The only impersonation I can do is my Jimmy Savile impersonation. This is not uncommon among people of my generation: if you were a child or a teenager in the 1970s and 1980s, Savile was quite possibly the most famous person in your entire world. His show Jim’ll Fix It was the most popular on TV with weekly audiences of 20 million. From Top of the Pops to his endless chat-show appearances promoting his relentless work for charidee, he was excruciatingly ubiquitous. Also, with his long, helmet–shaped, wig-like white hair, his garish tracksuits, bling jewellery and extravagant cigars, his catchphrases (‘Now then, now then’; ‘as it ’appens’) and his distinctive vocal mannerisms, he made it ridiculously easy to imitate him – almost as if, it occurs with hindsight, it was all part of his diabolical plan to suck us into his evil orbit and envelop our souls.
There was something Rasputin–like about Jimmy Savile – that power he had to hypnotise everyone around him, to make them laugh with him, indulge him and appear to be delighted by his company, despite the fact that he was so obviously the kind of weird, creepy guy you would have run a mile from if you met him in the street.
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