Umpa! Umpa! That's enough of that...

We bade a fond farewell to Nicholas Parsons in January this year, and the late, dearly missed "Humph" (Humphrey Lyttelton) only yesterday came up in conversation as a result of my post about Clare Teal, and now another stalwart of radio, television and the stage, another "national treasure" has departed for Fabulon - the marvellous Roy Hudd.

As his obituary in The Guardian succinctly put it:

What was he – a comedian, an author, a radio satirist, a serious actor, a soap star, an archivist, or a leading authority on British music-hall and variety entertainment?

Hudd was all of these, but saw himself primarily as a man born too late to fulfil his dream of life as an old-style variety comic, which is how he started out in the late 1950s at the bottom of bills topped by artists such as the comic Max Miller and the male impersonator Hetty King.

In 1958 Hudd’s agent, Morris Aza, suggested he audition for Launcelot Gobbo in The Merchant of Venice. As Hudd later explained: “Morris said, ‘In about three or four years variety will be finished. You’ve got to learn scripts and do other things.’ It was great advice. I’ve kept on the move ever since.”

And in the past two decades this diversity consolidated into a well-earned niche for him in the pantheon of British national treasures. With his round, laughter-lined clown’s face and warm, gap-toothed grin (but with a hint of sadness and loneliness around the eyes), he could always be relied upon to raise a smile, inspire a sing-song or amaze audiences with his knowledge of the good old days.

He wrote or co-authored around 20 books; some, such as Roy Hudd’s Cavalcade of Variety Acts (1997), remain invaluable records of long-gone performers and their accompanying billing. Without Hudd (whose own variety billing was the Peculiar Person), how would we be aware that outlandish turns such as the Mysterious Werth (Banana Skin and Stone Manipulator), Tom Mennard (Juggles with Live Geese), Juna (the Human Gasometer) and the Three Aberdonians (Too Mean to Tell You What They Do) had captivated audiences back in the day?

In his long career, he was part of the line-up of David Frost's follow-up to That Was The Week That Was (the short-lived Not So Much A Programme, More A Way Of Life), presented the satirical radio show The News Huddlines for more than a quarter of a century, had his own variety show on the BBC, played up to comic "type" in numerous comedies from Up Pompeii to Benidorm, played the local undertaker in Coronation Street for eight years, and surprised audiences with lauded dramatic roles in such series as Dennis Potter's Lipstick On Your Collar and Broadchurch. Phew!

We have, inevitably, seen the man on stage many times - his one-man "potted history of Music Hall" [where we were seated with Dame June Whitfield, Prunella Scales and Timothy West!], as the photographer in JB Priestley's When We Are Married, in the all-star version of Sondheim's Follies at the Royal Albert Hall, and in panto at Wilton's Music Hall not once but twice...

We will sorely miss that twinkly smile.

He genuinely could turn his hand to anything, as this clip of him with another sadly-missed "all-rounder" Cilla Black proves:

Cilla Black and Roy Hudd - The Old Bazaar in Cairo

Sand bags, wind bags, camels with a hump,
Fat girls, thin girls, some a little plump,
Slave girls sold here, fifty bob a lump,
In the old bazaar in Cairo.

Brandy, shandy, beer without a froth,
Braces, laces, a candle for the moth.
Bet you'd look a smasher in an old loin cloth,
In the old bazaar in Cairo.

You can buy most anything,
Thin bulls, fat cows, a little bit of string,
You can purchase anything you wish,
A clock, a dish and something for your Auntie Nellie,
Harem, scarem, what d'ya think of that,
Bare knees, striptease, dancing on the mat,
Umpa! Umpa! That's enough of that,

In the old bazaar in Cairo.
Rice pud, very good, what's it all about,
Made it in a kettle and they couldn't get it out,
Everybody took a turn to suck it through the spout,
In the old bazaar in Cairo.

Mamadan, Ramadan, everything in style,
Genuine, beduine carpet with a pile,
Funny little odds and ends floating down the Nile,
From the old bazaar in Cairo.
You can buy most anything,

Sheeps eyes, sand pies, a watch without a spring,
You can buy a pomegranate too,
A water-bag, a little bit of hokey pokey,
Yashmaks, pontefracts, what a strange affair,
Dark girls, fair girls, some with ginger hair,
The rest of it is funny but they censor it out there,
In the old bazaar in Cairo.

RIP Roy Hudd, OBE (16th May 1936 – 15th March 2020)

Festive Goose

"There are many more lavish and spectacular pantomimes around but few, I suspect, with such unaffected warmth and heart." - The Guardian

And so it was that a hefty gathering of our regular "gang" (Hils, Crog, Madam Arcati, John-John, Julie, Jim and I) and chums (Steve, Sian, John B, Julia) ventured to the East End for a seasonal tradition - the panto at the historic Wilton's Music Hall (oh yes we did...).



"National treasure" Roy Hudd is a master of the Music Hall genre (he is president of the British Music Hall Society, and has bequested his extensive archive on the subject to the Suffolk New College), and celebrated 56 years in showbiz in 2016 (as an actor, scriptwriter, variety performer and comedian on stage, telly and radio). Thus it is all the more surprising that, in his 80th birthday year, this is only his second foray in the part of "The Dame" (see here for our visit to his first) - a role he is perfect for.

This year's Wilton's "extravaganza" - which Mr Hudd also wrote - is an adaptation of one of the earliest of its type. The original Mother Goose, which more-or-less launched the comedic pantomime art-form so beloved of us Brits, was a production created for the "King of the Music Halls" Dan Leno in 1902, and this updated version is Mr Hudd's tribute to his hero (he takes a photo of Mr Leno with him to place on his dressing-room table wherever he performs).

And what a joyful "tribute" it is too!

As with all pantomimes, there is a subtle balance between the very silly jokes, the - inevitably these days - clumsily-inserted pop songs and the simplistic fairy-tale storyline (all appealing to the children; one little boy along the row from us sat bewitched through the whole two hours without being bored) and the innuendo, smut, satirical references and knowing asides that keep the grown-ups entertained. In the hands of this fab cast (especially Mr Hudd, Gareth Davies (as the villainous "Vanity") and (as "Silly Willy") Ian Jones), despite the inevitable ad-libs and script "fluffs", the balance is maintained throughout. We laughed till tears ran down our faces at some of the preposterous antics - as Mother Goose, suddenly coming into money through the gift of golden eggs laid by the feathered monstrosity "Priscilla the Goose", transforms herself from tatty old lady into, well, an ageing glamour-puss (quote: “I do like your dress.” reply: “I bought it for a ridiculous figure.”), and mayhem ensues.

The singing (especially Ian Parkin (the wicked Squire) and his "daughter" played by Amelia-Rose Morgan), the dancing (the boys Steven Hardcastle - also the show's choreographer - and Terique Jarrett were divertingly sexy), the boos, the hisses, the Cockney Fairy (veteran actress Julia Sutton), the costumes, the inevitable happy ending - even the children - were all thoroughly enjoyable, but among our highlights were the "set-piece" routines: the totally manic Twelve Days of Christmas, with cast members running up and down the stage to pick up the ever-increasing list of presents arriving from the wings; and, especially, the inspired "mirror routine" in which Mr Hudd and Mr Jones flawlessly "reflected" each other's every move through an invisible looking-glass.

With the assistance of Hils and Crog's "killer mulled wine", a jolly crowd, and in the magnificent surroundings of the world's oldest surviving music hall, we had a fabulous evening...

Mother Goose is at Wilton's until 31st December.

Dick? That's an interesting name...

...and plenty of it there was at Wilton's, as Hils, History Boy, John-John, Julie, Jim, Madam Arcati and I journeyed to one of our favourite venues in the whole world, Wilton's Music Hall, to see their first ever pantomime Dick Whittington on Friday evening.

The "Dick" in question was not merely the eponymous hero of the story (the square-jawed Josh Tevendale), but also the two extremely cute and athletic ballet-dancing chorus boys/"Citizens" Connor Byrne and Rhys Whiteside. They gave us queens something to preoccupy ourselves with, as the ever-so-traditional panto romp unfolded.

Written by that ebullient "national treasure" Roy Hudd, this is also the great Music Hall afficionado's first time playing the Dame. Of course, gap-toothed, saggy boobed and with ad-libs a-plenty, he made a marvellous job of it! The jokes were as groansome, and some of the musical numbers as (intentionally) corny as one might expect. Due to the constraints of the hall's environs, set-changes were artfully done during the dance numbers, and the small two-tier stage meant loads of excuses for some dramatic leaps between levels - not least by Steven Hardcastle as "Tommy the Cat", who threw himself about with such abandon, there was concern he might have ended up over this side of the stage at one point...



This was a pantomime in its most time-honoured fashion; less about the double-entendres (although, of course they were there in abundance), the "knowingness" or the Z-list "celebrity" guest stars of more modern interpretations of the genre, and more about the old-fashioned type of humour that so much entertainment has left behind these days. There was slapstick galore, not least the interaction between Mr Hudd's "Sarah the Cook" and her "son", the comic foil "Idle Jack" (Simon Burbage). One of the very best numbers was They Call It Automation - a perfectly-choreographed "patter song" whereby each character in turn performed a repetitive set of actions (including boxing jabs, high kicks and robotic side-swipes), which as they lined up next to each other, was synched so that no-one slapped or punched the next. It was hilarious to watch (and we couldn't help but wonder how many mishaps occurred during rehearsals!).



The aforementioned Messrs Hudd and Burbage (and the assembled totty) aside, the rest of the cast, especially Ian Parkin (of "Four Poofs and a Piano" fame) as both London merchant "Willy Widl" and the "Maharajah" and Amelia-Rose Morgan as his daughter and Dick's love interest "Alice" (despite a few too many "wibbles" in her singing), the "Citizens" and the little kids playing the "Rats" were all fab.

Speaking of rats, however... The performance to beat all performances was the villainous "Ratface" (part Ozzy Osbourne, part Russell Brand; opening number? Rat Out Of Hell, of course) played with camp gusto by Gareth Davies. He played up to the audience's expectations - all the boos and hisses, "Oh no you won't/Oh yes we will"s and "It's behind you"s were present and correct; we were hoarse by the end - and his plotting and interactions with the "Good Fairy" Nicole Davis (often from opposing balconies above the crowd) held the whole story together.

We had a whale of a time. As "proper" pantomimes go, this was one of the best!

Dick Whittington and his Cat is on at Wilton's Music Hall until 31st December 2015.

Sweetheart, lover, could I recover?

Madam Arcati, Alistair and I were mega-excited on Tuesday, as we headed to the ultimate in prestigious venues The Royal Albert Hall for a one-night-only production (by TV star Craig Revell-Horwood) of Stephen Sondheim's classic Follies! Being three "arch-Sondheimites", and given the all-star cast and the fact the show has not been seen (in is entirety) in London since 1987, this was certain to be a treat.

It definitely was all that, and more!

Follies is one of Sondheim's proudest achievements, crammed full of his most timeless and clever songs; its premise is the reunion of a (now-faded) troupe of former showgirls at the variety theatre that saw some of their greatest triumphs, just prior to its demolition. The story focuses in on the underlying regrets of two of the original stars, "Phyllis" and "Sally" about their life choices (mainly, their respective unhappy marriages to "Ben" and "Buddy", the "boys at the stage door" who courted them when they were famous), and is traditionally - and camply - staged as a "star vehicle" for a parade of the kind of ageing showbiz troupers so beloved of "gentlemen who are light in their loafers". And it is true - of the 5,000 capacity packed house, a sizeable majority were most definitely homosexualists...



The cast in this glittering "In Concert" production was a remarkable collection of faces beloved of us at Dolores Delargo Towers - Stefanie Powers, Anita Dobson, Betty Buckley, Lorna Luft, Anita Harris, Roy Hudd - and, best of all, Ruthie Henshall as "Sally" and Christine Baranski as "Phyllis"! What more could we ask for?

It was brilliantly staged, considering the vastness of the Hall and the looming presence of the City of London Philharmonic orchestra and chorus, with the use of (moveable) huge dressing-room mirror frames to shape and highlight the intimacy of different scenes. Particularly effective was the way the mirrors were used (especially in the operatic duet One More Kiss (performed beautifully by Charlotte Page) and the rumbustious Who's That Woman?) to "reflect" the showgirls singing and dancing in time with the "ghosts" of their younger selves.

Speaking of Who's That Woman? - this was Miss Dobson's finest hour (she allegedly learned to tap dance specifically in order to lead this "old chorine/young chorine" ensemble routine); I for one have never known such a tumultuous standing ovation for one number in the middle of a show before. We saw her hubbie Brian May before the show - he must have been so proud.





And what of the "big name troupers"? Of the "turns", only the duet between Miss Harris and Mr Hudd Rain on the Roof, sweet and cuddly as it was, failed to "gel"; they are not natural duettists, it seems, and were somewhat wobbly. Miss Luft was as brassy and belting and brilliant as we could have hoped on Broadway Baby, the predestination of her genes saw to that. Miss Powers was a revelation - we never realised what a fabulous singer she is, and her Ah, Paris was a delight.



Miss Buckley was simply great on I'm Still Here - she's no Stritchy, nor Eartha, but she twinkled and purred and evoked exactly the right world-weary tone for the lyrics, before ramping it up a gear or several for the climactic final verses... Wonderful!

Betty Buckley - I'm Still Here

Good times and bum times, I've seen them all
And, my dear, I'm still here
Plush velvet sometimes
Sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I'm here

I've stuffed the dailies in my shoes
Strummed ukuleles, sung the blues
Seen all my dreams disappear but I'm here.
I've slept in shanties, guest of the W.P.A., but I'm here
Danced in my scanties
Three bucks a night was the pay, but I'm here

I've stood on bread lines with the best
Watched while the headlines did the rest
In the depression was I depressed?
Nowhere near, I met a big financier and I'm here

I've been through Gandhi, Windsor and Wally's affair, and I'm here
Amos 'n' Andy, Mah-jongg and platinum hair, and I'm here
I got through Abie's, Irish Rose, Five Dionne babies, Major Bowes
Had heebie-jeebies for Beebe's, Bathysphere
I got through Brenda Frazier, and I'm here

I've gotten through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover
Gee, that was fun and a half
When you've been through Herbert and J. Edgar Hoover
Anything else is a laugh

I've been through Reno, I've been through Beverly Hills, and I'm here.
Reefers and vino, rest cures, religion and pills, and I'm here
Been called a 'Pinko', commie tool, got through it stinko by my pool
I should've gone to an acting school, that seems clear
Still someone said, "She's sincere", so I'm here

Black sable one day, next day it goes into hock, but I'm here
Top billing Monday, Tuesday, you're touring in stock, but I'm here
First you're another sloe-eyed vamp
Then someone's mother, then you're camp
Then you career from career to career
I'm almost through my memoirs, and I'm here

I've gotten through, "Hey, lady, aren't you whoozis?
Wow, what a looker you were"
Or better yet, "Sorry, I thought you were whoozis
Whatever happened to her?"

Good times and bum times, I've seen 'em all
And, my dear, I'm still here
Plush velvet sometimes
Sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I'm here

I've run the gamut, A to Z
Three cheers and dammit, C'est la vie
I got through all of last year, and I'm here
Lord knows, at least I was there, and I'm here
Look who's here, I'm still here!

However, none of the aforementioned ladies (and gentleman) were the actual stars of the show. That honour went to Miss Henshall and Miss Baranski (ably matched by Alexander Hanson as "Ben" and Peter Polycarpou as "Buddy").



Miss Henshall was in fine voice (and was very convincing) as the "woman-on-the-edge" Sally, rejected in love as a girl by Ben and desperately making herself and the errant philanderer Buddy unhappy in their subsequent marriage as a consequence. Her poignant In Buddy's Eyes (which sounds like a love song, but in context is anything but), and fraught Losing My Mind were definite highlights, as was her and Mr Hanson's duet about their long-ago romance Too Many Mornings.

But nothing compares to the magnificent Miss Christine Baranski in full-on bitch-mode... Icily dismissive of Ben, their high society lifestyle and everything in-between, silently mourning what could have become of her life had she stayed in showbiz yet all the time realising she's left it too late, she performed an absolute corker on The Story of Lucy and Jessie - and her acidly bitchy Could I Leave You? was utterly wonderful!

Leave you? Leave you?
How could I leave you? How could I go it alone?
Could I wave the years away? With a quick goodbye?
How do you wipe tears away when your eyes are dry?

Sweetheart, lover, could I recover?
Give up the joys I have known?
Not to fetch your pills again every day at five
Not to give those dinners for ten elderly men from the UN

How could I survive? Could I leave you
And your shelves of the world's best books
And the evenings of martyred looks, cryptic sighs
Sullen glares from those injured eyes?

Leave the quips with a sting, jokes with a sneer
Passionless lovemaking once a year?
Leave the lies ill-concealed and the wounds never healed
And the game's not worth winning and wait, I'm just beginning

What, leave you, leave you? How could I leave you?
What would I do on my own? Putting thoughts of you aside

In the south of France, would I think of suicide?
Darling, shall we dance? Could I live through the pain
On a terrace in Spain? Would it pass? It would pass
Could I bury my rage with a boy half your age
In the grass? Bet your ass!

But I've done that already or didn't you know, love?
Tell me, how could I leave when I left long ago, love?
Could I leave you? No, the point is, could you leave me?
Well, I guess you could leave me the house, leave me the flat

Leave me the Braques and Chagalls and all that
You could leave me the stocks for sentiment's sake
And ninety percent of the money you make
And the rugs and the cooks, darling, you keep the drugs

Angel, you keep the books, honey, I'll take the grand
Sugar you keep the spinet and all of our friends and
Just wait a goddamn minute!

Oh, leave you? Leave you? How could I leave you?
Sweetheart, I have to confess, could I leave you?Yes
Will I leave you? Will I leave you?

Guess!

It is no wonder that is one of my favourite songs - and watching/hearing such an icon as Miss Baranski give it her full Broadway treatment was an utter joy.

[It could never match David Kernan's "gay version" in the original London production of Side By Side by Sondheim; then again nothing can...]:

[...but I digress...]

Full accolades must go, of course, to the younger versions of the cast - especially the leads Sally (Amy Ellen Richardson), Buddy (Jos Slovick), Phyllis (Laura Pitt-Pulford) and Ben (gay pin-up-du-jour Alistair Brammer) - all of whom were vocally excellent, and showed tremendous skill when (frequently) called upon to be the synchronised "ghosts", dancing and gesticulating in time with the older stars. Full marks to choreographer Andrew Wright for the excellent routines!

Despite the imbalance between opening segment (two hours) and finale scenes (half-an-hour); despite the awkwardness of being seated in "the pit" at the Hall, where the audience's heads are all at one level; and despite the venue selling out of programmes before we had even arrived, this was a truly awesome (and once-in-a-lifetime - we'll never see this cast perform together again!) experience. I was blown away by it all (and I am still humming the choons).

Remarkable!

---

PS I think Meryl enjoyed it too. We didn't speak.

Sing a song of love

Their famous Eurovision song Sing Little Birdie (Sing, Sing) was a hit in 1959, four years before I was born. Their last appearance as performers on stage was twenty-seven years ago in a revival of Sondheim's Follies in 1987.



Today, to our joy, we discover that Pearl Carr and Teddy Johnson - Britain's favourite singing sweethearts in the mid-20th century - are still alive (and, happily, still living together in Brinsworth House, a care home for retired performers)!

To celebrate Teddy's 94th birthday today, let us pay due homage to the ultimate light entertainment survivors. First, up, their Music Hall Medley:

Pearl Carr & Teddy Johnson - Cockney Medley

Their famous Eurovision runner-up song:

Pearl Carr & Teddy Johnson - Sing Little Birdie

There's a bird on a branch
There's a branch on a tree
Where we carved our initials there
For all the world to see

'Neath that bird on a branch
'Neath that branch on a tree
Where we promised our true love
For all eternity

Sing, little birdie, sing your song
Sing, you'll help our love along
Sing, little birdie up above
Sing a song of love

And here's a fabulous discovery - a mini-documentary (created by students at MaD Theatre Company) about the history of the form of entertainment (sadly now disdained by "reality"-obsessed TV execs) known as "Variety".

Narrated by another "national treasure" Roy Hudd, Variety of Memories features (among others) a splendid interview with Pearl and Teddy, talking about their memories of that long-lost era:

[2024 UPDATE: Gone from the interwebs, unfortunately.]

Happy birthday, Teddy!

Teddy Johnson (born Edward Victor Johnson, 4th September 1920)

Yorkshire carrying-on

We went with my sister and History Boy to see JB Priestley's When We Are Married last night - a rare thing for us, to go and see a West End production that isn't a musical!

Hilb had given us this as a Xmas prezzie, knowing as we all did that with a cast that includes Roy Hudd, Maureen Lipman, Michelle Dotrice, Sam Kelly and Susie Blake in it just has to be good! Another fave Lynda Baron was unfortunately replaced by her understudy, but good it most certainly was...

The plot is a twist on the traditional "comedy of manners", in that the setting is pompous nouveaux riche society in Edwardian Yorkshire rather than genteel aristocratic drawing-rooms, and centres around a party being held to celebrate three couples who married on the same day twenty-five years previously. Of course, nothing is quite as simple as it seems, and when the young "lah-de-dah Southerner" church organist, about to be sacked by the dreadful old bigots of the Presbyterian chapel, drops a bombshell - the three working-class-made-good couples were never in fact legally married due to the lack of qualification of the minister!

Having well and truly pricked the bubble of their brusque pomposity, farce ensues... All the couples begin to feel the wind of freedom now they are no longer bound by law to each other. Hen-pecked Herbert Soppitt (Sam Kelly) reveals his long-standing passion for Annie Parker (Michelle Dotrice), and begins to stand up to his domineering "wife" Clara (Maureen Lipman) for the first time.

A newcomer Lottie Grady (a "tart with a heart", played brilliantly by Rosemary Ashe) calls in, on hearing the news (from the gossipy housekeeper) that all the individuals are now "free", in the hope of running away with Alderman Helliwell (David Horovitch). She reveals they had a "fling" in Blackpool, much to the horror (and slight relief) of his long-suffering "wife" Maria (Suzy Blake).

Best of all is the reaction of Annie to the news she is finally free of her overbearing skinflint husband Councillor Parker (Simon Rouse), as she tells him with scathing honesty just what she thinks about him!

But of course, this wouldn't be a proper farce without the comic turn - ably provided by the fantabulosa Roy Hudd as the drunken Henry Ormenroyd, photographer from the local paper, who has come to take photos of the "celebrating" couples and remains a witness to the whole unfolding melodrama. With a couple of rousing Music Hall sing-songs and a bravado bumbling performance, his character often provided the "gel" that kept the pace of the whole play together.

All in all, this is a lovely evening's entertainment, despite the ignoramus audience with their rattly sweet wrappers and loud whispering, and the sound of the Piccadilly Line and the police sirens penetrating the lovely Garrick Theatre (sited as it is right next to Trafalgar Square). We thoroughly enjoyed it!

Garrick Theatre

All together now! My Old Man Said Follow the Van...

"To Great Apollo, God of early morn,
Who wakes the song of birds from Eastern sky,
We consecrate this shrine of gentle music;
Music that alternates from smiles to tears;
Smiles emanating from the purest mirth,
And tears of sympathy that speak not sadness."
(Dedication written for the opening of Wilton's Music Hall in 1858)

We went along to the fantastic Wilton's Music Hall yesterday afternoon to listen to Roy Hudd - not just one of Britain's favourite comedians, but an expert in these matters - who gave a one-man show on the origins of Music Hall entertainment and its development into Cabaret and Vaudeville.



The man is a joy to watch and listen to. His knowledge and sheer enthusiasm for the songs and music of our ancestors, and his obvious love for the sadly neglected Wilton's, were an entertainment in itself. He sang some classics from the Music Hall repertoire, gave a potted history of the origins of this style of music - to sell beer! - and kept the audience enthralled with his insight into the performers of the nineteenth century and their show-stopping songs.

To add to the entertainment, when we took our seats we noticed that several in the row behind were marked "Reserved". Imagine our delight when the seats were taken by June Whitfield, Prunella Scales and Timothy West! Ah... What a perfect Sunday...

Anyway, here's a couple of clips of one of the Music Hall performers who survived until the cinema era, Lily Morris:

Lily Morris - He's Only a Working Man

Lily Morris - Waiting at the Church

Wilton's closed as a Music Hall in 1885, and was taken over by the East End Mission of the Methodist Church, and even though the hall was eventually used for a variety of activities ranging from film shows to badminton, it retained its original decor. Wilton's was used by the Mission until 1956, after which the building was sold and used as a rag warehouse.

In 1964 John Betjeman led a successful campaign to save Wilton's from demolition. The campaign was successful and Wilton's was saved. It is now a Grade II* listed building, but desperately needs donations to secure its future.

Wilton's Music Hall website