Bonkers: My Life in Laughs Page 13

  So, Joanna had rung me before we left and said, ‘Darling. By the sounds of things, this is going to be quite a flamboyant affair.’

  ‘Yes. I agree.’

  ‘So let’s not let them down this time.’

  The time to which she was referring was a party we had attended in New York a while earlier to launch a new season of Ab Fab. We had arrived at the party looking like our normal selves, only to be greeted by huge, drag-queen versions of our characters. The party was spectacular, with a Champagne fountain. Camp and kitsch. It was everything Patsy and Eddie would have adored. We arrived as ourselves and made no impact at all as we came through the door. No impact. We were not noticed.

  Eventually, when we made our presence known and were reluctantly allowed into the roped-off area, there were gasps of disappointment.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s them!’

  We were too ordinary to live up to expectations. We had normal hair and normal clothes. We were the real mice that arrive in Disneyland to be greeted by Mickey and Minnie. We weren’t like Minnie. We were small and brown and barely recognizable.

  So, for the Senate trip, we decided to Go For It. To dress for it. To not let anyone down. It was Gay Pride, and we wanted them to feel appreciated. We would dress as close to the characters as we could. We felt this would do the trick. We could act up and be camp.

  On the plane over, while sippin’ the odd beverage, I casually mentioned to Jack Lum (calling everyone ‘Jack’ if their name begins with ‘J’ is something I picked up from Ben E. I really only use it for Joanna, who is Jack to me) that perhaps a speech of thanks might be in order.

  ‘Do you think so, darling?’

  ‘Well, something perhaps … something in the way of a thank-you.’

  ‘Darling, I think we know how this will be, and I think we shouldn’t linger. We will be Patsy and Eddie. I will do a few “Cheers, thanks a lot” and you will do “Thank you, sweetie darlings”, then there will be some nice photos and that will be it. No speech. No bloody speech.’

  More Champagne was drunk and more tiny meals eaten and then, as we were about to land, actual bottles of Champagne were thrust at us by hostesses and stewards. We are Eddie and Patsy and we NEED more Champers.

  Back at the hotel, over a few bottles of vintage BA, we discussed our plan again and I agreed.

  The next morning, Joanna and I arrived at the Senate in all our finery, with Jon Plowman, only to be greeted by men in dark suits. Politicians. Senators. Dark-suited and very serious. These were not frivolous awards at all; these were serious and political. My heart began to sink.

  We had a small drinks reception with the Senate’s Democratic Leader, before being taken in to the formal, austere hall where an audience awaited us. We hadn’t really been able to speak about it, but we both felt that we had misjudged this. This was a serious do.

  I was regretting the hat and the suit and the sheer amount of Stars and Stripes very much indeed. Everyone else was soberly dressed. The audience facing us were not gay people as we knew them. These were all dressed in shades of brown. Very lovely, but really quite serious.

  The event kicked off with stories of brave gay people facing adversity.

  We clapped.

  Then a moving song by the sister of a gay man who had been murdered because of his sexuality.

  We cried.

  Then the life story of a transgender man – now woman – who had fought prejudice and actually become a senator. Speeches remembering those who had died of AIDS, or had survived and gone on to inspire others.

  We were frightened.

  ‘Darling?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think you may need a speech.’

  ‘I haven’t got a speech. You said I didn’t need to make a speech.’

  ‘Think of something.’

  I was looking out at a sea of sweet but serious faces and, before I knew it, our time had come. The House Leader came to the microphone and began his Proclamation honouring me:

  ‘Whereas, a great state is only as great as those individuals who perform exemplary service on behalf of their community, whether through unique achievement in professional or other endeavours, or simply through a lifelong commitment to entertaining and enlightening others …’

  (Oh dear.)

  ‘Whereas, Jennifer Saunders plays the self-promoting, twice-divorced working mother Edina in Absolutely Fabulous, a show that brings joy, laughter and warmth to New Yorkers because of the vision of her writing and the producers, performers and broadcasters involved …’

  (Ah.)

  ‘Whereas, Jennifer Saunders is also the creator of the critically acclaimed hit series Absolutely Fabulous; which has earned two International Emmy awards; five BAFTA awards; a Writers’ Guild award; two Royal Television Society awards; and four British Comedy awards …’

  (Right.)

  ‘Whereas, Jennifer Saunders’ generosity and humanity in her writing and performance have created characters that have great appeal to the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender communities, through their portrayal on Ab Fab in a positive and affirming way and demonstrating how they add to the texture of life …’

  (Should have had a speech.)

  ‘Whereas, it is hoped that Jennifer Saunders will continue to produce and write brilliant episodes of Absolutely Fabulous as well as act in the role of Edina for many years to come …’

  (Will do.)

  ‘Therefore, be it resolved that I, State Senate Democratic Leader Martin Connor, and the New York State Senate Democratic Conference, recognize that in Jennifer Saunders, we have an individual worthy of our highest respect and esteem; and be it further resolved that on this day, June 27, 2002, at New York’s City Hall on the occasion of the LGBT Pride Award Ceremony, we proclaim Jennifer Saunders an Honorary New Yorker for today and for ever.’

  (Oh, Christ.)

  Joanna had her own declaration. And that wasn’t all. He introduced Whoopi Goldberg, who was making a speech, yes, a SPEECH, about us, before we collected our awards. Whoopi made a wonderful, generous and very funny SPEECH, none of which I really took in, because I was now in full panic mode.

  Stupid hat! Stupid suit! Stupid Stars and Stripes scarf! Stupid, silly us!

  All we had was a ‘Thank you, sweetie darlings’ and a ‘Cheers, thanks a lot’.

  I stumbled to the podium and accepted the award with a mixture of ‘Sweetie darlings, Bolly, sweetie. Darlings. Buggery bollocks’ and trying to be serious. A tragic mixture. Joanna had more success with a bit of Patsy.

  We walked away, feeling slightly ashamed, but also a little bit pleased with our Proclamations. We were Honorary New Yorkers. We had the pieces of paper and were proud.

  We left the Senate building and were whisked by car to much more familiar territory: an Ab Fab lookalike competition in a gay club.

  Thank God.

  The music was loud, the men were very gay, and most of them were in costume.

  We could relax. Drinks were necked.

  We judged the lookalike competition, which was fierce.

  The winner was a man whom had made himself into Saffy’s best friend, Titikaka, a girl whom Edina had tortured throughout the series and whose plaits she had once set on fire. He won because he had serious detail, down to the scarring on the back of his neck. It wasn’t a popular winner, obviously, but he was original.

  The rest of the trip was a whirlwind: driving around the city in a limo with Debbie Harry, looking for a place to have fun; a night in Bungalow 8 with Graham Norton; a party thrown for us by Glenda Bailey, the editor of Harper’s Bazaar. Joanna and I would always end up back at our hotel, spinning with drink and jet lag but nevertheless staying up late, just laughing.

  At the Four Seasons suite, we lay staring out at the skyline, amazed by our good fortune. We watched the lights change colour on the Chrysler Building and played with the electric curtains.

  New York was special.

  We occasionally swung trips to Los Angeles, one of w
hich I should run past you briefly, dear reader.

  In 1996 we were invited to present an award at the Comedy Awards in LA. We were, of course, thrilled at the prospect of a free trip without the pressure of having to do publicity, and accepted immediately.

  The Awards were organized by a chap called George Schlatter and his wife, Jolene. George had been the producer of Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In and was a big cheese, a big prodoooosa.

  Where would we like to stay?

  We said the Hotel Bel-Air, as we had never been there. They liked the idea, and agreed, and we couldn’t believe it! The Bel-Air is an old-fashioned hotel in a rich, lush suburb of LA. Set in its own gardens, it has a whiff of Old Hollywood about it. We were put up in one of the bungalows: our own two-bedroom space with a garden and pool just outside.

  Oh yes. Result!

  George and Jolene – she is small and blonde with the perfect country-singer beehive – were attentive. We were sent baskets of flowers and fruit and some muffins. The whole time we were there, George and his wife organized things for us to do. Jolene adored us. She adored and loved us so much that she once declared that she wanted to adopt us.

  All we had to do was dress up once and sit through an award ceremony before going up to present one (to Kelsey Grammer, as it happened).

  The table we sat on was filled with hopefuls and has-beens, none of whom ate or drank. This was a professional engagement for them, and alcohol did not pass their lips. Joanna made a comment about just having had breast surgery that seemed to go down quite well, but was reported in the British press as having been a disaster. JOANNA’S BIG BOOB! But actually all was fine.

  Once we had completed the task of award presenting, we were to give a party. Not a big party, but a party at which Joanna and I could choose any guests we wished to have at our tables.

  Anybody?

  Yes, anybody.

  I chose Carrie Fisher, Laurie Metcalf, Lily Tomlin, Mo Gaffney and Roseanne Barr. Roseanne had bought the rights to Ab Fab in America (which sadly nothing ever came of; American studios just don’t go for smoking, drinking and swearing) and was a friend. Roseanne had once introduced me to Dolly Parton, and would always be one of my favourite people for that fact alone.*

  Carrie brought Ed Begley Jr. I hardly knew Carrie – just a little through Ruby – and the evening seemed stilted. Apart from Mo, I felt that all were there by order, rather than by choice, and I had no idea how to get the conversation flowin’.

  Joanna, on the other hand, had selected a table of friends and had a lovely evening, chattin’ and laughin’, while, back on my table, I had become mute. I wanted to tell Lily Tomlin how much she meant to me and how influential her work had been, but instead just stared at my food. By the time I had stopped staring at my dessert, I realized that Carrie had actually gone, leaving only a small green pill on the chair on which she had sat. Essence of Carrie.

  After the party, Roseanne took me and Joanna to the Comedy Store. This was where she and many of the greats had started out. We met Richard Pryor, who was quite wobbly and not at all well at this point. I didn’t know what to say. He had been such a hero. Thank God for Joanna, who can always cope perfectly and made everything very easy. We stayed and drank and had fun, and the awkwardness of my dinner soon didn’t matter.

  Later that evening, on a bit of a high, we found ourselves being driven back to the Bel-Air. It had been our last night. We stopped at a traffic light and an open-topped car pulled up beside us. George and Jolene were sitting in the front! George was driving.

  We couldn’t believe it! What a coincidence! How marvellous. Here were lovely George and the woman who wanted to adopt us. We wound down the window.

  We waved.

  We shouted.

  We screamed.

  We waved.

  The lights turned green, and George and Jolene drove on.

  Their heads never turned.

  They had already forgotten us.

  We were past. Old news. Has-beens in their world.

  We headed back to the hotel under no illusions.

  You are loved as long as you are useful.

  Good lesson.

  NINE

  In the days before Twitter* and email, there was writin’ postcards and sending faxes.†

  Jack Lumley and I used to send each other endless cards and faxes, handwritten, illustrated with drawings and cut-out pictures from magazines. We were nearly always in character: I was Sandwich and she was an ageing actress in need of work.

  Dear Jennifer Saunders,

  Thank you for your nice letter – I think the nice photo you love of me is out of print now (such a rush!) but I’m sending you the original fan picture which I send to my fans for your dressing room.

  You know I could help you in your career as I could get you into the papers and give you oxygen of publicity which has always helped me in my career, which has admittedly taken a bit of a dip just now. But I could give you hints and tips. Please write again if you want HINTS AND TIPS and photos. Just off on my hols in the sun so see you soon.

  Please don’t forget me,

  Joanna Lumley

  I have boxes and boxes of faxes. I have kept nearly every one to this day, plus every card and piece of paper and old menu that they were written on.

  Dear Jennifer,

  I expect you will be very excited to get this letter. Yes, it’s me really writing to you myself – although as you can guess my life is very full and very busy. I like to let my fans know that I care about them.

  About your film next year – although I am very busy and very much in demand I’m sure I can fit it in somehow. In fact any time at all would suit me fine – I don’t usually play small parts but I do feel it might give your film more of a chance if it had a star name in it. Also I don’t usually eat out with fans as it usually creates havoc in restaurants. But just this once it would be lovely to eat anything at all with anyone actually. As I expect you can guess I am quite a shy private person so please don’t tell the newspapers where we are going!! Or they might send photographers and even journalists who might like to interview me. I must rush off now into another room – you can cut out my autograph and keep it if you like. Please don’t forget to come on Saturday.

  Sincerely yours,

  Joanna Lumley, xxxx

  All the way through these faxes are mentions of a film. I cannot for the life of me think what this film is, but whatever it was, it never happened.

  Dear Jennifer,

  I am hoping my new lips will look nice for your show. I can only afford to get one done at a time. I’ve gone for the top lip like Ivana Trump. Also I think the BBC should pay to have my chest reinflated. They went down a bit during an Air Ethiopia flight and one burst during a screenfight with Kate O’Hara but they’d look good again I’m sure. I’m just off to Canada to see a world famous surgeon about my neck. Also the hair looks nice and yellow and the graft hardly shows. I’m learning my lines on page 2 already. Please don’t recast yet. We’ll make your film a ting-a-ding hit.

  Love from Joanna

  Only someone as beautiful as Joanna could make these jokes. And her beauty secrets, I hear you cry? Have just a modicum of everything – a little food, the odd cigarette, a small amount of exercise – and then a really good drink.

  Dear Miss Saunders,

  The word on the woodvine is that you is about to start auditioning ‘hopefuls’ for your new series of Absolutely Fabulous and would like to enter myself as you may remember I have worked with you in America givin interviews and helping you out with hair advice. PLEASE GIVE ME WORK AS I CAN HELP OUT with hair advice and looking natural. I also speak French in films and also work with Mrs Cath. Deneureveux as advice on hair and ‘BOTOX’.

  Give me work please.

  You can reach me at this address. Meet me soon.

  My beauty regime is … er … erm … Should drink more water. Should eat less. Should exercise more (but not actually kill yourself the first time you try or suffer i
njury that means you can’t do any more). Remember to get your hair cut on occasion. Try not to bite ya nails.

  Fax from ‘Cherry Lyn’, Laines due Pingguin, Sussex:

  To Mrs J. Saundre, Star

  Dear Madam,

  I enclose a recent photo I have been a very busy model, never stop working, and hearde you was looking for talent, scouting I should say, I should coco!! I am up-to-the minute with goode dress sence and can bring fun to any session please will you give me this job as you can read on my cover photo sent in by my fan I am just the same! Always chirpy and can provide jersey skirt and earrings too I’m a professional but honestly times is hard madam. Give me work please send money.

  I never sent Joanna money. I was immune to her begging.

  Dear Madam,

  Am available for high class modeling work as these recent Mario Testino photos will testify. Please let me know when you perpose to do a fashion shoot. I can bring wig and bobble hat if necessary.

  Please send money up front.

  Is you goin to Los Angeles in April or not? I am not sure we know what to do.

  Please send pills.

  I did of course send pills. I always has a few hanging about.

  A great many of the faxes I sent to Joanna were informative and beautifully writed, apart from the odd begging fax …

  Urgent! Official!

  Needing money for trainin’. Wot have you left me in will??

  Leave me all your money for trainin’ or else I won’t be any good and I am needin’ some J-Cloths and some plugs cos they never comes with them on. So leave them me in your will! + jewels + money + house.

  Please!

  You’m very rich so do it!!

  I WANTS TO ACT! I have written to others as well so don’t feel special, yes alright,

  Sandwich

  … and the odd pleading fax …

  Dear Jack the Bafta,

  Well, it’s that time of year again.

  Do you think ya might be moseyin along on 21st to pick up another or are you going to China or are you dead?