My Hero, The Satirist...

Ok, this might seem a little from the left-field but figuring that you followers might have had enough football on TV and Twitter, you might want something a little different. So, here's something a bit personal.

Long-time subscribers will be aware of my deep love of Cowards and how my comedy style has undoubtedly been heavily influenced by messrs Key, Basden, Woolf and Golaszewski and how the acerbic wit of Charlie Brooker is a real touchstone for my own style, but perhaps one of my greatest idols in comedy is someone not many of you will be familiar with.

To preface this, I should point out that I have, for as long as I can remember, had the brain of a 30 year old trapped in the body of a child/teenager/young adult etc. While other kids were finding amusement in urinating on the slide in the park or SMTV Live, I listened to radio comedy. While their heroes were Ginola or Ryan Giggs, mine was a bearded satirist, cartoonist and unquestionable master of Mornington Crescent: the irrepressible, witty, lugubrious Willie Rushton.

Rushton could make me laugh like nobody else. His surreal, yet wonderfully clever contributions to I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue made the young me yearn to be as wise, wonderful and witty as the great man himself. He rose to prominence as a cartoonist and writer for the legendary Private Eye magazine and rubbed shoulders with the comedy greats of the period such as Peter Cook, David Frost and Tony Hancock. Indeed it was our Willie who brought home Hancock's ashes after his tragic suicide in Australia in 1968.

I was of course too young to enjoy his satirising heyday or his apparently uncanny impression of then Prime Minister Harold MacMillan, but it was as a child that I heard his distinctive voice 'given silly things to do' on ISIHAC. As well as unparallelled skill at Mornington Crescent he was a master of all of the regular rounds, but the feat that sticks in the memory as one of the most marvellous pieces of concise comic parody is his account of the diary of Mahatma Gandhi (which can be found here, he's the last to play the round). While Humph was as good a host as there has ever been and Barry, Tim and Graeme are all fantasticly funny, I only had ears for Rushton.

Perhaps the best quote purely from the top of my head to give you an insight into the mind of the man is when he was invited back to his Alma Mater of Shrewsbury School to open a new wing with a speech. His 'speech' consisted of "the bugger's open". But then he always had a way with words. In his Who's Who entry he listed his hobbies as 'gaining weight, losing weight and parking'. Indeed it was one bout of sudden weight loss, while wrestling with the Diabetes that forced him to give up his beloved beer, that prevented him playing cricket for Prince Rainier's XI. Cricket was one of Rushton's true passions and as well as plying his trade as a panel wit on ISIHAC he could also be heard as a jovial team captain on Radio 4's Trivia Test Match, where his warm wit was equalled by his immense general knowledge of the gentleman's game.

He was admitted to hospital in December in 1996 for heart surgery and tragically died on the 11th of that month from complications, aged just 59. Among his last words was a message to fellow-panellist Barry Cryer, "tell Bazza he's too old to do panto", even with his last words he was magnificently funny. When the news broke, the 5 year old me cried into a cushion, a white one with a zig-zaggy green stripe for about 40 minutes. I can't tell you any other real distinct memories from my early youth but this one is as clear as day in my mind. Willie was like a favourite uncle or a lovable, roguish grandfather and I felt the loss terribly. It sounds a little pathetic now, but hey, I was only 5, life is hard.

Fortunately, while our earthly bodies may perish, the true soul of wit can never fade away and Willie lives on in the hearts and minds of comedy lovers such as myself. I can fully quote his Gandhi diary (on a good day) and I can hear his voice prompting me with it in my head (I know, I'm crazy).

This was a wee bit random and perhaps a touch too personal to be of interest, but the fleeting nature of genius has struck me somewhat recently. So I'll raise a glass to Willie Rushton- Satirist, cartoonist, wit, the greatest player of Mornington Crescent to ever grace this Earth and my hero.