I was a Benidorm star at 15 — now I’m back!
It’s where she flaunted her legs and tasted holiday romance. Now a cock-a-hoop JANET STREET-PORTER is in the TV comedy Benidorm tonight
STArING at the crumpled piece of paper, I mouthed the words over and over again. It was 5am and I hadn’t slept a wink, so worried was I.
Would I manage the formidable task of walking, talking and delivering my lines, surrounded by professional actors, in sweltering heat, without appearing an utter prat?
For I was about to make my comedy debut in ITV’s wonderfully camp series Benidorm. (As to whether or not I managed it, tune in at 9pm tonight and you can find out!)
Don’t expect to see me shortlisted for any acting awards — I’m only on screen for a couple of minutes.
Even so, I would have walked over broken glass for the chance to achieve my secret ambition and swap double entendres with one of the sexiest men on telly, barman Mateo Castellanos, played by Jake Canuso.
My cameo role — as a reporter for the local television station (which didn’t require a lot of method acting, funnily enough) — was the result of a long campaign of nagging.
Sherrie Hewson, who appears alongside me on TV talk show Loose Women, plays Benidorm’s haughty Joyce Temple-Savage, ambitious manager of the Hotel Solana.
For months last spring I begged Sherrie to put a word in for me with Benidorm’s creator and writer Derren Litten.
I was shameless, offering to play a sunburnt body on the beach, a waitress in the Neptune nightclub, even a trainee in the hotel’s hairdressing salon Blow’n’Go.
BENIDORM — now in its sixth triumphant series — is the modern version of a Carry On film, with a stellar cast of top actors playing larger-than-life characters,.
Staff in the hotel Solana never do any work. It’s a seething hotbed of rumours and rivalry. The guests spend their time moaning or getting drunk.
Joyce likes to pretend she’s running a fivestar establishment, whereas the Solana is a four- star (only recently upgraded from three) all-inclusive place, catering for package holidaymakers seeking sun and fun.
And Joyce is desperately seeking love, which in this environment she is very unlikely to find. She’s more likely to attract a mosquito bite than anything more carnal.
I adore Benidorm (the show) for all sorts of reasons. First of all, I grew up with Carry On films. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing as too much innuendo in a sitcom.
Secondly, Benidorm never shirks from the blatantly offensive — it rejoices in the politicially incorrect when everyone else on telly is worried about upsetting any minority.
It’s also a show where the weird or unusual passes without comment. It’s perfectly normal in Benidorm for a faintly posh elderly couple (Jacqueline and Donald) to routinely chain each other up to the loungers for a spot of S& M punishment, or scour the town looking for fellow swingers.
Actor Tim Healy, best known for his role in Auf Wiedersehen, Pet plays Lesley, hotel manager Joyce’s cross-dressing assistant, in a series of very bad wigs and full make-up.
The Garveys (Steve Pemberton and Siobhan Finneran) are the family who turn up year after year and then spend every single day rowing.
Janice Garvey is married to tightfisted Mick, and her mother Madge is a chain smoker with a fake tan the colour of an old leather handbag.
My favourite characters are the hairdressers, gay Kenneth (Tony Maudsley) and his utterly naive assistant Liam (Adam Gillen), Lesley’s son. They are completely unskillled and never do any real work except turn the sign to ‘Closed’ on the door of the Blow’n’Go salon and skive off.
Benidorm ( the show) works because it’s based on real experiences most of us can relate to.
As a teenager, my first (and last) trip abroad with my parents was to the Costa Blanca — where the show is set — on a package holiday.
I was 15, and we were just like the Garveys, rowing every minute. Mum and Dad were terrified I’d get up to no good after dark and tried to police me like the Stasi.
I soon met a gorgeous French bloke called Hugo and begged him to relieve me of my virginity. As a gentleman, he refused. Mum tried to upstage me in the swimsuit stakes, but I think my legs won hands down.
I spent meal times sulking with my parents and the rest of the day snogging Hugo on the beach before my 9pm curfew was imposed.
That was my last beach holiday on mainland Spain until a few years ago when I spent 24 hours in Benidorm, staying in the tallest hotel in the country. It was surreal. My room had a jacuzzi on the terrace — a bit windy as I was on the 48th floor.
I had a bathroom with disco lighting and a giant television in my lounge which seemed permanently set to the porn channel (a lot of nurses and mechanics seemed to be getting up to unmentionable activities, a bit like Jacqueline and Donald). The sheets on my circular bed were black and white satin, a disaster when I returned home at 3am after a night on the town and slid straight out of them on to the floor. I’d ended up in a gay bar being entertained by a transvestite dressed in a flesh-coloured body suit with a fake pink wig glued to his crotch, teamed with pink wellingtons, singing: ‘ These boots are made for walking.’ His drag name was Sheila Blige, and he turned out to be a hairdresser from Glasgow.
Next day I went for a tour of the town on the mini-train, strolled along the perfect beach where someone had built a huge sandcastle of Christ on the Cross and lunched in a cafe offering ‘real English’ fried eggs.
Benidorm is Europe’s very own version of Las Vegas. Ever since then, I’ve been dying to return. Derren’s series captures the largerthan-life atmosphere to perfection.
Of course, enjoying a show from the comfort of your own sofa and actually participating in it are two very different experiences.
Years ago, I made my dramatic debut on BBC2 in a thriller, co-starring with Donald Pleasance. I played a journalist investigating psychic phenomena (typecast again), and I had about as much on-screen charisma as an ironing board.
My memory failed me and my lines had to be cut up and stuck on bits of paper all over the set where I could glimpse them in passing.
I nearly fainted on day one of filming when I was asked to ride a bike, dismount, run up some steps, ring a doorbell and then spout lines.
My God! Cycling, walking, ringing a bell and then talking. This acting malarkey was really hard work, and I have airbrushed it out of my CV and my memory.
This time, though, I had only five lines. And I figured, nearly 40 years later, I must be more proficient.
I got my script and chanted it on the flight all the way to Alicante. A hen party, aged 15 to 70, in pink T-shirts were thrilled I was on board. ‘Don’t tell us you’re going to be in
Benidorm!’ they screamed. In spite of a warm welcome from the cast, when I got to my hotel room I spent a sleepless night tossing and turning. At 7am I was in make-up down the road. The show is filmed in a real hotel, with rooms blocked off for production offices and costumes. Make-up in this heat (around 35 degrees) just slides off, so I kept it minimal.
I chose one of my most tasteless tops to wear — something spattered in gold. It seemed appropriate. Benidorm has got a style all its own. The fashion police would have a field day.
Finally, at 9am, it was time to go. Endless rehearsals followed. I had to rush into shot with a fake camera crew and hit exactly the right spot in front of the Hotel Solana staff, who were on strike because Mateo had been sacked.
WE MuST have filmed that scene nine times from every conceivable angle. Time after time I said my few lines, and they’re imprinted on my brain to this day. Then, I had a mopdown and a celebratory lunch.
I have nothing but admiration for the regulars. Watch out for Joan Collins who makes an appearance in the final episode. I wonder, did those false lashes droop as the temperature soared? And it’s not a climate you would choose to wear any control garments in either. Just thought I’d mention that.
That evening the cast assembled for supper and were very kind about my contribution. Even Derren was pleased. Hopefully the reporter from Benidorm TV can make another appearance in the future — after all, the Hotel Solana is full of newsworthy disasters.