Free You'll Miss Me When I'm Gone by Gary Morecambe

and George would become less involved with his everyday life. That would become my mother’s domain—and it would soon embrace another young entertainment hopeful: a certain Ernest Wiseman.

When Eric Met Ernie
    I’m Not All There
    I’m not all there, there’s something missing
    I’m not all there, so folks declare
    They call me ‘Looby’ ‘Looby’, nothing but a great big ‘Booby’
    Point and say that’s where you want it
    But that’s just where I’ve got it
    I know they think I’m slow
    Let them think, let them think, I don’t care
    When I go to the races, my fancy to back
    If I back a winner, they give me my money back
    ‘Cause I’m not supposed to be all there
    Let them think, let them think, I don’t mind
    Courting couples in the park, on any night you’ll find
    If you stay, they’ll separate, for love’s not always blind
    But they let me stay and watch them, and they never seem to mind
    ‘Cause I’m not supposed to be all there.
    (T HE WORDS TO THE SONG THAT E RIC AUDITIONED WITH FOR THE IMPRESARIO J ACK H YLTON )
    I n his 1990 autobiography, Still On My Way To Hollywood , Ernie Wise recalled the first time he set eyes on Eric. ‘I first met Eric in the spring of 1939. I was on tour with Jack Hylton, doing a concert at a cinema in Manchester, and all of five months in the business…It was my usual practice…to sit out front
    casting an “experienced” eye over the ever-hopeful acts. At this point enter Eric Bartholomew accompanied by his mother, the redoubtable Sadie.
    ‘Eric took the stage and went into a number called “I’m Not All There”. This he followed with a very polished impression of Flanagan and Allen. How the hell he did it I don’t know! He played each character separately but somehow wove them together in such a way that we were convinced there were two people up there on stage. Everybody was terribly impressed. The Flanagan and Allen brought gasps of admiration and I began to get seriously worried about my future career. I had a lot of push in those days, a hard core, but I have to admit my self-esteem took a bit of a knock from Eric even though we never said a word to each other…’
    In looking back at the beginnings of Eric and Ernie’s working relationship it is interesting also to consider briefly the beginnings of northern comedy, of which both men were a product.
    Northern humour developed mostly in the mill towns. From the start of industrialization until well into the twentieth century most working people in the north of England spent tedious and soul-destroying days toiling in vast spaces in large numbers, and humour and song became the only way they could express themselves, feel a little alive, and generally relieve the monotony of everyday life. No better example of this can be found than the wealth of comedians produced by the industrial heartland of the northwest. This tradition stretches back to Victorian times, but among the great names of comedy of more recent years are Jimmy Clitheroe, Ken Dodd, Tommy Handley, Victoria
    Wood, Stan Laurel, Thora Hird, George Formby, Albert Modley, Al Read, Les Dawson, Sandy Powell, Peter Kay, Jewell and Warriss, Morecambe and Wise, and scores of others. (In passing, Sandy Powell is the only entertainer to whom Eric ever sent a fan letter.)
    All made their mark in their time. For Victoria Wood and Peter Kay, that time is right now, but for those who know their British comedy history, the others never seem that far away. The late Les Dawson remains perhaps still the most quotable comedian on mother-in-laws. While his material is now widely viewed as outmoded, a form of comedy done to death in pubs, clubs, and variety theatres over too many decades to remember, the natural humour of his gags, reinforced by his deadpan delivery, still survives and surely always will. ‘The wife’s mother has been married three times. Her first two died through eating poisoned mushrooms!’ (In the comedian Jack Dee the deadpan