Bring Me Sunshine... (Why I Will ALWAYS Love Morecambe & Wise)

I have always loved comedy.  There was a time in my life where it seemed like every other weekend, I would disappear to some comedy club or other, to see what the stand ups were like there.  When comedy is good, it can make you forget your troubles and you can experience the wonderful freedom of simply letting go and laughing out loud.

I like all sorts of comedy, really.  Of course there are some styles I dislike and some comedians I just don't find funny, but for the most part, I'll give anything a try, from acerbic stand-up, to parody songs, to modern-day sitcoms.

My love of comedy came, as so much of my great loves have, from my childhood.  My sister and I watched a lot of the stuff our parents (and their parents) liked.  We giggled at Carry On films, we watched so many episodes of Dad's Army that we could practically quote scenes and we were introduced, via BBC repeats, to the magic that was Morecambe and Wise.

Eric Morecambe (born John Eric Bartholomew) and Ernie Wise (born Ernest Wiseman) had been child performers on the old UK variety scene.  Eventually, they'd teamed up (whilst still only in their teens) and formed a double-act, which went on to become quite probably the greatest comedy double-act the UK - and possibly the world - has ever seen.  Their television shows attracted enormous audiences 

and their Christmas specials were absolutely not to be missed, featuring big-name stars of stage and screen, practically queueing up to make fun of themselves.  

Tom Jones found himself equipped with a new pair of backing singers...

Of course, the days of Morecambe and Wise dominating the Christmas schedules are, sadly, long gone.  Eric Morecambe suffered his third heart attack in 1984, as he left the stage at the Roses Theatre in Tewkesbury.  He died a few hours later, aged just 58.  Ernie Wise was devastated at the loss of his oldest and dearest friend and, heartbreakingly, read the lyrics to "Bring Me Sunshine" (the song the double act were famous for singing at the end of their shows) as a eulogy to his comedy partner.  Although he outlived Eric and appeared on stage and television, Ernie suffered a series of mini strokes and heart problems in the years following his partner's death.  He passed away in 1999, aged 73.

So it is, that Morecambe and Wise are something of a memory, now.  But what a memory.

In today's hectic, sharp-tongued world, there are, it seems, hundreds of comedians out there, just waiting to tell us what they dislike about modern life.  And of course, there's nothing wrong with that.  As I said, I find all kinds of different comedy entertaining and I can definitely get on board with the ranty, putting-the-world-to-rights style of many of today's stand-ups.  But Morecambe and Wise weren't about that.  They weren't wanting to moan about the cost of living, or go off on a political rant.  These were two men from a variety hall background - they wanted to sing, dance, tell jokes and make people smile.  They wanted to entertain.

Unlike many modern comics, Morecambe and Wise had no intention of resorting to cruelty or mockery without purpose.  When a guest star was made fun of, the audience could tell that it was never being done with any kind of malice.  It was, simply, just funny.  When the famous conductor & composer, Andre Previn appeared as a guest, he was constantly referred to as "Andrew Preview" and Eric Morecambe delighted in seemingly frustrating Previn with his deliberately bad piano playing.  Whilst Previn was undoubtedly the stooge for Eric and Ernie's comedy, he was never personally insulted or put down.  In fact, his rather superb (and unexpected) comic skills instead meant that the "Andrew Preview sketch" has gone down in history as one of Morecambe and Wise's greatest moments.

Presenting: "Andrew Preview" in all his glory.

Eric and Ernie sometimes told a risque joke, or alluded to adult themes, but they were never, ever crude and their shows were free from bad language, meaning the whole family could enjoy them together.  There was no need for cussing or insulting anyone - they were just happy to make people laugh by doing something silly; performing with the kind of genuine warmth for one another, as well as for their craft and their audience, that endeared them to viewers in their millions.  

Eric and Ernie may have mocked one another on stage, but the many years of friendship behind their eventual television success always shone through and you never felt that the pair were anything but mates as well as colleagues.  Their lampooning of one another simply came across as the kind of harmless banter that is inevitable between two people who know one another very well.  From Ernie's despair at Eric's supposed lack of intelligence, or appreciation for the finer things in life, to Eric's mocking of Little Ern's height and his constant insistence that Ernie wore a wig ("but you can't see the join!"), the pair were always happy to be the butt of their own jokes.

Yes, when you watch some episodes back, a little of the humour is dated.  But there is something genuinely wonderful about stepping back into a time when comedy was simply for fun, without trying to spread a message or cut anyone to the quick.  When you watch Morecambe and Wise, you can see the love for performing that Eric and Ernie both had, as well as the immense skill they had in doing the job.  It's not hard to imagine the enormous amount of work that went into making a show that was adored by millions, yet the boys managed to make it look effortless.

Sometimes, we don't want to think about anything too deeply; we just want to switch off and have a bit of a laugh.  And that's what Morecambe and Wise gave us.  A chance for a good belly-laugh.  An opportunity to enter a world of silliness and fun, in which of course two guys would choreograph an entire dance routine whilst making breakfast!

I was talking about Morecambe and Wise to someone the other day and I described an evening in, watching their old Christmas specials, as being like "a really big, squishy hug."  It's heart-warming.   It's hilarious without being nasty.  It's silly.  It is, at its heart, just very, very funny.  It was after that conversation that I decided to use one of my weekly bedtime stories here on my blog, to pay tribute to the boys.

I may have only been eighteen months old when the world lost Eric Morecambe, but I grew up watching him and Ernie and loving them.  And now, three decades later, they're still bringing me sunshine.

Bedtime Story (19/8/2015)

As a heads-up, at some point between Friday and Sunday, I intend to write a blog post in which I gush over my enormous love for Morecambe And Wise.  The above gif is making me smile like there's a hanger stuck in my mouth, because pretty much anything featuring Eric and Ernie always does.  This week's bedtime story is dedicated to them, for always bringing me sunshine...

That's What Friends Are For

Eric and Ernie had been rehearsing for weeks.  Now, the school talent show was just a few days away.

"So," Ernie said, scratching his head.  "You do that joke, then I do my dance and we end on a song, yeah?"

Eric nodded, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose.  "I reckon we're a shoe-in for first prize, you know," he told his friend.  "Everyone else is either acting, singing, dancing or telling jokes.  We're the only ones doing everything!"

Ernie grinned.  "What are you going to buy with your prize money, if we win?"

Eric let out a long puff of air.  "A new football, maybe," he mused.  "And a football shirt to wear whilst I'm having a kick about."

"And we'll each get a trophy," Ernie reminded him.  "That would look so cool on my bedroom shelf.  I've cleared a space already, just in case."  He glanced up at the shelf on the wall and clapped his hands.  "I'm so excited, Eric!"

"Well, Monday night will be here before you know it," Eric replied.  He glanced down at his watch.  "I've got to get a move on; we're off to see my grandparents this weekend and mum wants to leave before rush hour."  He smiled as he gave his friend a quick hug goodbye.  "I'll keep practising, whilst I'm away!"

Ernie nodded his head.  "Me too," he promised.

The weekend passed by in a blur, as Eric spent time with his family and grabbed every spare second he could find to practise the routine he and Ernie had so carefully planned.  By the time he arrived home on Sunday night, he could barely wait to see Ernie and have one last rehearsal before the talent show, the following evening.  But when he rushed round to Ernie's house, he was in for a nasty shock.

"He's ever so poorly," Ernie's mum told Eric, when she opened the door.  "We had an emergency doctor round yesterday and he thinks it's flu.  Bless him, Ernie's got a really high temperature; he's shivering and his joints are hurting him...  I've not seen him this ill for a very long time."  She sighed and shook her head.  "I'm sorry, Eric.  There's no way he'll be well enough for school tomorrow and that means he won't be able to take part in the talent show, either."

Eric's shoulders dropped and his mouth hung open.  All of their plans and dreams seemed to come crashing down around his feet.  He swallowed hard and shuffled on the spot.  "Can I see him?"

Ernie's mum wrinkled her nose.  "Well...  I'm sure he'd want to see you, but..."  She sighed.  "Okay, come in," she told him.  "But don't get too close. I don't want you catching this as well."

Eric climbed the stairs and gently pushed open the door to Ernie's bedroom.  The room was dark; the curtains were closed and the light was off.  Ernie was lying under the bedcovers, looking thoroughly miserable.  "Eric?"  He croaked, as his friend entered the room.  "I'm so, so sorry."

Eric shuffled into the room.  "Don't be silly," he insisted.  "You can't help it."  He forced a grin, clapped his hands and fiddled with his glasses, so that they rested wonky on his face.

Ernie chuckled in spite of himself.  "You look funny like that," he said.  "You should do that tonight, in the talent show."

Eric rearranged his glasses and quickly shook his head.  "Not a chance," he replied.  "I can't do it without you.  We signed up as Eric and Ernie, not just Eric!"

"But you'll win, Eric," Ernie pressed.  "You're funny and you don't need me there; you can sing and dance without me.  Then you can go and buy that football and we'll have a kick about when I'm feeling better."

"It won't be the same without you, Ern," Eric protested.  He hated seeing his best friend so crestfallen, so he rushed to the window, just as an ambulance went speeding by, with its siren blaring.  He turned and gave Ernie a broad grin.  "I tell you what; he won't sell many ice creams going that fast," he joked.

Ernie giggled and shook his head.

"Shall I do a dance?"  Eric broke into a shuffle and beamed as the smile on his friend's face grew wider in response.  "See, look at that," he told Ernie.  "You look better already!"

"That's because you make me laugh," Ernie replied.

Eric dug his hands into his pockets.  "That's what friends are for," he said, simply.

"I really mean it, you know," Ernie said, his voice sounding a little weak.  "You could win the talent show on your own, tomorrow night."

Eric shrugged his shoulders.  "We'll see," he replied.  "Listen, you look exhausted.  I ought to go; some of us have got school tomorrow!"

Ernie smiled.  "Let me know how it goes," he said, managing a wave as his friend left the room.

The next day dragged for poor Ernie.  He managed to get out of bed a few times, but he spent much of the day under his duvet.  At ten to six, his mum came in with a bowl of soup.  "Ern?"  She sat on the edge of the bed.  "How are you feeling?"

Ernie let out a long sigh.  "I wish I was there to cheer him on, mum," he mumbled.  "The talent show starts at six o'clock.  He'll be nervous and I'm not there to calm him down."

His mum stroked his hair and gently kissed his forehead.  "Eric's going to be fine," she promised.  "You just need to concentrate on getting better."

"I know," Ernie breathed.  "I just wish I was there.  I practised so hard, mum..."

His mum rose to her feet, hearing footsteps on the stairs.  "Hear that?"  She asked.  "That's probably your dad coming up to check on you, too."

The door creaked open and through the gap, an arm poked through, waving.  It was too small to belong to Ernie's dad.  Ernie sat up in bed.  The arm disappeared and when it came back again, the hand was holding a pair of glasses.  "These," a voice said, "are for seeing around corners.  And you, Ernie, look terrible."

Ernie burst out laughing, as Eric bounced into the room.

"What on Earth are you doing here?"

Eric popped his glasses back on and shuffled his feet.  "Couldn't do it without you, could I?"  He nodded hello to Ernie's mum as she left the room, then sat on the edge of Ernie's bed.  "We're a team, you and me, aren't we?"

"But what about the trophy and the new football you were going to get?"  Ernie frowned.

"You've got ears like a trophy and if you curl up small enough, I'm pretty sure I could use you as a ball..." Eric joked.  He sighed.  "Seriously, none of that matters.  I thought about going up on stage without you, but after all the practising you'd done for the show, it just didn't feel right.  If you're not up there with me, I don't want to do it."

Ernie blinked back at him.  "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," he said.

Eric grinned.  "Ah, the act was rubbish anyway," he teased.  "We'll come up with something even better for next year's talent show and we'll definitely win.  And we'll win it together."

"That's what friends are for," Ernie nodded, remembering what Eric had said the previous evening.

"Hey," Eric tutted.  "That's my line."  He rose to his feet and nodded to the door.  "I ought to get going," he said.  "I'll come back and see how you're getting on after school, tomorrow."

As the door closed behind him, Ernie gazed up at the space he'd cleared on his bedroom shelf for the talent show trophy and a smile crept across his lips.  He didn't need a prize.  He already had something much more valuable.  And that's what friends are for.

THE END