‘BILL TIDY WAS ON THE BOUNDARY AND COULD SEE THAT I WAS A BIT NERVOUS. I WON’T EASILY FORGET HIS WONDERFULLY ENCOURAGING WORDS. “DON’T WORRY, RORY – THE WORST THING THAT CAN HAPPEN IS THAT YOU WILL BE TOTALLY HUMILIATED!”’
Rory Bremner was born in Edinburgh on 6 April 1961. He is an impressionist, comedian and political satirist. His first television series Now – Something Else on BBC2 was followed by a move to Channel 4 for Rory Bremner, Who Else? and Bremner, Bird and Fortune, both of which have won numerous awards. He has made many other appearances on radio and television in programmes such as Parkinson, Breakfast with Frost, Mock the Week and Sunday AM, and presented a BBC Four documentary, Rory Bremner and the Fighting Scots. He has also translated two operas and a play from French and German into English.
Peter Jones, a department store in Sloane Square on the corner of Chelsea’s King’s Road, is where ladies who lunch, lunch. It is also where, in the Top Floor restaurant, Rory Bremner joins me at noon for a light snack and a remarkable hour of cricket. He sits across the table from me with his notebook open in front of him, so he can work through a list of topics he has prepared for our meeting. For most of our time together, I am a one-man audience for a performance by the country’s top impressionist. Rory is quickly into his stride, describing his introduction to the Lord’s Taverners.
‘I had done my first television show at the end of 1984 and was getting reasonably well known on the cricket benefit and charity circuit in the following year. It was then that I met Brian Johnston, who said, “Bremmers, we must get you into the Taverners.” So he got me to join and, as a kind of thank you, he invited me to do “View from the Boundary” on Test Match Special at Edgbaston. England were beating Australia by an innings when, in the BBC box, Johnners said, “Can you do an impression of Richie Benaud?” As I started with “Good morning, everyone, and it’s a lovely day here at Edgbaston,” I noticed everyone in the box falling about laughing. I suddenly realised that there was somebody behind me and, of course, it was Richie himself! Johnners had done one of his classic set up things. So there was Richie, who said, “Very funny, very good, but what about the royalties? That’s what I want to know!”
‘That was my second encounter with Johnners. Another was in a tent, at an Eve of Test Match Dinner before England played the West Indies who, in those days, were beating everybody. Johnners was on his feet, talking away, when the rain started to pound on the roof of the tent. Johnners just looked up and said, “Is that rain, or are the West Indies pissing on us already?”’
When Rory was on Desert Island Discs he chose Test Match Special’s “He just didn’t quite get his leg over” commentary from 1991, when Ian Botham was out hit wicket. It is abundantly clear that Johnners’s humour and sense of fun had a particular appeal. ‘Absolutely! I think the reason I chose that was because it was just sheer joy. I felt that if I were to be on a desert island, I would like some of the humanity, the warmth of a human just reduced to helplessness by laughter. And that obviously was it. “Oooh, oh stop it, Aggers!” and then in came the new batsman, “Syd” Lawrence, amid more roars of laughter. “Aargh, oooh, Aggers, stop it!” I think you had to hear the original, but Aggers tried to commentate and he couldn’t do it. It is just timeless. It is just a joyous thing. There are stories of people pulling over to the hard shoulder of the motorway that day because they were crying with laughter. I think it is still impossible to listen to without bursting out laughing yourself or without feeling that wonderful joy just spread over you. Because here was somebody completely helpless. Most of us have been in that situation where you get the giggles and you are trying to control it. It is a completely unwinnable battle.
‘Thinking back, the mid-1980s were what you would call the Gower/Lamb/Botham era – the three musketeers. There was a lot of fun to be had and while I wasn’t quite in the front line of all that, they all became friends of mine over the years. Whenever I was in Hampshire, I spent a lot of time going to see Mark Nicholas and David Gower playing down there. On one occasion we took Ian Botham and Gower out to dinner. We mis-ordered and, at the end of the meal, they said, “We’re sorry, we have one bottle of wine too many for you.” We were just about to send it back when Botham just puts his hand out and says, “No, it’s OK, I’ll have that,” and he went back to his room, finished off the last bottle of red on his own, and came out to bat again the next morning!’
Rory then moves from Botham to Boycott and a One Day International in the Caribbean in the late 1980s. ‘The Yorkshireman was going round in the morning telling everyone, “I’d have a bat, I’d definitely bat, I’d bat.” So England batted – and got absolutely trounced!
‘Another Boycott interlude was in Pakistan, when I went to see some friends in the commentary box and he said, “What are you eating? Don’t eat the local muck – here, ’ave some of my food.” And he shared an apple with me, saying “It’s OK, we’ll see you right. Don’t you worry.” On meeting my wife in Cape Town in 2010, he said, “Now then, he’s made enough out of me, so I hope he gives you some of the money. ”’ Several years ago, when Boycott was having a little bit of local difficulty with his girlfriend, Rory wondered why would any woman go to bed with him. ‘He’d be at you all night. “No, no – bad technique is that. You’ve got your legs in the wrong place…” Fortunately, I think you do have licence as a professional comedian, and people you impersonate usually realise that if they get too stroppy about it, they are going to make themselves look stupid. It is rather like the Royal Family, who you always assume have to have a sense of humour.
‘Allan Lamb, for example, is just a great character and to this day we always have enormous fun. He gets himself into all sorts of scrapes and I still love his use of English, because he’s the kind of person who will say, “I’ll tell you about this bloke, but you’d better be careful because he doesn’t take any pensioners!” Lamby’s greatest moment was with Ian Botham in the Imran Khan libel trial in 1996. The story goes that the prosecutor said, “Now, Mr Lamb, do you condone cheating?” and Lamby replied, “Absolutely. I completely and utterly condone any form of cheating!” His lawyer had to stand up and say, “Your honour, I think Mr Lamb means ‘condemn’”
‘I always tease him about John McCarthy, who I played a couple of charity games with in the early 1990s. One day I told Lamby that I was trying to get hold of John McCarthy. And his response? “Is that the bloke that was held hostage in Debenhams?” I was out in Cape Town in 1995/96, doing a show for Allan Lamb’s testimonial, and it was the first time I had done an impersonation of Nelson Mandela. So we made up this thing about Mandela being asked to do Robin Smith’s benefit and saying, “Why are we going to do Robin’s benefit? I spent nearly 30 years on Robben’s bloody island!”’
It was at Clifton Hall School, near Edinburgh, that Rory first played any organised cricket. ‘That was where I learned to bowl leg breaks and came to love the game. I can remember being very excited with my first Wisden cricket bat – that had to be oiled in those days – and how I practically went to bed with it. As a teenager, at Wellington College in Berkshire, I developed as a player, although the competition for a place in the first XI was usually pretty strong. I was never good enough, to be honest, so I was either in the second or third XI, where I just bowled my leg breaks. I was always more a bowler than a batsman, although now I love batting. After Wellington the cricket lapsed, before I got a chance to play in charity games with the Taverners and others.’
In 1993, at Wormsley, an Old England team beat an Old Australia side by 20 runs and for some reason Rory was the only non-professional player. Batting at number four, he made a useful 23 and added 68 for the fourth wicket with Clive Radley. ‘I remember going out to bat when Mike Denness was out. Bill Tidy, lovely Bill Tidy, was on the boundary and could see that I was a bit nervous. I won’t easily forget his wonderfully encouraging words. “Don’t worry, Rory the worst thing that can happen is that you will be totally humiliated!” The great thing about that day was facing Dennis Lillee. That was wonderful. The ball was bending like a banana, even though he wasn’t bowling anything like his normal speed he was barely medium-paced. He dropped one short and I thought I would hook it, played the shot and looked up to see the umpire signalling four. I looked down to fine leg, then to square leg, to see where the ball had gone and Lillee said, “Other way, mate!” It had come off an edge and gone down to third man, a total fluke!
‘One painful memory was when I broke my hand in a charity six-a-side game at Althorp, near Northampton. As I went out to bat, Charles Spencer, who was playing on his own home ground, had apparently suggested to Chris Cairns, the New Zealand all-rounder, that he might “ginger it up a bit.” The first ball came through very quickly and the next thing I knew was that it was whizzing past my head. It was a bouncer, but not close enough to do any damage; it was certainly the quickest ball I had ever faced. The next one was quite quick and as I prodded a forward defensive, it hit the back of my hand and broke my knuckle. So I went off and had it checked out at hospital and sure enough, there was a fracture there. I had to give a speech in the evening and was full of wine and painkillers, so I can’t remember what I said, but it apparently went OK! And that was my one cricket scar.’
In July 2000 there was a memorial game for Malcolm Marshall at the HAC ground in London, in which some of the truly great names from international cricket took the field. They included Gordon Greenidge, Desmond Haynes, Viv Richards, Joel Garner, Michael Holding, Courtney Walsh, Shane Warne, Mike Gatting, Graham Thorpe and Alec Stewart. Again, Rory was the sole non-pro cricketer and he nearly spoiled the party. ‘I bowled Brian Lara. I think he was trying to hit me into the sea from the City of London and it was just one of those flukey sort of leg breaks that, to the great left-hander, pitched on middle and off, turned and hit middle and leg. He’d only got 10. I wish I hadn’t done it, because it must have massively disappointed the crowd. They didn’t come to watch me bowl, but they certainly came to watch Lara bat. So in retrospect it was the most stupid thing I could have done. But then it wasn’t exactly my fault.’
Over the years, Rory spent a lot of time with Colin Cowdrey, occasions that he enjoyed enormously, not least for the lovely man’s fund of wonderful stories. ‘Evidently somebody once turned up for a shooting weekend in a brand new suit. Colin just walked up, felt the material and, along with his typical colloquial mannerisms, said, “Urgh, urgh. Well, why pay more?” I was down at Angmering, where he lived, on the day in 1997 that it was announced he had become a lord. There was nobody else there and his wife, Lady Herries, was away for the night at a race meeting somewhere, so it was just he and I sitting at opposite ends of the table. The phone kept ringing – people congratulating him – and Colin was so modest and so self-effacing. He would just keep saying, “Urgh, urgh, I am so sorry, another piss-taker, another piss-taker!” Then he would get up to take another call and I could hear him say, “Hello, hello, that’s very kind. Isn’t it lovely about Peter O’Sullevan?” So he straight away moved the conversation away from himself and on to Peter O’Sullevan, who had been knighted in the same honours list.
‘Lovely man, Colin Cowdrey – just so kind and generous, and the Cowdrey stories are legend. He was facing Thomson and Lillee for the first time and at the drinks break he took his glove off, went up to Jeff Thomson, and said, “Urgh, I’m not sure, urgh, I don’t think we have ever met. My name is Colin Cowdrey. How are you?” Colin hated sledging and, if somebody was really sledging very hard and getting very worked up, he would go and see them after the close of play. Then he would say, “Urm, you seemed very bothered about something out there. Is there anything I can do? You seem very upset.”
‘Colin loved his Don Bradman stories. He saw Bradman, I think when he went out for the Melbourne Cup, and they were able to spend some time together. He particularly liked the story of Bradman at Lord’s. “It was the first time King George ever took a wicket! Australia were doing quite well – and then King George arrived. He met the teams and on resumption Australia immediately lost a wicket. Out came Bradman, who scored a not-out 100 and whatever it was, between tea and the close of play. As the Don walked off at the end of the day, the steward opened the gate at the bottom of the pavilion steps and said, “Well done, sir. Well done, Mr Bradman.” The Don turned to him and said…’ At which stage Rory stops, smiles and says to me, ‘Sorry, John, I don’t know why I am doing this as Brian Johnston – it’s Colin Cowdrey talking!’ After our laughter has subsided, Rory resumes the tale. ‘“And the Don said, ‘Yep, nice bit of practice for tomorrow.’”
Looking to move on to the subject of his recording of ‘N-N-Nineteen Not Out’, I embark on what might be the worst link of all time. I tell Rory that I came here from Islington on a bus and inevitably it was a number 19. ‘Oh, very good, John, very good. Yes, “Nineteen Not Out” was a bit of a boost because at the beginning of the summer in 1985 it went to number 13 in the singles charts and I found myself on Top of the Pops. I was obsessed with cricket and cricket commentators and stuff like that, and I used to do some voices for Andrew Sachs’ son, John, who was on Capital Radio. I was messing around doing these things when Paul Hardcastle’s number one hit “19” came out, and it just popped into my head. I can’t remember exactly how the idea came around, but it was one of those great things that happen sometimes. I think I suggested it to people I worked with and, out of nowhere, the next thing I knew, Kim Fuller, the comedy writer and director, became interested. Kim is the brother of Simon Fuller, a massive agent, artist manager and producer, and the man who discovered and managed Paul Hardcastle. Because they were brothers it was much easier to get the permissions to do a parody of the original “19.” So we did it, and into it went the John Arlott “It’s a long, slow, lazy delivery, but it’s the best I can do” and Brian Johnston, Richie Benaud and so on.’
The enormous range of impersonations that Rory has accomplished, of both players and commentators in cricket, is impressive to say the very least. But I wonder whether there have been any that have been too bland, or too tricky, to master? ‘To be quite honest, if they were too difficult I just wouldn’t do them. One that I am quite pleased with is David Gower. I think it is fair to say that his is not exactly an obvious voice, but he’s got that slight laugh, and the self-deprecation. Also, he speaks very obliquely. He doesn’t say, “That was plumb lbw,” he will say, “I think it is fair to say that was not un-adjacent.” Or he won’t say, “Went out last night and got pissed” – he’ll say, “I think it is true to say a fairly good time was had by all, a certain amount of alcohol was consumed and we went home tired but happy.” Or, if he hits a six, a huge six, he will say, “It’s always fairly nice to get some form of contact and, obviously, if the ball disappears over the ropes, then so much the better.” So there is a wonderful way about him and it is one I’m pleased about.
‘But they are all great characters. David Lloyd – good old Bumble. “Eh, look at that, eh.” The value he gets out of names like Shane Warne and Ashley Giles, and that wonderful Accrington accent. His brilliant story about having his box turned inside out by a delivery from Jeff Thomson – he contrasts it with Andrew Flintoff being hit in the box by Cardigan Connor. Lloyd came up to Flintoff and said, “Cardigan Connor? You can consider it an honour to be hit by Cardigan. Do you remember Jeff Thomson? I was hit amidships by him, and it was not a glancing blow. I was wearing one of those old boxes – you know, the pink ones, like a soap dish. It ended up that everything that was supposed to be inside the box had come outside the box – through the air holes!”
‘And Bumble tells of batting with Colin Cowdrey on the 74/75 Ashes tour and thinking that Cowdrey, by then in his early forties, might like a bit of protection early on. So he thought, “I’ll protect him, take a bit of the shine off the new ball. I’ll take a bit of heat out of it.” So he hogged the strike for a bit, just to blunt the edge and give Cowdrey more of a chance. After a few overs, Cowdrey strolls down and they do that thing where they prod the pitch and do a bit of gardening, and Cowdrey says, “I say, this is rather fun, isn’t it?” Bumble says, “Fun? Fun? I don’t know what you call fun. Call this fun?”’
The stories continue to roll off Rory’s tongue as the time for him to leave approaches, and he manages one more before he goes. ‘The South African born pair, Allan Lamb and Robin Smith, are batting together for England against the West Indies. The umpires were the Jamaican, Steve Bucknor, and David Constant. Lamb supposedly went up to Constant and said, “Here David, I’ve just realised – you are the only English f****r out here!”’
How do you follow that? Perhaps by looking for his personal take on the wonderful game. ‘Well, I suppose you would say it is the sunshine game. I just associate it with summer days, with great times, whether it be in Cape Town or Antigua, or Lord’s or the Oval, or any ground. Summer afternoons, and that smell and the sound. And the friends that I have met through the game have been some of my best acquaintances. Even to this day, and it is probably a weakness on my part, I can’t fully understand or warm totally to anybody who doesn’t enjoy sport, particularly cricket. The personalities, the characters, the contests are everything, and when you throw in the sunshine and the locations it is just the best.’
The hour has flown by and I have a recording that would make a thoroughly entertaining CD or radio show. Rory often seems more comfortable when he is the voice of someone else and as a result, not only do I have a collection of cricket anecdotes but I’ve also had the best seat in the house and been right royally entertained. It is no wonder that I am still chuckling as I set off to seek another number 19 bus.