Clowning around as a career has its highs and its lows

''Joy Joy'' the clown attends the third day of the annual International Convention of Clowns in Mexico City on Oct. 17. PHOTO: AFP

My meeting with Gingernutt, in an elegant central London cafe, is like a classic clown routine. I arrive on time, and begin to wait for him -- a man I have only ever seen wearing a red nose, wig, giant shoes and facepaint. After 10 minutes, I decide to give him a call. Immediately the peace is shattered by a loud ringing at the table next to me. Gingernutt unrecognizable out of costume, has been sitting beside me all this time wondering when I was going to turn up.

Off-duty, Ian Thom is a big, gentle bear of a man in a Red Nose Day T-shirt (which should have been my clue). He has only just got back from performing at an Eid al-Fitr in a Kuwaiti hotel.

"I got home about 14 hours ago," he says, his soft Scots accent reduced almost to a whisper, "so I'm still a bit bleary."

It was a tough assignment. After a spirit-breaking 36-hour journey fraught with cancelations and misunderstandings, Thom arrived in Kuwait only to discover that he would be performing on an open rostrum in 36oC heat and in direct sun. Furthermore, someone had walked off with his "appearing cane," the magician's stick that flashes into existence out of a clenched handkerchief. It was returned to him the following day, but he had to drop the routine from his act.

* Current position: Clown. * Qualifications: Member of Clowns International, the World Clown Association and the Magic Circle. * Career high: "Riding an ostrich around Wembley stadium, London, in front of 80,000 people was certainly an interesting experience." * Career low: "Doing a show at the Serpentine gallery, London, when only a mother and her child in a pushchair turned up. That was a real challenge."

Suddenly, Thom changes gear. Instead of grumbling about the experience, a note of fondness creeps into his voice.

"When I finished the show," he says, "every kid was on the stage with me. I was swamped."

As with all special moments, he marks it with a mime, thrusting out his arms for a dramatic embrace.

Born the outskirts of Glasgow in southwest Scotland, Thom trained as a puppeteer and turned professional a week before his 20th birthday. He enjoyed a successful career, working on films such as Labyrinth, The Little Shop of Horrors and The Muppets' Christmas Carol and on television programs including The Morecambe and Wise Show, Spitting Image and Fraggle Rock. A regular sideline, as for so many entertainers, was working on cruise ships. And it was on one of these voyages, through Scandinavia, that his life changed forever.

"If the cruise was longer than a week they had a fancy dress or masquerade party as part of the standard program and the entertainers were expected to join in," he says. "Every cruise I made a costume out of crepe paper and cardboard. One year I made a blackbird, which was huge, and so uncomfortable. I couldn't stand up properly; I couldn't sit down properly. That night I threw it over the side, and thought, I've got to get something more practical than this."

On a previous cruise, Thom had visited a circus and seen the Francescos, an Italian clown troupe. "I'd always liked clowns anyway, and I suddenly went `ping!'"

Another the lightbulb illuminating above his head, Thom's face frozen in revelation. "That's it: a clown! I can do that every cruise. It was an epiphany, if you like. Ping!"

To this day, Thom keeps a framed poster of the Francescos above his bed.

"I had no idea that 30 years on I would still be doing it for a living," he says.

Deciding become a clown, of course, is not like taking up accountancy or journalism. Beyond acquiring all the necessary skills, Thom had to develop a whole alternate personality for himself and dress it appropriately. And in clowning circles, such matters are not taken lightly.

Since 1946, Clowns International, the global organization, has recorded the makeup of every British clown on hollow eggshells (now made of porcelain), and it is expected that once a pattern has been registered it should remain unique. As a young man, knowing none of this, Thom merely copied the face of one of the Italian clowns who had inspired him.

The downside of clowning, of course, is the job insecurity and a forest of red tape. Thom must navigate criminal records checks, electrical safety inspections for his portable amplifier and public liability insurance, for example, before he can even leave the house.

Once all Thom's paperwork is in order, birthday parties and shopping centers provide most of his income, paying roughly ?120 (US$250) for a one-hour show, or ?160 for two hours -- travel and preparation account for most of his time.

December is the peak month -- Thom has worked every Christmas Day for the past 10 years -- and January is the quietest, with special jobs, like the Kuwait excursion, topping up the total.