‘merciless’ exercise regime 228, 230–1
muscularity of physique 173–4
neck, pimple on 86, 97
nosebleeds 1–2, 3, 15
‘palm-piss’ 114, 119, 306
pony-trekking 226–8, 235
scrotal cancer misdiagnosis 44–5
Short-Burst Underwater Crying 225
therapy 226
Travel Tavern fitness routine 149
weight (pre- and post-toilet) 297
homes and dwellings
designs own house 252–4, 258
London penthouse 186, 189
moves into own 262, 263
naming own 253–4, 258
static caravan 254–5
‘unstatic’ caravan 260
see also Lambert family; Partridge family members; Travel Tavern (Linton)
Peartree Productions
employment tribunal 101
genesis of, as joke not lie 92
goes under 235
liquidated 255
management style 110–11
pay rises and sacking 98
as publisher 235
restructuring 161
as ‘sleeping volcano’ 186
as ‘well-oiled machine’ 109–10
workplace ambiance 93
radio career
‘Aha’ catchphrase 94–6
cross-genre mastery 286
desk rethinks 60–1, 144
expertise in modulation modes 276–7, 283
fans and super-fans 169–70, 172–8
‘final’ show 307–9
Gabitas as ‘manager/agent’ 193–4
hospital radio 18, 46–8, 85, 289–90
impersonating 169–70
joined by sidekick 284, 286–9, 292–3
mother’s pride in 248–9
move to digital 279, 282–3
musical taste 145
nasal voice, Lynam on 85, 161n
Our Price DJing 49–51, 52, 215–16
premonitions of, at poly 32
pre-show checklist 307
purpose of 308
real-life audiences 297–300
reciprocated love 144
Red Adair role 279
research, learning and tips 146, 295–6
retirement decision 303–7, 309
return to Radio Norwich 138–42
rumours of decline 296, 298
seriousness, necessity of 187
Shayer headhunts 47, 49
sports reporting 51–8
swearing during 143
voice-over work 73–4
see also individual stations and shows
sex, relationships and friendships
attraction to Sue Cook 71, 124, 169, 170, 171
boss–employee relations, and propriety 151–2, 185
BP attendant 218
dalliance with menopausal colleague 259–60
finger-sex-miming 126
first dabblings 31–2, 33
‘friending’ Treacle (horse) 228
Michael as friend 152
as Norwich Don Juan 73
readers, with 310
sexually assaulted 217
STD checks, on others 262
see also Jemima ‘Jem’; Partridge, Carol; Sonja
TV career
‘Aha’ catchphrase 175
BBC ‘contract’ 183–4, 188–9
BBC ditches 120, 129
as BBC2’s White Knight 101
bulldozing of 16
corporate video work 155, 181, 200–1, 210–11
cow-bombed 201–2
Crash, Bang, Wallop 202–3, 204, 206
giving others breaks 115–16
guest appearances 112
high-brow/low-brow, switching between 90
hires Ponder 103
house befitting ‘personality’ status 163
ideas for shows (inc. films) 120, 155, 165–6, 181, 187, 222, 290
KMKY moves to TV 97–8
KMKY ‘second series’ 118, 120, 138, 147, 159–62, 165, 188, 218, 275
meetings for future shows 118–19
modifies voice for 85–7
moves into TV 79, 80
offensive reviews 136–7
Peacock pledge 182
RTE contacts 170–1, 172, 173
ruthlessness of 89, 91
sacks Ponder, live 105, 106
Swallow pilot 165, 181, 193, 196–8
violence in 135–6, 137, 160, 289
see also individual stations and shows
Partridge, Carol née Parry (ex-wife)
body shape, attempted 260
Bouncing Back, forced to buy 238
Chinese make-up 71
dog-like hair 37
end of marriage 131, 133, 160, 180n
Fernando’s conception 41
Good Food direct debit 274
jealous of Sue Cook 71
marital infidelity 122–7
marriage 35–6, 39, 128–30, 310n
motive for London visit 60
pregnancy and birth of Fernando 40–3
sex with 36n, 39, 261
summer roadshow incident 121
Partridge, Denise (daughter) 43, 130, 180n, 263, 295–6, 310n
Partridge, Dorothy (mother)
compared to Rover 800 177
death, funeral and wake 244, 245, 247, 249–50
marriage 10–12
neither nice nor important 141
Partridge, Fernando (son) 41–3, 67, 90–1, 130, 143, 236–7, 263, 295–6, 310n
Partridge, Snr (father)
butterfly tennis 7
contraceptive ‘technique’ 5
corporal punishment 8–9
death 244, 247
location post-death 249
marriage 10–12
slips on cake 13–14
wartime service 8, 23
Peacock, Nick 138–40, 142–3
Peaks, Sandra and Clive 96–7
Pepsie & Shirlie 216, 223
Pete (uncle) 250
Philbin, Maggie 70
Ponder, Glen 101, 102–8, 136, 149n
Queen Elizabeth Hospital (King’s Lynn) 4, 18, 46–8, 85, 289–90
Radio 4
God’s favourite shows 249
Knowing Me Knowing You (KMKY) 95–7, 103, 104, 310n
On the Hour 60, 62–8, 74, 103
Radio 5Live 277n
Radio Broadland (Great Yarmouth) 54, 75
Radio North Norfolk see North Norfolk Digital
Radio Norwich
Clifton stagnates at 278
Gordale buyout 278
Norfolk Nights 191–2, 248, 258, 259, 282
revamping of 140
Scoutabout 55, 103
Up With the Partridge 142–6, 161, 169–70, 181, 248
upheaval at 277–8
Rider, Steve 160–1, 164
Rigg, Graham 5–6
Rosen, Bernie 97
Rosenthal, Jim 89, 180n
Savile, Jimmy 255
Saxon Radio 53–4
Schofield, Phil 50, 182n
Shayers, Rick 47, 49
Shears, Frank 280
Shepherd, Phil 285
Sinclair, Sir Clive 186
Smear, Kevin 65, 66, 81
Smith, Delia 75
Snook, Bett 55
Sonja (girlfriend) 259–64
Stubbs, Paul 50, 73
Summers, Rupert 110, 116
Susan (Travel Tavern Duty Manager) 151–2, 185–6
Susie (great aunt) 249
Taversham Archery Club 56–8
Thorburn, Cliff 210–11
Travel Tavern (Aylsham) 281
Travel Tavern (Linton)
‘An Afternoon with Alan Partridge’ 169–70, 171–2
expense 189
food at 150–1
matchless roadside views 148
misperceptions of 155
as perineum between metropoles 147
room design, perfection of 148–9
>
satisfying the businessman 161
staff, analysis of 151–3
Treacle (horse) 226–7, 228, 232
UK Conquest
Skirmish 27, 208–9, 211–12, 215, 310n
Ulvaeus, Björn 96
Valerie (aunt) 13
Vorderman, Carol 207
Walters, Adam 91–2, 96, 97
Welch, Raquel 134, 137
Whitfield, June 206
Wiley, Phil 19–20
Willis, Peter 134
Wilson, Quentin 100–1
Winton, Dale 89, 105, 174n
Witchell, Nicholas 68n, 269
Photo Insert
The place of my birth, The Queen Elizabeth Hospital, King’s Lynn. In an era before MRSA, cleanliness was maintained by a combination of soap and aggressive, largely buxom matrons. NHS car parks were free, too, although those days are now a distant memory. It’s not too bad if you’re just bobbing in to drop off some grapes or beer for a loved one. But for expectant fathers it can be cripplingly expensive, especially if the birth is being slowed down by your wife having an unusually long cervix. (It seems wrong that wealthy dads whose spouses have shorter birth canals and more elastic vaginas should pay less.) The council say they’re trying to encourage people to use public transport but I think that’s horseshit.
Norfolk, 1956. I’d just crawled into this group photo and taken centre stage – nothing changes! I remember being irritated that the girl behind me had put her hands on my shoulder when I was perfectly capable of sitting upright on my own. I don’t know what any of their names are, though some have suggested that the girl is Anne Frank. However, for a number of reasons this seems unlikely.
One of the many places where I attended Scout camp. I remember how we’d all sit around the campfire singing ‘Ging Gang Goolie’ until the sun came up, or until our 10pm bedtime, whichever came sooner. Then we’d all snuggle up in our sleeping bags to tell ghost stories or see who could shine a torch into their mouth for longest. I never got involved with this, wrongly assuming it carried a significant cancer risk. It was while camping at this exact site that I first mastered the sheepshank. People say knot-tying is a useless skill but try telling that to my bin bags!
On the day this was taken, my parents had been called into school by the headmaster because he was concerned my posture had homosexual overtones. He’d been alerted by my tendency to turn in my right knee and my preference for slip-on shoes. Also note that my father had insisted I tuck my tie into my shorts. In terms of psychological abuse, this was just the tip of the iceberg.
A semi-detached house in Edgbaston, Birmingham, much like the one my childhood nemesis Steven McCombe lives in. We never saw eye-to-eye but I’ve moved past that now because I prefer to let bygones be bygones. It’s not, as some have suggested, because I earn a lot more money than he does. It doesn’t matter to me in the slightest that McCombe wouldn’t know the top tax band if it broke into his house and attacked him while he slept. Nor that the engine in my car has double the cubic capacity of his. FYI, I also drive with more skill (e.g. can go round roundabouts using only one hand).
Me, reporting on The Day Today, where my beat was sport (plus the Paralympics). I used to warm my voice up beforehand by singing the national anthem to the tune of Live and Let Die. Not easy, but it can be done.
There are few men alive who can pull off a haircut that’s longer at the back and sides than it is on the top. I am one of those men. On windy days I would go outside and run into the wind, just to feel it billowing behind me like a superhero’s cape. I was very wary of having it cut off. I didn’t want to become a broadcasting version of the guy from Samson and Jemima. But I’m glad to report that when I did get sheared the impact on my career was minimal. For old times’ sake I kept the cuttings. They’re in a Waitrose Bag for Life in my shed. There’s probably enough to stuff a loose pillow or a compact lumbar-support cushion.
As soon as I heard that Roger Moore had agreed to appear on Knowing Me Knowing You, I rushed outside and ordered a subordinate to take a photo of me standing against a wall with my thumb up. In this shot the cold indifference of the brick contrasts beautifully with the wild elation that swirls inside me. In Western cultures an upturned thumb is a sign of contentment. In Middle Eastern cultures it translates as something very different. Had you seen me doing this in Tehran it would have meant I wished to molest Roger anally. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Superman had Kryptonite, I had Tony Hayers. Here he is, standing behind me before the filming of Knowing Me Knowing Yule, during which I punched his lights out with a dead turkey. It’s hard to describe the pleasure I felt as the free-range meat crashed into the cheek of the mealy-mouthed commissioning editor. But I’ll have a go … Let me see. It was like the combined ecstasy of sneezing while driving over a humpback bridge. That’s how good it felt when I punched Hayers’s lights out with a dead turkey. Afterwards, it occurred to me that you could have a turkey-glove boxing event in It’s a Knockout. I looked into it but came up against a wall of bureaucratic red tape regarding the contestants’ potential contraction of salmonella. I offered to have all the ‘gloves’ cooked in an oven beforehand but this failed to satisfy them, which proved that the salmonella excuse was just a ruse. It all boiled down to that insidious new cult/fad of ‘animal rights’. No one ever mentions human rights.
Me, Sue Lewis, a stable lad and a horse (second left). There were concerns that it might get spooked by the noise from Glen Ponder’s band and run into the audience. We knew there were going to be school kids in the front row, and Health and Safety estimated that if things went wrong, up to 20 children could be trampled before the horse could be lassoed and destroyed. In the event, however, the beast behaved impeccably. It was a credit to itself.
Singing an Abba medley with lovely-shouldered American chanteuse Gina Langland. Many people felt that despite having no formal training, I actually out-sung her, certainly in terms of volume. I’ve always been able to hold a tune, though. As a child I’d sing in the shower, often when it wasn’t turned on. I just liked the acoustics in the bathroom.
Me, giving an inspirational address to a roomful of teenagers at an event to promote careers in the Norfolk media. I’d arrived wearing a tie but quickly switched to a cravat in order to blend in better with the 16–18-year-olds. I would have gone open-necked but there was a pretty chunky pimple on my chest, the result of forgetting to shower after I’d got home from squash.
Paddington Green Police Station, the UK’s highest-security police station and the scene of my incarceration on 21–22 October 1994 following the sad, bad death of chatshow guest Forbes McAllister. In a desperate attempt to be released I pointed out to the policeman that I had laid on hot food for my colleagues as part of my show’s wrap party. Unless I turned up at the Pitcher & Piano to pay for the grub up front, they would be deprived of around eight dozen mini Kievs. I’ll never forget the police officer’s riposte. He simply said, ‘Sounds like they’ve been spared a fate WORSE than death.’ Well, I laughed my head off and for a moment clean forgot that I was on a manslaughter charge. DI Lance and I became lifelong friends after that, and he is to be technical adviser on my Norwich-based detective series Swallow (should it happen).
I, Partridge: We Need To Talk About Alan Page 28