The humiliating story I told the Big Yin We both made a pass in bonny Arbroath
When I met Billy Connolly in the early 2000s I was hosting the Britannia Awards in LA, and I was completely overwhelmed. He is a god to me. “Billy!” I gurgled. “You know how in one of your shows you tell that story about how you lost your virginity in a tent in Arbroath?” “Uh-huh,” said the Big Yin, curious at where this was going. “Well,” I continued, beginning to glean the story was going to be very humiliating, but gamely ploughing through. “I passed my driving test in Arbroath!”
HEART
Many years later, Billy was doing a run of his show in New York City, but I couldn’t see him because I was on the exact same schedule in The Threepenny Opera on Broadway.
One night I was having drinks in a bar in the East Village called Eastern Bloc (which just so happens to now be called Club Cumming!!) and I met two Scottish guys who said they had been to see Billy’s show that night. I told them how I would’ve loved to have gone.
“He actually mentioned you,” said one of the Scots. “What?!” My heart stopped for a second. “Yes,” said the other boy. “Something about you meeting him in LA and telling him you’d passed your driving test in Arbroath!” Can you imagine the honour to know that the legend that is Billy Connolly was telling the story of me gushing to him at that awards show in his act?!! He apparently regaled the crowd with my goofy “You lost your virginity/I passed my driving test” and finished it with, “I think I got the better deal!”
HONOUR
Many years later, I was asked to present Billy with the Great Scot Award, given by the National Trust for Scotland Foundation USA.
I was able to tell the man himself just how important it had been to me to see him never compromise his own voice and authenticity, but brandish it as a badge of honour. At the end of my speech I welcomed Billy to the stage and watched him weave through tables of standing, adoring fans. He went up to the mic and slayed for the next 10 minutes. Billy had Parkinson’s by then, and as we manoeuvred through the throng to get back to our table, I reached my hand out for his. For a moment time stopped, and we were just two wee Scottish boys holding on to each other, trying to navigate our way home. I’ll never forget it.