One random comedian, eight random questions; it's the ultimate test of funny person and fate. Today that person is loveable Luke Rollason, who brings his gloriously inventive show Bowerbird to London's Soho Theatre from Wednesday.

As the photos below hopefully show, it's unlike any show you've ever seen, and will make you look at everyday objects in a whole new way. But what has he done with those objects, since his successful Edinburgh run last year?

"Because so many of my props are just household items, some have re-entered general use," reveals Rollason. "Which is funny, now that I need to do the show again, asking my housemates 'has anyone seen my lemon squeezers? I need to sew them onto my tits...'"

Since that run Luke has also memorably appeared in the big superpowered Netflix show Extraordinary, which is a little different from your Marvel and DC efforts. Any interesting responses, from far-flung places?

"The most interesting thing has been finding out what my character, Jizzlord, is called in different countries," Jizzlord explains. "Extraordinary has been translated into around 60 different languages (and for some reason is really popular in Hungary) but as a result, there's some really funny translations.

"In Spain he's called The Seminator, in some Latin American countries he translates as 'Lechoso' which means 'milky', and in France he's called Échatcule which is a pun on ejaculate and 'chat' which means cat. Which I think is genius. I love that it is someone's job to translate puns into different languages. Unsung heroes."

Please give us a show about those heroes too. Meanwhile, Luke Rollason, your Random 8 wait.

What was your childhood career dream?

I was once asked this question in church, and I stood in front of the whole congregation and said I wanted to be a priest. Which I am pretty sure I didn't want, but I did want attention, and the priest was the one with the microphone asking the question, and I knew which side of the equation I wanted to be. Even though I had zero intention of joining the Priesthood, the answer didn't feel dishonest because in that moment, the priest was the one everyone was paying attention to.

I really wanted to be an astronaut, and if I had been asked what I wanted to be at a NASA press conference I would have said that. But I was asked in a church. If I'd been asked in a NFU meeting I would have said farmer. Thank God I didn't go to more conferences as a child.

Your most interesting injury?

I have a consistent problem with head injuries which I have started blaming for my piss-poor memory (except for things I have said or done that I find mortifying! Those are CAST IN TITANIUM).

In my show Bowerbird, there is a moment at the start of the show where I am dressed as a lamp, and I have a plug dangling out my leg, and I'm trying to catch it and it hits me in the head. Which is protected, by a very squishy lampshade. Except during one show near the end of the Fringe (coincidentally, the show my agent came to!) where the plug managed to gouge my head and kind of concuss me all in one, so that blood continually dripped down my face for the rest of the hour.

Ouch! And you kept going...

There's a cute reveal where I lift the lampshade and *spoiler alert* but anyway it is usually very funny but this time, I lifted the lampshade and my face was covered in blood. So instead of laughter, I heard the sound of seventy people gasping, inhaling the putrid air of my nightclub-turned-venue, and then gagging.

Funnily enough, I think it was my best show. There is nothing to remind people of the special quality of live performance than watching a man perform a show where he is not normally covered in blood, covered in blood. It is annoying that it was my best show, because there should be a moral hidden in here about caring for ourselves and the danger of letting desperation masquerade as a work ethic. Instead, I started scheming about how I could do that, every time!

I insisted on going for lunch with my agent afterwards, still dripping from my head.

Which British town should be abolished?

Banbury.

One of the exhibits in the Museum of Banbury (Oxfordshire) is just a window and a chair, accompanied with the sign "look at this view of Banbury!"

But since this sign went up, a car park has been built outside. They've just left the chair and the sign there anyway.

I believe no other town has made such a clear plea - nay, demand - for demolition.

Ever gatecrashed anything interesting?

Siena does this race called the Palio where all the districts of this tiny walled city race horses in the most dangerous way possible - around and around a cobbled square which is on a steep angle, with spectators grouped in the middle with zero protection. It's wild. Like a wall of death with horses.

I was on holiday with my family the week before the massive horse race, i.e. when no one else bothers going, and we accidentally went to the party for the previous year's winner. No one seemed to care as long as we pretended we really loved this horse.

The weirdest thing in your wardrobe?

You're speaking to a man who has spent every cent he earned as a Disney Prince™ on absolutely outlandish clothes that are unsuitable for every occasion. My definition of 'normal' clothes has become warped beyond recognition.

My most recent purchase is a ruffled crop top with only one arm, which looks like what Pinocchio would wear to dance the cha-cha on Strictly Come Dancing. The fashion thing is funny because it's a problem where the cry for help is really, really obvious. No one can say "we had no idea."

Is there a book or film that changed your life?

Roy Andersson's film A Pigeon Sat On A Branch Reflecting On Existence. It's a series of mostly unrelated, mostly unresolved small tragedies happening far away. And it's breathtakingly funny - because these tiny catastrophes look so absurd surrounded by an uncaring world.

This kind of distance is what I love about performing live comedy. What makes you funny isn't whatever stupid thing you're doing, it's all the other normal people sat watching you. Why the hell would you choose to do that? It's what I worry watching clips of me online removes from my work - what does it mean without the framing of other heads, of people leaning over each other to try and work out what the hell it is that I'm doing.

I wish and wish I could make live work that felt like this movie, but ultimately no theatre is big enough for me to be that far away. And I think you'd really lose people trying to do that in the O2.

I'm not always sure if Roy Andersson is a positive influence on my work. He definitely tempts me towards the melancholic.

What's the very best thing you ever saw?

Something I think Andersson really gets - like Jacques Tati or Dom Joly - is that the best clown routines are just out there, in the world, as people try to use their best assumptions to live their lives in an unpredictable and unforgiving environment.

I love watching that moment when someone breaks out of their routine way of interacting with the world. Like the moment when someone realises that they've stepped off a travelator and have to walk like a normal person now. This is what draws me to visual comedy - you're constantly surprising people, trying to bend their reality a little, break them out of habitual ways of seeing and understanding the world. Which is a really indulgent way of saying "I make corkscrews do little dances!"

It's hard to choose, but I'll never forget watching a man try to Blu Tack an "out of order" sign onto an automatic glass door that opened as he walked towards it, so that he just marched straight into the store. It was probably the most perfect routine I've ever seen.

Who are you most envious of?

I am envious of anyone without an ache from craning their neck to look over everyone else's shoulder. Which is another way of saying - no comment. Which is another way of saying - nice try, British Comedy Guide! But you'll never get me!