My chat with Andre Vincent actually happened a good few months ago now (hey, those transcriptions take time), just after he'd heard some thoroughly deflating news. "I did Stewart Lee's TV programme for Comedy Central," announced the long-serving comic, of the much-hyped Alternative Comedy Experience, "and I've just been informed that I've been dropped from it."

More of that in a couple of paragraphs' time. Still, if anyone's going to put such a blow into an appropriate perspective, it's Vincent, whose previous TV work included an award-winning documentary about his recovery from cancer. Years earlier the former street performer had been enjoying a burgeoning profile in the States before a serious onstage injury saw him settle for good on the UK circuit, and become an influential figure for several generations of comics. Everyone knows Andre.

His higher-profile TV work tended to happen behind the scenes, often with a topical slant, writing for The 11 O'Clock Show and co-creating The Late Edition, as hosted by Marcus Brigstocke. Andre then became quite dramatically disenchanted with telly, however - do check out the Robbie Williams story below - and has enjoyed a varied array of live work over the last few years: plays, poker-based Edinburgh events, politics-based festival shows, even panto.

But let's go back to that Deflating Comedy Experience...

So why was your stuff not suitable?

Because it was a bit too 'clubby', a bit too worrying. I mean, I don't understand why Stewart picked me anyway, because I'm a punchline comic, I love jokes. He's always been a lover of the whimsy. And it was very strange: there was Trevor Lock, Robin Ince, Josie Long, Isy Suttie, all those people he adores. And there was me.

You did a fair bit of telly years ago. Has it changed a lot since then?

When we did The Late Edition, when we were pre-recorded, we got away with so much. We did a whole routine about Deepcut - remember Deepcut, all the so-called suicides of soldiers? One of them, the gun was 15 feet away from him, so we had Mr Tickle as the soldier. The audience laughed, and it went through. As soon as we went live - they sold it that 'You'll be the first topical show to go live since That Was The Week That Was on the BBC, it'll be really dangerous' - I'm arguing over spies dying of polonium poisoning, the biggest news of the day. 'Yeah [they said], but his family might be watching.' 'He's a spy!'

You're probably best known nowadays for the festival version of that show, The Early Edition. How did you end up doing more serious stuff, given that you started out clowning, street performing...?

I supported Rob Newman one year, and Rob would go 'I've got this idea' and I'd say 'but there's no punchline', he'd go out and they'd all go 'yeeeah'. And I'd watch and go 'I don't get it'. But he was really interesting, he made me think in a different way, he made me become topical and start writing stuff. Before that it had all been 'I'll tell you what it's like to be fat' - I was aware that it was all a bit wacky and not really my own voice.

You'd hosted game shows and all sorts by that point?

Christmas 1997, we had a big comedians' Christmas at John Gordillo's. Andy Linden [now a successful actor], it was him who made me think 'what the hell am I doing?' because he kept turning the TV on saying 'right, let's see where the fat cunt is now.' They found me on so many dreadful Christmas panel games - Christmas Karaoke Challenge, I was hosting Bravo from Christmas Eve till Boxing Day night - and it really made me go 'Yeah, I've become that comedy slag.'

Not really alternative comedy then.

It was bizarre: 'I'm up for a gameshow award? How the fuck did that happen?' I found myself drunk one night with Ross King, Michael Barrymore and John Leslie, and you just kind of go, 'These aren't my peers, these aren't people I should be getting drunk with'.

Particularly John Leslie and Michael Barrymore...

No, exactly!

Your Edinburgh show about fighting cancer, 'Andre Vincent is Unwell', was another big step - you weren't going to use it originally though?

I was told on the Thursday, 'you've got cancer' and I went alright, I won't talk about it - Hicks didn't talk about it, Kaufman didn't talk about it, that's the way to deal with it.

But then you got heckled at a gig and just came out with it?

Big laugh, then I went 'no seriously, I've got kidney cancer, I've got a big tumour in my kidney' and there was a bit of a [does a sharp intake of breath]. And I went 'yeah, it's not alright to talk about - please welcome George Egg!' And George to this day says 'do you remember when you introduced me after you told an audience you had cancer...?'

Ouch!

As soon as I started doing jokes about it my dad rang up and said 'your brother says you're doing jokes about it' and I went 'yeah, I am', and he said 'well that's wrong because people in the audience will be touched by it, someone's lost their grandmother.' And I said, well that's bullshit, can I not do jokes about swimming because someone might know someone who drowned? I'm not saying cancer's a funny thing, I'm saying 'I've got cancer, it's about my cancer, and what people are doing to deal with me, that I find funny and ridiculous.'

How did the documentary version of that show come about?

I was trying to flog it to TV, and everyone was like 'no, no, no' - but then BBC Three did a cancer week called The Big C, people were pitching different cancer ideas, and Henry Normal came and said 'can we pitch your cancer show?' and they went for it. That was through Baby Cow.

That did very well, went to America, won an independent film award - it was amazing, they were so behind me, Baby Cow. BBC Three wanted more stuff, then they went cold on everything.

It sounds like you've gone cold on TV now?

My moment of 'I can't be bothered anymore' - I got called in, one last push for Lenny Beige [as played by] Steve Furst for ITV. So I came up with an idea, a variety show that moves around, like a rave. One week it's in a multi-storey car park, then a department store, then the operating theatre of an old hospital, and they're 'oh yes, we like this. But it needs another hook.'

Sounds fair...

I meet Steve Furst up at the Groucho Club, and Robbie Williams walks in. Now Steve and Robbie are really close friends, Robbie used to love [Furst's] Regency Rooms, he used to come down and sing all the time. So I said 'what you doing at the moment?' He said 'Take That are getting back together again, I'm gonna join them, I've got nothing for six months.' I said 'want to do a variety show on television?' So we're talking about it: Robbie Williams wants to do a variety show, he brings Lenny Beige in to help him, each week you do a song together, a song separately, a comedy sketch, then we bring all sorts of special guests in. 'Yeah,' he said, 'I'd love to do that, I'd exec-produce it, I'd put money into it.'

So I went back to ITV, I said, 'I've got Robbie Williams. Something like this, we won't have to pilot: even if it doesn't work we'll still get an audience because it's Robbie Williams' variety show.' He says 'You're so right. But the thing is, Jimmy Carr's contract is about to run out at Channel 4.' 'Yeah?' 'So what about if someone like Jimmy Carr was to do it?' 'This is Robbie Williams. From Take That. People will watch. Jimmy Carr singing is not going to wash.' 'But Jimmy's looking for something else. What about Rob Brydon?' At the end of this meeting they were talking about Steve Furst doing it with Claudia Winkleman.

Really? I assumed you meant that they were trying to replace Furst, not Robbie.

I just sat there thinking 'I don't get this.' I understand that there's a list somewhere in an executive's room going 'this person's in, this person's in, what can we do to get them?' And I just kinda went 'do you know what? I'm done.'

I can see how that would be offputting...

And I had a really bad time with The Late Edition towards the end, I found the producers just really wet and useless - things like that.

What do you make of the current satire show, 10 O'Clock Live?

Abysmal. Charlie Brooker shouldn't be on it, because what Charlie Brooker does - Black Mirror is brilliant - but everything that Charlie Brooker does, he stands at the side and points at television and goes 'you're shit,' and as soon as he starts making shit television, his voice becomes no voice. Jimmy Carr's never read a paper in his life, hence the reason he's doing sketches about people having offshore accounts, because he doesn't even realise that he was taking the piss out of himself.

And Laverne, I just can't understand why she's on it. They need a woman but there are so many - Susan Calman, at least she's got a point of view. She [Laverne] has got nothing to say.

Which just leaves David Mitchell...

He's the only one who's interesting in it, but then again it's coming from such a well-to-do way [of looking at it]. I always had this problem with Marcus [Brigstocke, on The Late Edition]; if you've got a trust fund, it's so easy for you to go 'I'm not happy with this' - what you don't understand is the people living on a council estate, struggling to get along. You can't be a voice of the people when it looks like you were brought up by a nanny.

To find out more about Andre and see where he's performing visit www.andrevincent.co.uk