Interview: Jim Jeffries

He has been Venice Beach's palest resident for a couple of years now. "I'm trying to embrace the culture," he announces. That culture is certainly embracing him. He is now such hot property he shares representation in the USA with Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and Sean Connery, where he sports an entourage of three agents, a manager and a lawyer.

He is one of only five non-American comics ever to be given his own HBO Special – which is still enjoying more repeats than cheese-and-onion pakora – and he is fast climbing up the must-see lists of TV and movie casting directors across Hollywood.

It could not possibly have happened to a nicer guy. But it's not all good. The simple fact of the matter is this: Hollywood has taken Jim Jeffries away from us forever. Yup. Somewhere Stateside, there is an old bloke who used to be an actor by the name of Jim Jeffries, so the man who put Manchester Comedy Store on the map has had to change his name. "I'm more famous and more broke than I've ever been," says the comedian now known as Jim Jefferies.

This is good news for us because it means Edinburgh – albeit or five nights only – gets back its best-loved bad boy. Now with extra E.

He hadn't had time to write and work in a new show and, so, hadn't planned to play the Fringe this year, but the Underbelly made him an offer he couldn't refuse and so we have Jim Jefferies: The Hits. Well, I suppose what is good enough for Al Murray – and Abba – is good enough for Jim. I suggest bringing out a DVD for sale at the venue – Joke-along-a-Jim – where those known and loved 'Greatest Hits' are shown without audio, giving fans the opportunity to chant the routines along with the man himself. He says, pointedly, that he'd rather do old good stuff than new material that's not ready. Which is fair enough, I suppose. And he needs the money. So buy a ticket.

His new US management are gently but surely 'repositioning' Jim. Not quite 'doggy' to 'missionary', but they believe, he says, that there is "more to him" than a pint-swigging, potty-mouthed pervert. No news there for Scotsman readers, of course. 'They' are, by the way, CAA, an organisation with, historically, the firepower to 'reposition' entire landmasses.

Under their influence, Jim has just turned down a TV series involving him, a car and three Playboy Babes travelling across Europe. They think it would be bad for his image. I'll let that sink in. They didn't 'reposition' any of his stand-up material. Just suggested that America-bashing might take something of a back seat.

A clutch of storming gigs at Just For Laughs had confirmed his place on their books, albeit, when he was finally approached, he had to say he'd never heard of them. But they liked that. Before Montreal the previous year, they'd never heard of him either.

Presumably the signing has gone some way to assuaging Jim's disappointment at being turned down by Addison Cresswell at Off the Kerb because he had no potential for television. One appearance last year on HBO's Down and Dirty with Jim Norton was enough to convince the home of The Wire, Six Feet Under and The Sopranos otherwise.

Shooting for his HBO Special was a whole new world for Jim. The cameras covered his performances over a whole tour. They asked for a script. "I don't write my act!" So they transcribed it at the first gig and made him stick to it. No local references. No topical add-ons. No interaction with the audience. "Weird," says Jim. When it came to the main recording he was, he remembers, unexpectedly and totally calm. And in total control of the material. Down to timing his first c*** at a careful ten minutes in for maximum impact. And lifting the record for the most f***s in an HBO hour.

Brett Vincent of Underbelly Promotions was there for moral support and metaphorical hand-holding, but Jim made the walk from five-star hotel to theatre alone. The queue was right around the block. They had to turn away 1,500 people. When he walked through the theatre lobby they cheered. When he finished his show he got a standing ovation.

On 16 May this year, the TV show, I Swear To God, went national, and is still being repeated. "Apparently there is very little drop-off at the 15-minute mark," says Jim, with impressive grasp of 'player' jargon. "Although t here's a f*** of a lot at the two minute mark."

After the recording, HBO gave him a leatherbound copy of the 'script'. "It was weird seeing it all written down," he says "It even had stage directions: 'JIM LOOKS DISGRUNTLED'".

Jefferies is going to have to work on his professional 'to do' list, because at the moment he has wholly outstripped his own ambitions.

"When I started in Australia, I just wanted to earn money doing stand-up," he says, gunning the Mustang away from the lights. "Then I wanted to make money doing stand-up in the UK. Then I wanted to play the Comedy Store, and after I did that my ambition was to get on Never Mind The Buzzcocks."

That, as they say, was then.

Now the US's newest comedy hero is juggling recalls for movies with pitching 'projects' like Player was his middle name. Not all his 'projects' are as thoroughly thought through as they might be. "Do you remember Monkey Tennis?" he says. I remember Monkey Tennis (the ludicrous creation of a desperate Alan Partridge pitching TV ideas to a disinterested BBC exec).

"Well I'm in there more or less pitching Monkey Tennis. And they're listening. It's crazy." Hot new comics are the industry's sexy accessory of choice at the moment. Their ideas are fast-tracked. And Jim is in overdrive.

Only one tricky chicane on the racing line of his career. "Ever since Hugh Jackman," he says, "they think all Australians can do any accent." Accents are not Jim's greatest skill, so his ideas generally involve an Aussie in the US. "I pitched this idea about a boy who comes from Australia to find his real dad who is in the US. When he does, he finds his dad is a total reprobate." And hilarity ensues. The exec (who shall be nameless) loved the idea. "He asked how I'd feel about doing it in Australia. Asked who I'd want to play my father!" Jim thought for a moment and suggested Paul Hogan. Only to have the exec pick up the phone. And call Paul Hogan. "He had it on speakerphone and I could hear Paul Hogan going, 'Who is this? How did you get my number?'"

Talking of Australia, Jim's post-Special return to play Melbourne didn't exactly have the press in the state of excitement you might expect. There was no coverage. At all. His mum (stage name 'Gunther') – despite a starring role in several of Jefferies' funniest anecdotes – was similarly unimpressed by Jim's stateside success. Her "What's HBO?" was followed up with the killer inquiry: "Is it a cable channel?" The most successful stand-up in Aussie history did his best to outline the importance of HBO in cutting-edge television. "Aren't you proud of me mum?"

"I'm always proud of you, son."

"That's the same sort of thing she would say if she was bailing me out of jail," he says ruefully. An afternoon out with his dad – another star of countless hilariously painful anecdotes – meant running the gauntlet of requests for a bit of joke-telling from his dad's mates. "I don't really tell 'jokes'," explained Jim. A reply which went down like the offer of camomile tea at a stag do.

"A comedian who doesn't do jokes!" he heard a voice mutter. "Now I've heard it all."

Not it all. Not nearly it all, where Jim Jefferies is concerned. The classically trained, erstwhile opera-singing, show-tune belting Boy From Oz is taking voice lessons again, with an eye to opportunities in stage musical. It is only a matter of time before the first movie deal. He has already done a sitcom pilot.

So before the movies and the TV deals and Broadway shows take him away, treat yourself to an hour of 'not really joke-telling' with Gunther's little boy… Gunther has a lot to be proud of.

Jim Jefferies: The Hits is at Udderbelly's Pasture, 17-21 August, 8:35pm.