country scene anyway, which is the target of much of Hall's scorn. "There's a very homoerotic thing going on country music. Especially the men," he explains. "They've all got that square moustache, waxed shoulders. Somewhere in the CD booklet they'll be barefoot. Maybe that's what the ladies like. Maybe the men."

The audience's capacity for humiliation bemuses him to this day. "They have this thing called 'fan appreciation week' in Nashville and it's in August – 100 per cent humidity. They drag people out, sell 'em hats with the artist's name on so they don't die of sunburn and stick 'em out in the hot sun all day long. It's not fan appreciation week, it's fan torture week."

Understanding two cultures deeply enough to excoriate them both, it seems Hall won't lose his sense of distaste any time soon.

'Things Snowball' is published by Abacus at £9.99. Rich Hall begins his nine-week tour of the UK as Otis Lee Crenshaw on 24 January at the Platform, Morecambe. Details at www.richhall.tv