Irish comedian Jimeoin claims he has a "ridiculously" good memory for jokes, so much so that he's prepared to be put to the test.
"I used to do this thing where I'd get people to say anything daft at all and . . . then I'd tell a joke based on that. Try me out; say anything at all, but avoid politics or anything that's in the press. The dafter it is the better."
How about a child's toy? "Right ... ehrmm ... well, continue the interview," he insists from his home in Melbourne.
He's storing the thought; the intention is to let it brew, like a good cuppa.
Jimeoin (full name Jimeoin McKeown) prefers chasing big laughs through little ideas: the flight problems of bumblebees; the subtle-yet-important distinctions found in eyebrow movements; even the virtues of a top-loading washing machine are fertile terrain.
The more ordinary the subject the better, he says. His shows, including his latest, On Ice, have nothing to do with current affairs. Television commercials and children are topics he prefers to let others mine.
"You often start with one line and there may be recognition in that - people know what I'm talking about. If they spark up, then you elaborate on that.
"I've never written a good joke in my life. I just know lots of them and I knew ones that other people hadn't heard . . . that's how it started," he says, referring to a night in 1988 when he casually stepped on to a Sydney stage and told a few jokes during an open-mike segment of a comedy show.
He went down well. He was hooked.
"I was at that age when I looking for something to do. I was working on building sites. I was 22 or 23 and had high plans for life. I thought I could be anything."
Born in Derry, Northern Ireland, Jimeoin left home at the age of 18, and headed to London for four years, before emigrating to Australia, where he discovered a "real affection for Irish people."
His accent, a crucial point of difference in the difficult world of stand-up comedy, has helped, he admits.
So, too, has his appetite for work. A regular at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival (in 1994, he gained the "Critics Award"), he has toured Europe, the Middle East, Asia and North America.
He has made regular appearances at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival and the Adelaide Fringe Festival and his Australian tours have attracted sellout audiences.
He is also a familiar face on Australian television, appearing on a range of variety and comedy shows.
His self-titled show aired nationally on Australia's Seven network for three series during 1994-1995, a workload he describes as "probably the biggest thing I've ever done".
In 1999, Jimeoin wrote and starred in his own feature film, The Craic and followed with The Extra in 2005.
He has also produced three CDs, Goin' Off, The Craic and Forklift Truck. He says he would have loved being in a band.
"I really love Irish music. I love the feeling of . . ." he pauses. The telephone conveys a wet sound indicative of lunch being consumed. " . . . playing music."
Jimeoin agrees he is a restless type.
Like a teenager with a cupboard full of seldom-used sports gear, he says he has spent much of his life bouncing between obsession and boredom.
"I know now not to buy anything. I now hire everything. I've made that mistake."
At the age of 42, he is now pursuing that which he enjoys most of all - stand-up comedy. It's a case of back to the beginning.
"Some people really need a good laugh and if you can tap that nerve . . . that's what the live experience is all about. You can't get that lying at home, watching TV."
Though Jimeoin is adept at side-stepping what his new show is likely to be about
("I can't really explain it because it is just about having a laugh. It's not a lecture"), he does disclose its duration.
"I do about an hour and 20 minutes. I often feel if they really want more, I'll do 10 minutes more, but that would be about it. If anyone told me I was going to see something longer than that, I would be reluctant to go and see it.
"I've yet to go to the opera or ballet, purely because of the timeline thing. Surely they could do an opera in 20 minutes. It would be absolutely fantastic."
In the meantime, another clock has been ticking.
Isn't it about time he told that joke? In a tactic aimed to delay, he offers other morsels: "What sort of biscuits fly?" Plain ones.
"Why do girls wear lipstick and perfume?" Because they're ugly and they smell."
But didn't the challenge involve a child's toy, rather than children's jokes? "I don't have any on toys ... you got me."
Humbled, having been hoist by his own petard, Jimeoin concedes defeat. Perhaps the suggestion wasn't quite daft enough.
See him
• Regent Theatre, Dunedin, Friday, November 7
• Civic Theatre, Invercargill, Saturday, November 8
• Memorial Hall, Queenstown, Sunday, November 9
