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World of Jeremy Dyson, writer
The fourth member of the League of Gentlemen discusses his writing shed, early success and his boys' toys.
Jeremy Dyson, 44, is best known as the non-performing fourth member of the comedy team the League of Gentlemen. He grew up in Leeds, where he met his fellow League members, Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith, who were studying at Bretton Hall drama college in Wakefield. In 1997 their Edinburgh show won a Perrier Award and their radio series debuted on Radio 4. In 1999 the show moved to television, winning a Bafta for Best Comedy. Dyson has written several books and plays, including Ghost Stories. His latest play, Roald Dahl’s Twisted Tales, is at the Lyric Hammersmith, London, until February 26, before moving to Northern Stage, Newcastle, and Liverpool Playhouse. He lives in Ilkley, West Yorkshire, with his wife, Nicky, daughters Eve, five, and Poppy, two, and their cat, Porridge.
Routine When I’m at home I like to be in my writing shed by 9 or 9.30, depending on if I’m doing the school run. I work until lunch, then until 6pm when we all have dinner as a family. Having started as a collaborative writer I find it an entirely new thing to write on my own – it’s harder, because you have to edit yourself.
Work balance My heroes are those who manage to meld their creative life with their family life, like Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick. There’s this myth that you can’t have a family and be creative – Cyril Connolly said, 'There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall’ – but I don’t believe it at all. Kubrick worked from home, at a time when the technology wasn’t there to help him, because he refused to sacrifice his time with his family. I admire that enormously.
Memorable motto Years ago I went to the Barbara Hepworth Museum in St Ives. In one of her notebooks she had written, 'What one wants to say is formed in one’s childhood and we spend the rest of our lives trying to say it,’ and that chimed with me. When you start your career you don’t have to think about it, but as you creep towards midcareer all sorts of forces divert you, be it status, money or wanting to work with certain people. You need to make a conscious effort to stay on the right path. I built the Shelf of Joy in my writing shed in my garden. It has books on it that were important to me in childhood, to remind me of that path.
Formative cinema The only time I feigned wellness, instead of sickness, was when I had a cold the day I was meant to be going to see 2001: A Space Odyssey in Leeds. I remember pressing my forehead against a cold pane of glass so that when my mum felt my head it would be cool, because I was desperate not to miss it – I have a book about the making of the film (pictured) and I remember being completely overwhelmed by that amazing piece of filmmaking.
Puppet love When I was 13 my parents bought me these quite scary looking Punch and Judy puppets (pictured) for Christmas, with a proper booth. I stopped putting on performances about three years later because I became self-conscious about my image, but I’ve still kept them.
Haunting tales I’ve always loved ghost stories. I remember my mum reading out loud a Leon Garfield story at my brother’s birthday party, which was around Hallowe’en, and I used to get a comic called Shiver and Shake. As I got older this turned into a love of horror films: one of my favourites is The Haunting (1963) because it shows the power of suggesting things to your audience.
Comic recordings My best friend Steve loved comedy as much as me and we would record cassette tapes (pictured) of our own sketches. We did it from the age of 12 until we were 18, and Nazis would figure quite highly. I also used to tape stuff off the television on to audio cassette. I loved Rising Damp and used to take my recordings of it everywhere, until I was in my 20s. It was a great education because it teaches you the rhythms of comic writing.
Record deal Leeds had quite a reasonable music scene and when I was 17 a band called Flowers for Agatha were looking for a keyboard player, which was my instrument. We had a record deal and got as far as Radio 1 airplay but then split up. Later, when the League was taking off, I was in another band called Rudolph Rocker and we were doing well, but I couldn’t commit to both them and the League.
Boys’ toys I bought a keyboard and synthesizer (pictured) a couple of years ago – there was talk of a Rudolph Rocker reunion. It didn’t happen, but I do take little breaks from writing and spend 10 minutes or so on the keyboard. I think it helps with the creative process because you start using a different part of your brain. The synth is the ultimate boy’s toy – it has lots of knobs and buttons.
The League My great school friend Gordon went to Bretton Hall where he met Mark [Gatiss]. He rang me and said, 'I’ve met this guy who’s just like you,’ which I bristled at so I put off meeting him for several months. When I did, in about 1989, I was bewitched.
First success Steve [Pemberton] and Reece [Shearsmith] were also at Bretton Hall and we decided to do something together. Our first show was in 1994, but it wasn’t until we went to Edinburgh in 1996 that things started happening. It was a proper fairy tale. We went up complete unknowns and within three weeks everyone wanted a piece of us.
Best friends I keep this photo (pictured), which is of the four League members on the log flume at Blackpool Pleasure Beach in 2001, after the end of our first tour, because it shows how much we love each other and are a proper gang. I’m proud of the fact that we’re all still friends. We’ve never had a bust up, we just made a grown-up decision to say that we’ve done enough for now and stopped. But we still talk and when we meet up we have a fantastic time.
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