12:29pm Thursday 17th December 2009
Bouncy comedian Jimmy Tarbuck tried to catch me on the hop when we got together at the 'Saints and Sinners' Club Christmas lunch at the InterContinental Hotel. We had been discussing the decline of Liverpool Football Club when we were joined by two other guests. "Do you know Dennis?" one of them asked Jimmy.
Jimmy pointed out that we were football buddies from way back, then looked at me, winked broadly and said: "By the way, Ruby Murray wishes to be remembered to you". I was momentarily caught on the hop,recovered in a flash and managed to stutter: "Give her my best regards" before the other two gents wandered off ... blissfully unaware of the identity of the Irish singer, who had five songs in the top 20 in 1955 and died in the Nineties.
Fame is a fleeting thing. The late Ms Murray, it seems, has only gone into folkore as Cockney rhyming slang for "going for a curry". A curry to this generation is a "ruby" - Ruby Murray" - "Curry". Geddit? Sad really. She had a lovely voice.
I can remember at an editorial conference in the Times offices at Hendon years ago referring to Judy Garland, who, I thought, was immortalised by the 'Wizard of Oz' and her rendition of 'Somewhere over the rainbow'.
"Who's Judy Garland?" asked this Fleet Street hopeful young reporter. "Liza Minnelli's mother", I snapped back. The lad never made it to the top of the journalistic tree - perhaps lacking a suitable reference from me.
I guess the name 'Morecambe' is more recent and recognisable - another comedian hero of my past. We discussed the fortunes of Luton Town FC once or twice. Anyway, I was in the dress circle at the Duchess Theatre the other evening watching the one-man show about him - it's called 'Morecambe' and is first rate - delighted to see so many young people in the audience at what was something of a cult evening.
For me it was like watching a Marx Brothers film. I remember going to a cinema in the Champs Elysee in Paris to see 'A Night at the Opera' and, despite the sub-titles, laughing in anticipation before each gag was actually delivered. The classic Eric Morecambe line for me came when he stood by a window with police sirens blaring outside and observed: "They won't sell many ice creams going at that speed!"
Two of my all-time heroes were the late Tommy Cooper and Ken Dodd ... if you haven't seen Ken live at Blackpool you haven't lived. One of the best nights of my life was when Michael Grade arranged for me to see Tommy Cooper in a show in Blackpool at 5.45 p.m. and then walk a few paces to the next theatre to see Ken Dodd in action at the 8.45 p.m.show until after the last buses had gone around midnight.
Michael had arranged for me to go back stage after the Dodd show to meet one of my all-time favourite comedians. He had one-liner notes on his hands and arms to keep him going in case he dried up - never! - and he asked me where I was staying. I replied that I was returning to London from the theatre. "You must be mad", he said. At least I had a smile on my face on the long drive back in the early hours.
What wasn't a laughing matter was being trapped in the lift for 45 minutes going down from our third floor apartment the other morning. Mrs S and I were en route to lunch with Rod Brewster, the former editor of the Borehamwood Times, his wife Jackie and close friend Adrienne King.
The lift stopped at the second floor ... and the doors stayed open. I tried my key to get it back to the top, the doors eventually closed and the lift moved up a notch or two before abruptly stopping between floors.
We rang the alarm bell, we tried the emergency numbers unsuccessfully and finally dialled 999 to turn out the fire brigade. A cheery team from Hendon arrived to resue the five of us - but the gallows humour was wearing a bit thin after 45 minutes.
I was reminded of the old gag as we clambered out on the second floor. The joke was about rescuers shovelling away snow to rescue a chap trapped in his home at the base of a mountain in Switzerland.
As they burst through the door they found him cowering in the hall. "We're from the Red Cross", said the leading rescuer. "I've already given", said the chap.
That even pre-dates Tarbuck!
PS: I wasn't labelled as a Saint or a Sinner at the lunch. Following Barnet FC in their present bad run of results I guess I am more of a Saint.
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