by James Corden
I’d been living there for a couple of months and Mum and Dad had been keen to visit. They’d never been to the flat and I’d not been in regular contact with them for a while. Then, one morning, Dad called out of the blue and told me that they were in Primrose Hill and they were coming over. Just like that. No warning or anything. I was hung-over and feeling really rough, but I knew I couldn’t put them off any longer, especially when they were only round the corner. I tried my best to tidy the flat but within minutes the buzzer was sounding. When I saw Mum, though, I couldn’t help but give a big smile; she came in and squeezed me so tight, just like she always had. I took them up to the room with the world’s smallest sofa and the country’s biggest electric drum kit, and we all sat down.
I’ve since spoken to Mum and Dad about this day and they remember it vividly. Mum said that they had been worried about me for some time and both felt compelled to come over that day.
We were in the flat – Mum and Dad on the sofa, me on the floor – drinking vitamin water together, and sadly, I had nothing to say to them. The conversation went from pause to even longer pause. Dad would ask about this thing or that, but I had no real answers, certainly none of any worth. I felt distant from them, so far away from the person they expected me to be, from the boy they had so lovingly raised. I hated them seeing me like this and I could barely lift my eyes to look them in the face. Then, all of a sudden, Dad came over to where I was sitting on the floor, knelt down and put his arms around me. I can’t begin to tell you how it felt. I couldn’t help but cry.
I felt so embarrassed at the way I’d been living my life, the arrogance and lack of respect I’d shown myself and my work. Every tear that left my eyes made me feel a little lighter. Dad said a prayer as he kissed my forehead and Mum came over and joined the hug. I’ve no idea how long we stayed there, but it felt like a lifetime. When they left later on, Dad turned to me and said, ‘You’ve so much to be thankful for, James. I know it’s been a tricky year, but you can’t carry on like this.’
Mum told me only last week that after they’d left the house they drove the car round the corner and had to pull in because Dad had got so upset. They didn’t know how to help me and were worried I wouldn’t help myself. It’s only now, after having a child of my own, that I can even begin to comprehend how hard it must’ve been for my parents. Journalists turning up on their doorstep asking about this and that, pictures of me falling out of clubs and bars, ringing my phone and me never answering. I knew that I was on a roller coaster, but it never crossed my mind to look behind me and realise that my family and some of my closest friends were riding it with me, hoping I would get off.
I needed a change of scenery. I got a call from Andrew, my American agent, about an audition for a film over in the US. It was the perfect opportunity to get away from everything. Normally, with early auditions like this, you would record yourself on video, send it via email, and if they liked what they saw, you’d go out and meet them in person. I made a snap decision – nothing was going to change as long as I stayed in this cycle of going out and feeling sorry for myself, so I told Andrew that if it was OK, I’d fly out the next day and do the audition there. I booked a flight and the next day I was in LA. Although the weather and new environment helped my disposition, I’m not sure LA’s the best place to lick emotional wounds, and I only lasted a couple of days before I phoned home, spoke to my little sister Rudi and asked her if she wanted to come out and join me. I needed her, she knew I did, and she was on a plane just a couple of days later.
We had a wonderful time. Or I did anyway. That holiday mended me. I poured my heart out and Rudi just listened to it all and never once complained. During those few days she was much more than just my sister – she became one of my closest friends. I’d never have got through it all without her. There was a song she played for me over and over again. The lyrics were ‘I am my brother’s keeper and I will always be; as long as there’s a need for him there’ll be a need for me.’ Daily, hourly, she told me I was going to get through the pain of Sheridan, of Shelley, and of everything else that had made me feel this way. She would talk about the fact that I was at a crossroads and that I had a choice: I could carry on the way I was going or I could go back to who I really was. It was all up to me.
Rudi reminded me of who I’d been before all the success and that, far from having arrived, I had only just got to the point where the real work began. We hired a car and drove to Las Vegas, talking all the way. We were so caught up in the conversation that we got stopped by the police for speeding. We tried to blag our way out of it, but state troopers aren’t an easy touch and we ended up paying the fine. When we got there, though, we quickly worked out that Vegas isn’t a great place to go as brother and sister, and so we stayed for one drunken night – where I wandered off and ended up in a completely different hotel – and drove back the next day. Let’s put it like this: as a brother and sister in Vegas, it’s highly unlikely that you’ll be wanting to do the same type of things …
Home in London, I was beginning to get a little faith back. I was sick and tired of the way I’d cheapened everything. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t about to check myself into AA or NA, or for that matter a sex-addiction clinic; I just hadn’t been as respectful to people as I could or should’ve been. I spoke on the phone to my older sister Andrea, who is a little sterner than Rudi but no less loving, and she told me there had been quite a few points where I’d been a dick and nearly squandered everything I’d strived so hard for. I listened and knew she was only saying it for my own good and had clearly been waiting for the right time to tell me – when I’d actually listen. Two days after that call, I received a card in the post from Andrea. This is what it said:
It’s never too late to be whoever you want to be.
There’s no time limit. Start whenever you want to.
You can change or stay the same.
There are no rules to this thing.
We can make the best or worst of it.
I hope you make the best of it.
I hope you see things that stop you.
I hope you feel things you’ve never felt before.
I hope you meet people with a different point of view.
I hope you live a life you’re proud of and if you find that you’re not,
I hope you have the strength to start all over again.
The last two lines were the ones I kept reading and re-reading. It was good advice, coming from the people who knew me best. Andrea and Rudi will never know how much they helped me over this time.
I was determined to be the person I once was again. I knew I could get over the slump: the criticism I’d had in the papers had wounded me but had never really hurt; it was the emotional state I was in that had really dragged me down. I began to work on new ideas for stuff. I stopped going out so much and made a conscious effort to be a little more selective about who I brought home. I felt a difference in my mood almost instantly. I had a clearer head, a more positive outlook. I got together with old friends and, for the first time in my life (at the age of thirty-one), I even stayed in a few times on my own. Once you get over the initial fear, it actually becomes something you really enjoy. At first, it felt so strange to be going to sleep at ten o’clock in complete silence without a drink in my system or a stranger in my bed. But within a few days it became the most natural thing in the world.
On the professional front, there was a decision to be made about the future of the sketch show. The ratings had been so good that the BBC were keen for Mat and I to make another series. We understandably had been reticent after having such a wave of negativity come our way in the aftermath of series one. Some days we would think it was a good idea, and others we would be unsure. I was worried that we’d never be given a fair chance. The show felt tainted and was already being used by some as a byword for bad television. As though we were the only people around not making an amazing television show. There were lots of people telling us that we should do it, th
at we could have the last laugh, but I never saw it like that. It wasn’t a battle or some kind of game; it was simply a question of whether we could make a show that was good enough and funny enough. In the end, after a lot of discussion, we decided not to carry on. It seemed like too big a risk to try again. It’s still the biggest creative decision of my career. The way I see it, all that would’ve happened is the old reviews would’ve been rehashed and the pressure on the show to deliver would’ve been too great. What critic was suddenly now going to proclaim our show as the greatest show ever? Sketch shows by their very nature are always hit and miss. What one person loves, another person may hate.
Both Mat and I had offers to do other things, and it seemed like the right decision to try out different opportunities. We moved on. The strangest thing about us making this decision was that suddenly Mat and I weren’t going to be spending as much time together. I loved every single second of working with him, though, and I hope that one day, in some form or another, we’ll be able to do something together again. He is a wonderful friend, actor and writer, and will always have a special place in my heart.
As Christmas got nearer, the third series of Gavin & Stacey aired to some pretty amazing figures. On Christmas Day itself some 12 million people tuned in to watch the penultimate episode and even more watched the last show on New Year’s Day. It was an incredible way to end the series. A month later we won Best Comedy at the National Television Awards and Ruth and I were named as the Writers’ Guild Comedy Writers of the Year. Looking back on it, 2009 was a really strange year. I’d been as down as I’d ever been, become someone I barely even recognised and then ended the year on a huge professional high. Happily, as 2010 came round, things were finally looking up.
CHAPTER 21
BEST MUSICAL ACCOMPANIMENT:
‘Give Me Strength’ by Snow Patrol
BEST FILM TO WATCH ALONGSIDE:
Jerry Maguire
BEST ENJOYED WITH:
steak and chips
I WAS FEELING so much more positive about myself and the future. I’m not sure I’ll fully be able to realise what a knob I had been at various points. All I know is the huge relief I felt to be reconnecting with family and friends who I had taken for granted or abandoned somewhere over the last couple of years. I was still living in the flat, but was there mostly on my own as Dominic had been spending a lot of time working in the US. I had been staying in more, and finding time to work on a new television-show idea with Mathew Baynton – who played Deano in Gavin & Stacey – called The Wrong Mans. It was great getting back in the writing groove again after being away from it for a while.
When Dominic was in town, things weren’t quite so quiet. I remember one day in particular – you’ll see why in a minute – on which Dominic had flown in after a while away. He burst into the flat like a tornado. ‘LEVINE!’ he shouted up to me as he crashed through the door downstairs, once again, and for reasons still unknown, in an Australian accent. ‘Get your best strides on, mate, ‘cos we’re going out. Got a big night planned and you’d be a dag to miss it.’ I was thrilled to hear his voice echoing up the stairs. When he got upstairs, we hugged and he told me that we’d been invited to a Bvlgari party that night and that it was gonna be incredible. I sighed and told him I hadn’t really been going out that much recently. He wasn’t having it: ‘All the more reason, then. This not going out is fair dinkum, mate, but you can’t live like a monk. Let’s get our glad rags on and have a bloody good time!’ With or without the accent, Dom can be pretty persuasive and, much as I didn’t feel like going out that night, part of me knew that it’d be fun. So he convinced me to go, and thank God he did, because that night was, is and always will be one of the most important nights of my life. It was the night I met Julia.
I didn’t really know where this party was or what it was about; I just knew that we’d been invited by an old friend of Dominic’s. We’d been there for about ten minutes – I was enjoying myself, it felt good to be out among people again after a while away – when Dom tapped me on my shoulder. ‘Levine, I’ve got someone I want to introduce you to. This is Jules.’ I turned round and in front of me stood Miss Julia Carey. She was smiling. ‘Hi Jules,’ I said before looking away at Dominic and staring at him open-mouthed, talking to him with my eyes in the way that only close friends can. We chatted for a while and she told me she worked for Save the Children and that the party was an event she had organised with the nice people at Bvlgari. After a while, she went off to carry on with her work and I immediately set about questioning Dom on who she was and, more importantly, whether she was single. Dominic giggled, ‘Hmmmm, I thought you’d like Jules.’
They had known each other for about fifteen years and although I’d met many of Dom’s old friends over the last few years, I’d never met her. Thank God! I mean, thank God I was meeting her now, at this moment, when I felt good about myself and positive about who I was and who I wanted to be. Another way of putting it is that, for the first time in a while, I felt ready to be in a proper relationship, one that mattered and had all the things that had been lacking before.
When Jules came back over, I decided I wasn’t going to pussyfoot around. ‘You’re incredibly attractive,’ I said matter-of-factly to her.
‘Am I?’ She giggled.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘This can’t come as a shock. People must tell you this all the time.’
Jules seemed flattered and peeked up at me with the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.
‘I don’t see that it’s up for debate. Everyone can see it. I can’t believe for one minute that I’m the first to say such a thing.’ I could see that Jules didn’t really know what to say, so I suggested we go over to the bar together. After we’d picked up some drinks we found a seat in the corner of the room, in a quiet spot, and talked. And we talked and talked for the rest of the night. We spoke about our families, about her work and how much she was enjoying it; we laughed about the benefits of staying in and about how exhausting it was going out all the time. It felt like the most normal and natural thing in the world to be talking to her. I didn’t feel on edge or as if I had to pretend to be anyone else – I was just being me.
Once Jules had got the last of her work done, Dom told us about an after-party near Berkeley Square. Jules came with us in the car and, again, we sat next to each other in the back and chatted the whole way there. It was during this conversation that Jules told me she had never seen Gavin & Stacey. She said she didn’t watch a lot of television and didn’t really know what it was. I was so happy. I remember thinking to myself, Wow, this really intelligent, beautiful, lovely lady wants to talk to me, just me. She’s never seen Gavin & Stacey or anything. I had been so used to surrounding myself with the wrong types of people, and here was someone who was so genuine (though I’ll admit I was less happy a few weeks later when Jules invited me round to her house and I discovered her Inbetweeners box set).
We got to the exclusive after-party, which seemed like the same party with the same people but just in a different venue, and we set about finding another quiet little corner to carry on our chat. We talked about places we’d been, things we wanted to see and do in the future; hour after hour ticked by. Dominic was off dancing and every so often would look over and smile. In just a few hours, Julia quickly became one of the best people I’d ever met. Her outlook and her views on life were so refreshing. She told me about the places she’d travelled with Save the Children, the array of things she’d seen and how it had given her a perspective on life. I listened, transfixed, wondering what the last two years would’ve been like had someone like Jules been around. Occasionally other people would come over and join us, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Julia. She was perfect in every single way.
As sometimes you do in these situations, I got nervous. What if this was all in my head? What if I was feeling all of these things and she’s thinking, God, Dom’s friend is a bit intense. I hope someone comes over and rescues me?’ Jules said she had to nip to th
e Ladies. This didn’t help my worries – was that her polite way of trying to get away from me? – but just when the doubt was setting in, and it’s when I worry or doubt myself that I normally become a bit of a dick, reassurance came in the strangest form. Natalie Imbruglia, who had been sitting a few feet away from us for most of the night, leant over and said, ‘James, she’s really into you. You two look great together.’ At this point I didn’t know her particularly well (I’ve since found out she is one of the loveliest people around), but I immediately shuffled over nearer to her.
‘Really? Do you think?’ I said in a rushed, hushed voice.
‘Totally,’ said Natalie confidently. ‘Look at her. She’s barely looked anywhere else. She’s really great. Go for it.’ At this moment Dominic came over and shouted in a loud Australian accent, ‘Where we going now, Levine? This place closes soon.’
Natalie Imbruglia, who is actually Australian, looked slightly taken aback, but replied in her genuine Australian accent, ‘Why don’t you come over to mine? Me and a few friends are coming back.’
Dominic now looked somewhat embarrassed. ‘Yes, that’d be lovely,’ he replied, using his normal voice. I wanted to go, but only if Julia was coming. ‘Can Jules come?’ I asked, and Dominic burst out laughing. He knew. He knew that I was falling for her. ‘Play it cool, Trigger,’ he said. ‘Play it cool.’