THERE are few people more obsessed with TV than comedy superstar Peter Kay – so much so that he’s kept every telly guide he’s bought since he was seven.
Peter’s encyclopaedic memory of all things television has inspired his new book, TV: Big Adventures On The Small Screen, in which he reveals: “They’re all in a box in the attic and I have every single one since 1979.
“Actually, you can completely believe that. They’re a bit tatty and torn now and I’ve actually seen one or two microscopic white insects wandering across the pages. Probably dining out on Noel Edmonds’s face.
“I read through them a few weeks ago and that same excitement came flooding back.”
As a child, Peter loved telly so much he had an unusual Christmas present request — asking for blank VHS tapes rather than games consoles or Scalextric.
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He adds: “When I did manage to get my precious bumper Christmas TV Times and Radio Times, I’d run home as fast as I could, grab a big felt tip and get ticking.
My stomach just flipped thinking about the excitement it used to give me.
I’d then spend the next few days carefully working out how many blank videotapes I’d need to ask Father Christmas for so I could tape all of my festive delights.”
Fifty-year-old Peter’s new book collects his childhood TV memories and documents his own journey to realising his small screen dreams — from making tea at Granada Studios to creating some of our best-loved comedy programmes, including Phoenix Nights and Car Share.
It was a huge deal for him when, in 1990, he landed his first junior job at Granada Television — which he describes as “the Hollywood of the north”.
As a child he had been obsessed with how other ITV regions differed from Granada, poring over the contrasting schedules.
He recalls: “I’d spend ages comparing and contrasting the Look-in TV guide’s schedules, grumbling, ‘Why are Anglia showing Grizzly Adams on Saturday when we’ve got to make do with bloody Gambit with Fred Dinenage?’.
“And, ‘How have Yorkshire managed to wangle a new series of The Incredible Hulk two weeks before any bugger else?’.
“I don’t know why, but I used to find it incredibly exciting.”
Peter’s journey from TV super-fan to comedy legend is perhaps best exemplified by his relationship with Michael Parkinson.
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He went from watching the television legend at home to being his off-screen warm-up man.
And he eventually appeared as a guest on the veteran host’s chat show several times.
Here, in exclusive extracts from his new book, Peter reveals what it was like to go from behind the scenes to in the chair.
And he tells how a mishap with his tie very nearly derailed the whole thing . . .
‘I told Parky I’d got him a new job…as a lollipop lady’
WITHOUT a doubt, the greatest British talk show host was the late Sir Michael Parkinson. He was in a class of his own.
His journalistic training gave his interviews a great foundation and he was always well-researched when it came to his guests. He also knew how to listen and, more importantly, when to interject.
His show had been off air for a while but returned in 1998.
I was fortunate to get the job of warm-up in the studio each week.
It was a great honour to sit on the front row and listen to these interviews first-hand. I also got to know Michael and his wife Mary.
One of the biggest honours of my career was being asked as a guest on the final episode of Parkinson just before he retired.
Immediately I said yes, then I panicked when they told me who the line-up was going to be. David Beckham, Sir Michael Caine, Sir David Attenborough and Sir Billy Connolly. How could I be on with Billy Connolly?
It’s Billy Connolly – he’s one of the best comedians there’s ever been.
Our styles aren’t that far apart. What to do? I’d have to try to think of some other way of being funny that didn’t tread on Billy’s toes.
As it was Parkinson’s last show, maybe I could bring some things with me to celebrate. Like on the last day of school, to have a party.
I packed a big holdall with a selection of things and headed off to the show. I never told the producers what I intended to do. It would only have caused aggro.
Everybody would be getting involved, discussing if I could or couldn’t, so I just didn’t tell anybody.
In fact, I blatantly walked around with my holdall, and nobody even quizzed me about why or what it was.
A funny thing happened when I went into make-up.
I’d dressed in my shirt and suit, but I’d had a bit of trouble with my tie.
I always do. The knot never looks right. Perhaps because I had an elastic tie until I was in the fifth year at school.
I was discussing it with the make-up lady when Michael Parkinson overheard my conversation.
The next thing I knew I had Sir Michael Parkinson, Sir Michael Caine and Sir David Attenborough stood round, all having a go at fastening my tie.
“No, that’s not it,” said Michael Caine. “Give it here,” said David Attenborough. “He needs a Windsor knot.” I just sat and watched this surreal reflection.
Can you believe this? Three knights of the realm flapping over my tie.
Finally, my time arrived and a producer led me to the top of the stairs. A make-up lady gave me a quick check. “How’s my tie look?” I whispered. We both laughed.
Here’s how the show went:
Parky: Our next guest used to be my warm-up man and he used to say to me, ‘One day I’m gonna walk down those stairs and be a guest on your show’. [I never did] He’s now one of Britain’s funniest comedians, would you welcome, please, Peter Kay.
Laurie Holloway struck up the band and out I walked. Well, here goes, I thought to myself as I walked down the staircase, holdall in hand. It never gets any easier.
I shook hands/hugged the other guests. I began by emptying my holdall. I pulled out the board games, Buckaroo! and Twister.
I got out some party hats and handed them to the guests.
Parky asked, “What’s all this?”. I told him that it was a bag of treats I’d brought, as it was his last show and I thought we could have a bit of a party. I got out a cake tin and took the lid off – “Victoria Sandwich”.
Then I turned to David Beckham and said, “I bet you’ve said that a few times, haven’t you?”.
This brought the house down and I knew I was in.
I stood up and fired a party popper over Sir David Attenborough (it’s not often you can write a line like that).
Then I got out some French fancies and a bottle of orange cordial.
Me: I’ve got some paper plates an’ all. I’ve got cordial.
Parky (laughing): He’s got cordial.
Me: I can’t believe this is your last show. You’ve had them all on here, haven’t you? Fred Astaire . . .
Parky: Yeah.
Me: Bette Davis.
Parky: Yeah.
Me: Morecambe and Wise. You’re the kiss of death, when you think about it. How long have we all got? We’re not on because we’re good, we’re on because we’re alive. (I turn to David Beckham) Thank God you’re on. I thought I was the youngest. It’s like Cocoon, this.
I then told Parky that, now he was retiring, I didn’t want him going stiff, so I’d got him a job.
Out of my holdall I pulled a big luminous yellow coat and a hat, basically a lollipop lady’s outfit. I handed him a collapsible lollipop stick and said, “It’s 20 minutes outside a primary school – morning and evening”.
Then Parky and I acted out a little scene in front of the other guests where I pretended I was crossing a road while he pretended to hold back traffic.
The audience seemed to love it and the whole idea came off much better than I ever imagined it would.
I was just relieved my tie looked alright.
- Extracted from TV: Big Adventures On The Small Screen, by Peter Kay, published on Thursday (HarperCollins).
