Fry_ A Memoir Part 16

I had taken Ben Elton to the Oxford and Cambridge, and he had revelled in the wonders and absurdities of it. The lecterns on the dining-room tables for those solitary lunchers or diners who wanted to read, the strange bra.s.s and mahogany weighing machines with an ancient book next to them in which members could record their weight, the library, the barber shop and the billiard-room had all appealed to his fondness for the dottily traditional. His word for it all was 'crusty', crusty as in old port and crusty as in the crabby and cantankerous old men that infest such places.

I called him up one day in the late July of '85.

'Ben, time for a crusty.'

'You're on, Bing, and that's perfect because I want to talk to you anyway.' Ben always called me Bing or Bingable and does so to this day. I cannot quite remember why.

'If we make it next week,' I said, 'I can offer you all kinds of clubs, but the one I think we'd enjoy most is the Carlton.'

'I love the name already.'

We met for a preliminary gargle at the Ritz on the evening of the following Thursday. You may think it wrong, or hypocritical, or sn.o.bbish, or grotesque, or pathetic for two such figures in their twenties to swan about as if they were characters in a Wodehouse or Waugh novel, and perhaps it was. I would try and ask you to believe that there was an element I won't say of irony of playfulness playfulness perhaps, of self-conscious awareness of the ridiculous nature of what we were doing and the ludicrous figures that we cut. Two Jewish comics pretending to be perhaps, of self-conscious awareness of the ridiculous nature of what we were doing and the ludicrous figures that we cut. Two Jewish comics pretending to be flaneurs flaneurs of the old school. Ben was more obviously a visitor to this world, I more inexcusably connected to it or more successfully, and therefore more creepily, giving off an air of belonging. I was a genuine member, after all, of a London club and over the next decades I was to join at least four more as well as half a dozen of the new kind of members-only media watering holes that were about to burst into the world of Soho bohemia. of the old school. Ben was more obviously a visitor to this world, I more inexcusably connected to it or more successfully, and therefore more creepily, giving off an air of belonging. I was a genuine member, after all, of a London club and over the next decades I was to join at least four more as well as half a dozen of the new kind of members-only media watering holes that were about to burst into the world of Soho bohemia.

We strolled down St James's Street, and I told Ben about Brooks's and White's, the Whig and Tory bastions that glowered across the street at each other. White's was and is the most aristocratic and exclusive of all the London clubs, but the Carlton, which we were now approaching, remains the most overtly political.

We crossed the threshold, and I waved what I hoped was a nonchalant hand towards the uniformed porter in his mahogany guichet.

'Oxford and Cambridge,' I said. 'I have my membership card somewhere ...'

'That's all right, sir,' said the porter, his eyes taking Ben in without flickering. Ben was, as he knew one had to be in such places, dressed in a suit and tie, but there are suits and ties and there are ways of wearing suits and ties. My charcoal tailor-made three-piece, New and Lingwood shirt with faintly distressed silk Cherubs tie looked as if they belonged, whereas Ben's Mr Byrite appearance suggested (and I mean this warmly and lovingly) a bus-driver reluctantly togged up for his sister's wedding.

We ascended to the first-floor dining-room. Ben nearly exploded as we pa.s.sed the bust of a woman at the foot of the stairs.

'Bing,' he hissed, 'that's Thatch!'

'Of course it is,' I said with what I hoped was blithe ease. 'This is the Carlton Club after all.'

As we sat down I broke the news that I had brought him to the very citadel of modern Conservatism, the club where the present-day party had been born and const.i.tuted. Margaret Thatcher's image was certainly represented, as were those of all the Tory leaders since Peel. Ben was dazed and delighted to find himself right plumb spang in the centre of the enemy's camp. We both felt childishly mischievous, like children who have found the key to their parents' drinks cabinet.

'Not many people about,' said Ben.

'Well, being August, most of the members will be out of town. They'll be returning from the Riviera in time for the grouse.'

'We shall go up to the moors ourselves next week,' said Ben. 'I shall be your scamp.'

Scamp was the word Ben used as a generic term for a mixture of Oxford scout, Cambridge gyp, manservant, old retainer and loyal page. We maintained a peculiar fiction of myself as a crusty old country squire and Ben as my trusty scamp. Crusty and Trusty.

'Anyway,' I said. 'Here it is, the Carlton Club. The beating heart of the Establishment. But when I called you up, you said you wanted to talk to me?'

'That's right. Thing is, Bing. As you know, d.i.c.kie C and I have been working on this new Blackadder Blackadder.'

'Indeed,' I said.

'Well, there's a part in it for you.'

'Really?'

'I won't lie to you,' he said. 'It's not like the greatest character in the world. He's called Lord Melchett and he stands behind the Queen and sucks up to her. He and Blackadder hate each other. He's a kind of chamberlain figure, you know?'

'Ben, of course I'll do it,' I said.

'Yeah? That's great!'

I could see out of the corner of my eye that an ancient gentleman a couple of tables away had been having difficulty accepting Ben's vowel sounds as they ricocheted off the portraits of Wellington and Churchill and into his disbelieving ears. For the past ten minutes he had been spluttering and growling into his soup with growing venom. He looked up at Ben's last exclamation, and I recognized the blotched, jowly and furious countenance of the Lord Chancellor, Quintin Hogg, now Lord Hailsham. He had his napkin tucked into his shirt collar like Oliver Hardy and his mixed expression of outrage, disbelief and reluctant desire to know more put me in mind of a maiden aunt who has just had a flasher open his raincoat at her in the church tea-rooms.

All in all, our Carlton Club adventure was one of the happier and more memorable evenings of my life.

As Lord Melchett in Blackadder II. Blackadder II.

Courtly Comedy It is probable that if you have bothered to buy, steal or borrow this book you will have watched or at least know about Blackadder but you will forgive me if I describe its princ.i.p.al features for the benefit of Americans and others who may be less familiar. The second series of this 'historical sitcom' is set in Elizabethan England with Rowan Atkinson in the t.i.tle role of Edmund, Lord Blackadder, a suave, scheming, manipulative and attractively amoral courtier. Tony Robinson and Tim McInnerny play his grubby servant Baldrick and idiot friend Lord Percy respectively, as they had in the first series. In the royal court Miranda Richardson plays the young Queen Elizabeth, Patsy Byrne her breast-fixated nurse and I the character Ben had described to me, Lord Melchett a sort of William Cecil, Lord Burghley figure, all forked beard, forked tongue and fur-lined cloak. but you will forgive me if I describe its princ.i.p.al features for the benefit of Americans and others who may be less familiar. The second series of this 'historical sitcom' is set in Elizabethan England with Rowan Atkinson in the t.i.tle role of Edmund, Lord Blackadder, a suave, scheming, manipulative and attractively amoral courtier. Tony Robinson and Tim McInnerny play his grubby servant Baldrick and idiot friend Lord Percy respectively, as they had in the first series. In the royal court Miranda Richardson plays the young Queen Elizabeth, Patsy Byrne her breast-fixated nurse and I the character Ben had described to me, Lord Melchett a sort of William Cecil, Lord Burghley figure, all forked beard, forked tongue and fur-lined cloak.

We rehea.r.s.ed at the BBC's North Acton rehearsal rooms, just as I had for The Cellar Tapes The Cellar Tapes, The Crystal Cube The Crystal Cube and the 'Bambi' episode of and the 'Bambi' episode of The Young Ones. The Young Ones. The director was the very charming and capable Mandy Fletcher. I ought to explain the difference between a director for multi-camera television and a film or theatre director. In the latter two worlds the director is absolute monarch, in charge of all the creative decisions and ultimately responsible for what is seen on screen or stage. In television it is the The director was the very charming and capable Mandy Fletcher. I ought to explain the difference between a director for multi-camera television and a film or theatre director. In the latter two worlds the director is absolute monarch, in charge of all the creative decisions and ultimately responsible for what is seen on screen or stage. In television it is the producer producer who takes that role. Our producer was John Lloyd. Mandy's job was to think about how the cameras would move and be coordinated in order best to capture what John and the cast constructed. Which is not to downplay her role and her skill, it is just that most people might think the director is the one running the show in terms of script, performance, comic ideas, directing the actors and so on. All that, especially since neither Richard Curtis nor Ben Elton liked to attend rehearsals, came from our producer. who takes that role. Our producer was John Lloyd. Mandy's job was to think about how the cameras would move and be coordinated in order best to capture what John and the cast constructed. Which is not to downplay her role and her skill, it is just that most people might think the director is the one running the show in terms of script, performance, comic ideas, directing the actors and so on. All that, especially since neither Richard Curtis nor Ben Elton liked to attend rehearsals, came from our producer.

When histories of British television comedy are written, the name of John Lloyd is certain to figure prominently. A graduate of Cambridge and the Footlights, he was a contemporary of his friend and occasional collaborator Douglas Adams. After Cambridge he moved to BBC radio, where he created The News Quiz The News Quiz, Quote Unquote Quote Unquote and other quizzes and comedy shows before making the move to television with and other quizzes and comedy shows before making the move to television with Not the Nine O'Clock News Not the Nine O'Clock News. Richard Curtis was the lead writer on that show, and Rowan Atkinson one of its stars. It was natural, then, that John should produce Rowan and Richard's The Black Adder The Black Adder. The year after that he produced the first series of Spitting Image Spitting Image, which he continued to work on until the end, as well as producing the subsequent three major series of Blackadder Blackadder, including its occasional minor outbursts in charitable or other specials. In 2003 he and I started work on another child of his fertile mind, QI QI. As it happens, although he will not thank me for pointing it out, he had worked as a script consultant on a couple of episodes of Alfresco Alfresco too, so it can be seen that my career has run in harness with his for the best part of thirty years. He is, I should point out at this stage, quite mad. too, so it can be seen that my career has run in harness with his for the best part of thirty years. He is, I should point out at this stage, quite mad.

Success has a dozen parents and failure is an orphan, as I mentioned before when talking about the genesis of the 'Bambi' episode of The Young Ones. The Young Ones. As it happened, although we had no idea while we were rehearsing it, As it happened, although we had no idea while we were rehearsing it, Blackadder II Blackadder II turned out to be a great success with the public. I have no more authority in p.r.o.nouncing why this was than anyone else might have, connected or unconnected to it. What Ben Elton brought to the party in terms of energy, fantastic wordplay, brilliant anachronisms and general turned out to be a great success with the public. I have no more authority in p.r.o.nouncing why this was than anyone else might have, connected or unconnected to it. What Ben Elton brought to the party in terms of energy, fantastic wordplay, brilliant anachronisms and general jeux d'esprit jeux d'esprit cannot be overestimated, as cannot Richard Curtis's ear, wit and skill nor his uncanny understanding of Rowan's range and power. The transformation of Tony Robinson's Baldrick from a rather smart sidekick in the first series to a most terrifyingly dim-witted lowlife in the second was also crucial for the show's success. Tim McInnerny's Lord Percy was divine, as was Patsy Byrne's Nursie. Many would cite Miranda Richardson's performance as a young and terrifyingly unstable Queenie as one of the absolute highlights of that series and among the best comic characterizations ever seen on British television. cannot be overestimated, as cannot Richard Curtis's ear, wit and skill nor his uncanny understanding of Rowan's range and power. The transformation of Tony Robinson's Baldrick from a rather smart sidekick in the first series to a most terrifyingly dim-witted lowlife in the second was also crucial for the show's success. Tim McInnerny's Lord Percy was divine, as was Patsy Byrne's Nursie. Many would cite Miranda Richardson's performance as a young and terrifyingly unstable Queenie as one of the absolute highlights of that series and among the best comic characterizations ever seen on British television.

We had the most marvellous guests too. Tom Baker played a seadog called Captain Redbeard Rum. His performance was superb, and he himself was entirely charming. While a scene that didn't involve him was being rehea.r.s.ed he would disappear and return with a tray fully laden with sweets, crisps, chocolates, sandwiches, nuts and snacks, which he would hand round to everyone in the room, often nipping off again to reload. During his Doctor Who Doctor Who days he had been quite the party animal in the pubs and clubs of London and often used to fetch up at the North Acton rehearsal rooms at three or four in the morning, where friendly security guards would admit him and let him sleep on a rehearsal mat until morning. Production a.s.sistants would arrive and wake him up for work. He had a way of gazing at you with grave bulging eyes that made it rather hard to determine whether he thought you an idiot or a G.o.d. days he had been quite the party animal in the pubs and clubs of London and often used to fetch up at the North Acton rehearsal rooms at three or four in the morning, where friendly security guards would admit him and let him sleep on a rehearsal mat until morning. Production a.s.sistants would arrive and wake him up for work. He had a way of gazing at you with grave bulging eyes that made it rather hard to determine whether he thought you an idiot or a G.o.d.

Miriam Margolyes made an appearance as the puritanical face-slapping Lady Whiteadder in a show called 'Beer'. Rik Mayall's Captain Flashheart exploded into the world like a firework display and, to my especial delight, Hugh appeared as a guest twice, firstly as one of Blackadder's flatulent drinking companions in 'Beer' and then, more magnificently, as a deranged Germanic super-villain and master of disguise in the final episode, at the conclusion of which we all somehow ended up dead.

Having bowed and paid due homage to all these great contributors I have to turn to what was for me the real miracle: Rowan Atkinson's performance as Edmund. I would watch him in rehearsal, and my mouth would drop open in stunned admiration. I had never before come close to such an extraordinary comic talent. I had seen him on stage at Edinburgh and laughed until I weed, I had admired him in Not the Nine O'Clock News Not the Nine O'Clock News and I had watched his rather disturbing character in the first series, but the Edmund of and I had watched his rather disturbing character in the first series, but the Edmund of Blackadder II Blackadder II was a revelation. The urbanity, sarcasm, vocal control, minimalism and physical restraint were not sides of Rowan I had ever seen before. This Edmund was s.e.xy, a.s.sured, playful, dynamic, debonair, soigne and charismatic. was a revelation. The urbanity, sarcasm, vocal control, minimalism and physical restraint were not sides of Rowan I had ever seen before. This Edmund was s.e.xy, a.s.sured, playful, dynamic, debonair, soigne and charismatic.

Rowan, it is well known, is a private and una.s.suming figure. He read Electrical Engineering at Newcastle before completing a Masters degree at the Queen's College, Oxford, and has always retained something of the manner of a quiet and industrious scientist about him. It is hard when meeting him to see quite where the comedy comes from. When making the best man's speech at his wedding some years later I tried to explain this. I said that it was as if the Almighty had suddenly noticed he had a full decade's allocation of comic talent, a supply that he had forgotten to dole out more or less evenly amongst the population as was His usual divine practice. For a joke he decided to give the whole load to the least likely person he could find. He looked down at the north-east of England and saw a diffident, studious young engineer wandering the streets of Jesmond, dreaming of transistors and tractors, and zapped him full of all that comedy talent. He gave him none of the usual s...o...b..z pizzazz or yearning for fame, adulation and laughter, just the gigantic consignment of talent alone. I still wake up at night sometimes with a surge of shame fearing that I expressed this thought badly and that it sounded less affectionate and admiring than it might, that it somehow ignored the skill, concentration, commitment and conscious application of that talent that makes Rowan the authentic comic genius he is. Aside from all of this he is a delightful, kindly, sweet-natured and wise individual whose personal human qualities quite match his comic attainments.

When Rik Mayall came to rehearsals for his episode in Blackadder II Blackadder II, the contrast between his style and Rowan's was astonishing. It was like seeing a Vermeer next to a van Gogh, one all exquisite detail with the subtlest and most invisible working and the other a riot of wild and thickly applied brushstrokes. Two utterly different aesthetics, each outstandingly brilliant. With Rik you could see the character grow out of his own personality. Flashheart was an emphasized and extreme version of Rik. In Rowan's case it was as if Blackadder was somehow conjured up from nowhere. He emerged from Rowan like an extra limb. I am as capable of envy and resentment as the next man, but when you are in a room with two people who possess an order of talent that you know you can never even dream of attaining, it is actually a relief to be able to do no more than lean back and admire like a dewy-eyed groupie.

My make-up on Blackadder II Blackadder II was done by a divinely pretty girl called Sunetra Sastry. From a Brahmin-caste Indian family, she was bright, funny and as captivatingly alluring as any girl I had met for years. I was quite seriously considering asking her out on a date, when Rowan timidly approached me one morning during rehearsals for the second episode and asked if I would mind swapping make-up artists with him. Since he had grown his own beard for the part, unlike me, who had to have my large excrescence glued on with spirit gum every week, I thought this rather odd: his make-up sessions lasted as long as it took to powder the tip of his nose. was done by a divinely pretty girl called Sunetra Sastry. From a Brahmin-caste Indian family, she was bright, funny and as captivatingly alluring as any girl I had met for years. I was quite seriously considering asking her out on a date, when Rowan timidly approached me one morning during rehearsals for the second episode and asked if I would mind swapping make-up artists with him. Since he had grown his own beard for the part, unlike me, who had to have my large excrescence glued on with spirit gum every week, I thought this rather odd: his make-up sessions lasted as long as it took to powder the tip of his nose.

'Don't you like the one you've got?' I said.

'N-no, it's not that, she's splendid. It's just that well ...' He gave me a look of uncharacteristic intensity.

'Oh!' I said, as the penny dropped. 'My dear fellow. Of course. Yes.'

All ideas of my asking Sunetra out left me, and over the course of the remaining five weeks I watched as she and Rowan grew closer and closer. They had been together for five years before they at last married in New York City. As the best man, I flew out to be there and record the ceremony on eight-millimetre film. They now have two children and twenty years of marriage behind them, but I still sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had been bold enough and quick enough on my feet to have asked Sunetra out straight away.

'Oh, you should have done!' Sunetra often says to me. 'I'd have gone out with you.' But I know how happy she is and how right it was that I stayed silent.

Hang on, Stephen, you're gay, aren't you? Indeed I am, but, as I was to tell a newspaper reporter some years later, I am only '90 per cent gay', which is of course pretty d.a.m.ned gay, but every now and again on my path through life I have met a woman in the 10 per cent bracket. Caroline Oulton at Cambridge was one, although I never told her so, and Sunetra another.

The Blackadder Blackadder rehea.r.s.e-record rhythms somehow made the time fly by. On Tuesday morning we would read through the script, with Richard and sometimes Ben in attendance. John would wince and clutch his brow and shake his head at the dire impossibility of it all not the most tactful way to endear himself to the writers or indeed the performers. He never meant to transmit disapproval or disappointment, the tutting and moaning were just his way of gearing himself up for the work of the week ahead. Next, each scene, starting at the beginning, would slowly have 'legs' put on it. As the show was blocked out in this fashion, Mandy would make notes and build up her camera script, and John would grimace and sigh and smoke and pace and growl. His perfectionism and refusal to be satisfied was part of the reason rehea.r.s.e-record rhythms somehow made the time fly by. On Tuesday morning we would read through the script, with Richard and sometimes Ben in attendance. John would wince and clutch his brow and shake his head at the dire impossibility of it all not the most tactful way to endear himself to the writers or indeed the performers. He never meant to transmit disapproval or disappointment, the tutting and moaning were just his way of gearing himself up for the work of the week ahead. Next, each scene, starting at the beginning, would slowly have 'legs' put on it. As the show was blocked out in this fashion, Mandy would make notes and build up her camera script, and John would grimace and sigh and smoke and pace and growl. His perfectionism and refusal to be satisfied was part of the reason Blackadder Blackadder worked. Every line, plot twist and action was taken, rubbed between his fingers, sniffed and pa.s.sed, rejected or pulled in for servicing and improvement. We would all join in the process of joke polishing or 'fluffing', as John called it. I relished partic.i.p.ating in these sessions which over the years became an absolute characteristic of worked. Every line, plot twist and action was taken, rubbed between his fingers, sniffed and pa.s.sed, rejected or pulled in for servicing and improvement. We would all join in the process of joke polishing or 'fluffing', as John called it. I relished partic.i.p.ating in these sessions which over the years became an absolute characteristic of Blackadder Blackadder rehearsals. Visiting guest actors would often sit for hours working on a crossword or reading a book as we built up the epithets and absurd similes. rehearsals. Visiting guest actors would often sit for hours working on a crossword or reading a book as we built up the epithets and absurd similes.

I picture Richard and Ben reading this and snorting with outrage. 'Hang on, we presented you with the scripts and devised the characters and the style. Don't go pretending that it was all your work.' Ben and Richard did indeed create the style, the storylines and most of the jokes. We added and subtracted in rehearsal, but they were the writers, there can be no doubt of that. My admiration for their work was and is extreme and unconditional. Nonetheless, as anyone who spent any time in Blackadder Blackadder rehearsals then or later will confirm, the days were always a constant coffee and cigarettes grind of tweaking, refinement and emendation. rehearsals then or later will confirm, the days were always a constant coffee and cigarettes grind of tweaking, refinement and emendation.

Sunday was the taping night, the night we performed the show in front of an audience. Ben would act as warm-up man, introducing the characters and setting the series in context. This was important, for there was always a detectable air of disappointment emanating from the audience. No part of the current series would yet have been broadcast, so they would be staring at an unfamiliar set and fretting at the absence of the characters they had known from the previous series. When they came to Blackadder II Blackadder II they were sorry not to have Brian Blessed there as the King; when they came to they were sorry not to have Brian Blessed there as the King; when they came to Blackadder the Third Blackadder the Third recordings they missed Queenie; and when they arrived for recordings of recordings they missed Queenie; and when they arrived for recordings of Blackadder Goes Forth Blackadder Goes Forth they wanted to see Prince George and Mrs Miggins. they wanted to see Prince George and Mrs Miggins.

For all that, it was a happy experience. The Sat.u.r.day after the taping of the last episode of Blackadder II Blackadder II Richard Curtis held a party at his house in Oxfordshire. It was a glorious summer's day, and, as we all wanted to watch television, Richard unwound an extension cord and put the set on a wooden chair in the shade of an apple tree. We sat on the gra.s.s and watched Richard Curtis held a party at his house in Oxfordshire. It was a glorious summer's day, and, as we all wanted to watch television, Richard unwound an extension cord and put the set on a wooden chair in the shade of an apple tree. We sat on the gra.s.s and watched Live Aid Live Aid all the way through to the end of the American broadcast from Philadelphia. all the way through to the end of the American broadcast from Philadelphia.

'We should do something similar,' Richard said.

'How's that?' I wasn't sure what he could mean.

'Comedians can raise money too. Look at what John Cleese did for Amnesty with those Secret Policeman's b.a.l.l.s.'

'So you mean a Comedians' Live Aid show?'

Richard nodded. He had already been germinating Comic Relief in his head for some time. Now, almost twenty-five years later, he has devoted six or seven months of his time every other year to an organization that, love or loathe the enforced custardy jollities of its biennial television pratfest, has raised hundreds of millions of pounds to comfort those who have sorely needed it.

Coral Christmas, Ca.s.sidy, C4, Clapless Clapham, Cheeky Chappies and Coltrane's c.o.c.k With Blackadder II Blackadder II in the can, I was called up by Richard Armitage. in the can, I was called up by Richard Armitage.

'Happy to say that they want to put on Me and My Girl Me and My Girl in Australia. Mike will need you there to help with changes that we can try out for Broadway.' in Australia. Mike will need you there to help with changes that we can try out for Broadway.'

I didn't really believe that Broadway would happen. How could Americans possibly respond to c.o.c.kney capers and rhyming slang with anything other than blank stares and fidgety coughs? Australia seemed like a wonderful idea, however, and Mike and I flew out with the rest of the core production team to rehea.r.s.e an Australian cast in the Melbourne Arts Centre. I wish I remembered more about the production. I think I fiddled about with the lyrics a little and changed one or two scenes, but that is all that springs to mind. It was towards the end of the year, and Mike and I decided that it would be fun to stay on and Christmas up in Queensland. He chose Hamilton, one of the Whitsunday Islands of the Coral Reef. I spent almost all of Christmas Day in my hotel room shivering, throbbing and shaking with sunstroke and sunburn, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of Billy Connolly and Pamela Stephenson, who were staying in the same hotel.

Back in England Hugh and I turned our minds to the Channel 4 show that Paul Jackson had mentioned to us. Seamus Ca.s.sidy, the young commissioner at C4, was anxious for something akin to America's long-running Sat.u.r.day Night Live. Sat.u.r.day Night Live. Our show, he decided, was to be called Our show, he decided, was to be called Sat.u.r.day Live Sat.u.r.day Live. I thought of him ever after, not unaffectionately, as Shameless Ca.s.sidy.

Stand-up was taking over the world. Our brand of sketch comedy, it seemed to Hugh and me, was in danger of looking more and more dated as each month pa.s.sed, certainly as far as the prospect of live TV was concerned. The problem with being a duo rather than a solo performer is that you speak to each other, rather than out front to the audience. We had in the past written a certain number of sketches, the Shakespeare Mastercla.s.s for example, in which the audience could be directly addressed, but for much of our time we played characters locked in mini-dramas with a fourth wall between us and the watching world. Out of some act of rare reckless abandonment we decided that before putting ourselves in front of the cameras for this new show we should practise by performing in a comedy club. One of the premiere venues at that time was Jongleurs in Clapham, and thither we went for one night, sandwiched between a young Julian Clary and Lenny Henry. Julian performed as 'The Joan Collins Fan Club' in those days and shared the stage with his little terrier 'f.a.n.n.y the Wonderdog'. He did very well, I recall. When Hugh and I left the stage after our fifteen minutes and puffed out our usual 'Christ they hated us' (Hugh) and 'It wasn't so bad' (me), we stayed back to watch Lenny. I remember thinking how wonderful it must be to be known and loved by an audience. All your work is done before you go on stage. Lenny entered to an enormous cheer and, or at least so it seemed to me, only had to open his mouth to have the audience writhing with joy and drumming their feet on the floor with approval. Hugh and I were unknown, Blackadder II Blackadder II hadn't aired yet, and hadn't aired yet, and The The Crystal Cube Crystal Cube and and Alfresco Alfresco had been watched by seven people, all of whom wanted to kill us. That night at Jongleurs we sweated blood as we treated the audience to our exquisitely wrought phrases, cunning jokes and deft characterizations only to be rewarded with vague t.i.tters and polite but sporadic applause. Lenny came on, did a bird call, boomed a h.e.l.lo and the building almost collapsed. This is to take nothing away from him at all. He had built up a rapport over the years and he had the gift that can guarantee a good time in a comedy club. He was relaxed and he made the audience relax. Hugh and I might have hidden our nerves and anxiety as best we could, but from the beginning we were had been watched by seven people, all of whom wanted to kill us. That night at Jongleurs we sweated blood as we treated the audience to our exquisitely wrought phrases, cunning jokes and deft characterizations only to be rewarded with vague t.i.tters and polite but sporadic applause. Lenny came on, did a bird call, boomed a h.e.l.lo and the building almost collapsed. This is to take nothing away from him at all. He had built up a rapport over the years and he had the gift that can guarantee a good time in a comedy club. He was relaxed and he made the audience relax. Hugh and I might have hidden our nerves and anxiety as best we could, but from the beginning we were working working the audience rather than welcoming them with any confidence into our world. A tense audience might admire our writing and performing, but they are never going to give us the great rolling waves of love they sent out to Lenny. Later, when we were familiar figures and went on stage to gusts of welcome, I would remember that night at Clapless Clapham, as I always thought of it, and thank my lucky stars that I no longer had to prove myself in quite the same way. Yet, having said that, there came an evening some years later where I was able clearly to witness the reverse effect. I directed a number of 'Hysteria' benefit shows for the Terrence Higgins Trust in the late eighties and early nineties. For the third one I had the duty of welcoming on to the stage a very well-known comic. He entered to a thunderous ovation they were the audience rather than welcoming them with any confidence into our world. A tense audience might admire our writing and performing, but they are never going to give us the great rolling waves of love they sent out to Lenny. Later, when we were familiar figures and went on stage to gusts of welcome, I would remember that night at Clapless Clapham, as I always thought of it, and thank my lucky stars that I no longer had to prove myself in quite the same way. Yet, having said that, there came an evening some years later where I was able clearly to witness the reverse effect. I directed a number of 'Hysteria' benefit shows for the Terrence Higgins Trust in the late eighties and early nineties. For the third one I had the duty of welcoming on to the stage a very well-known comic. He entered to a thunderous ovation they were so so pleased to see him. He exited to only a ... pleased to see him. He exited to only a ... respectable respectable level of applause. The next act was new. No one out there had any idea who he was or what they might expect. I did my best as compere to get the audience on his side. level of applause. The next act was new. No one out there had any idea who he was or what they might expect. I did my best as compere to get the audience on his side.

'Dear ladies, darling gentlemen, I have no doubt in the world that you will give the next artist your warmest and wildest welcome. He is a brilliant young comic, I know you'll adore him please greet the wonderful Eddie Izzard!' They were polite and they did their best, but they would so much rather have screamed a John Cleese or Billy Connolly on to the stage.

I stood in the wings and watched as Eddie left the stage to a gigantic gigantic round of applause. How much better to go on to polite clapping and off to roars than, as the established comic had, to go on to roars and off to polite clapping. round of applause. How much better to go on to polite clapping and off to roars than, as the established comic had, to go on to roars and off to polite clapping.

Sat.u.r.day Live was a bear garden: transmitted live from the biggest studio in London Weekend Television's South Bank studios, it featured a large central stage, side stages for the bands, random giant inflatables floating above and a vast arena for the audience of groundlings, mostly young fashion-conscious people who milled about getting in the way of the cameras and hara.s.sed floor managers in a style that was becoming the established fashion in hip youth TV, a style that veered between sulky disaffection and hysterical whooping adulation. Hugh was convinced that they were more interested in how their hair looked on screen than in anything we might be saying or doing to try and amuse them. was a bear garden: transmitted live from the biggest studio in London Weekend Television's South Bank studios, it featured a large central stage, side stages for the bands, random giant inflatables floating above and a vast arena for the audience of groundlings, mostly young fashion-conscious people who milled about getting in the way of the cameras and hara.s.sed floor managers in a style that was becoming the established fashion in hip youth TV, a style that veered between sulky disaffection and hysterical whooping adulation. Hugh was convinced that they were more interested in how their hair looked on screen than in anything we might be saying or doing to try and amuse them.

The man who put the t.u.r.d in Sat.u.r.day Live. Sat.u.r.day Live. I cannot recall a single thing about that sketch. Why the rolled-up trouser leg? I cannot recall a single thing about that sketch. Why the rolled-up trouser leg?

A month or so earlier we had gone to the Comedy Store to see a new comedian about whom we had heard great things. His name was Harry Enfield and he performed a stand-up routine as a most marvellously curmudgeonly and perverse old gentleman, a character he had consciously modelled on the persona Gerard Hoffnung adopted in his legendary interviews with Charles Richardson. Harry worked on Spitting Image Spitting Image as an impressionist and had, like us, been booked for as an impressionist and had, like us, been booked for Sat.u.r.day Live. Sat.u.r.day Live.

He had b.u.mped into and become friends with Paul Whitehouse and Charlie Higson, our painter-decorators, and together Harry and Paul had developed a character based on Adam, Paul's Graeco-c.o.c.kney kebab-shop owner. Now named Stavros, he was working well as a puppet on Spitting Image Spitting Image, and Harry fancied the idea of trying him out in the flesh for Sat.u.r.day Live. Sat.u.r.day Live. Hugh and I rather envied Harry the stability of having one returning character. Each week for the twelve of the first run of Hugh and I rather envied Harry the stability of having one returning character. Each week for the twelve of the first run of Sat.u.r.day Live Sat.u.r.day Live we had to think of something new to do. Each week the blank sheet of paper and accusatory pen, or rather the blank screen, flashing cursor and accusatory keyboard. The sketches that seemed to work best in the insanely hot, loud and unstable atmosphere of the studio were the ones, as we had imagined, where Hugh and I talked out to the audience. We developed a line of talk-show parodies where Hugh played a character called Peter Mostyn, who interviewed me in increasingly strange formats. we had to think of something new to do. Each week the blank sheet of paper and accusatory pen, or rather the blank screen, flashing cursor and accusatory keyboard. The sketches that seemed to work best in the insanely hot, loud and unstable atmosphere of the studio were the ones, as we had imagined, where Hugh and I talked out to the audience. We developed a line of talk-show parodies where Hugh played a character called Peter Mostyn, who interviewed me in increasingly strange formats.

More Sat.u.r.day Live Sat.u.r.day Live: with Hugh, Harry Enfield and Ben Elton. Why the electric carving knife, if that's what it is? I remember nothing nothing of this moment. of this moment.

'h.e.l.lo and welcome to Stealing a Car Stereo With Stealing a Car Stereo With. I'm Peter Mostyn and tonight I'll be stealing a car stereo with Nigel Davenant, Shadow Home Secretary and Member of Parliament for South Reason. Nigel, h.e.l.lo and welcome to Stealing a Car Stereo With Stealing a Car Stereo With ...' and so on. ...' and so on.

I remember that Mostyn sketch with especial clarity (most of our Sat.u.r.day Live Sat.u.r.day Live experiences are a blur of jumbled memories: the brain can be kind that way) because it allowed us to film away from the feared studio audience and down in the LWT underground car park. With the show being live it was rather tense. We had some sort of iron punch with which to smash the nearside window of a car and pull out the radio. Rather than using the friable and safe sugar gla.s.s usually favoured as a prop we were going to do it on the real thing, a car belonging to someone in the production crew. experiences are a blur of jumbled memories: the brain can be kind that way) because it allowed us to film away from the feared studio audience and down in the LWT underground car park. With the show being live it was rather tense. We had some sort of iron punch with which to smash the nearside window of a car and pull out the radio. Rather than using the friable and safe sugar gla.s.s usually favoured as a prop we were going to do it on the real thing, a car belonging to someone in the production crew.

'Right so, Shadow Home Secretary, have you ever stolen a car stereo before?'

'Ooh, not since I was a young parliamentary a.s.sistant.'

'Feeling confident?'

'Give it a d.a.m.ned good go, anyway ...'

'That's the spirit! This is the kind of tool most car thieves use. One firm blow and then, quick as you can, out with the stereo. But while you're doing that, let me ask you, was politics always your first love?'

'Oh, no, Susanna was my first love, then a boy called Tony and then then politics.' politics.'

'Right, has politics changed much since you first entered the house as a young man after that by-election in 1977?'

And, which was the purpose of these sketches, Hugh would continue an earnest and commonplace interview as if we were doing the most normal thing in the world. Later scenarios included 'Introducing My Grandfather To', 'Photocopying My Genitals With' and 'Flying a Light Aircraft Without Having Had Any Formal Instruction With'.

It took about six heavy bangs on the gla.s.s to smash the window that night, I recall. I could clearly hear the alarmed voice of Geoff Posner, the director, in the earpieces of the two cameramen and a.s.sistant floor manager each time the punch bounced harmlessly off the window. 'Jesus! h.e.l.l! Oh, for f.u.c.k's sake!'

Hugh improvised n.o.bly. 'Would you say, Nigel, that new European lamination standards have succeeded in toughening gla.s.s since your early days stealing car stereos?'

'That's ... bang bang ... right, Peter. I would ... ... right, Peter. I would ... bang bang ... say ... exactly ... ... say ... exactly ... bang bang ... that. Plus I've lost a lot of strength in my arms due to ... that. Plus I've lost a lot of strength in my arms due to bang ... Crash!! bang ... Crash!! ... ah, that's got it ...' What I had lost a lot of strength in my arms due to I fortunately never had to declare. ... ah, that's got it ...' What I had lost a lot of strength in my arms due to I fortunately never had to declare.

The only other sketch I remember with any clarity is seared into my memory like a brand because it necessitated a visit to a hypnotist.

I am not able, as I have discussed before, to sing. By which I mean I am really really not able to sing, much as I am not able to fly through the air by flapping my arms. not able to sing, much as I am not able to fly through the air by flapping my arms. Not Not. Able Able. It is not a question of me doing it badly badly but a question of me not being able to do it but a question of me not being able to do it at all at all. I have told you what my singing voice does to those c.o.c.ky and wrong-headed fools who have skipped about the place proclaiming, 'Why, that's nonsense! Everyone Everyone can sing ...' Hugh, as we know, sings marvellously, as he does most things marvellously, but Stephen just plain doesn't. I can sing ...' Hugh, as we know, sings marvellously, as he does most things marvellously, but Stephen just plain doesn't. I think think I can sing when I'm on my own, in the shower for instance, but there is no way of testing it. If I imagine for a second that there is anybody in the house, or in the garden, or within a hundred yards of me, I freeze up. And that would include a microphone, so my singing is like a physicist's quantum event: any observation fatally alters its outcome. I can sing when I'm on my own, in the shower for instance, but there is no way of testing it. If I imagine for a second that there is anybody in the house, or in the garden, or within a hundred yards of me, I freeze up. And that would include a microphone, so my singing is like a physicist's quantum event: any observation fatally alters its outcome.

Well, came the day in the middle of the second series of Sat.u.r.day Live Sat.u.r.day Live that I found that Hugh had painted me, or I had painted myself, into a dreadful corner. Somehow a routine had been written in which it was essential for me to sing. Hugh was performing some other crucial function in the sketch, and I could not but accept that I was going to have to sing. Live. On television. that I found that Hugh had painted me, or I had painted myself, into a dreadful corner. Somehow a routine had been written in which it was essential for me to sing. Hugh was performing some other crucial function in the sketch, and I could not but accept that I was going to have to sing. Live. On television.

For three days I was in a complete panic, trembling, sweating, moaning, yawning, needing a pee every ten minutes all the symptoms of extreme nervous tension. At last Hugh could take it no more.

'All right then. We'll just have to write another sketch.'

'No, no! I'll be fine.' Annoyingly it was a good sketch. Much as I dreaded the prospect of its approach, I knew that we should should do it. 'Really. I'll be fine.' do it. 'Really. I'll be fine.'

Hugh took in my quaking knees, ashen complexion and terrified countenance. 'You won't be fine,' he said. 'I can see that. Look, it's obviously psychological. You can hammer out a tune on a piano, you can tell one song from another. You're obviously not tone deaf.'

'No,' I said, 'the problem is I am tone dumb. dumb.'

'Psychological. What you should do is see a hypnotist.'

At three o'clock next afternoon I rang the doorbell of the Maddox Street consulting rooms of one Michael Joseph, Clinical Hypnotist.

He turned out to be Hungarian by birth. Hungarian, I suppose because of my grandfather, is my favourite accent in all the world. I shan't attempt to write 'Vot' for 'What' and 'deh' for 'the', you will just have to imagine a voice like George Solti's weaving its way into my brain.

'Tell me the issue that brings you here,' he asked, expecting, I imagine, smoking or weight control or something along those lines.

'I have to sing tomorrow night.'

'Excuse me?'

'Tomorrow night I have to sing. Live on television.'

I outlined the nature of the problem. 'You say you can never sing, you have never sung?'

'Well, I think it must be a mental block. I have a good enough ear to be able usually to recognize some keys. E flat major, C minor and D major, for instance. But the moment I have to sing in front of anybody else I just get a hammering in my ears, my throat constricts, my mouth goes dry and the most tuneless, arrhythmic horror comes out.'

'I see, I see. Perhaps you should put the palms of your hands on your knees, that would be pleasantly comfortable, I think. You know, if you feel your hands on your legs, it is amazing how they seem almost to melt into the flesh, is it not? Soon it is hard to tell which is your hands and which is your legs, don't they? They are as one. And as this is happening it now feels as if you are being lowered down a well, haven't you? Down into the dark. But my voice is like the rope that keeps you confident that you will not be lost. My voice will be able to pull you back up, but for the moment it is dropping you down and down and until you are in the warm and in the dark. Yes? No?'