Two in the Boosh

''Julian's into all aspects of film and jazz, and I'm drawn to all sorts of visual art. I like The Wizard of Oz; magical fairytales, Mr Men books; Rene Magritte. I'm obsessed with Mick Jagger and glam rock. Julian hates Mick Jagger, but loves Miles Davis, as well as all kinds of dark, scary horror films.

''I particularly like rap, being a fan of Kool Keith, late of the Ultramagnetic MCs. As a rapper, he was always creating identities for himself, and then killing them off. I do a rap in this year's show, Arctic Boosh, but I'm not making fun of the medium, as most comics do.

''I won't be doing my rap in a fake American accent, either. The point of me rapping is to get an honest message across. I actually believe that rap is a more dextrous medium than stand-up comedy, yet stand-ups always portray rappers as stupid and misogynistic.''

This fresh, free-wheeling, all-encompassing air of cultural enquiry was what distinguished Noel and Julian's performance in The Mighty Boosh. That and the pairing's penchant for surrealist daftness and warped observation. It probably goes back to their childhoods. Does it, Noel?

''Well, Julian was raised in posh Leeds, and I'm slightly Cockney working-class London, with a far-off family grounding in France. I think that difference in our backgrounds saves us from being too self-indulgent on stage, because we're often trying to define where we're each from - so that we can then revolt against the definition.''

How did you first meet one another?

''I was a fine arts student at a college which also admitted engineers. The engineers were basically thugs with spanners who were forever chasing us weirdo arts students through the streets for looking different. Eventually, I got to an all-arts college - where I saw Julian performing at a comedy night.

''He was the first comedian I'd seen who I could relate to totally. That led me to do some comedy myself, after which a mate of Julian's phoned him to say: 'There's a new bloke doing what you do, only a bit different!'

''I'd go to Julian's gigs and leave him little gifts, but then I'd vanish before he came off-stage, like Nosferatu. Eventually he phoned me up and asked the only question I could have said 'Yes' to: 'Do you want to join me in writing the new Goodies?'

''I liked the silly visual nature of the adventures the Goodies had. In the same way, I hope our shows have a similar Road To Zanzibar feel - a sense that there's more in a way on offer than just comedy. The two of us go off. We get into scrapes. We come back.''

Initially, Barratt and Fielding's united talents were directed into TV sitcom-writing. You'll be unsurprised to learn that the twosome's notion of TV sitcom was a pretty surreal one.

''Channel 4 commissioned us to write The Boyz 'N' Tha Wood. The wood was filled with fusion guitarists, and we'd more often than not have our two central characters exit their house by being cannoned through the windows.

''Channel 4 came back to us and said: 'Making this would cost in excess of a million pounds per episode - and we're not sure that the dialogue could work.' That script became the basis for last year's Fringe show - and oddly enough, after we won the Perrier award, all these TV people came along and said how well they thought the dialogue worked.''

Surreal, folk in TV are. Speaking of which, is Arctic Boosh going to be as strange as The Mighty Boosh?

''Well, we now know what we did right and wrong from last year. We're going to be easier to follow, although still rambling, which is how we are in real life. I think we're more constantly funny in the new show, too. We've carried on with two characters who are extensions of us, only instead of being zoo-keepers in the jungle, we're postmen who go to the Arctic.''

What did you learn from having top telly funnyman Stewart ''Krazy Legs'' Lee as your director?

''Stewart came in as a sounding board for a week during the show's evolution. He's very, very logical, and kept asking us what things meant. He'd also tell us to speak louder at certain points or move about a bit more.

''We are naturally very loose and shambolic and jazzy. Things would grind to a halt every so often when we'd say: 'Right. We're saying marzipan at this point,' and Stewart would tell us we couldn't because it didn't make sense, and we'd retort that he couldn't stop us, and he'd threaten us with a frying-pan.''

Such traditional knockabout comedy underpins the Boosh-boys' schtick.

''I think folk are highly comedy-literate now,'' says Noel. ''We're not just regular stand-up. There's always an emotional story going on between the two of us on stage, with Julian being bossy and paranoid about his status, and me simply being naive.''

Would it be too naive to ask about the origin of your recurring collective moniker, the Boosh?

''It's like a band's name that people use without thinking of its meaning: 'Going to see the Boosh, mate?' It's also a silly abstract word that we enjoy hearing people being forced to use, especially people who would far rather say 'the Bush.' Eventually we hope to establish Boosh TV or Boosh 2000.

''Anyway, 'Barratt and Fielding' sounds like a firm of solicitors. I can imagine going to see them for mortgage advice.''

But only if the intending mortgagee wished to buy a house on Mars, made from marzipan.

n Arctic Boosh, featuring Noel Fielding and Julian Barratt, has performances between August 4 and 30 at the Pleasance. Telephone: 0131 556 6550.