One sly barb that's often been levelled at comedians - sometimes proudly by the comics themselves - is that they only work 20 minutes a night. Indeed, some acts have made a decent living knocking out much the same 20 most evenings for about 20 years, which takes some doing. Clearly nobody informed Adam Riches that this career path was a possibility, however.

The high-concept character comic/actor won the Edinburgh Comedy Award in 2011 for his show Bring Me the Head of Adam Riches, and his live exploits have gotten ever more elaborate since. Last summer he upped the ante, taking three separate and very different shows to the Edinburgh Fringe. Most people find it tough enough doing one.

The most ambitious of them, The Lone Dueller, almost proved too much for Riches and his talented cast: Ben Target, Stevie Martin and Daniel Cook. And his untalented cast: some cumbersome mannequins. Still, they're all model professionals (pow!), the show blossomed, and the hardy crew are now bringing it to the Soho Theatre, from March 11-16.

Riches also embarks on his first UK tour from late April, but we'll get back to that at a later date. Now: the source of his sole swordsman.

How did The Lone Dueller happen?

My 2009 show, Rogue Males, started off with a character that's a Zorro-esque hero, who would come and save the townsfolk from the tyranny of the government. But the bit that I'd flipped on it was that there were no problems, it wasn't like Robin Hood's day: the government and the crown were actually getting on very well with the villagers, the country was in great health.

What do you do then, when you're a self-invented hero with no-one to save? I always found that idea funny, the guy who's a mercenary - in films they'll always stumble upon him in a bar, his leg up with a flagon of beer - and they'll lure him back in for the right price.

Like Han Solo in Star Wars - is he just sat in that bar all day long, waiting for people to come in and ask him to do stuff?

It's true - what would Han have done if Luke and Ben had gone to a different bar?

Exactly. So that's where the idea sprung from, and I meant to do more with the character, but he never came back.

Then a couple of years ago, I was clearing out some stuff in my parents' home and found one of those old cardboard theatre things I must have had as a kid, where you move them in from the side on paper tabs, almost like fussball. So I thought it might be a funny idea to create that, full sized.

The natural progression - well, the very unnatural progression - led to a show that was me in the middle as this kind of flamboyant hero, and all the other characters are mannequins. On wheels. There's something like 17, 18 characters in the show, but I'm the only human one.

How do the rest of your ensemble fit in then?

Ben, Stevie and Dan, they push them round, and they voice them from behind. I just interact with the mannequins, who aren't the greatest actors, or movers, but they're great at taking a sword punch.

Always handy.

The two ideas weren't natural bedfellows, but it feels like a regional production that's got huge ambition, and that's part of the joke: this ambitious undertaking, an egotistical actor in the middle, with his company, and this egotistical hero with these mannequins. So those ideas came together, I wrote 20 mins, and thought 'I can't not do this now.'

It sounds quite logistically challenging though?

It was an incredibly difficult production to get together, because none of the components do what you need them to do. I don't know how to swordfight - but that's ok, I went to some fencing lessons. None of the actors are puppeteers, and also the mannequins themselves are not puppets.

So it was very difficult from my brain to the page and harder from the page to the stage. It was a show that we had to undertake lots of work on. On stage. As we did it.

That can be fun for audiences - I always enjoy a glimpse behind the curtain...

You've seen a fair bit of my stuff before - the element of chaos to it is key, but it's got to be controlled chaos. I've got to look like I don't know what's going on, but of course I do. There's a big difference between that comedically and it actually falling apart.

Lone Dueller at the start was 'I can't wait to finish this show, and chuck those mannequins into the river.' Then after three weeks it was 'yeah, I'm gonna miss these guys, let's see if we can do something with it in London...'

That must be quite fulfilling, the alchemy of it all?

Yeah, when it did get there it suddenly felt like a completely different show, and we felt like completely different performers - we could pretend that we weren't in control, we could push that idea a little harder.

That's why I like working with a cast as well as solo stuff, it's this long Stockholm Syndrome relationship, where you're trying to get them to gradually understand what it is we're doing. Then when the light comes on in their eyes - actually I don't think this happens with Stockholm Syndrome! - then they're all doing what they do within it. And that raises me up a level, because I know they've got my back.

It was such a great feeling, for us all.

And now you're bringing it to Soho - have you done a full version of it since?

No - it's a frigging nightmare - ha! I think it bound us to it in a different way than some of the other shows we've done together, so now coming into Soho, which is almost supposed to be a victory lap - it's not! It's a pain in the arse to get [the mannequins] there, it's a pain to rehearse because they're just so big, finding space and finding time. It's a very ambitious show, deliberately so, but accidentally as well: 'Oh, this is bigger than we anticipated...'

At least you aren't trying to juggle it with two other shows this time.

We'll be more alert [than at the Fringe] - there's a big swordfight scene in this, a sequence that's one of my favourites that we've ever got together, it's so over the top and such fun to do. But there were a couple of moves that we were always a bit sluggish on, which I guess was just fatigue.

Now I'm expecting us to be absolutely perfect every night, the fight scenes will look like they've been digitally enhanced.

Ciaran Dowd also did a Fringe show about a swordsman, but without the mannequins, and won Best Newcomer. Did you think 'doh, I could have just done it that way...'?

We were actually both working on something last March, and Ciaran mentioned one of his ideas, Don Rodolfo; we were just talking and encouraging each other.

He eventually got back in touch and said 'I'm going to do the one with the sword, is that going to be an issue, with the one you're doing?' I was like, 'mate, in my opinion the whole festival should be sword shows - everyone else is missing a trick!'

We're never going to do the same show - the fact that we're both holding a sword and both idiots is the [only] crossover point. I was delighted for him, because he's in a very different point in his live career than I am. I really love him, I think his show was terrific.

How about getting the characters together?

It'd be hard - I don't think I'd ever understand a single word that comes out of his mouth - that accent! Also, my sword is visible whereas his is invisible, so he's got a distinct advantage over me in the weapons stakes. He'd be able to do some sly attacks.

The Two Amigos would be a very different film.

Yeah. You might see everyone doing sword shows next year. It'll be a huge trend.