IT was a year of extremes – from the pomp of Her Majesty’s Silver Jubilee to the snarling Sex Pistols song God Save The Queen.
Yet bridging society’s gaps with humour through 1977 was Mike Yarwood — impressionist, comedian and a welcome relief from the nation’s many troubles.
On December 25 that year an incredible 21.4million of us watched his festive TV special, delighted by his spot-on portrayals of the big names of the time, from PM Jim Callaghan to the then Prince Charles.
Among them was the Prince’s own mum, the Queen, who was reported to have delayed the Royal Family’s Christmas lunch by an hour so she could watch the show.
It still holds the record for the largest Christmas Day television audience, according to the Royal Variety Charity.
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Mike, who died on Friday aged 82, had a supreme talent and a gentle brand of humour which allowed him to satirise royalty and politicians without insulting them. It made him unmissable viewing.
To end his shows he would always sing a final number, introducing himself with the line, “And this is me.”
His stunning impressions of the leading figures of the day such as Harold Wilson, Ted Heath and Denis Healey as well as familiar TV faces like quiz host Hughie Green and The Sky At Night’s Patrick Moore cheered the nation throughout the grim and politically turbulent 1970s.
He even invented a catchphrase, “Silly Billy”, for his impression of Healey that became so famous that the Labour Chancellor even used it himself on occasion.
‘So much joy’
Mike’s brilliance at mimicking both the mannerisms and voice of each celebrity was an inspiration to later impressionists including Rory Bremner and Alistair McGowan.
Rory tweeted yesterday: “He was the Gov’nor. He inspired us, propelled impressionists up the bill & was the court jester of the ‘golden age’ of TV.”
He added: “He kicked the door down and he turned impressions from being a kind of specialist act {into a] Saturday night affair.”
In 1979 Margaret Thatcher became PM, and Mike found imitating her a challenge — “I couldn’t get the voice at all,” he admitted.
In the 1980s Mike struggled with alcohol and anxiety problems as his career began to founder, with satire growing more caustic and his cast of characters now fading from public prominence.
Alistair said yesterday: “With impressionists we get sort of forgotten a bit because our material is topical and of course the people we are doing move on all the time.
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“So you don’t get repeated on TV in the same way, and Mike didn’t get reruns in the way the Two Ronnies or Morecambe and Wise have always been repeated.
“Mike has been forgotten in that respect, and it’s a shame because he brought so much joy to young and old alike.”
Mike was born and raised in Bredbury, near Stockport, Cheshire, and was a lifelong Stockport County fan. He was just six when he first dabbled with impressions.
Stuffing a cushion up his jumper and putting on a pair of glasses, he loved pretending to be the fictional tubby schoolboy Billy Bunter.
But mimicry was not his only talent.
Growing up on the outskirts of Manchester, he was a skilled footballer, playing for local clubs.
He considered turning professional but showbusiness beckoned when he started winning local talent contests.
Mike’s big break came when he was 23 and booked to be on the ITV variety show Sunday Night At The London Palladium in 1964.
That night the public first glimpsed what would become one of his most enduring impressions — with signature pipe and raincoat as Labour’s Harold Wilson, who became Prime Minister later that year.
It led to a series of programmes for ATV and Thames Television. Then in 1971 Mike joined super-producer Bill Cotton’s BBC roster of stars, including Morecambe and Wise and the Two Ronnies, Ronnie Corbett and Ronnie Barker.
Under Cotton’s stewardship, Mike’s fame was propelled to new heights with programmes such as Look: Mike Yarwood from 1971 to 1976, followed by Mike Yarwood In Persons, which ran from 1977 to 1981.
All his shows had a well-honed format — Mike performed sketches and monologues mixed with guest appearances by singers and musicians.
Mike’s warm, family-orientated humour was generally understated — but he could sometimes be waspish.
As Labour PM James Callaghan, he quipped: “Actually Maggie asked me at the House of Commons Christmas party if I would kiss her under the mistletoe. I said I wouldn’t kiss her under anaesthetic.”
And parodying astronomer Patrick Moore, who was famous for his squint, he joked: “Now pay attention because I’ve got my eye on you.”
He famously did a skit with Sir Paul McCartney, with Mike playing Denis Healey dressed as a punk.
He asked the Beatle: “Excuse me, I don’t know whether you know me but I used to be Denis Healey.
“Well, I got rather fed up of being a silly Billy so I decided to become a chunky punkie.”
By then Mike was married to Sandra, a member of TV dance troupe The Young Generation, who regularly appeared on his shows.
The couple lived with their daughters Charlotte and Clare in a sprawling Surrey mansion with extensive grounds and a swimming pool.
Mike performed at seven Royal Variety Shows — which could have proved awkward, as the Windsors were very much part of his routines.
He is thought to be the first on TV to mimic royalty, with his foppish impression of the Prince of Wales.
But Charles and his then wife Diana were impressed.
Mike said: “He never said much about what he thought but he liked my Ronald Reagan.
Princess Diana told me she enjoyed a Charles and Diana kitchen sketch I did with Suzanne Danielle.”
He was embraced by the political establishment too. Prime Minister, Edward Heath introduced him at one lunch as “the Prime Minister and Leader of the Opposition”.
He was referring to himself and Harold Wilson. Wilson would have Mike’s show playing in the background while reading official papers and instruct his wife Mary: “Tell me when I’m on.”
Clearly delighted with the famous parody, Wilson made Mike an OBE in his 1976 resignation honours list.
Despite all the success, Mike was a perfectionist and put enormous pressure on himself to perform.
He recalled: “When I was doing The Mike Yarwood Show, I’d walk into the studio and see all these people working on one project, all because of me. I wanted to run away.”
When he wasn’t working he was exhausted, and struggled to settle into regular family life.
He admitted: “I went through a period when I didn’t want to go out at all because it made me uncomfortable.
“I had hang-ups about ordinary things that husbands do, like going to the supermarket on Saturdays.”
His pre-show nerves were getting worse, his drinking heavier and his marriage was under strain.
Mike later admitted: “I wasn’t a monster, but I was bad-tempered and a control freak. I had a tendency to say, ‘Oh, showbusiness involves so much pressure’, but it was my drinking that was causing problems.
“It’s a paradox that my most successful years were the 70s and yet I look back with a lot of sadness.
“My drinking was out of control most of the time. I was working too much and everything got to the point where I needed a drink. I missed a lot of the children growing up.
“One of the saddest things is that I missed my daughter’s first birthday because I was too hung-over.”
In the early 1980s Mike moved to ITV but many of his favourite impressions had now lost relevance and his TV career finally ended in 1988 when Thames Television opted not to renew his contract.
His marriage to Sandra ended too, and out of the limelight Mike suffered from an identity crisis.
His daughter Clare said: “He was famous from a very young age, so when it all stopped, there was this big question, ‘If I’m not Mike Yarwood, who am I?’”
Seemingly restless, he moved home five times, once to Prestbury, Cheshire, where he would regale pub punters with his impressions over a pint.
Plans to revive his career as a talk show presenter were thwarted in 1990 when he was taken ill while starring in a Los Angeles cabaret.
He suffered a heart attack soon after, which was the wake-up call he needed to quit booze for good in 1991.
Mike found peace in later life and described himself as a “happy man”.
He said: “I spend most of my time with my daughters and four grandchildren and they are the ones who make me laugh.
The star’s final years were spent at the Royal Variety Charity’s nursing home Brinsworth House, in Twickenham, South West London.
Mike’s last skits were done purely to entertain his grandchildren — whose giggles proved that even in his twilight years he still knew how to make a good impression.
