To start, tell us a little about yourself.
My name is Alonso Jiménez, although everyone has called me Pato since before I was born, my father was already known as Pato before me, and in Ronda, my hometown, even my teachers called me Patito.
I’m 28 years old and mainly a comedian (though that includes being a stand-up performer, an improv teacher, and a director of cultural projects).
What do you like most about living in Granada, and do you think living here has changed your way of seeing humor or telling stories?
Granada was the perfect feat for me. The moment I arrived, exactly ten years ago, I knew I wanted to put down roots here and help develop the cultural and comedy spaces I felt were missing.
As for how living in Granada has influenced my comedy, I think my constant decision not to move to Madrid or Barcelona (a temptation that’s always there in the form of career opportunities) has forced me to work much harder on my craft to get noticed by the national comedy scene, while staying right here, where I want to be.
You started out studying philosophy. Does philosophy find its way into your comedy, or is comedy your way of escaping it?
I’ve gone through different phases. A few years ago, I felt very distant from my time as a philosophy student. I tried to express myself from a place far removed from the density and complexity of academic philosophy.
But recently, I’ve been reconnecting with that part of me and integrating it into my comedy, with bits about personal identity and mental health, which can be a bit heavy but manage to bring laughter while carrying a touch of reflection.
You’ve been doing improv for ten years. Do you have a personal “golden rule” of improvisation that you always follow?
The closest thing to a fixed rule that I teach my students is: “Accept the mistake.”
Improvisation is a discipline built on the possibility of failure; if we wanted to avoid mistakes, we’d rehearse. Jumping into the unknown of improv is about playing with mistakes and the comedy they generate.
And besides, it makes success even sweeter, knowing it could have gone wrong and yet somehow worked out.
What do you enjoy more: the total chaos of improvisation or the careful construction of a monologue?
You’d be surprised how different those two processes feel, even though from the outside they’re both just ways to make people laugh.
Improv, to me, is the ultimate form of comedy; it lets you use absolutely any resource, character, setting, or parody. It’s endless; I’ve never gotten tired of improvising. Plus, it’s done in a team, which I personally prefer.
Stand-up, at least the kind I like (which is quite different from other styles), is a very solitary craft, and honestly, a tough one. I’ve never been as nervous as I am before performing a monologue, and that makes it unique. It’s the most romantic form of comedy, fewer tools, more limits, just you and a microphone, searching for the perfect word.
You describe yourself as a bit of a “comedy nerd.” Has there been a piece of advice you’ve read that turned out totally useless — or surprisingly valuable?
Yes, out of everything I’ve read, nothing helped me more when I was starting out than the title of Vinny Cohan’s book: “If it’s not funny, make it interesting.”
Have you ever had a failure in comedy that later became your favorite story to tell?
The arch-nemesis of any stand-up comedian is the heckler, that person who keeps shouting things at you from the audience.
But for me, coming from improv, they’re actually a gift.
My favorite was an older lady in Málaga, I had no choice but to drop my entire routine and spend my set just talking with her. It ended up being one of the best shows of my life.
If you had to teach comedy in just ten minutes inside a coworking space like ANDA, what would that crash course look like?
In ten minutes, I could only recommend that they watch videos of cats falling or monkeys doing silly things. Nothing is funnier than that.
We can spend our entire lives studying humor in all its forms, and we’ll still have nothing on your best friend slipping on the floor.
Tell us about the workshops you’re offering and who they’re for.
I teach classes in all levels of Stand-Up and Improv — from beginners who just want to overcome their fear of speaking in public to advanced professionals who want to improve their shows.
What’s the best place in Granada to see great stand-up comedy?
La Estupenda, the venue I directed for four years, what can I say?