Tag Archives: Autobiography

Book review

Anyone who has seen him wildly ad-libbing on Would I Lie to You will know that as well as being a wonderful comic Bob Mortimer is also a brilliant story-teller. It’s a pity therefore that his childhood provides such depressing material for the opening half of this his autobiography. His dad died unexpectedly when he was young, and his mum struggled to support the family of four sons in working class Middlesbrough. The sad clown trope in which the comedian’s childhood insecurities are compensated for by comedy voices and routines (impersonations of teachers being a favourite) is very often a feature of similar accounts. But Bob was too shy even for that role. He’s very frank about how difficult these years were for him, but what is surprising is how long he struggled with this aspect of his personality. I found it genuinely sad that his footballing abilities didn’t provide an outlet for him – although he played for the Middlesbrough boys team for several years he tells us he hardly shared more than a dozen words with his teammates off the pitch. He later describes his time at Sussex university as the most difficult years of his life and that “throughout my entire three years at Sussex I never spoke to another law student. I talked in tutorials but as soon as they finished I was away back to my room to listen to my records.”

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The opening chapters of this absorbing autobiography are interspersed with an up-to-date chronicle of Bob’s heart problems, which brought a very sudden taste of his mortality. In childhood we have to come to terms with the inevitability of our own deaths, but we are able to treat it as sufficiently distant as to be an abstract concept, something that will happen one day but is not too frightening. But in later mid-life, with an unambiguous and critical diagnosis, it becomes a much more immediate reality. Bob response to the dawning realisation that he was not going to be around in ten or twenty years was to try to make the most of what time he had left. And to go fishing with his friend Paul Whitehouse. If you haven’t seen it Gone Fishing is wonderfully relaxing and contemplative comedy.

And Away… is admittedly fragmented. I got the impression that however hard Bob tried to be honest, he edits the story of his younger years to sanitise them. I can’t blame him for not wanting to dwell overly long on moments of his life best left behind, (not least because he would in doing so give away the ‘true or false’ answers to some of the more ridiculous anecdotes on Would I Lie to You) and he hurries on to the transformative moment when he meets his comedy partner, Vic Reeves. These are obviously the days Bob remembers with particular fondness, allowing him to leave behind a legal career he clearly wasn’t that interested in and to develop a stage persona in which he felt more comfortable than in his own skin. Imposter syndrome is possibly an exaggerated way of describing the common feeling that we don’t quite deserve the success we achieve and Bob certainly shares this feeling – it is almost as if he can’t quite believe his luck in getting to share the stage and screen with Vic, and would never want to emerge from his role as sidekick where he feels he belongs. He tells the story of their amazing success on television almost as a fan would describe it, a series of lucky breaks and undeserved second series, rather than the reward for hard work and comedic talent.

Bob comes across on television as a decent, genuinely likeable and yet humble man, someone who it would be wonderful to go for a beer with. This memoir confirms that impression without really giving the reader any new insights. Perhaps autobiographies are always going to hide as much as they reveal, which is why we wait for biographies for the real warts-and-all revelations.

And Away…, by Bob Mortimer, 2021

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Book review

Men at Arms, by Evelyn Waugh, 1952

Men at Arms (not to be confused with the Terry Pratchett Discworld novel of the same name) is the first in Waugh’s Sword of Honour trilogy of novels about his experiences in

Men at Arms (Penguin Modern Classics): Amazon.co.uk: Waugh, Evelyn: 9780141185736: Books

the Second World War. His avatar for the purposes of this semi-autobiographical novel is the urbane Guy Crouchback. Guy is in his mid-thirties, has a failed marriage behind him, and his strict Catholicism means he cannot remarry. Hiding away in the family villa in Italy, Guy is moved to volunteer and join the army on the declaration of war in 1939. Being in his thirties he is considered rather old for active service and his extensive efforts to find a posting come to nothing. Nothing that is until a chance encounter leads to a role as an officer in eccentric and ancient Royal Corps of Halberdiers. In real life Waugh was in the Marines (initially at least) and it is clear that many of the experiences and challenges of army life are drawn from Waugh’s own life. Much of the novel focuses on his desultory training as an officer and the various random postings around the country, while the real events of the war take place off-stage, filtered back to the UK in a slowly descending spiral of bad news. Guy’s fellow officers are a series of fellow eccentrics and outcasts, particularly Apthorpe whose large and burdensome collection of personal possessions follows him around the country and becomes a running joke.

On leave in London during a short break in training Guy bumps into his ex-wife and her second husband Tommy Blackhouse, from whom she is also divorced. This is the kind of novel where characters are constantly bumping into friends and former lovers in unlikely circumstances, always responding in a low-key, fancy meeting you here old chap way. This motif is one of the few stylistic remnants from Waugh’s earlier comic novels where London and life was one big party for the rich and fabulous. As Guy is desperate to produce an heir to the Crouchback name, his brothers having pre-deceased him, he conceives an absurd plan to seduce and impregnate his ex-wife. Despite his efforts to get her drunk and into bed, his clumsy execution of his plan, not to mention the constant interruptions, frustrate him.

Back in training, a new officer, Brigadier Ritchie-Hook, takes command of the halberdiers, and threatens to bring some order to the chaos. While a sense of purpose is introduced the brigade seems no nearer to being combat-ready or to actually going into action, despite the steadily deteriorating position in Europe at the front. At this point in the novel there is an extended comic scene revolving round a chemical toilet, also known as a thunderbox. Quite why they need a chemical toilet when they are billeted in a school building is not explained and probably not relevant. This scene was well done and illustrated the ridiculousness of the modern army, with echoes of earlier, much more light-hearted Waugh. The feud between Apthorpe and Ritchie-Hook over ownership and exclusive access to the toilet culminates in it being sabotaged and destroyed in an explosion. Toilet humour may seem a bit out of place in this stiff-upper-lip novel of army life; the Halberdiers is an ancient brigade governed by a strict and sometimes apparently arbitrary set of rules, rituals, conventions and codes. But it is a welcome comic relief from army routine. These scenes reminded me of some chapters in Spike Milligan’s war memoirs such as Adolf Hitler, my part in his downfall, with which Men at Arms shares some dna – the extended and chaotic time spent preparing for conflict, pointless exercises, long journeys around the country ending up back in the same location, and moments of high farce.

Eventually the brigade sets sail for Dakar in Vichy French Senegal. Waugh was involved in a similar expedition to Senegal, which had a similar outcome. Having travelled all this way it comes as no surprise as the attack is called off. Nevertheless a frustrated Ritchie-Hook organises a clandestine raid on the coast, led by Guy, and returns with the severed head of an African soldier as a grisly trophy. For Ritchie-Hook this is all a gruesome game, another anecdote for when he is eventually decommissioned, but the consequences for Guy (for the unofficial raid, not for the decapitation of the guard) are serious, and he leave Senegal under a cloud. The brigade moves on to Sierra Leone where Apthorpe is hospitalised with an unspecified fever, his end hastened by a well-meaning gift of a bottle of whisky from Guy.

I’ve read quite a lot of Waugh in the past, and I am not sure how I haven’t got round to the Sword of Honour trilogy before. It is markedly different in tone from the dark comedy of his pre-war novels. Men at Arms is much closer to a straightforward memoir, with some exaggeration thrown in for comic effect. It is not a plot driven novel – the narrative meanders along at a relaxed pace. It’s also not really a war novel – the amount of combat involved in very limited and Waugh is in no way a triumphalist (the references to Churchill are pretty unflattering). Guy is something of an anti-hero, even of his own novel – he is determined to do the right thing when his country needs him and fully resigned to the discomforts and danger that military service will involve. But at the same time he tries to seduce his ex-wife, causes the death of a colleague, and the only action he sees is farcically unsuccessful. There is an honesty to this account of the early years of the war, when shambolic defeat follows defeat and only the Channel saves the country from invasion. I am pretty sure I’ll push on and read the other two novels in the trilogy to see how things pan out and try to decide whether I would recommend this to anyone other than Waugh completists or not.

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Book review

Adolf Hitler, my part in his downfall, by Spike Milligan, 1971

If this blog is anything, it is at heart a reading diary, a record of the books I read and my thoughts about them. What I read is not always going to be improving or classic literature – far from it – and it follows that from time to time I will review books that would not normally feature in a book blog. But having said all that I am not in the slightest embarrassed to be re-reading Spike Milligan’s inspired Adolf Hitler, my part in his downfall once again. It seems the perfect book for these times, a quiet voice of sanity amongst the madness that is the world of today.

My Part is the first volume of Spike’s war memoirs, spanning the period from the declaration of war to when he landed in Algeria as a part of the Allied invasion of Africa. It is the first of wMilliganhat was eventually to be seven volumes of reminiscences covering his war service and the years immediately after when he was trying to resume his life and break into showbiz. The diary format used captures the immediacy of the experience of being called up to fight for one’s country, the strange combination of dread and adventure that many young people must have felt. The memories of ridiculous, outrageous adventures – Milligan obviously retained a strong sense of silliness throughout his life – and tragedy (“There were the deaths of some of my friends, and therefore, no matter how funny I tried to make this book, that will always be at the back of my mind”) combine to give the novel its unique, immensely touching tone. 

The novel opens with Spike receiving a “cunningly worded invitation to partake in World War II“. Given “a train ticket and a picture of Hitler reading “This is your enemy”‘ he sets off for war – or more specifically Bexhill-on-Sea, where he begins what seems an extraordinarily long period of training in the artillery. Training largely serves as a background to his musical interests – playing in a jazz band, and chasing girls. After more than two years of training, drinking, music and girls, all overlaid with large amounts of silliness as Spike hones his comedic skills in preparation for the career that was to follow, the inevitable order to travel overseas arrives. In January 1943 the regiment finally embarked for North Africa. Milligan describes the sunrise:

...there is no light so full of hope as the dawn; amber, resin, copper lake, brass green. One by one, they shed themselves until the sun rose golden in a white sky…I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun. I fell down a hatchway. (p 140)

There are several moments of poetic writing such as this, always undercut by the punchline. It is here, as the reality of war begins to dawn on the very young men in Spike’s regiment, that he ends the volume,

I would hazard a guess that Milligan partly wrote these memoirs as a trip down memory lane, a way of capturing the memories before they faded too much, and partly as a convenient source of revenue – the books have always sold well, and this one was also turned into a film. It’s a curious mix of seriousness and silliness, but it works, and Milligan’s wit and humanity shines through. He’s certainly not made the hero of his own book – there are far too many confessions for that – but the reader can understand why Milligan got off so lightly so often for his misbehaviour and insubordination.

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Book review

How Not to Be a Boy by Robert Webb, 2017

How not to be a boy‘How not to be a Boy‘ was promoted as a feminist analysis of masculinity in the UK in the 21st century, how toxic it can be, and how it can be avoided (look at the front cover “Rules for Being a Man” if in doubt – confusingly man not boy). It does indeed contain this analysis, but this goes alongside a very traditional childhood to adulthood rags to riches autobiography. The book was also marketed as unblinkingly honest, one in which Webb confront his demons, looks them in the eye and names them. Again, this is only part of the story – there’s plenty of glossing over of difficult issues here alongside the franker discussions about early homosexual experiences, or his abusive father.

I am sure life wasn’t easy growing up in the Lincolnshire Badlands in the 1970’s and 80’s, fourth son of a forester who was physically abusive towards his mother and older brothers. His parents’ divorced when he was five and his step-dad seems to have been only a minor improvement. He always had the comfort of his grandparents to fall back on, but he grew up in the shadow of the death of an older brother before he was born, and for whom he was in some way a replacement. Webb records in detail a childhood that will seem familiar to a large part of the population, apart from a determination to one day achieve fame through acting or comedy. The death of his mother just before his A levels knocks him off course, although retakes see him securing the place at Cambridge that is principally a way of getting into the Footlights and on that well-trodden road to success. Webb skips over the difficult post-Cambridge years fast forwarding to marriage, Peep Show, Mitchell and Webb, and fatherhood, where the more interesting observations about ‘The Trick’ i.e. patriarchy can be found.

Has Webb got anything original or interesting to say about feminism? Everything he says is undoubtedly valid and supported by clear arguments and evidence. It’s an authentic record of his mistakes and opinions, and as far as it goes that would probably make a worthwhile Sunday supplement article or two. But no, it’s not original. And while the patriarchy made some of his childhood unhappy, he still managed to make it to Cambridge and beyond. I’m not criticising him using his platform for making some useful arguments in favour of men looking after themselves, seeking help, cultivating their friendship group and so on. Even if just one person is helped by this then it is worth doing.

The other, larger part of the narrative, the autobiography, sits (for me) uncomfortably with these observations. He has failed to avoid many of the mistakes he so clearly outlines. Why take advice from someone so skilled at being a traditional male – bad at relationships, bad at looking after himself, bad at even passing exams! While at Cambridge he was obnoxious – his seduction technique for example seems to have been “Get your coat” – and he is horrible, unfaithful and neglectful to the women he dates, all of which he cheerfully admits. None of this makes him easy to like.

My other issue with this book is its dishonesty. For a book that takes pride is being brutally honest, it isn’t. I can completely understand why he would want to avoid giving too much detail for example about his teenage homosexual relationships – the other people or person involved in still alive, now happily married – although the implication that this is in some way shameful or to be avoided is at odds with his claimed comfort with his sexuality and masculinity. Punches are pulled and the soul-searching only goes so far. Later at Cambridge he claims to have done literally no work – not attended any seminars, lectures or supervisions, devoting himself entirely to the Footlights and his romantic affairs – but he somehow emerges with a 2.2, which Cambridge University tends not to hand out for blank pieces of paper. This section of the book is a close copy of Stephen Fry’s account of his time at Cambridge – work heroically neglected, triumphs on stage, some last minute cramming and out pops a good degree. I don’t believe it for a minute. Webb at one point admits to humblebragging – well recognising that you are boasting while pretending to be humble (a chapter about having dinner with Carrie Fisher for example) doesn’t make you any less of a bull-shitter.

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