Lord of loony laughter
Hugh Mass ingberd
TRAGICALLY I WAS AN ONLY TWIN: THE COMPLETE PETER COOK edited by William Cook Century, E17.99, pp. 429, ISBN 13579108642 Of all my heroes whom I have been fortunate enough to encounter in the flesh, none was more friendly and relaxed than Peter Cook. Unlike some previously worshipped from afar, he was completely lacking in self-importance and had an almost puppyish desire to amuse — as well as a generous readiness to be amused. As he wove surreal fantasies about odd items he had spotted in the pile of newspapers he was clutching or cheerfully elaborated upon snippets he had picked up from watching trashy daytime television programmes, Cook still — not long before his death in 1995 — seemed more like an unaffected undergraduate than 'The Comic Legend Gone to Seed' as he was by then idly categorised in popular mythology. Those mesmerising eyes had not lost their glamour, danger and mischief as he effortlessly set the table on a roar. At the time I was convinced that I would remember every word he said until my dying day, but the laughter of the moment swept memory aside — though I think he expressed regret that he had never been asked to record a message for a fan in a coma.
So it is a joy to be able to hear Cook's voice once more in one's head while reading this welcome collection of his scripts. Although the subtitle, The Complete Peter Cook', is promptly contradicted on the second page of the editor's introduction — 'Of course it's not a compendium of everything he ever did' — it is certainly, as William Cook (no relation) claims, 'a pretty comprehensive summary'. We are treated to a song from Peter Cook's days at Radley, some Cambridge Footlights sketches, revue material for Kenneth Williams (which has not worn particularly well) and snatches from Beyond the Fringe (still remarkably fresh), as well as copious helpings from E. L. Wisty, the Pete and Dud dialogues, Derek and Clive (best taken with strong drink) and Sir Arthur Streeb-Greebling (Tye learned from my mistakes, and I'm sure I can repeat them.').
Happily the editor keeps his attempts at analysing his namesake's humour to a mini
mum. He points out that, like Joe Orton's, Cook's writing was 'often far more literary than theatrical'. Cook was essentially a miniaturist. 'Most of my ideas are only worth about five minutes,' he admitted.
Although celebrated as the Sultan of the Satire Industry in the Sixties (Beyond the Fringe, the Establishment Club, Private Eve), Cook was not primarily a satirist. 'He wasn't interested in satire at all,' says Alan Bennett. 'He was interested in being funny.' To Jonathan Miller, 'the idea that he had an anarchic, subversive view of society is complete nonsense. He was the most upstanding, traditional upholder of everything English and everything establishment.' Miller thought that Cook found Harold Macmillan, whom he memorably lampooned in Beyond the Fringe, as 'rather adorable, really'.
As Richard Ingrams explained, 'Cook's talent has always been for outrageous nonsense fantasies. He would impersonate a zoo-keeper attempting to rescue 'a very rare type of bee which had become lodged in a lady's knickers'. At Private Eye, Auberon Waugh recalled, 'Peter's visits stand out as moments when everybody suddenly became possessed with a new ener gy.
To his credit, William Cook refuses to go along with the traditional formula of 'Decline and Fall of a Genius' and laments Peter Cook's 'lost promise' ('A shame you did it all at 26', to quote Tim Rice's lyric for 'High-Flying, Adored'). In praising the 'perceptive and prescient cartoon' of 'Jonathan Crake', the doomed satirist in Private Eye's 'Aesop Revisited', though, he should also have mentioned the principal author of that strip, Christopher Booker, as well as the artist, William Rushton. A quarter of a century after Beyond the Fringe, Cook himself reflected, 'I haven't matured, progressed, become deeper, wiser or funnier. But then, I never thought I would.'
Yet to anyone privileged to hear trim at the end of his life he remained the funniest man in the world. Indeed, as John Bird observed of Cook's 'interviews' with Clive Anderson on television and Chris Morris on radio, they were
far front being the dregs of some washed-up has-been scratching around to recreate lost glories. Rather it looks like the last work of a considerable creative artist.
Peter Cook, who relished things going wrong (especially in live performances, where he could exercise his peerless gift for ad-libbing), would have had fun with the misprint about 'the crickets' spurring him into action. I would also question the editor's description of Peter Alliss as 'the great golfer', but only wish I had caught Cook dressing up as a transvestite Royal Flying Corps ace to distract Ted Dexter (who had caned him at Radley) on ProCelebrity Golf. The BBC comes in for a well-deserved beating for destroying most of the Not Only But Also tapes. Such vandalism makes this book all the more cher
ishable. Where else can we relive the moment when Pete's slumbers are disturbed by
Previous page
