Word-weaving, mandolin-playing surrealist John Hegley is something of a legend on the adult comedy and poetry circuits. For thirty years now, his gently absurd take on the minutiae of English life has been delighting audiences and earning him admirers as diverse as Stewart Lee and Quentin Crisp. But a lesser-known strand of his career is his work for children. Indeed, he’s been equally comfortable pratting about in front of family groups since the very beginning.
Hegley started out in children’s theatre in the late '70s and hasn’t ever really stopped. His playfully silly approach is a natural fit for an all-ages audience, as is the innocence of much of his material, throwing together imagery like dogs, glasses and carrots in unexpected combinations.
One of the great things about very young audiences, he tells me, is that "they much more want to give you bits to put in the show. So the show will be a combination of what you've got and what they've got, and directing bits that they give you. So you take on a directorial role, to some extent."
Hegley’s enthusiasm for his job is evident in what he says, but he talks in an unassuming, rhythmic monotone, his London accent conveying quiet confidence rather than exuberant passion. Tellingly, he only gets really sparkly when he’s introducing unusual words into our conversation, like "cob" and "riverweed". He wants to "celebrate" these lesser-known words in his shows, he says.
"The main thing is that we have a good time," he says. But "I certainly want them to have enjoyed language and maybe go out and look for other poetry." He started running poetry workshops for children many years ago. "I remember how difficult it was getting them to understand what poetry is," he recalls. "But I've stopped trying to ask that, and getting them to enjoy themselves with words – which is a much easier thing to do."
Hegley reckons kids have a "natural affinity" with words and will often muck around with them of their own accord. He points to "a lot of stuff in the playground, rhymes that they know, ‘Do you like jelly? – I’ll punch you in the belly’, ‘Mrs White had a fright, in the middle of the night,’ all that stuff." It’s really just a case of tapping into this innate interest.
Hegley’s surrealism can also be enhanced by the presence of a young audience. "You get some very straightforward answers," he says. "For instance, if you ask them ‘What’s the difference between a dog and a coathanger?’ they might say, ‘You can hang your coat on one.’ But you get some unusual ones too. I once asked the children the difference between a dog and a deckchair, and one of them said ‘chairs can’t fly'. So you get some straightforward answers, and some very oblique ones!"
The new show is based on "a very simple Australian folk story" that someone told him whilst he was on a sort of guided donkey walk in Gloucestershire last year. The story involves a host of creatures whose names begin with each name of the alphabet, so "B is Barn Owl, C is Cob, D is Donkey... I won’t tell you what A is because I want them to guess." A human child goes and asks the animals for advice about a "thing", a threatening presence in the story.
"The thing is not a monster," Hegley explains, "but it’s an unknown thing. It’s a story about how you deal with that which is alien to you, and whether the best way to deal with it is through aggression or friendliness."
It sounds like typically engaging, stimulating and funny stuff, and will be housed this year in an unusual venue. The Pleasance Ark is a grounded boat made of reclaimed materials, with various environmentally aware activities taking place inside, as well as plenty of pure entertainment. Hegley hasn’t seen it yet, so I ask him what he expects from it.
"Well, it'll be wooden," he says carefully, the playful sparkle punctuating the monotone once again. "And hopefully a good 'un."