George Egg's hugely original and oddly useful show Anarchist Cook made a mighty splash - and some unique washing up - at last year's Edinburgh Fringe, as he demonstrated how to make a hearty meal using only the contents of a hotel room.

That much talked-about show was hatched "partly because I had a sense of mischief, partly because I didn't want to spend money on overpriced, often poor quality room service, and mostly because, well, I was hungry", he says. "The show is about that. OR it's about divergent thinking, rebellion and non-conformity. Whichever way you choose to look at it you get a chance to eat something nice at the end.

Egg-cellent. Anarchist Cook is at the Soho Theatre on 20th-21st May, and will be one of the highlights at the first Hertford Comedy Festival in mid-June. But now, let's revisit Egg's gig memories.

First gig?

It's difficult to define my first gig, because I gradually drifted into comedy through street performing in London to busking festivals all over the world and then into the stand-up circuit. Let's go with my first stand-up circuit gig, which would have been Up The Creek in, ooh, 1992 perhaps.

I don't remember who else was billed, but I remember John Moloney, well experienced and seasoned at that time, went on as a 'pretend' open spot too. The famously blood-thirsty crowd was ready to pounce but he blew them away before they had a chance.

Favourite show, ever?

In the mid nineties I was part of a surreal comedy/cabaret show called The Feast, which ran for about 10 nights at The Albany in Deptford. It was a mixture of music, comedy and circus hosted and curated by a man called Ian Smith and his Glasgow-based performance company Mischief La Bas.

Ian had a group of performers dressed as chefs in tow and the audience, seated on giant picnic tables on wheels were pushed around the space to settle in front of different stages where the performers did their thing before the audience were wheeled off to a different stage. During the day the performers who played the chefs (and I) cooked a huge curry which was then served to the audience in the interval.

It was a wholly unique and completely unforgettable show and a joy to be part of. Ian was a bit of a mentor when I started out, always encouraging me to do something different and unconventional. Very sadly he died the year before last.

Worst gig?

I was once employed to perform for a group of harbour managers (or something like that) in a hotel on the outskirts of Harwich. Just me. No compere or other acts. A huge room full of giant round tables and white-haired men and women eating a dinner, and at one end, still on the carpet at the same level as them, me.

I did the full 20 minutes to silence with the occasional mumble or tut. At the time I was finishing my show on a 'trick' where, to a piece of music, I put a coat hanger through my earring hole and proceeded to undress and hang the clothes on the hanger. I'd finish with my underpants and walk off naked. I did this, again to silence.

I got dressed and walked back out to tidy up my stuff, still being watched by the appalled audience. As I put the last few props away, the sound guy, unaware of professional etiquette, walked up to me and paid me in cash, counting out the notes into my hands and saying the amount clear and loud as he did so. I put the money in my pocket, gave everyone a wave, and walked out.

Who's the most disagreeable person you've come across in this business?

In A. A. Milne's The House at Pooh Corner Tigger comes to the forest and is, frankly, a bit much! He's boisterous and irritating and the other characters are more than a little overwhelmed. At the end of the chapter they're talking:

"Tigger is alright, really", said Piglet lazily.
"Of course he is", said Christopher Robin.
"Everybody is really", said Pooh. "That's what I think"
"Although I must say that ______ _____ is an odious shit", sighed Piglet, and the others nodded.
(I added the last line myself)

The weirdest gig experience?

I started out doing magic shows at children's parties when I was about 15. There were usually a decent crowd of some 10-20 sometimes a bit annoying but mostly decent kids. The show involved lots of volunteers doing various things.

On one occasion I turned up to a house and I got ushered into the front room to set up and while I was doing so I noticed a distinct lack of party sounds. When I was ready the mum came in and I asked 'when are the guests arriving?'. 'Oh, it's not a party, it's just us' she said.

It was her son's ninth birthday and I performed the full show to just him, his mum and his big sister. I was his main present. I had to choose him to be the volunteer for every trick and even had to improvise a new version of a trick that normally involved four helpers. Very odd. Sweet, but weird.

Is there one routine/gag you loved, that audiences inexplicably didn't?

I've seen acts do things that I've 'got' and enjoyed but not necessarily laughed out loud at and I trust there are other people in the room who've derived pleasure from material without expressing it vocally.

So, with that in mind, there's bits in my show which don't get a laugh, but which I think are funny, and so I still do them in the hope that I'm not unique in my ability to enjoy something without having to let everyone know that I'm acknowledging it as a joke.

In short, I don't know if they don't get those bits or not, they might just not be laughing out loud.

What's your best insider travel tip, for touring comics?

The only thing I can say in answer to this one is, I think you'd better come and see this show!

The most memorable review, heckle or post-gig reaction to your stuff?

I can't think of a specific one, but a general thing that happens, which I'm sure lots of comedians will empathise with, is the situation where you'll be relaxing by the bar after the show with the other acts and someone will come up and shower the other comedian with praise before noticing you there and saying something like 'you were really good too'. Ha ha.

Oh, I know what's worse than that. It's when you get someone coming up to you, telling you that they really enjoyed your stuff, and then proceeding to say how bad they thought the other acts were, and you're standing there with a painful fixed grin wishing you could disappear.

How do you feel about where your career is at, right now?

I'm certainly enjoying performing this show, and it seems to capture the interest of a broad range of people. Which is nice. I'm writing this from an apartment in Auckland where I'm performing the show in the comedy festival in a lovely theatre for two weeks. I certainly can't complain.

It's your last ever gig: give us the venue, the line-up, the pre-show rider...

Glastonbury is the highlight of my year. But this show isn't in the behemoth that is the Cabaret marquee, it's in a new purpose built venue of my own invention. It's small enough for only about 150 people and they're sat on raked seating so they get a really good view.

It's dark inside and well insulated acoustically so while there's always the faint hubbub of 'festival' in the background it doesn't encroach on the atmosphere in here. And it's all day and night. Knowing that comedy is wholly subjective I appreciate that not everyone (apart from me) is going to want to watch every act on the bill, which is fine because there's lots going on elsewhere, and as long as they enter/leave quietly and discreetly that's ok.

The rider is rather booze-heavy as it's a festival, and we've got vouchers for barbecue masters Smokestak (check them out) allowing us not just a brisket roll, but a pulled pork roll too. I appreciate some of these comedians might be vegetarians and therefore not 'able' to eat the meat, so they can watch.

Dan Evans is compereing the show. He's one of the best comedians in the world, but only when he's comfortable, so in this fantasy scenario the venue is in its fifth or sixth year and he's done every one up until now. He's relaxed.

It's not fair for Dan to compere the whole day so he's joined by Sean McLoughlin (being angsty and pained), the friendly and wonderful Angela Barnes, and John Robins (but John is doing less 'crowd-work' and more material because they're such a nice crowd and it's what they want).

And on the bill, starting early afternoon and running up until late are: a surprise 'big hitter' so early on in the form of Arj Barker. George Rygold being twisted and dark. The phenomenal Kitty Flannagan. Raymond and Mr Timpkins (packing out the tent). Alex Horne (doing something unusual). The faultless Jimeoin. Jo Neary (doing sublime character comedy). The formidable Steve Hughes. David Bramwell (doing his talk on postal pranks). Caroline Mabey (wearing her sausage roll costume but not referring to it). Steve Rawlings (it's starting to get dark outside now).

Woody Bop Muddy (reprising Record Graveyard). Tim Key (with poems and surreal anecdotes and something else special). Miss Behave (doing something gruesome but utterly mesmeric). Sarah Silverman (I know, flown over especially). And finally, just as the clock strikes midnight, Ian Cognito, (although with hindsight in this instance, considering the sizable rider I've requested, he might have been better put on a bit earlier).

I'd be on there somewhere in the middle, not too much responsibility and getting it over and done with so I can enjoy the show without worrying.

And then afterwards we all traipse over to Mavericks Cabaret tent (Bella's field, from Midnight until very late) and either watch in a pleasantly inebriated haze, or take to the stage for a surprise turn.

'George Egg: Anarchist Cook' is at the Soho Theatre on May 20-21, and the Hertford Comedy Festival on 16th June. For more tour dates see anarchistcook.info