How did he even fool the Duke of Edinburgh? Netflix’s Jimmy Savile – A British Horror Story reviewed

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.

This is one of the things that makes Jimmy Savile: A British Horror Story so mesmerising. It doesn’t tell us an awful lot about Savile that we didn’t know already. But it’s still gripping because of all the archive footage of Savile doing his grisly schtick and being fêted and adored for it: a young, kittenish Selina Scott, for example, caught flirting with him outrageously on breakfast TV and looking for all the world as if she meant it.