John Le Mesurier: It's All Been Rather Lovely

Of all the Dad's Army cast, he was my favourite.

I think he was one of my favourite people of all time.

Oh, hello.

LAUGHTER

How awfully nice to hear from you again. It has been such a long time.

He had me on the edge of the seat whenever I watched him.

I didn't want to, you know, miss a moment.

You show me yours, I'll show you mine.

You'd just wait for that twitch of an eyebrow.

The slightly quizzical look.

He had depths to him that nobody knew about, I think.

He would always have that elegant, relaxed facade

and, underneath, it was tumult.

He was the typical English gentleman

in so many ways.

That sort of type of actor has disappeared.

Shame.

I do believe you like butter.

-HE CHUCKLES

-What?

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

What do you think of this?

Well, it's awful.

What?

No, no, no. It's awfully good, awfully good.

Dear, oh, dear. HE CHUCKLES

Dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.

HE LAUGHS OUT LOUD

HE LAUGHS MORE LOUDLY

Watch it, Wilson!

You might snap your girdle.

Who, me, yes?

I'm told you you have to tell a joke, you see.

Yes, all right. Yes.

I'd forgotten. That fascinating journey on the train, yes.

Do you mind if I have a look at that pharmacy book of yours?

Do so, by all means.

Will it tell me all I want to know?

Despite being a seemingly ever-present face on cinema

and television screens for over 50 years, John Le Mesurier

never considered himself anything other

than an ordinary, jobbing actor.

I went into the workmen's canteen

and a young man said to me when I was having my coffee,

"Were you in such a such a film?"

And I said, "Yes, I think I might have been."

I don't find that particularly amusing!

And I wasn't helping him at all. I was naughty, really.

I could see his embarrassment, poor little thing.

He was getting redder and redder in the face.

-Do you think that's wise?

-No, no, that's Morecambe.

Finally, he blurted out,

"It is Daphne du Maurier, isn't it?"

He was one of those actors that worked all the time,

but never became a big star.

But that suited him.

He liked to go in and get the laughs, play the small parts

and come home and go down to Ramsgate and put his feet up.

I got back from Dijon this afternoon.

I've heard some disturbing rumours about Mademoiselle Anna.

Nowadays, he would have had agents and people rushing down saying,

"You've got to be in Harry Potter,

you've got to do this, that and the other."

"You've got to be in Casualty." Can you imagine that?

John Le Mesurier playing a patient in bed in Casualty,

with his legs sawn off, or something like that.

-AS LE MESURIER:

-Yes, not a leg I-I use very much,

um, the left one.

A relatively modest leg.

Are we to call the sergeant The Honourable Sergeant Wilson,

or Sergeant The Honourable Wilson?

I don't want any fuss, I just want to be like an ordinary sergeant.

I'm sure that would suit us all, Wilson.

Before joining the annals of television history

as Sergeant Wilson in Dad's Army,

John Le Mesurier was the go-to man for any director

wanting a slightly uncomfortable, but oh-so-British authority figure,

appearing in 100 films in the '50s and '60s alone.

Would you tell his Lordship how your married life went?

Well, it wasn't a life at all, really, not what I'd call life.

Would you explain what you mean by that?

Well, he was always picking on me,

said I'd paid more attention to the boarders than I did to him.

And did you, madam?

He stole moments in films, John, little cameos.

Every film he was in, when he came on, everything I saw of him,

I just felt very comfortable.

I knew he knew what to do.

You never committed misconduct except this one occasion?

No, my lord.

Has he asked you to?

Certainly not!

Why not?

What you saw on screen with John

was almost exactly the way he was.

It was only in extension of him.

How do you do? It's awfully nice to meet you.

Did you have a jolly crossing?

-It was very jolly, except for one thing.

-What was that?

Those beastly Kraut submarines that kept firing torpedoes at us.

Oh, my dear, how awful.

I never heard John raise his voice, ever, which is quite a...

I mean he was just really a very gentle

and a very funny and a very easy-going man.

John Laurie did describe him as a dilettante

and he was a dilettante.

He just enjoyed doing what he was doing.

It was fun to do. In that respect, John never grew up.

Oh, yes, it's all sparkly!

You know, it's just like fairyland, sir.

He did say to me once, he said, "At a very early age,

-"I pretended to know

-BLEEP

-all about anything."

He said, "As a consequence, nobody ever asked me to do anything."

I think he cultivated a kind of,

"Don't ask John to do it because he'll make a mess of it".

I suppose everything'll be all right on the night.

This is the night.

Ah. Oh, yes, yes!

Totally useless. He really couldn't make a cup of tea.

And adorable, always.

Because he was so liked by everybody, that was no problem,

because there was always somebody to do it for him.

And that's how he sailed through life.

When John decided to give up driving...

And he was the worst driver ever.

CAR MISFIRES

He got out of his car under Hammersmith flyover,

in a traffic jam, and he thought,

"I can't handle this any more."

Left the keys in the ignition,

left the doors open and just walked away from his car.

Never went back and decided, "I've done with driving now."

And that was very John.

Just left the thing under Hammersmith flyover!

I trust you had a comfortable journey?

Yes, very smooth, thank you, uneventful.

-Quite without incident, I'm glad to say.

-Good, that's splendid!

John is a fragment of what it was like in a certain time.

A sort of upbringing in Edwardian, well, 1920's England,

that sort of thing.

And he carried that with him,

without it ever being made a point of his performance.

It just informed everything he did.

This feeling of a bit like the Empire, really,

slightly sort of faded.

Oh, a jolly good time, now it's gone.

Right, over!

Over!

Come along, Wilson, pretend that you're doing a cartwheel.

Um, I've never done a cartwheel.

What about when you were a child?

I just never did that sort of thing.

Extraordinary.

John Le Mesurier was born in 1912

and grew up in genteel Bury St Edmunds.

It was a world of tennis parties and stiff upper lips.

But, even as a child, John longed for something more.

His nanny was pushing him.

And he said, "Who are those people, Nanny?"

They were made up and overdressed

and the women had lots of make-up on.

And she said, "Those are theatricals

"and you must have nothing whatever to do with them."

And he said that kind of fired his appetite up

to meet people like that.

And he did. He was fascinated by people

who were different from what he was used to.

-Mr Wilson does not appear as other men.

-What?

His little legs are pointing in the wrong direction.

-Oh, dear.

-What's the matter with them?

-Do try and sort yourself out.

I haven't done it before, it's very difficult.

His father was a very strict man. I remember him.

I never really got close to him at all.

I don't think he suffered children very well!

His childhood had been dominated by his nanny.

She was the one that gave him the kisses and cuddles

and sang lullabies.

-Uncle Arthur?

-What is it, Frank?

-I'm ever so cold.

-What?

Can I cuddle up to you?

He said mummy and daddy would never let their feelings show,

and be emotional, have a row, or anything like that.

Frankly, I'd rather you didn't.

-I shall tell Mum!

-Oh, all right. All right, then.

His father wanted him to go into law,

but his love was acting and theatre.

He studied law

and went to work in a solicitor's office for a long time,

but his heart was never in it.

He had quite a struggle.

Repertory, thank God,

was the best way for anybody to learn to act in those days.

I remember this very handsome man.

That everybody was madly in love with.

We practically dropped a curtsey when we spoke to him!

Then he spoke to me. You sort of swooned with delight, you know?

-NEWSREEL:

-'All cinemas, theatres,

'and other places of entertainment

'are to be closed immediately until further notice.'

In 1940, John's rep career

was rudely interrupted as he was called up to join the Army -

reporting for duty in his own inimitable style.

His sergeant said, "When you turned up here, Le Mesurier,

"you looked as if you were coming on a weekend's holiday."

Because he took his golf clubs with him.

Arriving in the back of an open Austin 7, or whatever,

in his dinner jacket, with his golf clubs and his jazz records.

Get your shoulders back and your chin in. Stand up like a man!

-Is that better?

-Not really, no.

-After a while, he said, "You'll be no

-BLEEP

-use as a soldier!"

"I'm going to recommend you to be an officer."

He must have thought at the time, "Thank God for that."

-We're likely to be here for some time.

-Yes, sir.

-We've got keep the men cheerful till help arrives.

-Of course.

-Whatever I do, I want you to back me up.

-Right.

-With a smile on your face.

-Yes!

Is that all right, sir, do you think?

Better than nothing, I suppose.

John didn't really let you see anything that was going on inside,

but he had this knack of

pretending it wasn't there.

And trying to ignore it and it would all go away.

I mean, his first wife, for instance, um,

was taken to drink.

Caught up in the urgency of wartime,

John had married the rich and glamorous June Melville.

Not long after he was posted to India,

while June stayed in London and partied the war away.

She was a lovely lady.

Brilliant, marvellous woman.

And... But, an alcoholic.

And that's really what destroyed their relationship.

She was just a total alcoholic.

She would be brilliant

and talk brilliantly on three different subjects at a party,

and suddenly, boom.

Pass out completely.

He found that so humiliating for her.

He didn't have a thing about women being drunk,

but it pained him

that anybody would make, er, the kind of exhibition like that.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, that queen of the Players' Theatre,

your own Hattie Jacques!

His first marriage collapsed and then he met Hattie, of course,

and she was the great love of his life, she really was.

Can I help you, madam?

No, no thank you, just looking around for the moment.

They were ideal, because they both had very strong senses of humour.

# 'S wonderful

'S marvellous

# You should care for me... #

They really got on terribly well together, you know.

Hattie was a very bright personality.

But then so was John, he was a bright personality, too.

She was a lovely woman. It was an extraordinary liaison.

Because Hattie was so big, John was so thin,

it was like a sort of male and female Laurel and Hardy, really!

# C'est magnifique

# 'S what I seek

# You should care for me... #

They married and they had a very, very...

And two wonderful sons.

They bounced off each other.

They relied upon each other and they needed each other.

And when one was feeling a little down,

the other one would pick him or her up.

They were a good team, you know.

It did work.

He loved her. He adored her. She was a mother.

She was the mother that he'd never had with his own mother.

She was a mother who was genteel and polite,

but Hattie was vulgar and rumbustious and fun.

Wonderful sense of humour.

And loved parties and would stay up all night

and then cook everybody bacon and eggs for breakfast.

# 'S exceptional... #

Waking up and finding Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan,

jamming in the basement with my dad and my mum singing was the norm.

I was very lucky to grow up in that family, really, really was.

I don't feel blase about it at all.

# Me-e-e-e-e-e-e...#

At that time, John wasn't very successful

and had long periods of no work and so on.

And Hattie was the breadwinner, as it were.

She was the star.

John was still a jobbing actor and getting his feet back on the rung,

because he'd been away through the war.

He'd only had a very tenuous hold before the war.

He'd made a couple of movies, I think,

but supporting.

And, by luck, he met the Boulting brothers.

One of the funniest performances I saw from him on film

was in I'm All Right Jack as the time-and-motion study man.

-I say, are you sure I'm not keeping you from your work?

-No, no, no.

Wouldn't like to get you into trouble,

especially as you're new here.

Not at all. I'm learning a lot.

Oh, good. Right. Watch this.

I didn't know who John Le Mesurier was. I couldn't even say the name.

Don't want to get you into trouble.

But that was a performance I went away talking about as a teenager.

It's one of the best things he ever did.

Thanks, Charlie.

I remember, some time in the '50s, we went to see a film

and it was called The Blue Parrot

and John was the villain.

I must say, you've paid your part very well, Maureen.

He was amazing.

Even then, he was so laid back.

Well...

arrivederci.

People used to say he must be so rich, he's been in so many things.

But he'd be in for half a day sometimes,

in literally a cameo, and get something like £50, or 75.

It wasn't America, you know.

But he made his mark.

The parts he played were these rather small, upper-class people.

And I'd been to public school,

I knew a few of that sort of people, and he made them very funny

without ever mugging at all. That was the great thing about John.

Don't you think the nose is a little bit too large?

No, it's just a question of how one sees it,

the underlying feature of the composition is based...

He very rarely broke a smile at all, and we loved that.

We thought that was so funny, but it was so selfless.

Other people, the Hancocks and the others, got the laugh in the end.

These rubbers are very good.

-Would you care to step into my office?

-You're a busy man,

you don't want to bother with the likes of me, it will upset...

-Bring your books with you.

-All of them.

All of them, yes.

Yes.

They were like best friends,

as in a naughty schoolboys kind of way.

They were just best mates.

They adored each other, they were real companions

and they'd been in several movies

and shows, Hancock's Half Hours, over the years.

How long did this rubbish take you?

-Only two or three hours.

-Two or three hours, hm?

Do you know how long the time-and-motion experiments allow

for the preparation of accounts?

-Yes, sir, three minutes, 45.5 seconds.

-Exactly.

He had no aspirations to be a movie star. He was always support actor.

He was somebody who would walk on and steal the show.

I'm not having that money running around London outside police control.

Quite right. Good point.

Yes, Parker, and I'm making it your personal responsibility

to see that the money is returned intact at the end of the operation.

I'm assigning Parker to you as from now.

Somebody said in films where he appeared, good or bad,

if he was in it, there was always one shining Le Mesurier moment.

It's all right, Parker, it's all right.

-I've ridden one of these things before.

-Of course,

the Cavalry, wasn't it, sir? Or was it the Hussars, sir?

Metropolitan Police, if you must know.

Rather fun, isn't it? Children would love it.

HUMS TUNE Pom-pom, pom-pom

pom, pom pom-pom pom, pom.

Go and sit next to... Go on, get off.

But this thing's moving, sir. Yes, sir.

It was a busy, busy house.

He didn't really notice, as he wouldn't any domestic thing.

He was having a wonderful... He was busy,

so it kind of happened insidiously

that his marriage started to crumble.

She was introduced to this charming, guy, John Schofield.

And I don't blame her at all.

He was a real rascal, actually.

I always used to say to Hattie, "He's a getaway driver, you know,

"that's what he is."

The most brilliant driver I'd ever known.

He always drove much too fast.

And I said, "That's what he is, he's a getaway driver."

And I think he was, too.

He was debonair, he was kind of a rogue.

He was very good looking, he was very funny.

He was totally different from my dad

and I think she just fell for that.

I think she had been neglected by John for a little while

and she was very glad to have a lover.

It was getting more obvious.

In the end, Hattie said, "We're lovers."

And John was moved out of the bed

and a lovely big bed-sitting room was made for him,

but that was it. The guy was in the house

and there was nothing anybody could do about it.

Unwilling to damage Hattie's reputation

by revealing the truth of his shattered home life,

John reluctantly agreed to appear on her This Is Your Life.

It was an excruciating experience for both of them.

Well, er, John, I understand

and I know that you are a double risk now, of course.

But I understand you were surprised

-that Hattie was on time at the wedding.

-Well...

I must confess I am rather inclined to be a bit surprised,

when Hattie arrives for anything, really.

It was very difficult for him to be on it, you know.

And her.

When he appeared, she...

Imagine what he was going to say.

-There is never a dull moment with Hattie?

-No, no, there isn't, really.

I would like, though...

I would like to say that I, er... I am eternally grateful

to the way she runs the home,

looks after the children,

looks after me.

Home comes first, really, I don't mind saying. LAUGHTER

But, er,

I think for somebody who is so busy all the time

and so much in the public eye all the time,

to do all these things is very difficult

and a jolly neat trick.

Thank you, John Le Mesurier.

APPLAUSE

He couldn't bear any confrontation. He didn't like that at all.

He found it really distasteful.

So, as a consequence, he would not...

He would appear to be walked all over,

but I don't think he ever was.

It was actually kindness, as opposed to foolishness.

He was the saddest person.

He was so sad about it, because he had two sons,

the house, the home.

And this boy, this man, kind of bullied him.

He was resolute he was not going to leave his home and his children.

He had his own little bedroom and bathroom

and he lived in the same house.

You know, I don't how he did that, but he did.

He decided that to resort to anger or retaliation was futile

and he just treated people with respect.

He was kind and he was gentle.

Hattie fell in love.

And broke his heart, really.

But I was there to pick the pieces up, which was good.

Broken by Hattie's betrayal, it was only after meeting Joan Malin

that John finally found the strength to leave the family home.

I think she injected, to a certain extent, a new lease on living,

not on life but on living.

-How long have you known her?

-Quite a few years now, sir.

-Why have you not asked her to marry you?

-I don't know, sir.

I haven't been able to get around to it.

Well, you better get around to it, hadn't you?

You can't go about behaving like Errol Flynn.

Apparently, he'd proposed marriage to me

quite some time before in a place called Grumbles,

a restaurant called Grumbles.

He said, talking about Hattie and the affair,

he said, "I don't know what to do, I don't know which way to turn now."

"I don't suppose you'd take me on for a start?"

I said, "Ooh, darling." And that was a proposal.

That was him proposing marriage.

And when Tony met me, he said, "You've got to grab this one, John,

"she is lovely," and this, that and the other.

John said, "I already asked her to marry me

"and she's turned me down." I said, "When did you do that?"

He said, "Gosh, that time in Grumbles."

I said, "Oh, gosh, I didn't know that was a proposal!" I had no idea.

Will you marry me?

DOOR LOCK RATTLES

Arthur, darling!

I couldn't not marry him.

John wanted to be married and I couldn't leave him in that mess.

He was ambling about without being able to make tea.

I loved him. I cared about him deeply.

But, in retrospect, that wasn't really being in love,

and when I met Tony, I fell in love.

They enjoyed each other's company.

It was so sad that,

having brought Tony Hancock back for dinner one night,

that it all kind of fell apart.

-You're pretty well set up here.

-Oh, yes, it's quite comfortable.

Of course, it's not quite like a home, but, well,

it has its compensations.

You're very lucky. You want to hang on to it.

When Tony's marriage split up,

he went to stay with John and Joan in Barons Court.

-You don't know how lucky you are.

-That's a matter of opinion.

My dad was of course, "Come in, you're my best friend."

Because trusting, you know.

You made a wise decision to stay single.

Yes, well, actually, it wasn't my decision.

The lady said no.

John went through, with Tony Hancock...

..what he'd gone through with John Schofield, really.

Twice it happened to him.

With John Schofield, it was Hattie, and, with Tony Hancock, it was Joan.

And Joan left John to live with Tony.

As I understand it, marriage is a matter of give and take.

Not all of us are equipped for that sort of thing.

-Another cup?

-No, thank you.

I mean, the guilt was, well, unbelievable,

that both Tony and I felt.

Tony said, "If only he had come round and smashed me in the face!"

But the fact is he didn't

and he said, "I can understand, my darling, I know."

He knew what real love was.

It wasn't a...a passing thing.

He knew it was genuine and that did grieve him,

because he thought he'd lost me completely.

I can't help feeling it's a matter for your conscience.

Conscience.

Thanks very much for the tea.

It was terrible. It was a terrible thing to do.

It was like shooting somebody.

She went into the room where John was sitting in the chair

and she kissed him on the forehead

and he said, "What's to become of us all?"

Joanie and Tony were the two people he loved most in the world, so

because of the fact that he loved them both so much,

he was so incredibly understanding

about the fact that they loved each other.

He didn't see that as any slight towards him

and he took it on the chin.

She was living with Tony Hancock. He used to knock her about.

And I hate talk about great, clever, brilliant people,

but he liked the booze and he was rather unpleasant.

Oh, it was an up and down, it was a roller coaster

and John was my confidant, my best friend.

And I missed that wonderful life, and John understood.

He said, "I love him, too, I know exactly how it is, darling."

And he'd seen him through these dry-outs and things.

He was more concerned for them than he was for himself, you know,

and that was John, that was the way he was.

That's where that trust thing comes back.

I think he knew in the end that she would come back

and he waited for her.

John was incapable of resentment

as he was incapable of jealousy, really.

Both of them were very disruptive emotions.

They got back together again

and he never mentioned it, ever, ever again.

Not once. It's incredible, isn't it?

DAD'S ARMY THEME TUNE

Still reeling from Joan's affair, John received a job offer

that would lift his spirits and his career to a new high.

Oh, what a blessing it was, because, for John, mainly,

he had somewhere to get away from me!

John didn't know whether

he wanted to do the programme or not

and I didn't, and so we used to phone each other up and, eventually,

John decided he was going to do it.

And then I said, "All right, if you do it, I'm going to do it."

Good evening, Mr Mainwaring, evening, Mr Wilson.

You know me, don't you, sir?

-Mr Jones, the butcher, from the high street, isn't it?

-That's right, sir.

Don't you think Mr Jones is a little too old, sir?

Old? Who are you calling old?

You give me a chance to get to those Jerry parachutists,

I'll soon sort them out.

He took a sort of negative attitude.

And he didn't back the series, or anything.

And it took some time, but it was his wife Joan that awakened him

to the fact that he was starring in a hit series.

He said, "No, it's about a lot of old codgers

"and there's no glamour in it.

"Um, in shabby old uniforms, I mean who's going to...?

"Who's going to...?"

He said, "I'll give it the six episodes,

"but they'll never do another."

WHISTLE

I'm a Gestapo officer.

-Are you the sergeant?

-Yes.

-What are you doing in France?

-I'm not in France.

-Oh, yes, you are.

You have come by parachute.

I've captured you and now I'm interrogating you.

Oh, I see.

Oh, bonjour.

It's only looking back now

that I realise how very, very good John Le Mesurier was.

He used to drive me mad.

I'd say, "Lighten up, John, show a bit of enthusiasm."

-AS LE MESURIER:

-"Oh, my dear boy. Have you got a cigarette?"

I'm putting matches underneath your fingernails.

I'm setting light to them. Burning down.

Now they've reached your fingers.

You're in agony. How do you like that?

Well, to be absolutely honest,

it isn't really bothering me very much.

They wanted him to be Captain Mainwaring

and Captain Mainwaring to be the sergeant.

I thought that's absolutely perfect,

to have a gent playing the sergeant.

That will absolutely twist the whole thing round and, of course, it did.

That's one of the things that made

Dad's Army a popular programme, I think.

They type of bomb we're going to use will be represented by this can.

Er, have you got it? Have you got the bomb?

-Yes.

-Well, show it to them.

As we got to know John, we wrote the part exactly for him,

all his little idiosyncrasies, everything.

-Where's your hat?

-Oh, here, sir.

-Well, put it on.

-Oh, right, sir.

HE LAUGHS WEAKLY

I'm so sorry, sir, would you mind holding that for a moment?

It's jolly difficult do this without a mirror, you see? Awfully difficult.

-There. Is that...is that quite nice?

-Oh, never mind that!

Sergeant Wilson was John Le Mesurier

and John Le Mesurier was Sergeant Wilson.

He was typecast he would be that gentle, erm...

..gentle, gentle man,

who was put in a position of some sort of authority,

but didn't really know how to use it.

I would like to say on behalf of Captain Mainwaring and myself

how very grateful we are for the trouble that you have taken

in your appearance tonight.

-Wilson!

-You all look absolutely lovely.

Same time, same place tomorrow.

Do, please, try to get here at the right time. Would you do that?

-Wilson, get in here!

-Right.

He was so well mannered. That was the great thing about him.

He was nice to the underdog.

He always tipped his hat if he was wearing one to a lady.

Do you know what I mean?

He was old-fashioned and a gentleman.

Do make yourself comfortable.

Is there any little thing I can do for you?

Would you like a cup of tea?

-I don't think so.

-Wilson, Wilson.

-The kettle's on.

-Well, if you insist.

-Wilson. Wilson!

Just a minute.

I'd like a word with you outside.

He was always surrounded by women listening to him

and he was in his element.

I remember women sobbing at parties, saying, "I love this man."

And John saying, "My darling, girl, just calm down."

Pat them on the head and say, "Darling, how sweet."

What's the Christian name?

-Marcia.

-Marcia.

What a pretty name!

-Do you really think so?

-I do. It's one of my favourites.

I really do love that name.

When he saw a woman he'd always find something nice to say,

like you've done something to your hair,

what a lovely dress you're wearing.

Come along, my dear. What a very pretty blouse. It's lovely.

Where did you get that?

He thought they were clever, because they could cook and do things.

Amazing, when I first met him and I made him an omelette.

He said, "You've just saved my life, my darling,

"how clever of you to make an omelette."

We've got to get this machine going.

Do you know anything about that, Wilson?

Not really, sir, no, afraid not.

Mum says you can't even use a tin opener, doesn't she, Uncle Arthur?

People just loved to look after John.

He inspired such affection in people

and they loved to look after him.

He came to me one day on tour, and he said,

"Frank, what do you do with your dirty washing

"when you're on tour?!

I said, "I find the laundry will take it in on Monday

"and have it ready for the Saturday when we leave."

He said, "Oh, I see."

He turned to Teddy Sinclair and said, "What do you do, Teddy?"

Teddy said, "Well I take it down to the launderette

"and I do it there."

John said, "What do you mean, you sit there

"and you watch it going round and round?"

"Oh, I couldn't do that."

So I said, "What do you do, John?"

He said, "Well, I just sort of leave it around the room

"and somehow some kind person always comes and does it for me."

And that was absolutely typical of John.

Some kind person would always look after him.

He pretended to be vague,

but I think he knew exactly what he was doing.

He wasn't fooling me for a second!

I think he fooled most people.

I don't want to take up too much of your time.

After all, you're a very important man.

I wouldn't say I was all that important.

Would you, Wilson?

No, I don't think so.

Whenever he was brought in, there was a kind of energy.

Which is an odd contradiction.

Because it was such a laid-back, quiet performance.

But that was an energy, a buzz,

around everyone else when he was there.

In a way, Arthur Lowe couldn't react to anybody else the way

he reacted to John.

I'm going to take a very serious view of this absence without leave.

-Take his name, Sergeant.

-Yes, yes.

Now, as I was saying, the enemy is here in these phalanxes

and we...

All the time you felt

he had this sort of rather sarcastic way with Arthur.

-Did you take his name?

-Yes, sir, I did.

-I didn't see you write it down.

I don't have to write it down, sir, I know it.

When I tell you to take a man's name down,

I want you to take it down in case you forget it.

I'm hardly likely to forget it. I've known him for 19 years.

I'm not suggesting you forget the man's name.

I suggest you put it down so that you won't forget you've taken it.

-Do I make myself clear?

-Yes, you do, sir.

A world where everyone is shouting in front of the camera,

do their line, mug their part, go away.

John would be completely the opposite.

This still, small voice of rather benign confusion.

In his own head as much as anybody else's.

Now.

At... What are you doing with that handkerchief?

-Just tying a knot in it, sir.

-What for?

To remind me to take down Pike's name.

I remember one episode where Arthur was getting pompous

and I think organising

a court-martial over some very trivial offence.

Area has ordered us to hold

a court of enquiry into the disappearance of the ammunition.

-Oh, dear.

-And John just walked round the desk

saying, "Oh, dear. Oh, dear, oh, dear."

Oh, dear, oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear.

I used to stop reading the newspaper at rehearsal just to watch that,

because the timing between them was absolutely splendid.

What on Earth's the matter with you?

Nothing, sir, it's nothing except for a few paltry shillings,

we might been able to hush all this up.

If John was frightened of anything,

I think he was frightened of being bored for two seconds.

Have you seen Mr Snuggly?

Mr who?

-Mr Snuggly, my teddy.

-No, I haven't.

Half a second of worry about being bored

and he'd decide to play that line differently.

It got to be little terrifying, I wasn't ready for this sort of thing.

-Mum said she'd put him in.

-Well, I haven't got it.

I can't get to sleep without him.

-I haven't seen him.

-Have a look in your bed. Perhaps he's in there.

What? All right.

Ah, here he is.

-Don't let anybody see him!

-All right, all right.

It became terribly exciting. After two series,

the scenes I looked forward to were scenes with John.

What have you got, Wilson?

Er, um, Mr, er...

Mr Snuggly.

What?!

He's my... My bear.

My...

My teddy bear.

I can't get off without him.

Extraordinary.

I don't think anybody ever appreciated

that John could have been a very great serious actor.

John would always have one for the easy shot.

He didn't want to put himself

through anything too complicated.

While he was being employed to do light-hearted comedy

with the raise an eyebrow, he was quite happy to do that.

CHILDREN SINGING

Other people saw John's potential as an actor, even if he himself didn't.

In 1971, he was offered a role unlike any other he'd played.

A character based on Cambridge spy Kim Philby.

I remember when he was offered Traitor,

he brought the script in.

Um, Clive took it home.

I think Arthur took it home.

He let me have a look at it.

He said, "I don't know whether I should do this.

"I don't what I should do."

I thought it was the best thing.

I said, "This is the peak of your career, you must do it."

He said, "Oh darling."

There were speeches, a page and a half,

non-stop, ranting speeches.

Somebody not like John at all.

This is home, gentleman of the capitalist press.

Not exactly House And Garden, but it's home.

-I suppose it will be right if I take pictures?

-No. No.

-Uh?

-No, no, no.

Not here, not in this place,

not between these four walls. Just sit down.

Let's all sit down, shall we? Make ourselves comfortable.

Have a little talk.

It was a wonderful performance.

He kept saying, "It's so ephemeral. People will forget.

"They'll see it.

"I'm going to put myself through the hoop about this

"and it's killing me!

"And it'll all be forgotten."

I kept nagging and nagging and nagging, saying, "Go on,

"raise your eyebrows in light comedy that's bread and butter,

"you do that standing on your head, this is hard work."

One night he said, "Bloody hell, then, I'll bloody well do it."

I love England.

Of course I do.

But there's no need to look so affronted!

That painting represents to me one image of my m-m-m...

..motherland.

An image...that will always haunt me,

like the paintings of Constable and Turner...

She almost had to hit him over the head to make him do it.

It was such a wonderful part.

And he didn't want to do it, but he did and he won a BAFTA.

'For his performance in Traitor,

'John Le Mesurier gets best acting award in television.'

They called his name and he won it and I remember my mum tearing up

and saying, "I wish I was still with him."

You know, and it...

It was sad to hear that and see that.

I said, "You were marvellous in that."

He said, "Well I didn't really like playing it very much."

He'd always - very funny - protest if you paid him any compliment.

"No, not quite me."

The murder of any one man is by nature horrible

and dehumanising. Wasn't it Auden or somebody?

Auden, Isherwood, or someone.

Auden, Auden, yes,

who talked about the necessary in murder.

The murder of tens or even hundreds of millions trying to prevent that

and the continued brutalisation, victimisation...

The exploitation of millions and millions and millions more!

Oh, Jesus Christ. Conscience. HE LAUGHS

Oh, dear, let's talk about something else.

HE LAUGHS Let's talk about the soul or bodily assumption. Oh God.

Oh.

I always remember a friend of mine congratulating him

on winning this award and, typically John, he said,

"Yes, Betty, it's lovely to have won it

"but the thing is, all they put is name of the actor

"and the name of the play."

"So I've got this award that just says 'John Le Mesurier, Traitor.'"

That was his sort of wry sense of humour.

He wasn't nakedly ambitious in any shape or form.

And this, in a sense, kept him always in work,

because he would never turn something down because

"I've done that before."

"I want to go and play Henry V or King Lear."

He didn't seem to have any of that.

He was, you know, happy to be working.

But, at the same time, one felt there should be

a little bit more of a fire of ambition - it would have produced

more things like Traitor.

And that other thing he did on the motorbike.

"Never go into the church, Ossian,"

My grandmother said to me, "Because God is not fun."

I don't think John ever really wanted to be

a leading actor in that respect. Um...

..the duties might have been too onerous.

He liked to go in and get the laughs and play the small parts

and come home and go down to Ramsgate and put his feet up

and go and look of the sea.

A nice calm around him

which you didn't want to intrude too much into.

I just basked in it, I thought it was a very nice.

There are so many people shouting on a film set, it's rather nice

to have someone who is in a different world!

-KNOCKS AT THE DOOR

-Citizens!

Nobles!

Gentry!

The King!

The first time I worked with John was Jabberwocky

and I remember he said,

"I think it might be a good thing if I referred to His Majesty,

"just occasionally, as 'darling'."

What?

"It just suggests something might have happened in the past."

"I mean nothing...nothing too obvious,

"but I thought it might be quite...quite good."

"Oh, yes." I think you can probably hear him.

And now you must prove yourself in mortal combat with a monster

so terrifying,

so awe-inspiring, so 'orrible,

so soul-destroying,

that even I would hesitate to meet it.

Place your fate in, er, hand-to-hand combat.

Was that all right?

Yes, I suppose so, my darling, yes.

He'd occasionally, slip something into the conversation

which knocked everybody sideways, you know.

A witty thing.

He was a wit when he wanted to be.

John Le Mesurier, John, your subject, the joker.

Any subject at all.

-Any subject.

-I see. Any subject? Really?

-Yes.

-Heavens.

-You know a lot of subjects. You know a lot of subjects.

-Well...

Do one of those confident ones in the posh voice.

Ah, yes, in a posh voice.

John was asked to do jury service,

which is quite a ridiculous concept, John sitting on a jury.

He wrote back a letter saying,

"I'm entirely unsuited to this line of work

"owing to the fact that I'm prone to bouts of uncontrollable compassion."

I'm quite prepared to go on that, because I remember it now.

Somebody told me about a fellow who had a race horse

and he was on pretty good terms, this race horse, with his jockey.

-A lovely talker, isn't he?

-Yes.

He was kind of naughty. He had a very naughty, playful, wicked side.

And the jockey said to the race horse one day, "Look here,

"unless you win this race tomorrow..."

LAUGHTER

"..you'll find yourself on a milk rounds following day."

-BUZZER

-Interruption by Joe Brown.

Oi! I just told it, right?

Oh, I see, that's where I heard it.

LAUGHTER

APPLAUSE

We were having dinner in, I think it was Jerry's,

and this man came up,

smoking a pipe, and slapped him on the shoulder.

He said, "John, long time, no see."

John said to me, "This man bores for England."

Right in front of him. "This man bores for England."

He said, "I believe you've taken the word abroad."

"You've taken it to the Antipodes, boredom, haven't you, dear boy?"

And the guy said, "You are funny." But he was being completely serious.

SHE CHUCKLES

I'm giving six points to John for cold courage!

How could you not love the man? He was, you know, one of a kind

and so gentle and loving and giving and funny.

John's way of showing any affection to you, rather than being gushy,

-or saying, "I

-BLEEP

-love you,"

he would pat you on the shoulder gently and say,

"I'm not entirely unfond of you, my little friend."

And that meant he really loved you.

That was about as much as you would ever get

as far as voicing his affection, but he felt it very deeply.

He was a very understated man, you know.

In fact I would go as far to say

that John was the master of the understatement.

He'd say, "I'm quite fond of you, you know?"

"I'm inordinately fond of you," he'd say.

That was a terribly... That was a great compliment to me.

Looking forward to the dance, are you?

Yes, thank you, Uncle.

-You don't have to keep calling me uncle, you know.

-Sorry, Sergeant.

Or that, either.

I mean we're both grown up, men of the world.

I'm Frank.

No I'm not, er...

You're Frank, I'm Arthur.

How do you do?

I don't know how old I was, about 22.

I was going slightly off the rails at the time,

being in the music business, and my lifestyle was a little erratic.

My mother was very worried about me at the time.

She had a word with John and she was at her wits' end.

So John made a special journey up to London

to sort of try and talk some sense into me.

It was very funny because he really wasn't good at that sort of thing.

He turned up at the flat.

He said, "My darling boy, if you don't mind,

"I just want to have a word with you."

"Your mother's very worried about your lifestyle."

He said, "I know you're not going

-"to take any

-BLEEP

-notice of me whatsoever."

"You'll carry on doing exactly what you've been doing,

"but, just for my sake, could you just go along with it,

"and just pretend that you are mending your ways?"

He said, "You know, you would do me an enormous favour

"because she's so worried about you, my darling boy."

"You know, as am I, but I know you're perfectly all right."

When he got his little pep talk out of the way,

he said, "You don't have a joint on you, by any chance?"

Now, now, Frank.

About last night...

I know we shouldn't have taken it, but we didn't do the car no harm.

I'm not talking about the car, I'm talking about the girl.

A lot of people will know that you spent the night together

and a lot of people will tell you what you did was wrong.

I was pushing, she was steering.

He was one of the major influences on my life.

He was a real gentleman in every sense of the word.

Yeah, I really loved him.

One of the greatest things I learned from him was patience.

And not to panic.

I don't mean that as a Dad's Army pun, or anything,

but just keep calm,

things will find a way of finding their true direction.

Just that was the way life came,

things went well, things went badly.

He had problems in his private life.

But he always seemed bob along like a cork on the water.

It took me a long time

to get to understand the things that he kept hidden,

very deeply.

When he was a young man, he had psoriasis.

He had it all his life and this is, you know,

it's a kind of illness, it's a nervous thing.

He used to break out with this every time he started a new job.

Because he couldn't talk about it, he couldn't say, "I'm scared."

You know, he couldn't show that,

he would always have that elegant, relaxed facade.

And, er, underneath it was tumult.

JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS

When his house got bombed in the war,

the whole house was completely reduced to... It was gone.

John just sat on the stairs, crying about his jazz records

and that was the only thing he cared about.

Things didn't matter to him at all, not in any way.

He loved jazz.

He was so happy, for example,

when I was old enough to go to Ronnie Scott's with him,

or looked old enough, anyway.

He would spend an inordinate amount of time in Ronnie's.

He loved the music, love the atmosphere, nobody bothered him.

It was dark. Ronnie's loved him.

My dad was an amazing piano player and he often told me

he would have preferred

to earn a living playing piano rather than acting.

MUSIC ENDS

APPLAUSE

He said if you happen to walk into a cocktail bar

and you see an elderly, grey-haired gentleman in a white jacket,

playing the piano rather badly, take another look, it might be me.

That's the last line of his autobiography.

Isn't that lovely?

A lifetime spent in jazz clubs and bars finally took its toll

and, in 1977,

John Le Mesurier was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver.

He was a very good drinker. There are good drinkers and bad drinkers.

John just became funnier and warmer and kinder,

whereas some people become horrible.

Er, John was a good drinker,

but I think, eventually, that's what got him.

John went up to this policeman and said, "Could you tell me

"where I could find Alcoholics Anonymous?"

And the constable said, "Why, do you want to join, sir?"

He said, "No, I want to resign."

HE CHUCKLES

He'd sit in the garden on his own, looking out to sea

for hours on end, just... Perhaps with a glass in his hand.

I never saw John drunk.

But, on the other hand, I very seldom saw him

without a drink in his hand,

from early in the morning till bed time.

Despite surprising doctors by making a recovery

which enabled him to carry on working for another six years,

John's health problems finally caught up with him.

I went to see him in the hospital and I'd grown a beard.

I was doing, er, Educating Rita somewhere and playing a college...

He said, "Oh, my dear fellow, you've grown a beard."

I said, "Yes John, I'm playing a college professor."

"I thought perhaps it might make me look a bit more intellectual."

-He said, "And has it?"

-HE LAUGHS

With just the hint of a smile.

And as Joanie said, that was his last joke.

The actor John Le Mesurier, one of the stars of Dad's Army,

died today in a Ramsgate hospital.

He was 71.

A hospital spokesman said he died peacefully

with his wife at his bedside.

I don't think John would have liked to have stayed around

and made a nuisance of himself.

He always had expert timing.

I think he left, in a way, when he wanted to.

The actor, who made so many laugh,

refused even to take the prospect of his death seriously.

He'd already written his own obituary for The Times.

He wished it to be known that he had just "conked out".

I remember The Times refused to print it. "We're not printing that."

But they, um, they decided,

"OK, we'll go with it, why not?"

The Guardian, apart from doing an obituary, they did a leader.

"He somehow embodied a symbolic British reaction

"to the whirlpool of the modern world."

"Endlessly perplexed by the dizzying and incoherent pattern of events,

"but doing his courteous best to ensure resentment never showed."

Isn't that lovely?

He was an absolutely marvellous man.

I mean, they don't make them like that any more.

He just inspired people to love him,

because he was just such a lovely man.

You realise, in comparison, when you look at other people,

that there aren't many John Le Mesuriers around any more.

They are very rare people.

I feel very privileged to have known him,

actually.

He was one of the special ones.

On the night before he died,

he said, "My darling, "it's all been rather lovely."

A charmed life.

He really did. He was the charm.

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