Life and Laughing: My Story by Michael McIntyre Read Free Book Online Page A

her ‘Coke’, a nickname that stuck for some time. Looking back, it seems the Junkins were really into fizzy drinks, what with the Lucozade everywhere and calling my mum ‘Coke’. When Jenny fell on John, she too became pregnant and had a child called Annabelle, which was disappointing as my sister and I had a side bet she would be called 7-Up or Dr Pepper.
    Soon after we moved into our dimly lit Hampstead flat underneath the Junkins’ Lucozade-glowing abode, my dad’s career in comedy began in earnest. Barry Cryer was hired to write for a zany and wildly talented radio DJ, Kenny Everett. Kenny was moving to television with The Kenny Everett Video Show on Thames TV. Barry, who had worked with my dad on Jokers Wild , brought him in to help with a segment of the show. The three of them hit it off immediately, and to such an extent that my dad was hired for the whole series. The chemistry between Kenny, Barry and my dad was perfect, and they laughed their way through series after series of a show that was getting up to 20 million viewers.

    Kenny Everett, in Sid Snot guise, with Barry Cryer and my dad in their heyday, caught in a rare moment not laughing at each other’s jokes.
    In those days there were only three channels, BBC1, BBC2 and ITV. It must be impossible for teenagers, reading this book on their iPad, to fathom such a thing. It wasn’t really so bad. The only real difference is that in 1980 someone would ask, ‘What’s on TV tonight?’ and ten seconds later the reply would be ‘Nothing’, whereas in 2010 when someone asks, ‘What’s on TV tonight?’ it takes half an hour before somebody says, ‘Nothing.’
    TV was so much simpler then. Today I can hardly keep up with technology. I’ve just got HD; now I’m told it’s all about 3D. 3D technology is truly amazing, and soon we will get to experience it in our own homes. The problem I have is that, sure it’s amazing if you’re watching Avatar . I’ve seen Avatar . It’s unbelievable – you feel like you can reach out and touch the Na’vi characters and are surrounded by the landscape of Pandora, and you can practically smell it. But do we really want to be sitting at home watching TV and feeling like we can reach out and touch Jeremy Kyle? I don’t want to feel surrounded by the Loose Women, and I certainly don’t want to feel I can practically smell Alan Titchmarsh.
    For parents, TV is a salvation. It’s well-earned time off. ‘Sit down and watch this, kids, while I briefly return to a life I left behind.’ My four-year-old, Lucas, even has his own mini-DVD player, so while Oscar’s watching Teletubbies , he’ll be watching Finding Nemo on his portable. (When school was cancelled for a week during the snow, I think he watched every U and PG film ever made. He had to start on the 12s and 15s. When the snow finally melted, he was halfway through Carlito’s Way .)
    When I was a kid, my sister and I watched our fair share of telly. ‘Don’t sit too close or your eyes will go square,’ our mum would say before getting back to her colouring in. (The ‘eyes going square’ risk fascinated me, as did the ‘if you sneeze with your eyes open, your eyes will pop out’ claim. I spent countless hours trying to get my sister to sneeze while sitting too close to the TV, hoping her square eyes would pop out.)
    We watched all the classics that will hit readers of a certain age with nostalgia. My favourites were Sesame Street , The Perils of Penelope Pitstop , Battle of the Planets and Buck Rogers . I could tolerate Rainbow but was not a fan of Playschool or Blue Peter ; I found the presenters really patronizing. I know they were talking to children, but I just thought they were acting weird. The much-loved Floella Benjamin, for example, I couldn’t stand her. She was just way too over the top for me (and her first name sounded like a vaccine). I preferred the company of Big Bird, the Cookie Monster, Mr Snuffleupagus, and Bert and Ernie.

    When my