Q&A with Jim Jefferies

twenty4sevenlifest
Oct 30
9 min read

by Carl Marsh

One of the most influential and provocative voices in global comedy returns to the UK for a major nationwide tour

Acclaimed comedian, actor, and writer Jim Jefferies has officially announced the UK leg of his brand-new stand-up tour, Son of a Carpenter. On sale and in high demand, this long-awaited run will see Jefferies bring his sharp, belief-challenging, and deeply personal brand of comedy to audiences across the UK in November 2025.

This new tour is completely new material. How long did it take you to shape it after your last Netflix special?

I had already written about an hour of the new show when the special came out. I'd been doing it in parts, testing bits around the leftover material from the special, but there was nothing to it but to do it.

I started the tour with about an hour and a half of good material — I just didn't know what order to put it in. It takes four or five gigs to get into the rhythm. I toured it through Europe, and it took about two weeks before I really liked it and three before I loved it.

Right now, I'm kind of in love with this set. It's one of my favourite shows I've ever done in my whole career. I'm really happy with it.

You've called Son of a Carpenter your most personal show yet — what inspired you to dig deeper this time?

I started writing my biography, and that's basically therapy, isn't it? You go through your entire life — childhood to where you are now — and you end up remembering things you'd rather forget, as well as things you look back on and go, "Actually, that's pretty funny." Some of those moments turned into bits for the show.

There are no religious overtones, though. When I first performed it in Tampa, someone showed up thinking it was going to be a one-man play about Jesus. It's as simple as my dad being a carpenter — I'm the son of a carpenter. That's it. Jesus isn't the only bloke who deserves that title.

What's the most challenging part about starting a brand-new show from scratch?

The hardest bit is wondering, what if it isn't good? That's the fear every time. It's the same for anyone in the arts — when a band starts a new album or a director starts a new film.

The last project worked because you've seen people laugh at it. But when you start again, it's all unknown. Still, all the nerves are outweighed by the excitement. There's nothing better than a new routine that's really cooking.

I'm genuinely excited about this material, but by the time you record a special, you're ready to let it go. Hopefully, I can tour this one for a couple of years because I'm mad for it.

You're back in the UK, where so much began, and tickets are flying — what do you think keeps that connection so strong?

I think it's that Commonwealth connection. Australians and the British might take the piss out of each other, but we've always had each other's backs. There's a shared sense of humour and a shared history.

I've got a bit of an outsider's view of the UK — and of America — so I can bring that perspective back to British audiences. I know what British people like, how they think, and where their passions lie.

I've always said I'm an Australian-American who identifies as British. I'm a pale bloke built to sit in a pub drinking pints. I was never meant to be out in the sun, and I couldn't handle a gun to save my life. I'm good in England.

And those early stand-up years in the UK — what do you remember most about those gigs and crowds?

The big shift from working in Australia to working in Britain was realising how rich the UK's stand-up history is. In Australia or America, people might see comedy a few times a year, but in Britain, the audiences were proper fans.

And the heckling! The best heckles you'll ever get are from British audiences. Americans try to correct you — "Hey buddy, let me tell you something." Australians try to trip you up at the punchline. But the British? They try to out-laugh you, out-joke you, get the better line.

I've always appreciated that. Even if the laugh's at my expense, if someone nails it in the room, it's an extra laugh — saves me a bit of time.

Your wife's English, do you still get over here much as a family?

We will soon. The whole family's coming over for Thanksgiving — my boys, my ex, and my wife — we'll all be travelling around while I'm on tour.

Not as much as I'd like, though, even during the European tour, if I had a day off, I'd fly back to London rather than stay somewhere else. It just feels more like home. I know the restaurants I like, and I've got people I want to see.

My wife would move back to England in a heartbeat. Her mum's in Brighton, and when I play the Brighton Centre, it feels like a real family affair: cousins, in-laws, everyone's backstage. I feel very loved there.

And what's the most important thing you miss about living in the UK? If you had to name one thing?

Trains. I love trains. I know that sounds silly, but after flying everywhere in America, I realised how good the British rail network actually is. I used to bitch and moan about it — didn't know how lucky I was.

I miss the Underground too. And not having to wear sunscreen — that's one of my favourites. My whole childhood, I was putting sunscreen on every day, and in the UK, I went ten years without it. I was drinking and smoking, and hardly aged. If I did that in Australia, I'd look eighty by now.

I miss the weather, strangely enough. I miss the Premier League. I miss going to matches where the crowd chants and sings instead of shouting "Let's go, Dodgers!"

You could say I miss the music and atmosphere too, but everything's more universal now with the internet. That's why I get to tour Asia, Britain, even Croatia — we're all on the same wavelength these days.

You've become a major name in the US — Netflix specials, game shows, films — has this success changed how you write comedy?

Not really. Becoming a dad, getting married, and getting older have changed what I talk about, but not how I write.

The way I write comedy is the same. I think of a premise, tell it to a friend, then go on stage and keep talking until it turns into something. I like going off on tangents, then returning — like Billy Connolly used to do.

Many comedians think once they've written a joke, that's it. You never stop writing a joke. There's always another tag to add. Maybe it's just a one-liner later on, but that can become the nucleus for a bigger bit.

That's why I have routines that run twenty or thirty minutes. It doesn't help much now that TikTok comics are doing quick bursts, but it worked great back in my Edinburgh days. Americans used to think I was special for doing long sets — I didn't have the heart to tell them everyone in the UK was already doing it.

Does stand-up still feel like home base between Legit, The Jim Jefferies Show and The Snake?

Yeah, stand-ups ' still about eighty per cent of my occupation — it's what I think about most. Everything else feels like a little artistic endeavour or side project.

I've started doing more game shows — The 1% Club in Australia and The Snake in the States — and I've really enjoyed it. When I first got offered it, I hesitated, then thought, it's a job I can do when I'm seventy.

No one hates a game show host. In stand-up or political comedy, people decide if they like you based on your opinions. But when you tell someone they've just won $100,000, you're beloved.

Back in Australia, I had eighty-year-old women swarming me in the supermarket saying, "I love you on that show." I thought I could do this forever.

As for acting, it's tricky. You can give actors flak, but it's out of your hands — whether the script's good, the director's good, or the casting person likes you. In stand-up, you're steering your own ship.

Didn't you recently tour North America with the likes of Jimmy Carr?

Me and Jimmy went to Canada together. We did arenas all around — a brilliant experience. They were all NHL venues, so now I've got a wardrobe full of hockey jerseys that say "Jefferies" on the back.

I don't know if Jimmy kept his, but I laugh at the idea of him sitting around his house on a day off wearing an NHL jersey that says "Carr."

How did those crowds handle you two together? You both like to go close to the edge sometimes…

We had a similar fan base but two very different styles, so we weren't stepping on each other's toes. We'd each do a set, then come together at the end for a Q&A and shoot the sh!%.

Jimmy's a great guy. I always tour with an opener or two, and I don't think he does, so I think he really enjoyed the camaraderie. I'd do it again in a heartbeat if we could find the right market for it.

And who makes you laugh the most of the other UK comedians?

I've got Glenn Wool and Andrew Maxwell opening for me, and honestly, they're on the tour because I'm a huge fan of both. It's rare to have openers you actually want to watch.

For more mainstream comics, I still love Frankie Boyle — he still cracks me up. And Michael McIntyre — I could watch him all day. When my son was eight, I showed him Michael's stuff to explain stand-up.

My son just started watching me a bit earlier than I wanted. I took him to a Dodgers charity gig, and there he was hearing me tell stories about w$%!ing on the couch. Tough life, that kid's got.

Fatherhood often slips into your act. How has family life changed the stories you want to tell?

I'd already mined my childhood, so I've morphed into the dad I used to talk about. I joked about my father in my earlier stand-up — now I've become him.

You don't realise, until you're a parent, how much you want your kids to be impressed by you. I used to think my parents thought I was an idiot. Now I'm on stage thinking, Will my son think I'm a d-head for this joke?

Fatherhood's changed the way I write because I'm conscious of whether my kids think I'm a w***er or not. And honestly, they probably do.

You've mentioned being a massive Oasis fan before. What is it about that band that still gets you going? Did you see them in LA this year?

I wasn't in town for LA, so I flew my son to Toronto just before the European tour. We saw them there, and I saw them twice at Wembley — once on the floor and once in Jimmy Carr's box. Then I saw them again in the pouring rain in Toronto.

Every one of those gigs was a banger. Twenty years ago, those concerts were full of testosterone and chaos. Now it's a bunch of old blokes jumping around full of love. There was no aggro at any of them — just happiness.

Six weeks later, my son wanted a guitar. That's what it's meant to do — inspire you. When I saw Eddie Murphy do stand-up, I didn't ask my parents for a stand-up mic and red leather suit, but I thought about it. [Laughter]

If you want to be a stand-up, don't watch good comedians — they'll just make you feel worse. Watch bad ones; they'll give you confidence. And as much as I love Oasis, their guitar playing isn't that complicated. Give me a tambourine and a bit of swagger, and I'll give it a go.

When I lived in England, everything about music was Oasis and Happy Mondays; outside, it was dreary and wet. But that's what I love about Britain — it lifts itself up with music and pride. You can always see a brighter day ahead, as some might say.

SON OF A CARPENTER UK TOUR DATES

1 Nov Manchester, O2 Apollo

2 Nov Manchester, O2 Apollo

3 Nov Sheffield, City Hall

4 Nov Liverpool, Empire Theatre

6 Nov Newcastle, O2 City Hall

7 Nov Glasgow, SEC Armadillo

8 Nov Edinburgh, Playhouse

11 Nov Cambridge, Corn Exchange

13 Nov Oxford, New Theatre

14 Nov Nottingham, Royal Concert Hall

15 Nov Leeds, First Direct Arena