We were highly amused: the Queen — and Mrs Thatcher — thought Ken Dodd tattyfilarious

Doddy! Thou shouldst be living at this hour. England hath need of tickling sticks. So also hath the rest of the UK. At this time of political uncertainty, laughter is the one reliable panacea for all anxiety. Louis Barfe’s industriously thorough, entertaining biography of the late Sir Kenneth Arthur Dodd, written with admiration verging on hagiography, portrays the comic genius who was the last performer to uphold this country’s tradition of vaudeville in music hall, on radio and television.

Dodd was born in 1927 in Knotty Ash, as the village was developing to become a suburb of Liverpool. He was brought up, with an older brother and a younger sister, by adored, adoring parents, and Ken said his father was the funniest man he ever met. They lived in a substantial old house, which remained Ken’s home until he died 90 years later. The long continuing security and affection helped to maintain his characteristic self-confidence and benevolence. His fantastic imagination coloured his community with kipper trees, jambutty mines, black pudding plantations and a Diddy language enriched by words such as ‘tattyfilarious’, ‘goolified’ and ‘discumknockerated’.

Ken could rave for four hours or more, often continuing after midnight, leaving his fans limp with laughter

Ken’s father was an independent coal merchant who sometimes continued to deliver coal until late in the evening. Ken was convinced that working hard and independence were normal. He always insisted on keeping control of everything he considered important, especially scripts and money. He undertook his first venture into show business, a solo act, aged ten. Inspired by an advertisement in a comic for Ventrilo (price sixpence, p&p. a penny halfpenny extra), he was able to put a gadget in his mouth to throw his voice. His father bought him a dummy in sailor’s uniform, plus a naval officer’s uniform for the ventriloquist, to perform for local children for a shilling each.