Lioness who came to tea and gave my plumber the fright of his life!

. . . not to mention the black panther in the kitchen and an 8ft boa on the bed. The hair-raising memoirs of an actor with a truly WILD side

LARGER-than-life actor Brian Blessed’s new book reveals his deep love for animals. In the first part of our serialisation on Saturday, he told how he ‘adopted’ an orphaned baby orangutan. Today, big cats and a very friendly snake move in . . .

YOU know those chance conversations that change your life completely? Well, this was one of them. Shortly after I’d moved into my dilapidated but huge home in South-West London, my old pal from Z Cars, Frank Windsor, dropped by.

Because of the amount of work I’d been doing on the house, he said I looked exhausted. ‘You need to relax a bit, Brian,’ said Frank. ‘Have you been to see that Nyoka fellow yet at Harrods?’ I must confess I had no idea what my friend was talking about, and told him as much.

‘He’s an animal trainer with an extraordinary knowledge of wild animals,’ Frank explained. ‘He’s doing exhibitions at Harrods for the next week or so. He’s amazing! A latter-day Tarzan in a leotard.’

So off I went to Harrods and when I arrived, there were literally hundreds of people milling around. I couldn’t believe it. Ninety-nine per cent of these were late middleaged women, and when Nyoka started the show, I could understand why. It was all snakes! The old dears seemed to find the whole experience rather erotic.

Over the next week, I went almost every day to see Nyoka and after each show I’d quiz him for hours. Although I was besotted with animals, I still felt I knew so little about them, and I was desperate to learn. Desperate!

A few days later, I was plastering a ceiling when there was a knock on the front door. My dad was down from Yorkshire helping me and while he’d been mixing the Thistle bonding plaster and I’d been slapping it on, we’d been listening to the Ride Of The Valkyries on my gramophone to inspire us. Marvellous stuff!

Anyway, as there was nobody else about — my two housekeepers, Mrs Bush and Mrs Cobus being elsewhere — I jumped down and went to see who it was.

There, stood Nyoka. For some reason I couldn’t work out, he’d positioned himself behind a pillar and I could only see his head. Then, as he started to move into full view I realised he had a friend with him.

‘It’s a black panther,’ I whispered, amazed and awestruck. Nyoka looked down at the enormous feline. ‘I knew you’d be impressed,’ he said. ‘ Quite striking, isn’t she?’

‘Striking?’ I responded. ‘ Never in my life have I ever seen such a creature. What’s she called?’ ‘Kali. She’s eight months old.’ ‘Would she like a saucer of milk?’ I asked.

‘I’m sure she wouldn’t say no.’ And he entered the house with her by his side on a leather lead. The moment was miraculous beyond my wildest dreams.

I’d just invited a black panther into my house. A BLACK PANTHER!

I felt so pumped I could have run to Newcastle and back without stopping.

Kali was something to behold. She moved with astonishing grace and had bright green eyes that were almost luminous. I’d never seen anything like it.

In the middle of the kitchen, I had a huge Welsh table and apart from that and an old sink the only thing in operation was the Aga, which heated a few rooms. After I’d given Kali a saucer of milk, we sat around the table, me, Dad and Nyoka. I needed to get my breath back — I mean, what a shock!

I was just about to say something enlightening when out of the blue the panther leapt on to the table and started prowling in my direction. Time stood still. ‘Nothing to worry about!’ said Nyoka very quickly. ‘I promise you she’s only being friendly. She likes you.’ All I could think was: ‘I’ve got Bagheera from The Jungle Book on my kitchen table!’ I was mesmerised.

Nyoka put his hand into his bag and then handed me a brush.

‘She wants you to brush her, Brian. Kali loves being brushed. Go on. If you don’t she’ll get very upset.’

Within half a second, I was on my feet brushing Kali’s back.

‘Go on Brian!’ he said. ‘She wants you to brush her, not tickle her.’

Nyoka was obviously playing with me a bit but what a game, eh?

The brush was one of those you wrap around your hand and so taking my friend’s advice I pressed down a little harder as I moved the brush across her back. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Look at her now! She loves you!’

Before long, Kali started purring and purring; the sound got louder and louder. After she’d had enough of the brush, Kali stood up and began patrolling all four corners of the large table.

My word, she looked impressive. She was a female Bagheera.

Just to keep my father and me in check, she’d let out a grunting snarl, which made me take a step back. Nyoka, once again, found this all quite comical.

‘Don’t be fooled by all the prowling and snarling, Brian,’ he said. ‘That’s all just for show. She’s just a big clumsy cat,

really.’ Nyoka and Kali stayed for the rest of the day and by the time they were ready to leave, she and I were all over each other like a great big hairy rash.

I had her leaping all over me and when I tickled her tummy, she’d look at me with those intense green eyes and then roll over when she’d had enough.

For the next six months or so, Nyoka brought Kali to the house at least twice a week and it got to a point when as he arrived he’d just open the back doors and she’d run inside.

My housekeeper Mrs Bush never quite got used to her presence and would rush up the stairs shouting: ‘That bloody cat is here again! Get it out, get it out, get it out!’

From then on, my kitchen became like the entrance to the Ark. Every week, Nyoka would walk in with at least two different animals.

I will never forget the day I watched him climb into the back of his van wearing only the bottom half of his leotard and then climb out again carrying two baby tigers. I mean, how eccentric is that?

I spent an entire afternoon playing with those two little rascals and was grinning like a fool for at least a week afterwards. Their favourite trick was to hide behind doors and then pounce on me. Sheer heaven!

The only time I ever thought Nyoka may have gone too far was the day he turned up with a fully grown lioness.

HAvING

not seen a lion at close quarters since a trip to the circus as a boy, I admit that I had forgotten just how large and impressive they are.

‘I’m only here for an hour, Brian,’ said Nyoka. ‘I assure you she’s a big softie and one of the friendliest cats in the world.’ ‘And one of the largest,’ I said. ‘Don’t you worry. Just let her have a look around and then when she’s ready she’ll come and find me.’

Mrs Bush and her colleague Mrs Cobus had gone home by this point — probably to take some tranquillisers. ‘Yes, that’s fine,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and have a cup of tea, shall we?’

While Nyoka told me all about Daphne the lioness, who was now roaming freely around my half-built house, I sat feeling utterly capti- vated. Something was niggling me, though, and I couldn’t for the life of me work out what.

All became apparent when from the cellar there came a bloodcurdling scream.

‘Cyril!’ I shouted, standing up immediately. ‘I FORGOT ABOUT CYRIL!’ Cyril was a plumber who had come in to start installing the central heating.

Quick as a flash, we ran out of the kitchen, through the hall and down the cellar stairs. ‘Cyril!’ I shouted as I ran. ‘Are you all right?’

The sight that greeted us was, I’m happy to report, the kind of thing you’d see at the end of a Disney film.

Cyril, who had obviously tried to make a break for it, was being pinned against a wall by Daphne, who was busy licking his face.

‘Help me, help me. Please!’ he said, looking at us imploringly.

‘This is what they do before they eat people, Cyril,’ I joked.

It took a while, but after a lot of reassurance from Nyoka, Cyril started getting used to being slobbered over and before too long his countenance had changed from that of a petrified plumber into a devoted and adoring big cat enthu- siast. Cyril was in love. What a life though, eh? This is how mad it became at my house.

As I told you on Saturday, I used to look after quarantined wild animals for the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries.

There was one time when I had the Minister standing in my kitchen stroking Kali the black panther and telling me what a marvellous job I was doing while Mrs Bush was on the stairs, petting two baby tigers and one of the electricians I’d hired was talking to my great friend Mr Parslow, who ran a hamster farm nearby, and getting to know the ten Russian rats he’d brought with him.

It was round-the-clock chaos, but somehow it worked. We were one big, unconventional family.

After about a year, I gave Nyoka a key to the house so that he could come and go as he pleased.

While I was away filming, he would move in and look after the quarantine animals; Mrs Bush was OK minding my German Shepherd Sabre and my cats overnight, but things were a bit more complicated now — especially since the arrival of Bo Bo the boa constrictor.

Bo Bo was about 8ft long, quite old and terribly friendly — a bit like me now, really. And I freely admit that after Nyoka had brought him round a few times I fell head over heels in love.

I love all animals, and I mean all – but Bo Bo was one of the few who could melt my heart. Nyoka knew how much I adored him and one day he made an announcement.

‘Bo Bo loves you, Brian,’ he said, wrapping the boa around the back of my favourite kitchen chair. ‘But he also loves your kitchen. For as long as your Aga remains on, he’ll be quite happy here.’

‘You mean you’re leaving him with me?’

‘I am, Brian,’ he said with a smile. ‘I travel around far too much and Bo Bo needs to rest now. He also needs company, and he’ll get plenty of that here.’

When not basking in the warmth of the kitchen, Bo Bo lived in a vivarium Nyoka built at the back of the house and before he passed away about two years later, he and I became as close as an animal and human can be.

You perhaps wouldn’t think it possible for a reptile, but I swear to you that he used to purr and hum to me whenever we became entwined. It always started the same way. I’d walk into the kitchen, sit down in my chair and then slowly but surely Bo Bo would begin to wrap himself around me. Like a great many animals, he adored having his neck tickled and that’s when he’d start to hum and purr.

Whenever I went away filming, poor old Bo Bo would become depressed and I used to worry about him terribly.

I’d call Mrs Bush every afternoon and my first question would always be, how’s Bo Bo?

‘He’s hardly moved since you went away,’ Mrs Bush would often tell me. ‘And he’s off his food again’.

In the end, I used to take Bo Bo with me if I was only away for a night or two.

I would put him in a large carryall and smuggle him into my hotel room, where he’d sleep at the end of my bed.

I had to make sure the heating remained on, which meant it was like being in a sauna sometimes, but the fact that Bo Bo was happy allowed us both to sleep soundly.

DURING

the summer, I’d take him for walks in Richmond Park. I’d lie on my back and stare at the sky while Bo Bo made himself comfortable lying over my legs and stomach.

Having his weight upon me often used to send me to sleep and whenever this happened Bo Bo, who must have felt me snoring, would make his way up to my face and start humming to me.

It was the most wonderful way to be woken from one’s slumber.

Shall I tell you something, my sweet, patient reader?

That time with Nyoka, Mr Parslow, Mrs Bush and all those beautiful creatures was one of the happiest of my whole life.

So here’s one final piece of advice from your uncle Brian.

If you want to experience the same sort of happiness, get yourself a dog, a cat, a rabbit or even a ferret.

I’m not saying they can cure cancer or pay off your debts or anything. But what they can do is bring light into even the darkest hours — and when times are good, they push them to perfection. My love and best wishes to you all.

AdApted from the panther In the Kitchen: My Wild Life With Animals, by Brian Blessed, published by Macmillan on thursday, £20. © Brian Blessed 2017. to order a copy for £16 (offer valid until Saturday; p&p free), visit mailshop.co.uk/books or call 0844 571 0640.