Goodbye Victoria

NEVER MEET YOUR HEROES?

Forty years ago I'd never been to a stand up comedy show.  It was nowhere near as easy to find as it is today.  But living in Edinburgh there was, of course, The Fringe.  So a mate and I got tickets to go and see somebody we'd heard off on the telly.  Jasper Carrot (don't mock, he was pretty cool in the seventies....).  Before the lights go down there's an announcement.  The advertised support act had had to call off, but they'd got hold of a replacement at short notice.  This didn't sound encouraging.

The show begins.  A name is read out.  On stage  a short, slightly dumpy, woman appears with a blonde bob and an apprehensive air.  She looked hardly any older than we were.  And she looked just mildly terrified.

I can't recall how long her set was, probably no more than thirty minutes, but I'm not sure what she had to worry about.  She was superb.  It's too far back for me to recall any of the subject matter, so all I have in my memory is being struck by just how much I was laughing and how easy she made it look.  Carrot followed, was excellent, if a little predictable, but when we emerged all we found ourselves talking about was this unknown Victoria Wood woman and wondering if we'd ever hear of her again....

So I became a fan quite early on in her career, although in those pre internet days it wasn't really possible to see where she got to.  One thing that gig did teach me was that often it's the unknowns who will prove to be best to watch, a lesson I continue to follow to this day.

Later she'd turn up on TV doing those wonderful comic songs on That's Life and go on to become a small screen favourite.  The likes of Acorn Antiques and Dinner Ladies have become classics and are still as funny to watch now.  I got to see her doing stand up a couple of times in the nineties, in much bigger venues than that first one of course, and it was the sheer energy of her performance that stays in the memory.  Meanwhile she's knocking out a great comedy film like Pat and Margaret, or going on to write, and star in, straight drama in Housewife, 49.

I heard her being interviewed one time, saying that in her early years as a stand up she'd been terrible and terrified.  Which made me wish I could tell her what a hit she'd made on us all those years ago.  To my surprise, I got my chance to do so.  The premier of Loving Miss Hatto, which Victoria wrote, was shown at the Filmhouse, and after the screening she was up on stage to answer questions.  All very amusing of course.  I was a bit slow getting out of the building and when I did Barbara was there pointing and saying 'go and talk to her'.  And sure enough, there was this tiny figure standing on the pavement on Lothian Road and, for that moment, on her own.  So I went over, introduced myself, said what I wanted to say, and we had a bit of a laugh about it.  And Barbara took this picture.

I'm not generally one for getting excited about celebrities (or feeling affected by the deaths of musicians, actors etc.), but for the next few hours I couldn't stop myself  saying "I talked to Victoria Wood" in a squeaky excited voice.  The voice was put on, the excitement wasn't.  You never know if a star will be as pleasant to talk to you as you imagine.  She was.  She was lovely, and modest and exactly as you'd imagine her to be.  And tiny.  Very, very tiny.

You also got the sense that she had integrity, that whole showbiz thing wasn't for her and she'd be as happy doing what she did in relative anonymity.  She always said she wouldn't get drawn into the whole comedy panel show thing on TV, and stuck with that.  But she did appear on my favourite radio comedy programme, which produced this gem.

Ask comedians who their biggest influences are and the name William Connolly always seem to come up.  Of course Billy is one of the great comedians of our time, but I think some of the admiration for him comes from the wide range of talents he's displayed over the years - singer, musician, writer, straight and comic actor etc etc.  A true renaissance man.  Yet Victoria, if not his equal in the art of stand up, was his match, or superior in the rest.  And The Big Yin never wrote one of the great TV sitcoms or most iconic sketches.  Two soups anyone?

The news of Victoria's death today did sadden me, the more so I suspect because I did have that brief opportunity to meet one of my heroes.  Even if I never did get the chance to beat her on the bottom with the Woman's Weekly.