The world won’t be the same without Ken Campbell’s drawling of the words ‘glossolalia’, ‘Neville Plashwit’ and ‘gastromancy’, and walking his dogs on the Walthamstow marshes.
Permit me to trot out a personal memory:
As he said it, he was pathetically counting out dozens of pennies to see if he had enough for a drink, so I stepped in and got him one. It was, beloved readers, a coke. Ned Sherrin and Alan Coren never told stories like this, eh?
I can still remember some of Macbeth in Vanuatu pidgin thanks to Ken, and that’s a life skill to treasure – though
Actually, I’ve also stalked him along Green Lanes with another friend, but that’s another story.
I guess we’ll never get the History of Comedy Part Two now. Sniff.
Maybe if I keep working on my already prodigious eyebrows I can do the tribute act some day.