PomPoms Up!

by Carol Cleveland

  During the whole of the first two series the boys were always very congenial to each other and I never witnessed any sort of discord between them. They may well have had some disagreements during the writing process but I wasn’t privy to that. I know John would sometimes wind Terry Jones up a bit and I did hear of an occasion when Terry got into a Welsh tizzy and threw a chair at John. Other than that they seemed to get on very well and of course were very professional in their approach to their work – even when they were being very silly! In short, they worked very well as a team.

  The cracks started to appear however, during the third series. John had not actually wanted to do another one, as he felt it was time to move on and develop what they had, rather than let it get stale. Somewhat reluctantly he agreed to do it, because the others were very keen and he didn’t want to let them down.

  I hadn’t seen John since the completion of series two but I noticed a big change in him when we all came together for the first day of rehearsals in January, 1972. I had my dog Bobo with me and the first thing John said when he saw us was:

  “Oh, have you still got that blind mutt with you?”

  He then laughed and walked away. I didn’t let it show but I was quite upset by this, as he’d always been so nice to Bobo in the past. He was in a rather disagreeable mood the whole day and indeed he seemed quite a different person throughout the whole series. Not that he’d lost his sense of humour! Oh no…. he was still very funny and of course, totally professional. There was some very good material in that series. He just wasn’t quite as amiable as he had been and, for the first time, I became aware of some friction between him and the others.

  John declined to do another series after that but the others went ahead without him and changed the title of the show to simply Monty Python. That was when Neil Innes, the writer and performer of comic songs, came on board. Neil was a close friend of Eric’s and together they had created The Rutles. Neil not only performed but wrote songs and sketches too for this series. He was great…. but he was no John Cleese. After a few episodes the boys realised it just wasn’t working as well without John, so the series was curtailed after only six episodes.

  The four Monty Python series were spread over a five year period and by the time we’d reached the fourth, I very much felt an integral part of it. During the first two series the newspapers referred to me as ‘The Python Girl’ but by the time we’d finished I’d become the unofficial ‘Seventh Python.’ In between each series I was getting more and more comedy roles at both ITV and BBC TV, working with all the top British comedians like Roy Hudd, Ronnie Barker, Ronnie Corbett, Lenny Henry, Mike Yarwood, David Jason, Spike Milligan and more. My career had really taken off now and it was wonderful to be in demand, but I was getting worried that people might begin to think of me solely as a comedienne.

  I was thrilled therefore when I got a great featured role in a new BBC drama series called The Lotus Eaters, starring Ian Hendry and Wanda Ventham. I’d be in five episodes, playing a nasty, bitchy American who nobody likes, except her equally unpleasant brother. This was the sort of juicy role that I relished playing! On top of that the whole thing would be shot in Agios Nikolaos on the island of Crete…. which was an added bonus.

  I enjoyed playing the role of Leigh Mervish immensely – it was great to be evil again! I made good friends with Wanda and we shared many laughs. Not so much so with Ian, unfortunately. He was charming when sober but could be very difficult when drunk. I had looked forward to working with him, as he was a very fine and highly respected actor, but it was so sad to watch him destroying himself through drink.

  My hotel room was right next to his and the walls were paper thin. Each morning I would hear Ian start his day by vomiting profusely. By the time he’d got on set he’d already consumed half a bottle of port, even though he was already suffering from gout. By the afternoon he’d finished the bottle and was now slurring his words. The first time I witnessed this I thought to myself, “How the hell is he going to do this scene?” Incredibly, he had the ability to focus just long enough to get the words out clearly and then, when the director shouted “Cut!” he’d be slurring again.

  I had one rather unpleasant experience with Ian. One day, when Wanda had just finished filming a very good scene, I said to her, quite seriously:

  “Wanda…. that was so, soooo…. boring!”

  Her face dropped for a second and then she burst out laughing…. as did the other two actors. By now these three had become accustomed to my dark humour. For the rest of the day it became a running joke between us and everything was “so boring!” Ian was unaware of all this however when he met up with us later that evening in the hotel lobby. We’d been discussing where we might go to eat when he walked over to us, drink in hand and said:

  “So, where are you lot going for dinner?”

  Wanda said:

  “We can’t decide. What do you think, Carol?”

  “I don’t know. It’s ALL sooooo boring!”

  Ian looked at me for a moment and then slapped me in the face! The others gasped and I was too stunned to speak. He then said:

  “Well…. you’re not bored now, are you?!”

  With tears welling in my eyes I dashed away into the bar area, leaving the others to explain our little joke. After a while Wanda joined me at the bar where I was drowning my sorrows. She said that he was drunk and I should try to forgive him because he’d feel absolutely terrible about this in the morning. I didn’t feel that I could.

  I wasn’t needed on set the next day until the afternoon, so Ian had already left when I went to the make-up room. The make-up lady told me that Ian had come in that morning looking dreadful and sat in the chair saying nothing for about ten minutes before he spoke.

  “I did something terrible last night…. really terrible. I hit Carol!”

  I was sitting in the lounge when he came back from the morning’s filming. He came over to me and said:

  “Hello Carol….it’s a lovely day out there! Just perfect for our scene on the boat this afternoon. I’m looking forward to it…. I’m going in to have some lunch…. have you eaten yet?”

  “No, I’m not very hungry today.”

  “Oh…. well, if you change your mind, come and join me in the dining room…. I’ll save you a seat.”

  He never actually said he was sorry but he was extremely nice to me from then on and I did manage to forgive him eventually. One could only blame the demon drink!

  I thought the timing of doing this series couldn’t be better, as it was aired in between the second and third series of Monty Python. I was very happy with my performance and I got good reviews for it. I was sure that this would show the BBC producers and the viewing public that I should be taken much more seriously as a strong, versatile actress…. and not just a glamour stooge!

  But the power of Python was too strong – the comedy roles kept coming in. A year after the last episode of Monty Python was aired I had another featured role in another BBC TV comedy sketch show called One-Upmanship, starring Richard Briers. It ran for six episodes and I played much more interesting characters than I had done in Monty Python, but it still didn’t stretch me as an actress. If I wanted to be taken seriously I was obviously going to have to do it on stage!

  Val and I managed to stay together for another year, but it all came to a head when I’d just returned from Torquay after filming the Scott of the Antarctic/Sahara sketch for the first series. Another accusation and another row ensued, followed by another parting, but this time I knew it was for good. It was a very sad day for both of us because we truly loved each other and had shared some wonderful times together, but there would clearly never be mutual trust, without which there was no future. We said Good-bye, but it wouldn’t be forever. Happily we’ve remained good friends and still get together for lunch occasionally.

  One year later I met my husband-to-be, Peter Brett.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE

 
August 31, 1971

  My wedding day! Well, not actually – I’d married my fiancé Peter Brett two days earlier in a Register Office, but that was just a small affair with Mummy and a couple of friends present. Today was the big day when family and friends, including the Python boys, came to wish us well and of course to guzzle free champagne and have a good laugh!

  This was a ‘blessing’ ceremony, which took place at St. Mark’s Church in Marylebone, London. We were unable to actually marry in the church because Peter had already been married. I didn’t wear white, because we’d been living together for a year. How very ‘correct’ we both were! I regret that now and wish I had worn white. If I get another crack at it – even if I’m eighty – I’m going to wear white! Instead, my crocheted dress was pale yellow and Peter wore a purple suit. Purple! Our two bridesmaids chose their own long, summery dresses and wore big floppy hats, like me. One was my actress friend, Caron Gardner, and the other was Lynda La Plante. Peter’s five-year-old son, Paul, was our page boy.

  My father was not there to give me away because he didn’t believe in marriage and he was an atheist. I think he’d only married my mother because he was pressured into it by my grandparents. He never did it again though. So instead it was my step-father Cleve who walked me down the aisle. He’d always been a much better father to me than my own had been, so it was only right that he should be there and he was very proud to be.

  There was one amusing moment during the ceremony when the vicar called my husband ‘Paul.’ We let this pass, as thankfully it was only a blessing, but there was a lot of sniggering going on behind us. In fact he seemed very nervous and was stumbling throughout the service. He did admit later at the reception, when he was quite tiddly, that this was his first marriage service of any sort. Ahhhhh… Bless him!

  I’d met Peter a year earlier when we’d been on holiday together with mutual friends in Deia, Majorca. It was his son Paul who brought us together! I wasn’t Peter’s type at all…. he wasn’t into Dolly Birds, but it seemed his young son was! From the moment I was introduced to him Paul went all ‘flirty’ and, after only a few days, he refused to go anywhere without me. Peter had no option but to tag along! One day we three were out walking, with Paul in the middle holding our hands. He suddenly squeezed my hand and kissed it. Peter and I were both amazed – he, because he’d never seen Paul show such affection to anyone other than his mother and I, because I wasn’t at all Mumsy and I’d never had a child warm to me like this. That was the day Peter decided that, if his son found me so interesting, then perhaps he should also make an effort to get to know me better. By the end of the holiday we were lovers.

  Peter and I had both fallen in love with Deia too and we would return there annually for some years to come. It’s very trendy now and has become a retreat for the rich and famous, but back then it was just a small bohemian village full of painters, writers, musicians and poets. It was the home of Robert Graves and his family. We were invited to Robert’s home for tea and got to know a couple of the family members quite well. After several return visits we decided to buy a house there. We found the perfect one on a hill, nestled in the middle of an olive grove and overlooking the cove. It cost five thousand pounds! That was a fair bit of money then, but not totally beyond our means, and we decided to go for it. We went into the Deia bank, which was just a small room at the back of the post office, and opened an account with ten pounds.

  Within a week of returning home Peter decided that we really couldn’t afford it. One of my biggest regrets is that I didn’t just borrow some money from my mother and buy the house myself. Over the years I have continued my visits to Deia and each time my accommodation gets increasingly expensive. The house was bought by another American lady who visits for a short time each summer and then rents it out…. for five thousand pounds a month! Mais c’est la vie!

  Not long after Peter and I married we moved back into my mother’s Maida Vale house and took over the remainder of the lease. Mummy remained in the garden flat and we lived on the top floor. My brother Chris had now married and moved to Twickenham. My grandmother had developed Parkinson’s disease and died only a few months before our wedding. It had been a difficult and exhausting time for Mummy and she no longer wished to be a landlady. On the other hand it was perfect for us, as we now had an extra income.

  The whole house was badly in need of sprucing up, so we set about redecorating it all by ourselves, starting with our own flat. It took months of hard work but was extremely gratifying and, at the end of it, I knew that I could always turn to decorating if the acting work ever dried up! Unfortunately, Mummy and Peter never got on as well as I’d hoped they would and she moved out before we got round to her flat. This caused some problems for Mummy and me for a while, but we dealt with it alright. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Peter – she’d just hoped I’d marry a rich man!

  I remember I did take a break from wallpapering and plastering to go to the Cork Film Festival as one of their celebrity guests. I love Ireland but had never been to Cork, a delightful city on the River Lee. I had a wonderful week there, along with the other celebs; Jane Seymour, Patrick Wayne, Umberto Orsini and the other gorgeous Italian heart-throb, Franco Nero.

  Patrick – son of John – Wayne was handsome, charming and a very nice guy. For the first few days I hung out with him and Jane. He was jolly good fun, but she rather stuck up her pretty little nose at me. I got the feeling she wanted him all to herself – which she would be having soon anyway, as they were about to make a film together. The three of us were lunching one day, with me sitting opposite them. Patrick and I were laughing gaily about something when he said:

  “You have such a great face, Carol…. when you laugh, it all creases up!”

  She shot daggers at both of us!

  Soon afterwards Umberto and Franco arrived, so I spent more time with them instead. Being Italians they were both very flirty and – married or not – it was still nice to be on the receiving end! There was a big party on the last evening and while Franco and I were dancing together he whispered in my ear that he’d like to make love to me.

  “That’s a lovely thought Franco, but I’m a married lady.”

  “So?… We won’t tell him!”

  “I’m a happily married lady!”

  “Come with me to my room.”

  “Franco…. I can’t!”

  Just like Mr Beatty, he obviously wasn’t use to being turned down and he persisted. When he finally accepted it wasn’t going to happen, he said he’d call me when he was in London and asked for my phone number. I laughed and told him there was no point in him having it, as I couldn’t possibly meet up with him. I thought that was that, but the following day as we were all saying our good-byes before heading off in different directions, he asked me for it again. When I got home, I was truly worried that he might get hold of it and call me. Thankfully, he didn’t.

  Peter was the total opposite of Valentino – older by fifteen years; calm, easy-going, well-educated, preferred quiet dinner parties at home to noisy nightclubs; and would absolutely refuse to argue! He was a good, kind man and was everything I felt I needed at that time. He’d been a busy actor before I met him and had done some writing too. He was a good friend of Ken Russell’s and had written the screenplay for Ken’s film French Dressing, as well as playing ‘Elgar’ in Ken’s TV film about Elgar. He’d given up acting now to concentrate on writing, but also taught at the Webber Douglas Academy of Dramatic Art.

  While Peter tapped away at the typewriter I was kept busy, mainly doing theatre work now, which involved a fair bit of touring. I was happy because I was still doing a lot of comedy but equally as much drama. A good friend of Peter’s, Steven Berkoff, came to dinner one evening. Peter had worked with him on stage and we now hoped he might cast me in his next production, a national tour of his own adaptation of Strindberg’s Miss Julie. The play was a three-hander and was rather complex. Steven would be producing, directing and playing the role of ‘Jean.’ I
was offered the role of ‘Cook.’

  This turned out to be the most exasperating theatre production I’d ever been in, but at the same time…. the most rewarding. Looking back I think it was probably one of the best things I’ve ever done on stage, but at the time I found working with Steven exhausting and extremely frustrating. As everyone knows, Steven is a highly accomplished artist, but I was used to working in a completely different way – when one would perform the play in the same way every performance. Steven believes in continuous development of the piece, which meant every night was different. The other actress and I never knew where he’d be standing on stage or what strange sound might emit from him!

  A few years later I was in a play called Player Piano at the Almost Free Theatre in the heart of London. One afternoon, when on my way to the theatre, I had an interesting exchange with a stranger. I had just come out of Piccadilly Circus underground station when a man coming towards me brushed his hand between my legs as he passed! Without a moment’s hesitation my arm shot out and delivered a karate chop to the back of his neck, sending him sprawled flat out onto the pavement! I then shouted angrily at him until he got up and scurried away. An American couple who’d witnessed all this applauded me and said:

  “Wow! That was great! Good girl!”

  I must add that I had never even practiced a karate chop – it was just instinctive! So…. watch out! I told the cast members what had just happened and someone rang the newspapers. It made the news the next day and that evening the theatre was packed out!

  Having dual-nationality was very useful as I was now playing both English and American roles, but primarily American. The majority of the parts were described as ‘attractive lady,’ but not all thankfully. It was the meatier, unattractive roles that I enjoyed playing most, and I personally think that’s where I excelled. For some reason it’s much more rewarding to play ‘nasty’ than ‘nice’! I discovered this when I was offered my very first harridan role, as ‘Sister Mae’ in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the Churchill Theatre, Bromley.