How Did All This Happen?
Page 30
Playing for Southport, and concentrating on the game enough to smile for the camera.
Scoring for Southport. It did go in, as you can see from the excitement of the crowd.
The shoe at the Grand Canyon: not a great conversationalist, but not bad company when travelling across the US.
Our Cinderella moment: returning the shoe to Ged in front of another legendary landmark, the Runcorn Bridge.
On the night of my 21st with Sergei and Harvey. A sensible party: Harvey hadn’t even opened his can!
The obligatory cap-and-gown picture. When I realised you just rent them for the shot I asked myself, Why hadn’t I just done that and not bothered with studying?
Sitting on the couch at my mum’s house with Melanie, who was accompanied by her hair and glasses.
Lads on tour. Posing with the Manchester boys in Edinburgh, little did I know that I would perform years later just 200 yards from where this was taken.
Looking very similar to Runcorn: the Sydney Harbour Bridge the day before I set off on the ride of a lifetime.
In Poland it was clear there were Liverpool fans everywhere. (And no, I didn’t write it!)
Riding with my shirt off was okay after a few months, but on the second day I learned it wasn’t such a great idea …
With Joe somewhere in Eastern Europe ’ an inspirational man in every sense. Except fashion sense.
A stop in India would quickly attract a crowd, who came to look at the weirdo in the vest.
When I eventually reached the top of the Daman Pass there was a thriving outdoor laundry in business.
Returning to Liverpool to be greeted by a bloke with bagpipes. Arthur, who is clapping with his hands in the air, probably had no idea what was going on either.
With Melanie in Singapore in 1992, after she had made me get a haircut as well as some respectable clothes.
Our wedding day in May 1993: she looked beautiful; I looked like I had cut my own hair.
The picture used on invitations for our 20th wedding anniversary party. She still takes my breath away.
Joe looking cool in a pool, whilst I look freezing.
Luke when he could still fit on my shoulders.
Daniel trying to show he has the Bishop teeth.
On holiday in Spain with the four most important people in my life.
Onstage at the Comedy Store, looking more ready to have a scrap than tell a joke.
Outside my first ever one-man theatre show, 18 months after my first open-mic spot.
Dancing with Luke on the Sunshine tour: nice that someone in our family can dance, and it’s not me.
My son Joe took this picture backstage when he was on tour with me in Glasgow.
The six Edinburgh shows. Six years of trying to get better.
Fake That: my first exposure to Comic Relief, and in Melanie’s eyes the best thing I have done. Ever.
From non-league to Old Trafford against Will Ferrell, the biggest Elf I have ever played against.
Tip of the day: if you ever introduce your wife to the man she has fancied for years, don’t wear a velvet jacket that makes you look fat.
The reality of life in Kroo Bay slum: sat with Kadiatu near the open sewer, which runs past her house.
Riding to the coast: Greg, Gordon and Andy in the distance making it look easy.
Three people who saved me when I had nothing left. Freddie, Davina and Denise will always be my heroes.
Freddie decided not to join us in the bad hat contest when we started rowing.
Dot doing something with tape that should be kept behind closed doors.
Eddie, Robbie Savage, Daniel and Luke joining me towards the end of the run just when I needed cheering up.
Chris Moyles – who I love, and who did so much to raise money – surprising me on the run.
The reception on the streets was fantastic and, for me, completely unexpected.
The men who made it all possible: Kevin Cahill, head of Sport Relief; Dr Matt who kept me going; Greg the legend who dragged me through; and Dot who stuck me back together.
It’s over, and I am with those who matter most.
On holiday in Majorca, August 2013: I am not the best dad or the best husband, but I am the luckiest. They mean the world to me.
The famous sign that hangs in my kitchen and its replacement.
POSTSCRIPT
We arrive at Dublin airport straight from the O2 Arena. We have just finished the ‘Rollercoaster’ tour in Dublin, where the audience’s reaction has made me feel as close to a rock star as any comedian should be allowed to feel. The standing ovation is still ringing in my ears as we pass through the small checkpoint and then board the minibus that will take us to the plane. Handing over what luggage we have, we board: David, my cousin and now my tour manager; Dean, who has been part of the tour and is now going to be part of the filming to take place in Lancaster the following day; Lisa, my agent and now business partner in the production company we’d formed.
Our first project, a collaboration between us and the esteemed production company, Baby Cow, is due to start filming the following day. We will be starting the filming of Panto!, a 90-minute special for ITV1 that I have co-written with screen writer Jonathan Harvey, which is based on my experiences doing pantomime in Manchester in 2006. While performing in the panto, I had developed the idea of a comedy-drama based around the efficiency of what goes on behind the scenes contrasted with the chaotic fun of the panto for the audience.
I had written the first draft six years ago and nobody had wanted it, so it had been a long journey of knocking on doors and being turned down. Now it was being made. Like everything else in my career, had I listened to what I was told it would never have come off the shelf.
Chesney Hawkes is even in it, as is my youngest son, Daniel. My character has a son, but we couldn’t find anyone who fitted the bill. The producer, Lindsey, suggested that the director, Chris, should meet Daniel, and he was cast. Strange to think that when I started performing, my sons thought I was a ‘knob’. But Luke has performed on stage with me, Daniel has acted on screen with me and this book contains an excellent picture Joe took of me on stage during one of my tours, so they seem to be more interested in what the ‘knob’ does than perhaps they are prepared to let on.
As the plane holding us four takes to the sky, I look away from the fading streetlights of Dublin below and look across at Lisa, remembering what it felt like when nobody wanted to represent me. I remember the tours where I performed to rooms filled with empty seats; I remember when everything about me was wrong for TV: my accent, my age, my face. I remember sitting with Melanie and calculating if we could afford for me to leave my job. I remember the times I have not been the perfect father or husband. I remember the sessions in Relate trying to stitch a family back together. I remember what it used to feel like going home to an empty house when I didn’t have the kids. I remember riding the bike home from Australia and long summers spent in America coaching football. I remember travelling in my dad’s yellow van to Newcastle, the first time I left home and the subsequent decision to go to Manchester where I made friends for life. I remember the conversation trying to convince my mum and dad that leaving a job to do A-levels was a gamble worth taking. I remember getting up at six to be a mail lad in ICI. I remember my mum holding my hand as I lay in a hospital bed, not understanding the concern in her eyes, but knowing she made things better by being there. I remember having to wait for someone to unlock a door so I could hug my dad. I remember being a kid on a council estate wanting to be like my older brother and having no idea where girls went when they weren’t skipping or in the kitchen. I remember being scared that whatever it was that compelled me to do things that were different to the rest of the people around me may lead to a dead end. I remember so many things that remind me not every day has been like this one. I sit back and look at the dark shape of Ireland fading behind me and think, ‘How did all this happen?’
Copyright
Har
perCollinsPublishers
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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
FIRST EDITION
© John Bishop 2013
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
All images are © the author, with the following exceptions:
Image 9 used courtesy of the Southport Visiter; Image 10 © Runcorn & Widnes World; Image 15 and 16 © Steve Porter (Potsy), Image 17 and 18 © Ged McCann; Image 32 © Daniel Sutka; Image 37 © Paul Home, Image 39 © Harvey Collard; Image 41 © Mark Taylor/tangerine; Image 42 © Hamish Brown, Image 43 © ITV/Kieron McCarron; Image 46 © Des Willie, Image 47 © Rhian Ap Gruffydd, Image 48 and 49 © Tom Dymond; Image 50 and 51 © Rhian Ap Gruffydd; Image 52, 53 and 54 © Rhian Ap Gruffydd, Image 55 © Tom Dymond.
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013
Cover photographs © Rankin
John Bishop asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780007436125
Ebook Edition © October 2013 ISBN: 9780007436156
Version 2013-10-01
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