You'll Miss Me When I'm Gone (17 page)

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Authors: Gary Morecambe

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BOOK: You'll Miss Me When I'm Gone
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My Lords and Gentlemen

I try not to think what I’d do if he [Ernie] wasn’t around. I expect I’d take six months off, then try another show with another partner, another straight man. No, not exactly a straight man, because Ernie’s not a straight man: like Tony Hancock had Sid James, someone like that…it wouldn’t be another double act: it wouldn’t be The Eric Morecambe-Charlie Smith Show. But I need a partner; on my own I just prattle on. Ernie senses this; he knows when I’m going off and he brings me down to earth with exactly the right line, and that’s marvellous.

The Lord’s Taverners took up much of my father’s time, particularly during his three-year reign as President during the late seventies.

When I found a segment of one of the many speeches he made during his life, I assumed—erroneously as it transpires—that it was one of his addresses to his fellow Taverners at a charity dinner held at the Café Royal in London. But the

content suggested otherwise, and it quickly became apparent that it was made to a male gathering of governors and staff of my own former school, Aldenham. I never knew a thing about this event until I discovered the following:

M
Y
L
ORDS AND
G
ENTLEMEN
. I think that takes in most of you. Now I suppose you are all sat there wondering why I’ve sent for you. The answer is simple: It’s to say thank-you on behalf of the guests—whoever he is—for a most delightful evening—so it says here!

You are all probably saying to yourselves, ‘I thought he was taller than that?’ Well, I’m not. ‘If he’s only that tall his partner must be small.’ As a matter of fact, he is small. So small, he is here tonight and we haven’t found him yet.

When I was first invited to reply on behalf of the guests, I said, ‘What shall I talk about?’ They said, ‘About three minutes!’

Now it’s very difficult for me to stand here and talk about a sub
ject I know very little about—Education. Because the school I went to was different: you had to be sent there by a Judge!

Of course, the secret of a good speech is to be sincere—you must be sincere, whether you mean it or not.

I’m told that if I make a good speech I can return next year. I’m also told that if I make a VERY good speech I can return next year and won’t have to eat the meal.

Not that there is anything wrong with the food or the service at the Café Royal. As always, it’s first class. You might have happened to notice there are three waiters for each person. Simple, really. One gives you the bill, the other two are there to revive you!

There was a little trouble here a few weeks back. The waiters went on strike for three days. But they had to give it up as nobody noticed the difference.

And please, I beg you, don’t be disparaging about the coffee. You may be old and weak yourself some day.

The committee, who had the problem of organising this evening for you, wanted to do something a little different. At a given point, a great big six foot cake was to be wheeled into the room, and a naked girl was going to pop out. But when we took the cake out the oven this afternoon she didn’t look too good, so we scrubbed around the idea.

I have two children. One goes to Aldenham, but the other one has fortunately kept on the straight and narrow. My son tells me that the school was founded in the year 1597, in the reign of Glenda Jackson. And according to him they still have the same cooks!

It’s a pity, of course, that none of the original buildings exist anymore. The earliest building there dates from 1825—which as you all

know is 25 past 6. The New Chapel was 1937, which is almost 20 to

8. If you work that out, it took them 2 hours and fifteen minutes to build the chapel.

The beauty of a school like Aldenham, apart from Mrs Wallace-Hadrill [a housemaster’s wife] is that nowadays, with education being the way it is, your son has the opportunity of growing up and becoming Prime Minister—which is one of the chances he has to take.

Everyone has the same opportunity as the next person. All men are created equal. The man who said that was a fool. The man who said all men are created equal has never been in a footballers’ dressing-room.

I asked my son if he’d like to go into politics. I wouldn’t object—he has a great sense of humour! I myself don’t belong to any organised party—I vote Liberal! But you take the state of the country today. People are complaining there aren’t enough houses. I say Rubbish! That’s just a vicious rumour started by people with nowhere to live.

My brother-in-law built his own five bedroomed bungalow last
year, very close to London, for £1,800. He found the plot himself, drew up the plans himself and economised by stealing the bricks!

The Common Market is proving a problem. We have our own customs in England—we drink our wine out of glasses. In France they drink their wine out of doors. It’s not nice, that. And what about their driving? Over there they all drive on the right hand side of the road. Over here only the women do that.

Does the government know that there are more TV sets in this country than bathrooms? Which proves there are a lot of dirty people watching the Morecambe and Wise Show.

However, I digress. Let’s get back to Aldenham and education. A recent survey shows that out of 974 school teachers in this country, 201 proved conclusively that they were!

I remember my wife saying—we were talking that day—she said what a marvellous job teachers do—and I agree, because the human

brain is a most wonderful piece of mechanism. It starts functioning the moment you wake up in the morning, and doesn’t stop until you get to the office. I feel that teachers, and in particular headmasters, have a tremendous responsibility. My old headmaster, when I left school, said to me—‘Bartholomew, I’m sorry to see you go. You’ve been like a son to me: Insolent, surly and unappreciative.’

But when I was at school we didn’t have the facilities of today. Just take the Aldenham school library alone. My son brings home some fantastic books. I’ve read some and they’ve taught me a thing or to.

There was this one book—I forget the title but it was a sad story. It was about this young girl of twenty-five who was going to do away with herself as she was working in this brothel for ten years before she found out all the other girls were getting paid.

Oh yes, I’ve learned a lot from Aldenham library.

Of course, we try to keep up the good work when my son comes home at weekends. He sometimes brings home a couple of friends for Sunday lunch. Well, it’s not really a meal, it’s more a commando raid with knives and forks. They clear all the food off the table then they start looking at each other hungrily…

Eric’s Rough Notes for Luton Town FC Civic Hall Reception

Acknowledgements

A book of this nature is always dependent on the generous cooperation of others. My profound thanks, therefore, to all my father’s peers from Lancashire who so kindly allowed me to impose during my research into his early years.

Also, my thanks to those of stage, screen and television who, likewise, squeezed me into their hectic schedules to make enlightening observations for this book. I can honestly say that all those who have contributed have given me a fuller picture of my own father, for the first time in my life.

Thanks to Natalie and Daniel and all at HarperCollins for their continued support and friendship; and to my literary agent Jennifer Luithlen for advising me so wisely over countless years. And to Suzanne Westrip at Billy Marsh Associates, who does such a remarkable job representing the estates of Morecambe and Wise.

Finally, thanks to my friends and family, who no doubt regard my obsession with M&W as…well—an obsession! Yet still they stick by me!

Absolutely finally, to Eric and Ernie themselves, who brought us the sunshine in which I’ve occasionally been able to bathe. And my thanks to my sister, Gail, for coming up with Eric’s own words for the title of this book.

E
RIC
:
You had a phone call while you were out. Alfred someone!

E
RNIE
:
[Excited] HITCHCOCK!

E
RIC
:
He might have, I didn’t ask

There’s no answer to that…!

Sources

Bring Me Sunshine
, Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise (Futura, 1979)

Funny Man
, Gary Morecambe (Methuen, 1982)

Funny Way to be a Hero
, John Fisher (Paladin, 1976)

Hello, I Must Be Going: Groucho and His Friends
, Charlotte Chandler (Robson, 1979)

Morecambe and Wife
, Joan Morecambe (Pelham, 1985)

Parkinson
, Michael Parkinson (Elm Tree Books, 1975)

Still On My Way to Hollywood
, Ernie Wise (Duckworth, 1990)

The Media Mob
, Barry Fantoni and George Melly (Collins, 1980)

Internet: www.ericandern.co.uk

Index

The pagination of this electronic edition does not match the edition from which it was created. To locate a specific passage, please use the search feature of your e-book reader.

Copyright

HarperCollins
Publishers
77-85
Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by HarperCollins
Publishers
2009

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

© Gary Morecambe 2009

Gary Morecambe asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

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EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2009 ISBN: 978-0-007-34367-6

While every effort has been made to trace the owners of copyright material reproduced herein, the publishers would like to apologise for any omissions and will be pleased to incorporate missing acknowledgements in any future editions.

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