Biggins (20 page)

But back to
The Paul O'Grady Show
. Paul himself is, of course, a dear old pal. If anyone had told me, 20-plus years ago when Paul was facing the hecklers as Lily Savage in those dire south London pubs, that he would end up the best-loved and most popular presenter on teatime television, I would have had them committed. As if something like that could ever happen! But happen it has. And to the nicest man in the industry. Lovely proof that fairytales do come true, even for drag queens.

Talking of which, one more deserves a very honourable mention. Dave Lynne, another dear friend who lit up my life for a while. What a wonderful, generous man. If you saw him train up the ex-soldier in
Faking It
, you'll know what a gentleman he is – and what a great lady he makes when he's on stage. He is a brilliantly funny man. I've loved his appearances on shows like
The Weakest Link
. He should get so much more. What most people won't know about Dave is how charming his family is. He had wonderful parents, a great, characterful and endlessly amusing Jewish family. Good times all round. Good memories. And Dave is still a good friend today.

As I was writing those words in 2008, I realised that the approaching autumn was bringing my 60th birthday. My mother kept reminding me how much I cried when I
reached 21. I thought my life was over back then. I think this walk – well, meander – down memory lane proves that it wasn't. And this walk (or meander) is far from over, as the next pages will show.

I
was going to turn 60. I tried to hide from that horrible fact but there was no escape. Sixty! Where did all that time go? I still felt like a teenager, sometimes. Or at least I acted like one. But, reality was reality and it seemed that I couldn’t fight the calendar. My 60th birthday was indeed just around the corner and I had two big choices. Choice number one, I could keep my head in the sand and celebrate very quietly at home. Or, choice number two, I could throw a party.

Guess what? I decided to throw a party – and not just any party. It would be a big, fat one. I decided to throw the 60th birthday party to end all 60th birthday parties.

I chose one of the grandest and one of my favourite hotels in London as the venue. The five-star Landmark Hotel in the heart of beautiful Marylebone. I drew up a guest list. I decided to keep my birthday a modest and an
intimate affair. I would invite just 400 of my closest and dearest friends. No need to go overboard, after all.

The night was black tie, naturally. Posh frocks, for anyone who wanted to wear them, of course. And lavish from the start. We took over the hotel’s vast, palm-filled atrium for a champagne reception. Then we moved on to colonise the Landmark’s stunning ballroom for dinner. Sitting people down wasn’t easy. The table plan had been hell. Placements are a nightmare. We had forty tables of ten. But who would sit where? Who would sit with whom? What about all the last-minute calls – can I bring a guest? Can I ditch my guest and bring someone better? Can I sit next to my wife? Can I sit next to someone else’s wife? Can I sit a very long way from my husband? Yes, the pre-party questions went on and on.

But Neil and I did it in the end. We drew up that table plan. When the champagne reception was over we had our photographs taken with all our guests as everyone slowly trooped towards the dining room. We all sat down at our tables. And then the fun began.

The music came from off stage, outside the room. ‘Get the party started,’ the vocals rang out. It was one of Shirley Bassey’s signature songs. But was it Shirley singing? I knew that it wasn’t. I’d hired Lorraine Brown, the amazing look-alike and sound-alike who’s been playing Shirley for years. And she was pitch perfect at my party, the way she always is. She sounded so right that night. So right, in fact, that everyone thought it was the real deal. ‘It’s Shirley!’ came the cry! Everyone in the vast room applauded and roared their approval. And the cheers got louder when Lorraine finally strode into the
room, microphone in hand, glamorous as hell and all guns blazing. She looked as good as she sounded. She looked exactly like Shirley. People were going bananas and I was laughing my head off.

Because by this point nearly 400 people were entirely convinced that it was Shirley. Joan Collins, who knows Shirley really well, thought it was Shirley. For a moment even I thought it was Shirley – and I’d made the booking.

Those crazy first moments set the tone for the whole night. It was stunning. And stunning fun. What was the meal actually like? I’m sure it was wonderful but I have no idea. After the first few moments I don’t think I sat down once. I spent the whole night table hopping. I covered more ground than Paula Radcliffe. I should have worn running shoes. So who was there? Who wasn’t? Apologies to anyone I forget. But alongside dear Joan we had Cilla Black, Barbara Windsor, Lynda Bellingham, Stephanie Powers, Denise Welsh, Claire Balding, Helen Worth, Jane Macdonald, Gloria Hunniford, Lorraine Chase and so many more lovely ladies. Among the most suave of men we had Tim Rice, Matthew Wright, Theo Fennell, William Hague, Jason Donovan who had shared my pain in his own
I’m A Celebrity
camp, and so many more absolute gentlemen. And of course so many other dear people I should mention now or should have mentioned elsewhere in this book and I apologise for being so muddle-headed that I don’t have the memory or the space or the brains to mention them now. To you all, if you were there I adore you and I thank you for being part of my crazy, madcap life.

What time did the party end? I’ve no idea about that
either. Did I dance? Of course I danced. I sang, I laughed and I made merry. I cut the most beautiful cake – a jungle-themed one, complete with a rat made out of icing. I was 60. Sixty! I acted as if I was six. What a hoot.

But there’s something we all come to know about a big party. It’s the morning after the night before. It hit me hard, that time. I was exhausted. Never again, I said the day after. No more big parties. So much fun, but too exhausting, too stressful. It’s the quiet life for me, I said. Until the next one, of course.

And I did have lots to do once the party was over. I was heading towards the end of my year as the reigning King of the Jungle. I had an endless series of interviews to do as the next show began to air – with Joe Swash pipping the amazing Martina Navratilova to the post to take my title. I also had a panto to put on.

It had been a wrench to miss out on panto in 2007. After such an unbroken run I’d felt terrible about opting out for my trip to Oz. So I was more than thrilled to head back to the Mayflower Theatre in Southampton to play Buttons in
Cinderella
. It wasn’t always easy, getting back into the swing. As I’ve said so many times in this book, the world is changing. Those long, lovely weeks of readings and then rehearsals that I’d loved when I started out are a thing of the past. Now we have to ready far faster. It’s still great fun, meeting the new crowd, catching up with old faces. But it’s work. It’s a lot to take in and to get right.

And would it all be all right on the first night? Would the crowd really care about a 60-year-old gay man from yesteryear? Sure, enough people had voted for me a year ago in the jungle. But I had to prepare myself for a reality
check. I got myself ready in case they’d changed their minds, already moved on and no longer cared. Maybe they had all misdialled when they voted. Maybe I wasn’t the one, after all.

But I needn’t have worried. The audience reaction, show after show, matinee after evening after matinee after evening, was stupendous. The roars of laughter were priceless. There are some 2,300 seats at the lovely Mayflower, I believe. And box office records, it seemed, were there to be broken. So we filled those seats, night after night.

When I say ‘we’ I’m including the whole team who made my return to the stage so good. We had Ryan the Rat, all the way from my jungle, and a character everyone adored. We had Matthew Kelly, we had Stephanie Powers from
Hart to Hart
and we had an amazing cast and crew – plus a whole lot of high-energy, high-camp songs from
Wicked
to
Hairspray
to belt out from start to finish.

So after my one-year gap, Biggins was back. And he wasn’t going away.

For in that first year I had as reigning King of the Jungle I realised that the role, and the title itself, really did change everything for me.

It’s hard to explain now just how important that reality show title meant. It’s hard to say what it did for this 60-year-old man. It opened so many silly and fun new doors. So many doors I thought would be closed to me, an oldie and a pantomime dame in a world where the young take all.

And what do I do when I see an open door? I rush right through it. I’m the fool that rushes in. So I was there, on
Pointless Celebrities
, having a hoot. I was there, on
Loose Women
again and again – how I love those lovely ladies.
How great that such a mix of people put on such a fantastic show.

I did so many other shows that year and in the years that followed. I love
The Wright Stuff
– because Matthew is a great host and because I don’t just enjoy it: I always seem to learn things. I get a buzz from the banter and the mix of news and entertainment that we get to talk about and comment on.

I did plenty more as well.

I had a hoot on
Come Dine With Me
the following year – though I will officially confirm my naughty little secret. Because of technical reasons – the size of the lights and the cameras and so on – I couldn’t use my own lovely house to cook my dinner. So the house you saw wasn’t where I live. But I felt at home there, funnily enough. I was cooking for Edwina Currie, Julia Bradbury and the man always described as ‘
Hollyoaks
hunk’, Philip Oliver who is, I’m very pleased to say, a hunk and a half in real life. We all had our ups and downs in all the kitchens and dining rooms. But guess who won? I did, I’m thrilled to say, getting to earn £1,000 for charity and to laugh my head off for hours on end as one culinary disaster followed another.

Would I have had this fun, and worthwhile gigs a few years ago? Probably not. Nor, I think, would have I got to play the voice of a plane in a kids’ cartoon – a job that was even more enjoyable as my lovely partner Neil flew as cabin crew for years. Now I was the voice of a plane. It’s like I was following him to work and haunting him, the poor lamb.

Then, in a typical jumble and in no particular order,
there is all the other fun I’ve had of late. Starting with
Strictly Come Dancing: It Takes Two
. I’d be on every episode of that show if they wanted me. So do just call. But seriously, it’s a fun and fast slice of quality TV – don’t let the ‘takes two’ label put you off. The team behind it work like mad to make it. But
Strictly
itself? I get asked, I’m flattered to say. But to appear on it? I couldn’t. I don’t want to be the next fat fool stumbling around the dance floor. I want people to laugh with me, not at me. Plus, I’m not sure I’ve got the stamina or the memory for all the steps. So many dear pals have been on the show. I’ve seen them get worked ragged. I’ve seen how much weight they lose – which is one advantage of going on, I suppose. But I’ve seen the worry lines on their faces. I’ve seen how distracted they are in the week before each live show. I’ve seen them desperately trying to remember everything they’re taught. I’ve also seen that the contestants mean it when they say they don’t want to let anyone down by messing up. There’s a very peculiar pressure on that show. It’s a huge team effort – and I’d never want to let that team down. Besides, who’d really want to dance with me? What would those lovely lithe ladies really think if my name came out of the hat next to theirs? They’re an incredibly talented bunch. They deserve to dance with someone a little more graceful than me.

Anyway, my dance card was getting full even without
Strictly
.

As I say, these last few years it’s all been a long whirl of fun, frothy stuff. It’s been marvellous. I did
The Chase
with Bradley Walsh, which was mildly terrifying. I went for £70,000 for my charity. I didn’t get everything right –
that’s an understatement. But how lucky to be the person who can have some fun, can laugh like a drain, can hopefully entertain people – and can see a good cause get some cash at the end.

Moving on from Mr Walsh, I’m on and off the Alan Titchmarsh sofa as often as I can. I love chat shows, because I love to chat. So if I get a call for one of those then I’ll probably take it.

But what calls me most, year after year, is good old panto.

That lovely first year back on the boards in Southampton was only the start. The next season saw me head to Plymouth to wear a ridiculous number of even more ridiculous frocks as Widow Twankey in
Aladdin
. The producers had something extra up their sleeves that year – we had 3D special effects so the audience had to put those big ugly glasses on that always remind me of – well, the big ugly glasses I used to wear way back, that I thought were so fashionable at the time. But how great to offer 3D at a panto. How great to be doing more, offering more and finding new ways to entertain. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it to the end – but panto is vital. It is so often the very first show young kids ever see. It is the first time they ever go into what they probably think of as a stuffy old theatre. If we can keep it alive, if we can inspire and entertain those kids, then they’ll come back. And theatre stays alive. So a 3D genie of the lamp? Bring it on.

We sold a lorra lorra tickets in Plymouth. And we sold a lorra lorra lot when I got back on stage the following year to play the narrator in a travelling performance of
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
. We started off in Belfast
and went who knows where. What a great show that one is as well. Another ‘entry’ show that can get people into theatres for the first time and show them that us old thesps know how to have a good time.

Aladdin
was back later that year in Wolverhampton where I decided to channel my inner Ann Widdecombe as Ms Twankey. My abiding memory of Wolverhampton that year? Some 1,200 people screaming: ‘Don’t touch the prawn balls! Leave the prawn balls alone!’ at every performance. If you were there, you’ll know how much fun that was!

Move forward a little bit and I was back as Mrs Crusoe in
Robinson Crusoe
in Cardiff in 2011. I got some more fabulous frocks to play Sarah the Cook alongside Basil Brush in
Dick Whittington
in Plymouth in 2012. Then the merry-go-round continued as I joined Bob Carolgees in
Jack and the Beanstalk
in Hull the following Christmas and New Year. And every time it still felt great to be back in that saddle. Because for all my jokes and jollity I was taught and brought up to be professional about work. If I make a commitment I stick to it. And it’s clear I’m committed to being in panto.

And you know what? You never know what else might crop up along the way. Such as the film version of Ray Cooney’s
Run for your Wife
– where I played a gay fashion designer with Lionel Blair as my boyfriend. That old farce (the play, not Lionel) is a hoot of course. Filming it wasn’t always easy. But we got and give a lot of laughs.

So through all of these post-
I’m A Celebrity
years there was so much to enjoy. So many good times to be had. So much of life to grab. I’d thought, as this second wave of
my life’s madness started to build, that the joy would last forever. I’d thought that the good times were here to stay. I’d thought that I would carry on laughing for the rest of my time.