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Helium-voiced survivor of 1980s alternative comedy boom on internet plagiarism, his 'subconcious' hairstyle, and being the original emo kid

Stop me if you think that you've heard these ones before. "My girlfriend always giggles during sex, no matter what she's reading." "I ran three miles today, and finally I said, 'Lady take your purse.'" "When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bike, then I realised that the Lord doesn't work that way, so I stole one and asked him to forgive me." "I'm a great lover … I'll bet."

We're all familiar with the work of Emo Philips without even realising it. His jokes are often so pithy and perfectly formed that they gain a life beyond the confines of his routines. They've been passed between workmates and friends via word of mouth; lifted wholesale by other acts (as Philips once said, "My jokes are in my head and I have a duplicate copy of my jokes in a lot of British comics' heads, where they are safe"); and circulated via chain emails. The latter is a more recent development: several times a year, some of Emo's jokes (muddled in with a few other classic one-liners) arrive in your correspondent's inbox, credited to Peter Kay, John Cleese or someone equally unlikely.

Such is the lot of the man seen as an inspiration by the likes of Jimmy Carr and Tim Vine, and regarded by the not-famously-generous figure of Jay Leno as the greatest gag writer in the world. However, UK audiences now have an opportunity to hear a fresh set of pristine jokes coming direct from the source, as Philips returns to this country for the first time in five years.

The Philips that appears in front of audiences is certainly a remarkable creation. On top of that shrill, wispy voice (which takes some getting used to, especially if you're accustomed to the rapid-fire stridency of most gag-based stand-ups), there's the haircut â€" an extraordinary bob that seems more likely to have been copied from a medieval artwork than designed by a contemporary stylist. "The reason for my hairstyle," he claims, "lies in my subconscious. I'm guessing, however, that it has something to do with the fact that, growing up, my mother, on the first day of summer vacation, would shave my head. I believe it is possible that I am now overcompensating."

'British audiences never laugh at my routine about mowing the lawn. I have no idea why. You can't all be using goats'

Although Philips is happy to play the outsider as a stand-up, British audiences have always given him a particularly warm reception. Maybe it's because his love not just of puns but all kinds of ludicrously contrived wordplay means that he fits neatly with a tradition of humour that's always been popular over here. Were it not for the lack of Home Counties vowels, you could almost imagine him among the cast of I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue.

From the moment he arrived in the UK in the mid-1980s, Philips became a cult figure among the alternative comedy cognoscenti. He must have seemed novel, given the difference between his deliberately silly approach and the altogether more abrasive and politicised style practised by the likes of Ben Elton and Alexei Sayle. Since then, he's made numerous returns to this country (albeit punctuated by long absences) to play to an extremely loyal audience that includes a lot of big homegrown comedy names. Does he find there's a difference in response between British crowds and those back home? "The only difference I have found is that British audiences never laugh at my routine about mowing the lawn. I have no idea why. You can't all be using goats."

After playing a set at the Latitude festival this weekend, Philips will be preparing for a run at this year's Edinburgh festivalfringe. It was his performances there for over 20 years ago that paved the way for his success the UK, and it is still very fond of the city. He also claims the UK as a whole, although it is usually unlikely cause.

But here, he said, "TV funny '\\' ads are mirabile dictu, actually funny. My theory is that American copywriters see their competitors once a year at an awards ceremony, whereas their British counterparts bump into their rivals every night at the pub, and the peer pressure keeps them on their toes. They fear the mockery of their fellows far more than a follow-up from marketing." He is less convinced about the benefits of the new political regime, though. "It seems that if the United States elects a liberal, the rest of the world elects a conservative, and vice versa. Our species has an instinct for balance because we evolved from a tree-dwelling primate."

Philips's success on record and on TV in the 1980s may have been a high water mark, although he refutes the notion with characteristic high-pitched dryness: "It's a myth that the 80s were my best decade. In truth, it was from June 1984 through May 1994." In any case, he continues to find new and unexpected ways of making audiences laugh.

One new hazard he's had to deal with is the fact that his assumed name now has some unexpected connotations. However, rather than bemoan the torrid, angsty phenomenon of the emo kid, Emo Philips has decided to take personal credit for its genesis. "Few 'emo' kids are aware that I took the name from zero to 60," he says. "I'm not claiming that I influenced the 'emo' sound, but if you glance at the cover of my 1985 album, E=MO², you'll see my 'emo' hair, clothing and physique." Philips is happy to take his potential association with the likes of My Chemical Romance on the chin. "At least I can take solace in the fact that my father, Bebop Philips, had to suffer the exact same indignity."

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