Having the opportunity to interview Colin Mochrie for the fifth time in my career is a thrill that is difficult to put into words. The first time I interviewed him was in 2008. I simply sent an email requesting an interview and was absolutely thrilled when he accepted. The four interviews that followed came in connection with performances he gave in Winston-Salem, North Carolina; Bristol, Tennessee; and, finally, my hometown of Wytheville, Virginia. On Nov. 2, 2024, Mochrie performed in Wytheville with famed hypnotist and comedian Asad Mecci. The show was sold out.
“It was a fun show,” Mochrie remembered. “We had a good time.”
Whether Mochrie and his Whose Line Is It Anyway? veteran co-star Brad Sherwood will ever return to Wytheville remains unknown. For now, however, the pair are making a second appearance at Bristol’s Paramount Theatre, where I was fortunate enough to see them with my wife on March 29, 2024. As always, the improvisational legend was every bit as kind as he was funny. Mochrie was extraordinarily generous with his time, giving me twice as long as he had originally allotted for our interview so I could turn it into a double episode for my podcast.
“It’s really not a chore,” he told me. “It’s always fun to talk to you.”
He had no idea what those words meant to me. Mochrie’s book, Not Quite the Classics, was inspired by a Whose Line Is It Anyway? game called “First Line, Last Line.” In the game, performers were given the first and last lines of an existing piece of writing and had to improvise everything in between. When I asked Mochrie if he had any interest in writing another book, however, he was less enthusiastic.
“It’s something I really hope doesn’t happen,” he admitted. “It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my career, and I’m glad it turned out like it did, but I would be afraid to try something like that again.”
That doesn’t mean Mochrie is completely opposed to putting another book together. He and Sherwood have discussed the possibility of writing a coffee-table book about their adventures on the road together called We Are Not the Rolling Stones.
“It’s something we keep talking about,” Mochrie said. “But we’re too lazy to do anything about it.”
I offered my services as a ghostwriter, an offer for which he graciously thanked me. We’ll see if a career opportunity comes out of that. Mochrie has also never seemed to mind my occasionally excessive enthusiasm for his work. He once regarded me as completely nuts for memorizing the improvised songs performed by Wayne Brady during the one season of Whose Line Is It Anyway? that was released on DVD, but he has always been gracious about my gushing over his talent and kindness.
Most importantly, he has always been willing to talk with me.
“I think you have finally proven yourself as my number one fan,” he assured me.
There is no higher accolade I would rather receive from Colin Mochrie. I immediately asked him to put that in writing. With a chuckle, he said he would be happy to do so. I haven’t forgotten that he later inscribed his book for me: “Thanks for loving me.”
“I’m truly grateful that you continue to enjoy my work,” he told me.
He has no idea just how much truth there is in that statement.
His journey to Whose Line Is It Anyway? began more than 40 years ago when he and Ryan Stiles were friends and aspiring comedians at Second City in Toronto. Stiles heard about a touring company that was being assembled for a new comedy program that would eventually become Whose Line Is It Anyway? As it turned out, Mochrie wasn’t auditioning for merely another television show. He was auditioning for a role that would change his life in ways he could never have imagined. The woman heading the touring group was Deb McGrath, the woman Mochrie would marry 37 years ago.
“It was a very tough audition,” he joked. “It went on for a while.”
Mochrie doesn’t view Whose Line Is It Anyway? simply as the television show that made him famous.
“Whose Line Is It Anyway? not only gave us a career,” he explained. “It gave us a joy in coming to work. We were all great friends who worked together well and enjoyed being around each other.”
Drew Carey served as the moderator of the American version of the program, and his infectious laughter became almost as recognizable as the comedy itself.
“Drew was the moderator of the show, and he had such an infectious laugh that we all figured if we can make him laugh to the point of crying, we’ve done our job.”
In many cases, Mochrie was the one responsible for bringing those tears of laughter to Carey’s eyes. Although Wayne Brady frequently found himself responsible for the musical games, including “Irish Drinking Song” and the ever-popular “Hoedown,” Mochrie became particularly renowned for the one-line zingers and perfectly timed responses that left audiences and his fellow performers laughing uncontrollably.
“Those moments came out of sheer panic,” he said. “When you have to come up with two or three rhymes to make sense with the audience suggestion, it was horrible. I think audiences loved the hoedowns because we hated them.”
To know Colin Mochrie, to have had the opportunity to interview him repeatedly over the past two decades, and to be able to call him a friend is a blessing than he’ll ever know.
