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After the Taliban launched a rocket attack on Ant and Dec in Afghanistan last week, most of us have been wondering if the fundamentalist guerrillas’ famous banning of disco has spread to include a fatwa on television’s light entertainment stars.

As it turns out, Ant and Dec were on a quick in-out mission, handing an award to the army’s Medical Emergency Response Team, and got caught up in a routine shelling of the airport. Meanwhile, a small band of stand-up comedians would have been pushing forwards to the front lines to entertain soldiers from the back of a truck, in full view of enemy mortars. It turns out there’s a new breed of comics doing gigs in bandit country, in the belief that the troops deserve entertaining wherever they are.

According to Nicky Ness, the director of entertainment at forces entertainment division, CSE, this year alone has seen Ricky Grover, Ed Byrne, Jim Jeffries, Paul Tonkinson, Gina Yashere, Junior Simpson, Andy Askins, John Fothergill and Paul Zerdin head up to the front; before them, television favourites Harry Hill and Al Murray also made the trip.

“You’ve got 20-year-old lads, a mix of nationalities, but mainly British and American,” explains the Welsh comedian Rhod Gilbert, who’s been heading out to Afghanistan and Iraq for a few years now. “It’s two in the afternoon, they’re sober, they’ve been on a patrol since 6am, they’ve got their machine guns on silent, there’s a cenotaph right outside, and before you go on you have a briefing about ‘If we come under mortar attack or light fire during the gig, this is what we’ll do’. Then you walk on. So it’s not for everyone. But I find them great, really attentive and appreciative.”

Gilbert delivers a set tailored to the idiosyncrasies of military life: “It’s such an easy world to take the piss out of,” he grins. “Like, there seems to be squash everywhere” — the word squash (as in orange) itself sounds funny in his rich, deep voice. “There’s huge tanks of it everywhere. On the RAF flight out there, they come round with squash, and you get, ‘Cabin doors to manual’. ‘Not now, captain, this squash isn’t going to pour itself.’ I did five minutes in my set on this, suggesting that if we weren’t quite so obsessed with diluting cordial, the whole thing could have been over years ago.”

“The British military love the stuff about interservice, cross-rank rivalries,” Ness explains. “Rhod is a master of this, and the ability to write material about them and for them really adds a dimension. Our audience is 80% male, between 18 and 35, and comedy is our most popular format, allowing us to deliver easy logistics in difficult areas, whether it’s for an audience of 20 or 2,000, on a big stage or in a tent.” By “easy logistics”, Gilbert explains, is meant the kind of show that can be put up on a couple of pallets with a microphone — and taken down just as quickly to avoid attracting mortar fire.

“It can be pretty hair-raising,” he says thoughtfully. “You’re supposed to go by helicopter or plane everywhere, and that’s scary enough, because you can land and find there’s 100 yards to get to your connecting flight. But instead of a nice little wait in a terminal with a transfer desk, you have to sprint to a tank that’s halfway between the two and then hit the deck. You’re running along, and they’ve got flak jackets and helmets and aerials, and you’ve got your little day bag with notes and props. You do feel very inadequate. If a helicopter isn’t available, you go by road — which is the worst.” He shakes his head. “Paul Tonkinson and I were in the back of a Land Rover when our communications went down. We ended up in the middle of nowhere, with everybody from the convoy apart from us on the dirt facing outwards in sniper positions. Then we had to turn around and go back the same way.”

Of course, there are bigger shows in larger bases with standing stages, huge PAs, dancing girls and music, just like they have in Apocalypse Now. Young rock gods, however, are unlikely to make it. “We tend to use bands who play a range of instantly recognisable anthemic content that has something for everyone,” Ness explains. “These are professional musicians, but not household names — although the singer-songwriter Lucie Silvas started her career playing covers for the troops and still comes back to Afghanistan.”

Nobody mentions Jim Davidson. Judging by his interviews, you’d think he was the only entertainer prepared to perform for the boys in uniform. For a 20-year-old kid, the comic is clearly as relevant as Bruce Forsyth. Indeed, there’s a tranche of military blogs that take great delight in rejecting Davidson’s desperate embrace. One site has a large picture of an explosion, under the headline “Jim Davidson spotted arriving to entertain UK troops”. Beneath there’s a quote: “Got ’im, sarge.”

Gilbert marched against the Iraq war and has agonised over going out there. “But there are kids there that are a bit like me, in horrific conditions, and I think it’s okay to entertain them.” He is touring his if.comedy-nominated show now and has attracted broadcaster interest, but he’s not allowed to say what it is. “Last time in Afghanistan I saw something I’m not allowed to tell you — but I’d be in more trouble if I told you about the television project.” He bursts out laughing. “That’s the irony, but it’s the absolute truth.”

Rhod Gilbert appears in the if.comedy season at the Apollo Theatre, SW1, on October 19 and starts a nationwide tour this week. Details at www.comedystoremanagement.com

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