My previous book, “The Freewheeling John Dowie,” combined tales of my showbiz life with stories of my cycling days. I’m no longer able to cycle, so “Before I Go” features instead musing about me, meaning and mortality. It also features Ken Dodd, me, Ken Campbell, me, Batman, me, God, me, the Faery Folk of France, and me. Also, I’m in it.
An excerpt …
SIR KEN DODD
My next school was Sparkhill Commercial, a tall, red-bricked Victorian building on Birmingham’s busy Stratford Road. The original head teacher was a Mr Cyril Toy. Mr Toy was rarely seen around the school and, when he was, it was almost always in the boy’s toilets, urinating and smoking. It was something of a surprise, therefore, when, during Assembly, Mr Toy informed us that ‘tomorrow the comedian Ken Dodd will be visiting the school to give us a lecture on smoking.’
I told my mother the news. She refused to believe me. I wasn’t convinced myself. But, sure enough, on the following day the school gathered in the assembly hall, Mr Toy made his introduction, and Ken Dodd took to the stage.
I assumed that we were to be given a solemn, po-faced anti-smoking lecture. I was wrong. ‘When I was a little boy,’ Ken Dodd began, ‘My mother told me, “Don’t smoke until you get a little older.’’ He then produced a cigarette holder, and said. ‘So I got a little ‘older…’
And we were off.
For sixty glorious minutes Ken Dodd had the whole school convulsed with laughter, none more so than Mr Toy, standing on the stage to Ken’s right, tears streaming down his face. At one point, Ken looked over at him, then slyly said, ‘Oh yes. I remember the headmaster at my school. He was my favourite toy.’
Well, that was it for Mr Toy. He very nearly collapsed. And he wasn’t alone. The whole school very nearly collapsed also, and continued to do so until, after an hour filled with laughter, and to the sound of cheering, Ken Dodd left the stage and I made the first rebellious decision of my life.
I was meant to go to a lesson but I was having none of that. I had seen Ken Dodd go into Mr Toy’s office. I had watched the door close behind them. I knew that Ken would come out at some point. I decided to stay there until he did. There would always be lessons. Ken Dodd was only here once.
A short while later, Mr Toy, wobbling a little and accompanied by the scent of strong liquor, came out of his office, guiding Ken Dodd towards the exit. I stepped forward and said, in the Brummie accent that I’m still trying to lose, ‘Ta-ra Ken.’
‘Ta-ra?’ Ken replied. ‘Ta-ra? What does ‘ta-ra’ mean?’ He then proceeded to do a series of improvised jokes, based on ‘ta-ra’, none of which, sadly, I can remember. A small crowd had gathered by then. Ken Dodd gripped my shoulders, and, turning me to face the crowd, said, ‘Nobody knows what this child could become. Nobody. Not even himself. He could be anything. For all we know, he could become this country’s Prime Minister.’ Then he shook my hand, said ‘Ta-ra son,’ and left.
*
Many years later, I had the pleasure of meeting Ken Dodd again. He treated me with the same kindness and warmth as he did years before, when he performed on the stage of my old school. It was a long time ago. Ken Dodd had given countless performances since then. I didn’t expect him to remember the time he came to my school. And he didn’t.
But I have never forgotten. Not just because I had met a magical human being; but because the lessons I learned from Ken Dodd would far outweigh anything that I would ever learn at school.
Before I Go and other books by John Dowie are available here:
