Eddie Izzard interview: The comedian wants to pursue a parliamentary seat in 2020 - but what exactly is his vision?

Eddie Izzard is known to wear his heart on his fingernails. This has lately meant clacking red talons and – painted just so – the Union flag adorning one finger, and the flag of the European Union adorning another. So how come, on the afternoon we meet, the comedian has just gone for red fingernails, minus the flags? "When I'm touring it's difficult to get manicurists who have the ability to paint the fine stars and the fine stripes," he explains. "I also just like having red nails. But when I campaign, they will be back in."

Izzard the campaigner is now as much a part of him as Izzard the comedian. He supported Andy Burnham in the Labour leadership contest last year, and he has his sights set on becoming an MP. So let's get straight down to political business. As a card-carrying Labour Party member, would he have been one of those who defied Jeremy Corbyn and supported Britain carrying out air strikes in Syria?

"I think Isil are like the Nazis," replies this Second World War history buff, echoing the words Hilary Benn used in the Commons debate on the issue. "And we fought strongly back against the Nazis. We had to get rid of them. It's a twisted ideology. I think Isil is an enemy to Islam – Islam says thou shalt not kill. That's not what they're doing. What they're doing against human rights, against women, it's off the charts."

So that means bombing. Does it mean ground troops as well?

Izzard pauses. "I am not…" he begins. "I know special forces have been put in as advisers. I would agree with that. I would agree that military force needs to be used. To what level I don't know because I'm not right in that situation looking at all the information and what it's possible to do. But I don't believe that we should just let it go. They will be strengthened by the idea that we do nothing. That they murder us with impunity and we do nothing. And their ideology is inhuman. If al-Qaeda says that they're deranged, that these people are too extreme, then that says something huge."

We're talking in the The Langham, Club Lounge of the Langham Hotel in central London hotel. Izzard, who is 53, is in full cross-dressing mode: alarmingly crimson lippy, perilously plunging blouse, and fitted jacket, all set off by knee-high black leather Louboutin boots with murderous spike heels. Are they comfortable?

"Yeah, because he makes them well," he says, referring to the master French shoemaker. For all the riches brought Izzard's way by a perhaps matchless international comedy career, they are not, however, bespoke. "I have very small feet," he explains. "All women's sizes go up to a UK eight, and I'm a seven. And they've got this," he says, tugging at a delicately but robustly stitched stretchy panel on the boots' uppers. He pokes in a finger to demonstrate the give. It's impressive – as is the run of 31 London shows coming up that mark the latest leg of Izzard's Force Majeure world tour. With that trek having begun in spring 2013, it's a feat of stamina to rank with his 2012 achievement of running 43 marathons in 51 days to raise money for Comic Relief.

Force Majeure has so far taken in 28 countries, and has no end in sight. It's part of the Grand Eddie Izzard Strategy: the desire to boldly go where no comedian has gone before. There are so many countries to play, in so many languages. Having performed in French, German and Spanish, as well as English, he intends learning Russian and Arabic. For Izzard, it's about breaking borders, and breaking records. He's conscious that rock band Thirty Seconds To Mars, led by the actor Jared Leto, were anointed the most widely toured act in the world, having played – by Izzard's count – 51 countries on their last tour. Force Majeure has a way to go, but Izzard is blithely undaunted at the prospect.

"I've got this weird thing which is, for one thing, making the stuff universal. Anyone would get the references in my show, no matter what the country. And I put the subtitles for 17 different languages on the DVDs. So I think I am an international minor celebrity. Now," he goes on, "minor celebrity is usually seen as a negative. But I think in every major city or big town of the world, I'm somewhat known. Just due to making it accessible, and pushing in a very open way, around the world…"

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What kind of person would want to do this? Comic Relief's CEO, Kevin Cahill, has first-hand experience of Izzard's unique, personal force majeure. He remembers receiving the phone call suggesting that a comedian, hitherto unknown as any kind of athlete, wanted to run round the UK, carrying the flags of all the home nations. And lo, it came to pass, to the fund-raising tune of £1.15m.

"When you talk to any of these people like David Walliams or John Bishop or Davina McCall," says Cahill of the other celebrities who have undertaken extreme physical challenges for charity, "high-achievers in their own right, as much as anything you're struck by their sheer natural acumen and determination. And the person who personifies that more than anybody is Eddie. He's just got an iron will. When he sets his mind to something, he's unstoppable. I've never met anyone with quite that force of determination."

Whence, then, that remarkable ambition? In a 1998 New Yorker profile titled "The Izzard King" – written to mark his becoming the "first comedy act to make the difficult passage across the Atlantic since Dudley Moore and Peter Cook achieved it" – he described himself as "a very lazy person with huge drive". Does that still pertain?

"Yep," Izzard shoots back, glugging on his second coffee. "It's the oil tanker thing. Once I get going I don't want to stop. Once I stop I don't want to get going." Delving back deeper and further, he cites the loss of his mother to cancer, when he was six, as the event that caused to him to focus on his goals with such laser-like intensity.

"I mean, there's almost no awards in stand-up," he says, meaning that there are none of the promotional opportunities afforded by events like the Brits and the Oscars and the Grammys. "So I try and do things like I'm claiming 28 countries is a comedy world record."

Izzard is noticeably absent from the telly panel show circuit that seem to feature eight out of 10 comedians. If he is concerned about stand-up's profile, why not do those? "I have occasionally thought I could do that. But the way I'm doing it is very real. TV things can get pulled and it's, oh, what am I gonna do now? There's a lot of people who've stumbled on that one, or fallen backwards. And I can't stumble on it because I don't have it."

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And for Izzard, failing – or not being in control – just wouldn't do. So he pushes on, on his own terms. He talks about how his roles in big- and small-screen drama are getting better and better, flagging a CV that takes in, among myriad other things, Velvet Goldmine, Ocean's 13, Treasure Island and Hannibal. He tells me about a proposed HBO series about the Salem witch trials. "It got all the way down to the wire and it didn't happen, which was annoying," he says through gritted teeth.

Then there's Whisky Galore. The remake of the classic British comedy is due in cinemas later this year. It was made by venerable Scottish director Gillies MacKinnon. He also worked with Izzard on Castles In The Sky, a 2014 BBC film in which the actor/comedian played the Second World War boffin Robert Watson-Watt, the inventor of radar. Izzard, MacKinnon recalls, was initially hesitant about starring in Whisky Galore> because of his insistence on pursuing dramatic rather than comedic roles. But MacKinnon thinks Izzard's firm stance on what kind of parts he accepts was not so much about ambition as appetite.

"Eddie's just terribly hungry to do things," he says. "On both my films he did [stand-up] shows for the crew. And I said to him that him onstage was just like him on set, but with the volume turned up 10 times. And he said something quite interesting: 'I spent 10 years on the street doing theatre and comedy, learning how to stop an audience walking away from me. That was a very long apprenticeship. And the main thing I learned was the comedy was much better when I was just simply myself.'"

So it's him being him, on his own. All of this, fundamentally, is a solo mission. Is there a loneliness of the long-distance runner (who also happens to be a comedian)? "It could be, for some people," Izzard shrugs. "But I'm a bit of a lone wolf. And lone wolves are very rarely lonely. I don't quite know why that is. I think I have a relationship with the audience… I'm fairly compact. Yeah," he frowns, "I can't quite work that one out. But yeah, I can see some people having difficulty with it."

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Is he institutionally single then?

"Relationship-wise? Oh, this old chestnut," he says slightly wearily. For the record, he is heterosexual and currently single. "No, relationships are tricky. If you're trans[vestite] and you're touring a lot, it's difficult to put it together. 'Cause I'm choosy and someone else will be choosy." Pause. "Yeah, it's difficult to get everything working perfectly."

Izzard first walked out of the door wearing a dress in 1985. For most of the subsequent years his occasional public transvestism was largely met with, at best, puzzlement; at worst, hostility and violence. But in recent years, there has been an increase in societal tolerance and awareness around many areas that used to be subject to widespread discrimination. Izzard is strongly supportive of LGBT rights and delighted at the advancements made in the past year in the public acceptance of people with non-conventional gender identities.

So what did Izzard make of Germaine Greer saying she didn't care if a man had gender reassignment – that it still wouldn't make him a woman? He thinks for a moment before choosing his words slowly. "I don't agree with her. Not having been born a woman, she might feel it's not my right to think. But from a human being point of view, and from an LGBT point of view, I don't think that's the right way to see it.

"The obsession we have of the differences between men and women is the problem. If there's a tiger, we just say, 'look at that tiger.' We don't give a flying fuck what gender it is, actually," he says with some feeling. "Or, cats and dogs," he continues, a familiar comedy muscle starting to twitch. "You don't say to someone, 'nice cat. Girl cat or boy cat?' 'It's a girl cat.' 'Oh, right. Nice girl cat.' 'Actually I was having you on, it's a boy cat.' 'Oh, right…' 'No, actually it's a girl cat.'"

He's not sure that anyone, feminist or otherwise, should be building more walls. "I don't know how that's very helpful. I don't see what is the big problem. If Germaine feels [a trans woman] is not a woman – yeah, she hasn't had periods. But if we could get it going that they could have periods, would that work? I don't think trans people are choosing not to have periods and not to have babies. I just think, we haven't worked out how to do it." In sum, he concludes, "I think it's a fight we don't need to be having. Can't we spend our time fighting for other things? Like equal pay."

It's difficult to see what kind of politician Eddie Izzard would be. He's professionally progressive, but personally opaque. He's smart, passionate, engaged, warm, human. But to a lot of the electorate he might just seem too, well, out there.

He says that he supports Sadiq Khan in the upcoming London mayoral election – at one point he was hopeful that he himself might run on the Labour ticket in 2020 – so he's now thinking that he'll pursue a parliamentary seat at the next general election. Are his prospects looking good?

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"Oh no, I'm not actively right this second going: 'Is it free? Quick, get on the phone. What do I have to do?'" he clarifies briskly of his desire for a seat. "I just know that's where I've got to go. And maybe I can't get one. I might not be able to get one. I might go for one and not get the nomination. I might get the nomination but not win the seat in the election. But in 2020 that's my plan. So I will try and do what I can to get there. I'm quite determined, but there are systems and rules.

"The great thing about stand-up is I can say, 'hey, I want to go and play France…' Well, it took me a long bloody time but I got to play France. Maybe that's what happens in politics. It might take me a deal of time. I know that my starts are never easy."

He refuses to give the Corybn leadership marks out of 10. "I don't know if that's really helpful…" he says carefully. "Because that then becomes a thing that can go in the media… Yeah, I will pass on that one." But equally, he's not about to follow fellow comedian Robert Webb and quit the party in a dispute over the behaviour of Corbynistas.

"I don't see the merit in that. I would never box myself in a corner and say 'I'm never gonna do this' or 'I'm always gonna do that.' The big parties have a distinct spread of viewpoints. So, no, I think if a number of people have voted for him, and it was a sizeable number, let's see what he does and what he wants to do."

And what does Eddie Izzard want to do next? After the extended London engagement, is there some long overdue time off? No chance. The man whom MacKinnon describes as being like "an express train – he never stops" has another destination in mind.

"I might be running." For Comic Relief? "Yeah. I've got to go back to South Africa." In 2012 Izzard planned to follow his round-Britain run with a trip to South Africa to run 27 marathons in 27 days, honouring Nelson Mandela by geographically tracing his life, raising money for the Nelson Mandela Foundation and other South African charities. But he had to pull out after four marathons, for health reasons. Seems he's still hurting.

"It's annoying. I don't like saying I'm gonna do something, and failing. So I have to go back. And there's also believability. I'm like, did I really do that? Was that me? And can I do that again?"

As ever, don't bet against, or vote against, Izzard.

Eddie Izzard's 'Force Majeure' is at the Palace Theatre, London W1, from 18 January to 13 February