Worst childhood memory?
Seeing a severed head at school in Beirut wasn’t great. I think there’d been an execution nearby, and some kid wandered in with a severed head in a bag that he’d found on the side of the road. A teacher saw everyone reacting, looked inside it and grabbed it off him. Lebanon was a very weird place at that time, and it was an example of how people can get slightly dehumanised. Strange stuff becomes commonplace when you’re living in a place where there’s a war going on. The whole place was insane.
Worst moment of your life?
I had a horrible panic attack about five weeks into making the first series of Trigger Happy. I was so happy. I couldn’t believe that I’d got the show. I was doing a sketch where I’m a Dutch tourist and I got into a black cab outside Sloane Square tube and I start reading out nonsense phrases, then suddenly I felt really weird. I’d had panic attacks before, but I felt really, really strange. And then I came out of the cab and I said to my cameraman, Sam, “I’ve got to go home,” and I had this massive panic attack. In the end I was diagnosed with clinical depression. I had to go back to work because we were only insured for a few weeks, and in time I got better. But I remember thinking I’d gone from the highest to the lowest point in my life out of nowhere, almost like my drink being spiked. Maybe it was the pressure of expectation.
Worst tourist experience?
The scariest place I’ve ever been, hands down, is the Republic of the Congo. I wrote a book called Scary Monsters and Super Creeps, where I went round the world looking at people who get obsessed with monsters. I wanted to visit Lake Tele in northern Congo, where there is supposed to be this Loch Nessy-type creature called the Mokele Mbembe – the Blocker of Rivers – but to get there I had to take an terrifying unregulated flight; then I was immediately arrested on some spurious charge and put in prison for two days while they tried to extract bribes from me for my release. I held out, paid up, then took a 12-hour drive, followed by a three-day canoe journey down a tributary of the Congo river.
I got to the village, where I had to pay the last of my money to be taken to the lake by one of the locals. But when I said, “Come on, let’s crack on,” everyone started getting stuck into these repulsive cartons of French Congolese wine and the whole village got totally bladdered, to the extent that the guy supposed to be taking me to the monster attacked me with a machete and had to be tied to a tree. Then that night a spear went right through my tent, so I just fled in my canoe and never went to Lake Tele. I was found wanting.
Worst decision?
Selling my flat in London. Firstly, it’s worth insane amounts of money now, and I sold it just too early. But not only that, I sold my flat to Salman Rushdie, and I didn’t realise it was Salman Rushdie buying it. When I found out, I just was so embarrassed about my book collection; I felt so dim.
Worst advice?
Someone once said to me, “Marry an accountant,” and I didn’t. I married an artist. I just wish someone had given me some better financial advice and said, “Think about your pension,” or, “save,” because I’m rubbish with money. I’ve spent all my money, but I don’t regret it for a second, as it does make you hungry still. It makes you want to get out there and work, so you’re never bored, and I’d never retire anyway, because I enjoy working. The only problem is, I occasionally do shows for the money that I wouldn’t do normally, whereas having more money gives you the freedom to really follow your artistic adventures.
‘The Conspiracy Tourist’ by Dom Joly is published in November. The Conspiracy Tour starts in February 2024. For tickets, visit domjoly.tv/tour
