Roy Hudd writes just for you…
Our very own travelling salesman takes a trip ‘Up North’ – and he’s hoping for a warm reception from those lovely folk in Bonny Scotland!
Another day, another town as part of our tour of A Woman of No Importance – this time Perth. Not the Perth in Oz – I get airsick on the second rung of a ladder – I mean Perth in Scotland. Alas we won’t get enough time to explore the place, with a week full of eight shows and then a minor hop for six days in Guildford, Surrey. Hey-ho, well I said I could do it when I wrote in…
So to Scotland – in a play, as a member of one of the very best teams I’ve ever been part of.
Now I must confess I never played Scotland in the days of Variety. I was too frightened by the horrific stories of the outspoken loathing of Southern comedians by the natives.
The classic story of fear and trembling concerns Des O’Connor who, as a young comic, was so unnerved by the pending expected hostility that he pretended to faint on stage – so that the management would send him home!
I have to tell you he’s been back many times since, he didn’t faint, he stayed and they grew to love him – even though he’s English!
My son’s godfather was a popular comedian, Eddie Reindeer, whose signature tune was Jingle Bells. Eddie was so suspicious of what sort of reception he’d get in Scotland that he pretended, on stage, to be an American. “They don’t mind Yanks,” he used to say, “They let ’em live.”
Another example of constructive criticism came from the gallery to Mike and Bernie Winters. Their act opened with Mike playing the clarinet. No comment from the audience until Bernie put his head through the curtain, pulled his daftest face and said, “Dur... Hello there!” to the dubious houseful. “Gawd ’elp us,” complained a voice from the gallery, “There’s two of ’em.”
There are lots more stories like that one, mostly from the notorious Glasgow Empire. They are funny but a wee bit dispiriting when you’re on the receiving end. I do like Scots’ humour (outside the theatre), though, and the laid-back calmness that is a part of the Hibernians’ off-the-cuff style. Many, many years ago, as a youth, I had a holiday near Edinburgh and, tried so hard to appear more grown up. I even tried to smoke a pipe (Sherlock Hudd?). On a coach trip I removed the pipe from my mouth and, unthinkingly, put it in my pocket. After a couple of minutes the old chap behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “I’m sorry to disturb you sir, but your trousers are on fire.” This final story, about Scottish band leader Jimmy Shand, was told to me by guitarist, Bert Weedon. Jimmy was on tour and asked for breakfast – “toast and honey” – in his room. A stack of toast arrived with just one tiny plastic tub of honey. Jimmy inspected the miniscule portion and said to the waiter, “Ah! I see you keep a bee.”
I hope to have lots more Scottish memories for you very soon, but for now – guid nicht frae me!
‘I never played Scotland in the days of Variety. I was too frightened by the horrific stories of the outspoken loathing of Southern comedians by the natives’