Lord of loony laughter

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.