The First Rule of Comedy..! E-Book

Jeffrey Holland

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 450

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Fondly remembered as Spike Dixon in Hi-De-Hi!, Jeffrey Holland is one of Britain's best-loved situation comedy actors. An invaluable member of the repertory company of writer and director David Croft, his many other television credits include Are You Being Served?, Dad's Army, It Ain't Half Hot Mum, Oh, Doctor Beeching! and You Rang, M'Lord? This unique memoir reveals the hilarious tales from Holland's long and illustrious career, from the comedy greats that have inspired him to the colleagues with whom he has worked. Heart-warming stories from his twenty-year association with Paul Shane and Su Pollard sit alongside poignant and deep reflections on his all-time favourite comedian, Stan Laurel, and revealing stories of working with the great and good of variety theatre, from Frankie Howerd to Ken Dodd. Not to mention blissful thoughts on his many happy years as part of Russ Abbot's Madhouse, the joy of The Goon Show and the thrill of stepping into the huge shoes of Peter Sellers. Filled with enthusiasm and affection, The First Rule of Comedy..! is a life told through the eyes of one of the true greats of the genre.

Leseprobe

To my darling wife, Judy, and to my children, Lucy and Sam. I am blessed.

First published 2025

The History Press

97 St George’s Place, Cheltenham,

Gloucestershire, GL50 3QB

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© Jeffrey Holland, 2025

The right of Jeffrey Holland to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 80399 640 0

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ Books Limited, Padstow, Cornwall

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

CONTENTS

Foreword by Su Pollard

The First Rule of Comedy…

… You Must Have Integrity

… You Must Have Reality

… Don’t Antagonise Your Audience

… Never Telegraph a Joke

… Pretty Girls Aren’t Funny

… Always Have a Great Finish for Your Act

Afterword by Roy Gould

Acknowledgements

FOREWORD

BY SU POLLARD

The clue is in the title. ‘The First Rule of Comedy’ intimates ‘be funny’, and Jeff certainly fits that bill. When David Croft and Jimmy Perry wrote Hi-de-Hi! he was the first and best choice for the role of Spike. Indeed, his subsequent roles of Mr Twelvetrees (You Rang, M’Lord?) and Cecil Parkin (Oh, Doctor Beeching!) cemented their faith in him. I have known Jeff for a fantastic fifty years (flippin’ ’eck, where’s that gone?!) and it has been my real pleasure to have him as a friend. Paul Shane (Shaney, as we all called him) nicknamed him The Vicar, and I always refer to him as the ‘R’ man – reliable, because, for me, there is no higher praise than that. We have worked with each other in various shows over the years and always had the biggest fun. Jeff has one of the bestest laughs ever, hearty and guttural. You always appreciate him being in the audience, on or off stage. I cherish our friendship because when you have Jeff around you know you’re in safe hands, just as you will be when you read his book. Enjoy yourselves.

Much luv, Su Pollard xxxx

THE FIRST RULE OF COMEDY…

YOU MUST HAVE INTEGRITY

‘Hi-de-Hi!’ (pause for audience reply, ‘Ho-de-Ho!’) ‘Jeffrey can’t hear you … Hi-de-Hi!’ (audience reply again, ‘Ho-de-Ho!’) ‘Thank you!’ As my old mate Paul Shane used to say, ‘There’s a few more years left in that yet!’

You know, it’s been well over forty years now since we filmed the pilot show for Hi-de-Hi! and I have counted my blessings every single day since. I’m very proud to have had a long and diverse career on stage, screen and radio … and it’s not over yet. Still, that idiot character, hapless holiday camp comic Spike Dixon, is the one that everybody seems to love. He’s certainly the one everybody seems to remember me for!

I’ve honestly lost count of how many people have shouted ‘Hi-de-Hi!’ at me in the street, and it still happens. Not to mention the thousands of people who have asked me, ‘How many times were you thrown into that Olympic-sized swimming pool?’ My answer is invariably, ‘Too many times!’ To be honest, I don’t remember. If anybody wants to watch all the episodes again and jot down the number, I’d be fascinated to know. Mind you, that wouldn’t include the retakes and dry runs. Dry runs? What am I saying? There were none – once I was wet, that was it!

For me, Hi-de-Hi! remains a special, nay crucial, part of my life. I forged many important, lasting friendships during the making of that show. The most important, of course, was with Paul Shane.

I can remember our first meeting as if it were yesterday. I was called to the read-through for that Hi-de-Hi! pilot show, as was Shaney, who was cast as the camp host and top comedian Ted Bovis. The truth is, Ted wasn’t that good a comedian at all. Like all of the entertainment staff at Maplin’s, he was a failure. Still, he was a big fish in the tiny pond of the holiday camp. So big, in fact, that he didn’t even wear the soon-to-be-iconic yellow coat. He wore his civilian clothes: a very loud, checked suit. A proper working men’s club comedian!

Not only was Ted Bovis vital to the running of the camp, the character was vital to the success of Hi-de-Hi! He could be a deeply furtive and shady bloke, and he was always on the fiddle. The writers knew that they needed someone brilliant and extremely likeable to play the part. You had to love this rogue.

Jimmy Perry, who had been a Redcoat at Butlins and put all his personal experiences into the scripts, was co-writing with that sublime director, producer and unstoppable star-maker David Croft. Both knew that the casting of Ted Bovis was key.

Paul Shane was a stand-up comedian from Rotherham and had worked those self-same working men’s clubs for over twenty years, winning the Club Comic of the Year award on many occasions. He had started to get some extra work on TV, filling in with the odd line or two, most notably in a play by Alan Bennett in 1972 called A Day Out about a Halifax cycling club. He was given a kind of catchphrase in this and kept saying, ‘Me bum’s numb!’ at every available opportunity. It must have worked as he eventually found himself in Coronation Street playing the part of Alf Roberts’ boss. This was when Jimmy Perry happened to be watching one night and, during the commercial break, rang David Croft and said, ‘David, are you watching Corrie?’ David replied in the negative and Jimmy said, ‘Well, put it on. I think we’ve found our Ted Bovis!’

That’s why, in the pilot show, in that first scene with me and Paul in the train compartment, Ted is going on about this TV series he’s going up for, all about ‘this mucky street’. ‘Apparently I’m dead right for it!’ He was dead right for it. Our show, of course, was set in 1959. Coronation Street started in 1960. A lovely homage from our fantastic writers.

Anyway, I digress. I do that sometimes. You must try to stop me!

Back to the rehearsal rooms and my first meeting with Paul Shane. When they called me in, I walked into the room and there was Paul, standing in the middle of the floor looking rather overwhelmed, so I walked over to him and introduced myself. We shook hands and as we did so he gave me a very strange look. He said, ‘Have we met before?’

I said, ‘Oh no. Never. I would have remembered!’

Paul said, ‘I have this really odd feeling that we have worked together before.’

We really hadn’t, but I could feel the same immediate chemistry between us, which was to manifest itself so obviously in all the work we did together.

That was the beginning of almost twenty years of blissful comedy together, and a friendship that lasted for the rest of Paul’s life. It was an uncanny bonding. A short-hand, if you like, for how to play these hilariously funny scenes together. It never left us. It was magic. Alchemy. ‘The First Rule of Comedy’!

I may not have met Paul Shane before that first Hi-de-Hi! read-through, but I had certainly met and worked for Jimmy Perry and David Croft before. Many, many times …

The Day I Met Croft and Perry

To my shame, looking back on that first, monumental meeting with David Croft and Jimmy Perry, not only was I not interested in the potential job – a life-changing one, as it turned out – but I was also in the foulest of moods. I’ve never been a poker-faced sort of bloke, so I’m sure it must have showed.

Allow me to set the scene. It was on a day in mid-June 1975 that I got the call to go to London. It was a call that should have filled me with excitement … but it didn’t. The call was to audition for the Dad’s Army stage show.

Now, I had been a huge fan of Dad’s Army since it was first on TV in 1968. It was a wonderful show and hugely popular. So popular that it was being adapted as a musical show for the stage. What’s more, Roger Redfarn, the director, with whom I had worked in repertory theatre at Coventry, was staging the show and had asked for me particularly as he knew I could be very useful to them. He knew me and my work, as did the choreographer Sheila O’Neil, but everyone had to be approved by Jimmy Perry and David Croft. As I said, at the time Dad’s Army was one of my all-time favourite TV shows – but I was not a happy man! Let me explain.

You see, I was working at Chichester at the time, doing the first half of the Festival season. I was playing parts in only the first two plays of a four-play season, as there was nothing for me to play in the second two. That’s the way it was and I knew that from the outset.

I was sharing a house, though, with two other actors at the time, and these two were staying on as they had been cast in the other two plays of the season. It was a beautiful summer and we were all having a very happy time, but I had to leave and I simply didn’t want to. My mood could not have been blacker. I was preparing myself to leave the company and, when that happens, your mind races about whether you are ever going to get another job. Frankly, I got very down in the dumps about it and became quite morose.

The day came for my trip to London and I was still in denial about my future in showbusiness. Even having this audition for Dad’s Army didn’t raise my spirits. Lord alone knows why not! I was so despondent that I had nothing at all prepared and certainly no song ready to offer them. I didn’t care. I thought, ‘Well if they want me to sing, I could always sing “Hang Out the Washing on the Siegfried Line”. Everybody knows that. What the hell?’ I just didn’t want to go. I did go though, of course, and I duly caught the train to London. I should have been thrilled, but I couldn’t have cared less. I was stuck in permanent doldrums. What an idiot I was! I didn’t even wear anything decent, like I would have usually. I was wearing just a shirt without a jacket as it was such a lovely day and the view from the train of the Sussex countryside was gorgeous, but I didn’t care a jot. It was just one of those days when I had to go somewhere I didn’t want to be and, as I said, I had nothing prepared at all.

I arrived at Waterloo Station and rather sluggishly made my way to the Mermaid Theatre, where the auditions were being held. I was still in a foul mood when I got there.

I went rather unenthusiastically to the stage door, where I was given a piece of the script to look at while I waited to be called in to see the producers. I skimmed through it with very little enthusiasm and then something caught my eye. It was a song that looked quite promising. It was a parody of that old wartime favourite ‘Yes, We Have No Bananas’, which was to be sung by Private Walker, the spiv. The show was to be quite a musical extravaganza and Walker had this very funny routine in which to promote all his black-market goods – you know, the sort of thing that dear old Jimmy Beck used to hawk around Walmington-on-Sea: knicker elastic, nylons, watches all up his arm and inside his big overcoat. He had the lot – all the nigh-on impossible stuff to get hold of. With one exception: he had no bananas! So I decided to do that song if required, as I was sure the pianist would know it and I could read it from the script. I could get some laughs out of it too. Anything to relieve this depression I was in!

I was called in and I was trying my very best to hide the fact that I didn’t want to be there. What was I thinking? Still, the moment I stepped into the auditorium the adrenalin started to kick in, as it always does at auditions. Just then, Roger introduced me to Jimmy Perry and David Croft. Eyes and teeth were the order of the day and I did my utmost to overcome my torpor.

It was David who then asked me to read a couple of scenes as Private Pike. I didn’t realise till a little later that they were looking for understudies too. I read the scenes with the Company Manager reading Sergeant Wilson’s lines. Let’s just say that John Le Mesurier had nothing to worry about! This Company Manager, as they often are, was such a bad actor that he made me look brilliant. I was feeling better already! David and Jimmy then asked me to read a silly little scene as a mad German inventor. This was sight-reading on the spot, but it was such a delightfully dotty character that I lapsed into a strangled German accent. A bit like Peter Sellers as Doctor Strangelove and, now I come to think of it, very much like the voice Sam Kelly adopted for ’Allo ’Allo! several years later. Maybe David made a mental note and remembered. Regardless of that, at that Mermaid Theatre audition for Dad’s Army, my comic German characterisation made Jimmy and David roar with laughter!

Next came the question, ‘What about a song?’

Well, by now my mood had shifted considerably and I was feeling much happier with the way things were going. So I said, ‘Well, I found this in the script’ and pointed out the aforementioned ‘bananas’ song. I said, ‘Do you mind if I do this for you with the book in my hand?’

They said that they didn’t, so the pianist and I fixed a key and off I went into my full Private Walker performance. It was a very funny song and they both fell about laughing. By now, of course, I was quite elated and getting rather cocky too, and I said to them, ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you?’

They said, ‘Yes, we did!’

Then I said, ‘But you wrote it!’ to which David replied, ‘Yes we did. We wrote it down in long hand, handed it to the typist but we haven’t seen it since!’

Well, suffice it to say that against all the odds I got the job. I was asked to be a part of the ensemble, and all the boys and girls in the chorus were dressed in the Reserved Occupation attire – like a Land Girl, a bus conductress, a Bevin boy, a nurse, etc. I was a fireman! I was also asked to understudy Privates Pike and Walker, so I must have got something right! We did six months at London’s Shaftesbury Theatre with all the TV cast except John Laurie – he didn’t want to do it for personal reasons, so they got a lookalike to play Frazer, a heavily eyebrowed Scott called Hamish Roughead. Private Walker was played by Cockney actor John Bardon, who later went on to fame as Jim Branning in EastEnders and married Dot Cotton! James Beck had died two years earlier, but Croft and Perry wanted to put the character of Walker back in as a comedy foil to Captain Mainwaring in several scenes.

After the massively successful six-month run at the Shaftesbury, we were to do a national tour in the spring of 1976, but John Bardon didn’t want to do it as he had other things planned. So I got a call from Jimmy Perry asking me if I would like to play Walker myself. I was amazed and totally thrilled! The fact was, I already knew the role as the understudy so that saved them extra rehearsal time and the producers saved a salary. I had the time of my life. When we opened that spring at the Theatre Royal in Nottingham, there I was with my rifle at the ready, a member of Captain Mainwaring’s platoon, with tears of pride rolling down my cheeks!

We had originally opened on 4 September 1975 at the Forum Theatre in Billingham, to run it in for a week before our London opening at the Shaftesbury, and we closed the tour on 4 September 1976 at the Theatre Royal in Bath. Exactly one whole year, and I spent that year in one of the finest shows it has ever been my privilege to be involved in. Talk about being in the right place at the right time – and not bad for a lad who didn’t want to go to an audition on a day that was to change his life forever!

Joining the Croft Rep

You know, people lucky enough to have been employed by David Croft – and I am luckier than most – always used to call him ‘The Guv’nor’, myself included. He was also the star-maker of British TV comedy. Honestly. Just stop and think for a moment of those familiar faces that became huge, huge stars because of a regular role in a series David was writing, producing and directing. I’ll start you off with Simon Cadell, Windsor Davies, John Inman, Su Pollard … There’s four big hitters for you. And there are more. Many more.

Following my gleeful experiences with the Dad’s Army stage show, something must have struck David and Jimmy about me, and I was invited to take part in the actual TV series of Dad’s Army. Can you imagine the excitement in the Holland household? As fate would have it, it was the very last series. David and Jimmy were wrapping it up because, with actor James Beck in the guise of Private Walker long gone, the others – much older than him in the first place – were really beginning to show their age. Besides, David had other shows he was working on, and another one in the very early stages of pre-production … a little thing about a holiday camp in the 1950s!

Anyway, I digress. I told you before that I do that sometimes.

It seemed almost impossible that Dad’s Army was coming to an end, but the time had come. I got the call to ask if I would like to go up to the location filming in Thetford to play the tiny role of a disgruntled army truck driver. Of course, I would. What joy! The episode was ‘Wake Up, Walmington!’, in which Captain Mainwaring and his Home Guard platoon try to warn the local, rather lackadaisical community that an attack from the enemy is imminent. I’m as lackadaisical as the rest of them, if not downright aggressive! I’m actually driving that truck in the scene … and there they were. All of them. Mainwaring. Wilson. Pike. Frazer. Godfrey. Jonesy. Ah, Jonesy, as played by the impeccable Clive Dunn. I have to admit that I nearly ran poor old Clive over with that truck, but I didn’t, thank heavens! And that final moment, when I drive off and splash mud all over poor old Arthur Lowe as Mainwaring. It’s all slapstick, it’s all Laurel and Hardy, it’s all big boys playing in mud. That’s the eternal secret of Dad’s Army. It’s a comedy of manners and set safely in the past, so it can never date. Those characters will always be with us, part of the DNA of our nation, and I am very proud to have been even a very small part of it!

Now, one of those other shows that David and Jimmy were keen to concentrate upon, once Dad’s Army had been put out to pasture, was another wartime situation comedy, It Ain’t Half Hot Mum. For Jimmy Perry, Private Pike in Dad’s Army had represented his own experiences in the Home Guard when he was 16 years old in Watford, prior to being called up to active service. As it turned out, Gunner Parkin in It Ain’t Half Hot Mum represented Jimmy’s memories of performing in a concert party in India after he had joined up into the Royal Artillery. Jimmy actually ran that concert party in Deolali.

The series had been on air since 1974 so was happily running concurrently with Dad’s Army, and I was called up to serve in the role of a Royal Air Force serviceman in an episode called ‘Flight to Jawani’. It was sort of a cough and a spit really, but he was in and out for most of the programme and I was game to do any bit on TV in those days. I also hoped my willingness would prove to David that I was a team player. He liked a team player and it obviously did impress both of them because, sure enough, I was asked back to play a different character on the show in the following series.

This time it was a very starry guest appearance. The episode was called ‘The Superstar’, and I was the superstar. My character was Aircraftsman Ormanroyd, who, frankly, I can only describe as a bit of a gormless twit! Mind you, he was a very funny gormless twit and, as it happens, a very talented one. I had a brilliant scene in which this shy, monosyllabic idiot auditions to join the established members of the Royal Artillery concert party. Melvyn Hayes, absolutely brilliant as the camp female impersonator ‘Gloria’, is the one who has to decide whether I’m good enough. He is in his usual listless, pursed-lips, disinterested state as he asks me to start. The joke is that, once I get going, I can do the lot! Classical piano like a virtuoso, wonderful opera baritone voice, soft-shoe shuffle and tap-dancer, ventriloquist with a little RAF dummy, and even a fantastic jazz trumpet-player – at the same time as voicing the dummy! As the wonderful Donald Hewlett, Colonel Reynolds, says: ‘Where on earth is that voice coming from?’

Windsor Davies, as the forever-yelling Sergeant-Major Williams, mutters, ‘I shudder to think, sir!’ Brilliant!

I have to admit for the first time, dear reader, that although those dancing feet were yours truly’s, the tap-dancing sounds were provided by choreographer Miki Lavender (wife of Ian), the baritone voice was borrowed from an opera singer whose name eludes me, the Grieg piano concerto was played by a brilliant pianist in the studio, out of sight – his hands had a close-up for a wonderful moment which I took all the credit for – and, although I pre-recorded the voice of the dummy myself beforehand, I have never been able to play the trumpet. Sorry! I did, however, have the ultimate back-up from none other than internationally acclaimed big-band jazz virtuoso Kenny Baker, who played ‘The Flight of the Bumblebee’ while I mimed to it. How thrilled I was!

The final pay-off line belongs to Melvyn Hayes, though. After this utter orgy of ‘borrowed’ talent, he rather reluctantly asks, ‘You can’t do anything else, can you?’ Huge laugh! But it’s only so huge because Melvyn waits and waits and waits for the studio audience to stop reacting to my big spot. Honestly, you could drive a bus through the pause that Melvyn leaves between the end of my act and his line – but it works. A lesser actor would have bottled it and come in just a second or two earlier and got a much more muted reaction. Congratulations Melvyn, and respect, my friend. You are a brilliant master of timing! And, you know, something tells me that the ability I displayed there – that quick-change, try-anything-for-a-laugh attitude that I had – convinced David and Jimmy that I would be right for Spike in Hi-de-Hi! when it eventually came along. So not only respect, Melvyn, but many, many thanks. What a performance!

Although I had never wanted to be a ‘star’ as such, I certainly became known. And Hi-de-Hi! made me known by a lot of people. The great thing about that, quite usefully for comedy, was the timing of it. I had been an actor for fourteen years by the time Hi-de-Hi! arrived, so I knew how the business worked and where my place in the business was. You don’t rock the boat; you just get on with it. I could cope with that level of attention.

Another team player for David Croft was Ian Lavender, who went straight into Dad’s Army at the age of 22 having done little else – just a telly play or two. Suddenly – whoosh, you are a megastar! That’s not easy to deal with. In actual fact, Ian is the only actor I’ve ever really got angry with in the theatre. We became great mates later on and couldn’t have been closer, so he wouldn’t have minded me saying this, but during the Dad’s Army stage show, when I was playing the Spiv Walker, Ian, as Pike, accused me of standing in Arthur Lowe’s eyeline deliberately. As if I would do that on stage – during a performance – with an audience out front! It was an unforgivable accusation! Although I did forgive him later, of course. Poor old Arnold Ridley, playing Godfrey, was sharing a dressing room with Ian, and had to sit and awkwardly listen to my ranting at Ian about it. It blew over, though. It was just Ian’s inexperience showing.

When you go through rep and all the other bits and bobs of theatre and TV life, you just learn your craft. And you learn not to say certain things, especially on stage, even if you think them. Simple. It’s why I despair when I hear people saying they want to be famous. I think, ‘Famous for what?’ They have no idea. They are simply in love with the idea of being well known. I wanted to be an actor, and the fact that my ten or fifteen years of hard graft brought me to a role that made me well known was a welcome fringe benefit of being an actor with, I believe, the wherewithal to deal with it.

I can honestly say that nothing unpleasant ever resulted from becoming a face on TV. Some fans don’t know how to respect your personal space, though, or when to stop talking. Sometimes you sign an autograph and the person thinks it’s an invitation to join your group! But you find coping mechanisms for that over the years. The only thing I really didn’t like was when I got roped into things like charity football matches. Paul Shane used to get me involved in stuff like that. He was wicked! I remember once, we were in Blackpool for the summer season with the Hi-de-Hi! show. A charity football match came up against the 999 Boys – the three services, Fire, Ambulance and Police. Shaney and I were recruited to go along and play in this match. Now, I don’t like football. I never have. I can’t do it. I’ve never been any good at it, at all. I just don’t enjoy anything about it. But anyway, Shaney and I got on the pitch and it was all ‘Hey, here we go! Hi-de-Hi! Ho-de-Ho …’ All that lovely stuff was going on from the crowd. That was fine. Very nice. It was the pain of the football itself that I didn’t like or relish. I didn’t know what position I was supposed to be playing, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have known what to do. I just tried to kick the damned ball if it came anywhere near me, which, thankfully, it didn’t very often!

But the big pay-off on this story is that about a minute – maybe less than that – into the match, Paul Shane faked an injury and got stretchered off, leaving me on the field alone with no discernible talent for the game at all. I’ll never forget the look on Shaney’s face as he was being carried off on that stretcher. He just looked at me and went, ‘He he he he!’ … He just cackled at me, the little devil! I didn’t enjoy that, but, still, you can’t complain. I was only there because they knew who I was. Which was lovely. And they were lovely. It was Shaney, seeing an opportunity for a bit of, well, what he thought was fun!

This may be the right moment to give voice to the opportunity that running a repertory theatre afforded Jimmy Perry when it came to casting his many TV shows later on.

Jimmy and his wife Gilda ran the Palace Theatre in Watford for several years in the mid-1950s as a weekly rep venue. Doing a play a week was an unbelievable undertaking, but it was the backbone of the British repertory system for many years and gave thousands of actors their start in showbusiness. Many said, if you can do weekly rep, you can do anything! Jimmy and Gilda both played roles in the plays they produced as well as directing and organising everything else.

The many actors they recruited were to come in very handy later when the TV shows came along. Among the many useful types they used were Michael Knowles, whom Jimmy adored and loved to cast as what he described as ‘a silly ass’, perhaps best pronounced ‘ahss’. It was a character that Michael was able to utilise in many roles, most notably as Captain Ashwood in It Ain’t Half Hot Mum and later as the Honourable Teddy Meldrum in You Rang, M’Lord? I wish I could have seen him play Bertie Wooster – he would have been perfect!

Another couple, literally, were John Clegg and Mavis Pugh. They both worked at Watford many times and were married. I had the pleasure of working with John quite a few times at The Belgrade in Coventry during my rep days. He came along and did quite a lot of productions there with me. I remember that, as he was quite bald, with a fringe of hair all the way round the sides and back, he had a very effective toupee that he used when the occasion arose, which had a very clever little clip on either side that he attached to his own hair very discreetly, so you would never know. I asked him about this many years later when he guested in an episode of You Rang, M’Lord? and he said he had to abandon it as what was left of his own hair had receded too far. Shame!

Whenever John appeared with me at Coventry he was visited on every occasion by Mavis, whom I was always delighted to see. I found her utterly charming with the most amazing face – she looked as if she had stepped straight out of the 1920s! I never worked with her in Coventry, but that was made up for when she joined the cast of Hi-de-Hi! as David Griffin’s aunt and later when she played the unforgettable Lady Lavender in You Rang, M’Lord?, where that perfect face came into its own. John Clegg, of course, was cast as ‘Mr La-de-Da’ Gunner Graham, the piano player – or in John’s case, as in mine, mimer! – in It Ain’t Half Hot Mum. He never did learn to play piano but managed to get away with it all those years. I also did a tour with him in 1986 of a play called Look No Hans! by Michael Pertwee, brother of Jon.

Another of Jimmy’s regulars at Watford was the lovely Frank Williams. He did many things for them at Watford and was also an accomplished playwright. When Jimmy and David were casting Dad’s Army there were no immediate plans for a vicar, but Jimmy said he always knew that if there was ever a vicar in Walmington-on-Sea, he would definitely be played by Frank Williams! It came to pass, of course, and not only did Frank also play a vicar for us in Hi-de-Hi! when officiating at Gladys and Clive’s wedding in the penultimate episode, but he was promoted to bishop later in You Rang, M’Lord?. He was also given the ultimate accolade of recreating the Rev. Timothy Farthing in the 2016 movie remake of Dad’s Army.

Another find for Jimmy was the young Ruth Llewellyn Baker, who later was to marry Philip Madoc (‘Don’t tell him, Pike!’) and, after divorcing him, kept the name Ruth Madoc. She had quite a busy career in the musical theatre, being the possessor of a wonderful soprano voice, and worked for several years with George Mitchell’s Minstrel Show before Jimmy recruited her once more to play the unforgettable Gladys Pugh in Hi-de-Hi!

What else can I say about Hi-de-Hi! What a success it turned out to be! With those two writers and that cast, how could it fail? I’m often asked if we had any idea when we were starting out on it if we thought it would be as big a hit as it became. The simple answer is, we hoped so. It isn’t really a fair question to compare it with It Ain’t Half Hot Mum and the incomparable Dad’s Army. But we all realised that it had the same great pedigree and captivating characters, all failures in their chosen professions, forced to work together as entertainment staff and in the very colourful setting of the holiday camp environment, which gave us a good head start. We all had our fingers crossed and, as it turned out, would not be disappointed.

What a mix of characters! Gladys Pugh, the all-round sports organiser, was brilliantly played by the incomparable, aforementioned Ruth Madoc. Ted Bovis, the camp host and all-round ‘good egg’, was forever on every fiddle going behind the campers’ backs, and with Spike Dixon in tow as his protégé comedian without a hope in Hades of becoming a successful comic but, like Jimmy Perry himself, with all the enthusiasm in the world. Then there was Fred Quilley, the bent jockey, who had lost his licence by pulling a race, in charge of the horses and donkeys and forever looking over his shoulder in case someone was coming after him. Fred was played by the wonderful Felix Bowness who, in addition to his role as the ex-jockey, did all the audience warm-ups for the studio recordings. He had been doing warm-ups for many years and had kept all the scripts for all the shows he had warmed up. He told us he had almost 4,000 of them piled up against the wall of his garage! A fabulous coup happened when, doing the warm-up for an episode of This Is Your Life, Eamonn Andrews came on early and asked Felix to remove the cover from the name hidden on the sleeve of the ‘red book’, which he did, only to discover that the name was his! It was ‘Felix Bowness, This Is Your Life’. What an evening that was with all of us cast members in attendance!

Felix had an inexhaustible supply of energy and sat on top of the safety rail in front of the studio audience throughout the recording of Hi-de-Hi!, geeing the audience into a frenzy of hilarity for which we were all eternally grateful.

Mr Partridge, the Punch and Judy man who hated children, was another genuine character whom Jimmy and David had come across during their days at Butlin’s. This was an inspired piece of casting that went to veteran British film actor Leslie Dwyer. This was a man I had admired at the cinema for most of my life. Leslie appeared in innumerable films over the years, including the unforgettable In Which We Serve, starring Noël Coward and based on a true story in the wartime career of Lord Louis Mountbatten.

I got to know Leslie very well in the comparatively short time he was with us in the series. He came to stay with us as a house guest a few times when in London for the show and became rather partial to my mother-in-law’s homemade elderberry wine. He lived with his wife Gwen in North Wales at the time and was glad of the break from his digs. I remember taking him for a pint at a local pub once in the nearby Hertfordshire village of Chipperfield, and he remarked that he remembered shooting a movie there on the village cricket ground and drinking in that very pub back in 1935. He said to the manager, ‘Chap who ran it then was a big man with a huge moustache. Is he still here?’ This was 1981! Needless to say, he had a long memory. He stayed with us until the start of series 6 in 1984, as ill health prevented him from continuing after he had a pacemaker fitted. He retired gracefully and died a couple of years later.

Then there were Barry and Yvonne Stuart-Hargreaves, the ballroom-dancing couple who hadn’t won a cup since 1943. The character of Yvonne was expertly drawn by Diane (pronounced ‘dee-ann’) Holland – no relation! – who was actually the sister of Jimmy’s wife Gilda, so Jimmy already knew how perfect she would be. She had been a member of an adagio act in variety many years before and, because she was so slight of build, was ideal to be thrown around the stage by the two burly dancers in their act. It took its toll, however, and Dee suffered with arthritis for the whole time she was with us, but she managed to cover it up while working and you would never have known. She had a slight limp off stage but that was the only giveaway. A true ‘pro’!

Barry Howard was cast because David remembered him when he was partnered with John Inman in pantomime in the 1970s, when they were known as the best ‘Ugly Sisters’ in the business. Barry and Diane danced together impeccably and he was perfect for playing his own namesake in the show. He was also famous for some of the best acid-lipped snide comments and tongue-in-cheek remarks ever! I enjoyed Barry’s company enormously over the years and we also did several pantos together. He was a very funny man! We worked together until he left Hi-de-Hi! under something of a cloud. He suffered from alcohol addiction and was very open and honest about it later in many interviews, so I’m not telling tales out of school here. He was warned on several occasions but was beyond redemption at that time. He went into recovery and by the time he died he had been dry for well over thirty years – nearer forty, I would say.

All these wonderful personae, all based on real people who Jimmy and David had come across in the 1950s. All real! And then, to cap it all, the new recruit: the new Entertainments Manager Jeffrey Fairbrother, a Cambridge University professor of archaeology who was in a rut and wanted a change of scenery. Well, he certainly got that! How blessed we were to get Simon Cadell to play the part. He was magnificent! His ability to underplay and his subtle, even minuscule, facial expressions were worth their weight in gold. The magical mix of flirty Gladys and shy Jeffrey as she continuously ‘came on’ to him was utterly priceless. Those scenes will go down in TV history as prime examples of how to play comedy.

I was not neglected myself, though, in comic opportunity as the writers decided that Spike should be forever trying to ‘be funny’ with a succession of ‘funny costumes’. The stuff I was seconded to wear was, by turns, very funny and not so funny! One of my personal favourites was the ‘Funny Bertie Bassett’ costume, based on the famous Liquorice Allsorts logo. It was brilliantly made, true to the design, and when I ducked down and entered the chalet wearing it, it stopped the show. I must have been about 8 feet tall! I managed to get a round of applause for the lady who made it, who was in the audience that night, which I was very pleased about. Full credit to her. I forget her name, but if you’re reading this, then well done you!

One of the quirkiest and unquestionably unfunniest costumes – although by that very token a huge hit – was Spike’s ‘Funny Fireplace’. As I walked into the chalet to meet Ted, I was encased in this rectangular creation with a hearth, a painted-on fire, a cat curled up on the hearth and my face encased in a clock on the mantelpiece. I had a black ping-pong ball on my nose with two clock fingers sprouting from it and a set of clock numerals painted around my face! I stood quite still when I entered the set to let the audience take it in, and as Ted did the same, he was moved to ask, ‘What’s that Spike?’ to which I replied, ‘It’s me Funny Fireplace!’ There was a big laugh from the audience, and as the camera cut to Ted, he said, ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Spike, but what’s funny about a fireplace? Tell me. I might learn something!’ There ensued a grumbly conversation about Ted never appreciating Spike’s efforts – it was a very funny scene which the audience loved. The thing about it was, though, that the following week, when we were in rehearsals for the next episode, David came over to Paul and me to explain that last week’s show had overrun and, as the fireplace scene was free-standing and self-contained, he had decided to cut it for now, but he told us that he would keep the prop and the scene would be reshot and included in next year’s series. That fireplace stood against the wall in David Croft’s office on the fourth floor in Television Centre for a whole year and everyone said ‘hello’ to the cat as they came in! It was used again and was as big a hit, if not bigger, the following year. Waste not, want not!

Hi-de-Hi! was an enormous success and, it’s fair to say, still is, with many, many supporters still avidly glued to the DVDs and its repeats. The antics of the Yellowcoats and other characters continued to astonish and entertain. Not least of these was the immediate development of Su Pollard’s character of Peggy, the chalet maid. Right from the off it became apparent that Peggy was going to be a firm favourite with the viewing audience even after only having one notably small scene in the pilot with Simon Cadell. Peggy was always there at the back of the staff room at meetings, although she wasn’t a member of the entertainment staff, and was always making it clear that ‘One day I’m going to be a Yellowcoat!’, for which she was incessantly berated by Gladys and told to get on with her work. She was the underdog and the British public love an underdog. She couldn’t fail and went on to become one of the biggest stars of the series. We all knew really that, if Peggy were ever to get her yellow coat, it would have to be in the very last episode – and we weren’t wrong!

One of the questions I get asked most frequently is ‘What is Su Pollard really like?’ Well, I can tell you. What you see is what you get! Su is one of the most honest and open personalities you will ever meet. She is wonderful with people and seems to make a friend for life every time she meets someone new! I have to tell you, though, I felt very differently towards her when I first encountered her. I was rather shy and retiring in the early days (I’m better now!) and when I arrived at the North Acton rehearsal rooms for that first day on Hi-de-Hi! I was petrified. When Su bounded over, I thought, ‘Who is this lunatic and what is she doing in a Perry and Croft sitcom?’ Knowing her now as well as I do, I know that Su was just being Su, but she had turned up wearing a floor-length gentleman’s double-breasted brown tweed overcoat and a bowler hat that was clearly three sizes too large for her head!

We were all quite nervous that first day, but Su wasn’t just speaking – she was shouting about 10 decibels louder than everyone else! Jimmy and David, I recall, were laughing away at all this, having already met Su at her audition at Jimmy’s flat in London. On that occasion Su had arrived and knocked at Jimmy’s door wearing a not dissimilar outfit to the one she was wearing when I first met her. Jimmy’s reply to this vision on his doorstep was, ‘No, we don’t want any pegs today, thank you!’

I know both David and Jimmy were totally taken by Su and thought, quite rightly, that she was perfect for Peggy, the chalet maid. As I say, there wasn’t much for her to do in the pilot episode, though, just that one lovely scene with Simon Cadell in which her reply to his requests for absolutely everything he needed was: ‘You’ll get it on Thursday!’ Her potential became immediately obvious and the studio audience adored her. Soon Su’s maid became a heavily featured character, always the underdog but ironically an absolute winner.

I soon got to know Su very well, and we developed a lovely close friendship over the years. I’m delighted to say that that friendship has become even stronger as the years have gone on. I adore Su and she really does have a unique way with people, no matter what their status. I will never forget in the mid-1990s, when we were doing Oh, Doctor Beeching!, we were all invited to a Buckingham Palace garden party on behalf of the ‘Not Forgotten Society’, a charity for ex-servicemen and women. Su was dressed quite conservatively for her, as Mary Husband, our costume designer, had supervised her apparel for the occasion. Even so, Su was wearing a somewhat eccentric hat that she had worn in the series. His Royal Highness Prince Andrew, the Duke of York, was officiating on behalf of the military. The Duke stumbled upon Su in one of the refreshment tents and, typically, she was not at all fazed by his presence. He had no idea who she was but made the mistake of asking her what she did, to which Su, in her own unique way said, ‘Oh, I’m a hooker!’ I’ll never forget the look on his face as he turned to share a raised eyebrow with one of his equerries and swiftly moved away. Considering recent revelations, it may have been more panic than shock!

Talking regally, I was sitting at home with my wife Judy, watching the wonderful parade of ‘National Treasures’ to celebrate Her Late Majesty the Queen’s seventy-year reign, the Platinum Jubilee. What an incredible weekend! As the commentator started reeling off the list of impressive names in the 1980s bus, including Gary Lineker and Timmy Mallett (oh yes, really!), I turned to Judy and said, ‘Where’s Su?’ Honestly! Although she played a character from the late 1950s and early 1960s, Su as Peggy Ollerenshaw in Hi-de-Hi! was a comedy icon of the 1980s if anybody was. As for ‘National Treasure’, boy, oh boy, Su has done the lot!

I was particularly glad to share what became my final pantomime appearance with Su at the Grand Theatre, Wolverhampton, in 2019/20. We meet fairly frequently, mostly at charity functions these days, and speak regularly on the phone. Love her!

It wouldn’t be fair at this point to talk about the show and not mention the assistance and support we got from the Yellowcoats, both boys and girls! The Yellowcoat girls were always a fairly flexible commodity on the show, if I can put it that way! The mainstays of the group were Nikki Kelly as Sylvia and Ricky Howard as Betty. In the first series we had Penny Irving, but she left us to go elsewhere, having already become established as Young Mr Grace’s ‘secretary’ in Are You Being Served? There really wasn’t much for them to do in the show as most of the air time was given over to the principal characters and their tasks were often confined to crowd scenes around the pool and in the ballroom looking after and/or dancing with the campers.

Nikki Kelly’s Sylvia was a great foil for Ruth Madoc’s Gladys, whom she regarded as a serious threat to her relationship with either Jeffrey Fairbrother or, later on, Clive Dempster. Ricky was a great friend of Nikki and it suited them both to stay on the show while others came and went. Gail Harrison joined us for the second series as Val, but she moved on to better things when she got cast in a wonderful series called Brass starring Timothy West. She was replaced by Susan Beagley, who stayed for two series, and then in 1984 three new girls were brought in: Linda Regan, who was to link up with me as Spike’s girlfriend April; Julie Christian-Young as Babs, who, like some of the others, only stayed for one series; and Laura Jackson as Dawn, who stayed until the finish and ended up marrying our sound engineer Mike Spencer. Su had a lovely moment with me in a scene in which the new girls were introduced to the staff, and she said rather sadly, ‘They’re ever so pretty, Spike! What chance have I got of becoming a Yellowcoat now?’ It bears repeating that all of us assumed that, if Peggy were ever to get her yellow coat, it would have to be in the very last episode – and we were right!

The Yellowcoat boys were a solid presence too, having been recruited initially for the sole purpose of throwing me into the pool! David and Tony Webb were identical twins and they added a unique quality to the show alongside, originally, Terence Creasey, an Australian lad who again only stayed for the first series and then went back to Australia, where he is now a very successful businessman. He was replaced by Chris Andrews, who stayed with us to the end. Chris was a pro boxer and was still fighting when he joined us. Paul Shane used to go and see his bouts and loved them. Again, Chris was quite powerfully built and came in very handy around the pool! He has since gone on to be a bodyguard in the pop music world, where he has spent many years looking after Chris de Burgh. The Webb Twins, as they were billed, were a cabaret singing act for many years and have always been very close friends of mine. Whenever possible we meet up at Harwich and appear at Hi-de-Hi! events at the Harwich Museum, where they have a huge room with memorabilia from the series. It’s well worth a visit!

The series survived the departure of Simon Cadell, who went on to pastures new. In 1984 David Griffin joined us as the new Entertainments Manager, Clive Dempster, DFC. His character, being an outrageous flirt, turned the Gladys relationship on its head, which Ruth handled brilliantly. She ended up fending off his advances instead of the other way around! We went on for four more years, at the end of which Peggy was finally made a Yellowcoat. It was very short-lived, though, as she ended up in hospital with nervous exhaustion due to overenthusiasm – and then the camp got closed and that was the end of that!

The Hurricane of 1987

All good things must come to an end, and in 1987 the end was indeed coming for Hi-de-Hi! David Croft was held in such high esteem at the BBC that the old corporation had always given him and Jimmy Perry the opportunity to call the shots as to when a particular series had reached its sell-by date. As a result, David and Jimmy were afforded the pleasure of writing some particularly moving final episodes. Who can forget Captain Mainwaring and his comrades raising a glass to the heroes of the Home Guard at the very end of Dad’s Army? Or, in It Ain’t Half Hot Mum, gauche Gunner Parkin inviting that loud-mouthed and ultimately lonely Sergeant Major Williams back home to live with him and his mum?

So it was with Hi-de-Hi!

The show did not go quietly into that good night, however, for during the location filming for that last series, on the night of 14 October 1987, I was fast asleep in my bedroom at the Cliff Hotel, Dovercourt. All of a sudden, at around three o’clock in the morning, I was startled awake by the most almighty crashing of the wind on my window. ‘What the …?’ I asked the heavens, with a few more expletives thrown in! The clamour was so severe that I pulled on my clothes and went downstairs to the public area to find several of my colleagues foregathered there in a terrified state. Apparently the bedroom window of the room allocated to Ruth Madoc had been blown in completely! The nightwatchman on duty had heard the commotion and, no doubt, poor Ruth’s cries of concern, and immediately summoned John Wade, the assistant manager, from his peaceful slumber. Luckily, John, who lived locally, arrived swiftly and attempted to take charge and calm everyone down – not an easy job. Still, we all soon realised that there wasn’t anything anyone could do but take cover and hope for the best!

One by one, more of our team appeared, bleary-eyed, in the hotel lounge, all in scared mode. It was an unprecedented situation for all of us. I seem to remember that tea and coffee were made and sent round – and very welcome they were too – but none of us had had much sleep. What’s more, we were all on situation-comedy duty, due up at the holiday camp location for our 8 a.m. call … with a full day’s filming ahead of us. Speaking for myself, I wasn’t feeling very funny at that particular moment. Worse was to come, for little did we know what we would find when we got there: the vicious winds continued to devastate everything in their paths and it soon became clear that not much Hi-de-Hi! filming was going to get done that morning!

I recall that, at seven o’clock in the morning, I offered to help John Wade start breakfast off in the kitchen. So I started laying out strips of bacon on the grill. John came and took over eventually, but at the time I just felt like I had to do something, not only to help out my anxious comedy colleagues but also to occupy my mind. On a mission to put all our minds at peace, our brave and intrepid production manager Roy Gould set off to recce the situation up at the holiday camp. Decisions were soon reached about what was, or what was not, going to be possible for the day ahead. As all this was going on, at exactly 8.30 a.m., as was the norm, dear Paul Shane appeared at the foot of the stairs. Typically, he had slept through the entire thing! Several pints the night before had helped, of course. A little bewildered, but fully rested, from out of Paul’s disgruntled mouth came the unforgettable question, ‘What’s goin’ off?’ He had been blissfully unaware of anything unusual, safely in the arms of Morpheus all night!