'I've spent my career lovingly ripping off this idea...'

Daniel Clarkson picks his Perfect Playlist

Daniel Clarkson, co-creator of Potted Potter and Panto, is heading back to the Edinburgh Fringe to star in Indy!, a romp through the first three Indiana Jones films in just 70 minutes which he created with Buffy Revamped’s Brendan Murphy. Here he shares some of the comedy favourites who have inspired him.

Mel Brooks: Spaceballs

Let's get the ball rolling with the maestro himself, Mel Brooks. It's probably him who should be thanked for me doing what I do today... or blamed, depending on your point of view.

Mel Brooks is the undisputed master of parody. As I got older I fell in love with Blazing Saddles, The Producers and Young Frankenstein, but it was Spaceballs that started it all.

I was about ten years old, at a friend's birthday party in the late 1980s, when we all sat down to watch it. Like most kids of my generation, I was completely obsessed with Star Wars, and here was a film that lovingly celebrated it while brilliantly sending it up at the same time.

I can still remember the room erupting with laughter. Us kids were crying with laughter, but so were the adults. It was probably my first experience of comedy that genuinely worked for everyone, regardless of age.

The scene that's stayed with me ever since is Rick Moranis as Dark Helmet trying to get the combination to Planet Druidia's air shield. It's such a brilliantly simple gag, executed to perfection, and capped off with the perfect callback from Mel Brooks himself.

Even now, all these years later, my inner ten-year-old laughs just as hard. If my shows have even a fraction of the warmth, silliness and affection that Spaceballs has for its source material, I'll be very happy indeed.

Monty Python: Michelangelo’s Last Supper

I have to give a nod to Monty Python. Like almost everyone who works in comedy, they were a huge influence on me.

My first experience came when I was 12. Our history teacher wrote: ‘What have the Romans ever done for us?’ on the board. He told us it was a reference to Life of Brian and said we'd understand when we were older.

Naturally, I went home and told my parents I needed to watch Life of Brian for school. Somehow they believed me and handed over the VHS. Well... it was probably just my dad. There's absolutely no chance my mum knowingly let her 12-year-old watch Life of Brian!

From that moment I wanted to devour everything Python and it was watching Monty Python Live at the Hollywood Bowl, that first made me think, ‘That's it. That's what I want to do.’

The sketch that stayed with me was Michelangelo's Last Supper. John Cleese plays the Pope, Eric Idle is Michelangelo, and the whole sketch hinges on one wonderfully stupid premise, Michelangelo has painted the wrong Last Supper.

It's a perfect example of Python's ability to take one absurd idea and explore it with complete conviction. Looking back, I think that's what influenced me most. The sketches never wink at the audience. They commit completely to the ridiculous premise, and that's something I've always tried to do.

Aunty Donna: Aunty Donna's House ('Don't Go Into the Kiln')

I genuinely don't remember laughing harder than the first time I saw Aunty Donna live. It was while we were touring Australia with Potted Potter that they first entered my orbit, and I now tell everyone, with completely unjustified smugness, that I saw them before they were famous. Judging by the fact the theatre was absolutely packed, I suspect this isn't true at all, but I'm sticking with it.

I had no idea what to expect. Within minutes I was doubled over laughing. Their comedy felt unlike anything I'd seen before, equal parts sketch, chaos and complete commitment to the stupidest possible ideas.

One of my favourite sketches of theirs is Don't Get In the Kiln. It's a masterclass in how far you can stretch the simplest premise, a teacher repeatedly telling two students one very basic instruction... ‘Don't get in the kiln.’

That's it. It's a brilliant reminder that you don't need an elaborate concept to make great comedy. Sometimes all it takes is one ridiculous idea, pursued relentlessly. I'm also very excited to see Zachary Ruane's debut solo show, Comedy, at this year's Fringe.

Bluey: Pavlova

This one might seem like a strange choice, but bear with me.

I have an 18-month-old son, so my life currently consists of The Wiggles, Ms. Rachel and an endless rotation of nursery rhymes. I couldn't tell you a single song in the current Top 10, but I can perform I'm So Happy word perfect at the drop of a hat. If you don't know it, you're missing out on an absolute banger.

Fortunately, there's Bluey. I'd genuinely argue the writing is as funny as many sitcoms. The characters feel real, the dialogue is brilliantly observed, and almost every episode has jokes that sail straight over the kids' heads while landing perfectly with the parents.

One episode in particular is Pavlova. Bluey's dad, Bandit, and his gloriously confident misuse of French gets me every single time. It's such a daft running gag, but it's played with absolute conviction, which somehow makes it even funnier.

In a world of toddler repetition, where the same thing has to be watched over and over and over again, I thank the comedy gods for Bluey.

Reduced Shakespeare Company: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged)

Sometimes you have one of those magical moments where you watch something and, without even realising it, it changes the course of your life.

Seeing the Reduced Shakespeare Company for the first time was one of those moments. It was back in the late 1900s... apparently that's what we're calling the 1990s now, and I was just 14.

It was their first UK tour, and my mum took me to Watersmeet Theatre in Rickmansworth. I can still remember it as vividly as if it were yesterday, and I don't think I've ever looked at theatre in quite the same way since.

Up until then I'd always thought theatre had to be... well... theatrical. Big casts, elaborate sets and enormous productions. Then along came three people proving that, with enough imagination, a handful of props and a ridiculous amount of energy, you could stage absolutely anything. It was fast, inventive, gloriously silly and had me laughing like a drain.

Looking back, I can see just how much of my own work has been inspired by them. The idea that impossible stories can be told through theatrical ingenuity rather than theatrical budgets has been at the heart of almost everything I've written since.

I was incredibly fortunate to appear on their podcast a few years ago, where I freely admitted that my career has essentially been built on lovingly ripping them off. Thankfully, they took it exactly as it was intended: as the biggest compliment I could possibly pay them.

Miss Piggy's Fantasy Song: The Great Muppet Caper

They say you should always end on a song, so that's exactly what I'm going to do. The Muppets have had an enormous influence on me, not just as a comedy fan but as a performer. They've played a huge part in my love of puppeteering and proved to me that a puppet isn't a limitation; it's a licence to be even more imaginative.

One of my all-time favourite moments is Miss Piggy's fantasy sequence in The Great Muppet Caper. It's gloriously theatrical, ridiculously ambitious and completely fearless.

They put Miss Piggy in the middle of an elaborate synchronised swimming routine alongside dozens of professional swimmers and your brain doesn't question it for a second. Better still, Charles Grodin spends the number perfectly miming along to the song, only for the film to later undercut the whole thing with a wonderfully self-aware gag when Miss Piggy shouts, ‘You can't even sing! Your voice was dubbed!’

That's the magic of the Muppets. They never seem interested in the rules of what puppets are ‘supposed’ to do. They don't ask, ‘Can we do this with a puppet?’They ask, ‘Why wouldn't we do it with a puppet?’ They delight in breaking the mould and trusting the audience to come with them.

As someone who spends an unhealthy amount of time trying to stage impossible ideas with cardboard, puppets and a total disregard for common sense, that's a philosophy I can totally get behind.