Cross with politics

David Cross is an American comic with serious countercultural kudos: admired by bands such as The Strokes, signed to Nirvana's label Sub Pop, he's a merciless mocker of his country's 'institutionalised dumbness'.

But Cross, whose first British run begins at the Soho Theatre next Monday, is also surprisingly keen on British comedy. He knows his Fast Show from his Office, his Harry Enfield from his Brass Eye.

Whether that will make it easier to gauge how to pitch his act to us, he doesn't know. But, judging by his two live albums, his brand of brash but brainy, politicised but personal humour should go down very well in the land of Alan Partridge. Bush is a prime target, of course.

But, although he claims not to be up on the British political scene - while dropping names like Robin Cook into our transatlantic conversation - he's suspicious of any politician, 'regardless of what country they're from or what their accent is'.

It's a cynicism that springs from his years growing up in a rural suburb of Atlanta, Georgia. 'It was heavily Baptist, an incredibly ignorant place,' he says. 'I spent my youth knowing that I was smarter than a lot of the people in authority. But it took a long time for me to be able to articulate that without getting slapped in the mouth.

'And now, just to see the ferocity of the antiintellectualisation here in America, the lack of debate and the pride in the lack of debate, it's depressing.' Britain, I suggest, has a habit of following in the US's wake in such matters. 'Well, in that case, the next few years will suck.'

Cross is most recognisable for his TV work. He started out writing for The Ben Stiller Show. Then Mr Show, his Pythonesque sketch series with Bob Odenkirk, ran for four seasons, introducing the world to Jack Black's band, Tenacious D. These days, he spends half the year in LA as a regular on Arrested Development, arguably the best-received US sitcom of the decade (BBC2 starts showing it in the autumn).

He's also acted in films such as Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, Men In Black, plus Scary Movie II and Small Soldiers - or, as he describes them, 'two big, stupid, unfunny Hollywood summer movies'. Still, he bought his Manhattan apartment on the proceeds, 'so now I can keep working on things I like'. Acting, after all, is easy: 'All you have to be is just competent and people shower you with accolades.'

But his seemingly spontaneous stand-up delivery marks him out as a seriously skilled performer, sharp enough to blur the boundary between prepared material and improvised rants. Most of the show will be taken from his two albums - Shut Up You F***ing Baby and It's Not Funny - but he's already pretty steamed up about our draconian licensing laws.

So, if he finishes too late to hit the pubs, what does he hope for from this run? 'I hope I'm wellreceived,' he says, 'more so in the UK than anywhere else, as for me it's the place where great comedy was born.