As the Chuckle Brothers rehearse for another lucrative panto season in Southampton this year, they must be thanking their lucky stars that everything worked out so well – because it wasn’t always the case.
Someone who saw their act in a working men’s club in Lincoln in the late 80s remembers them well. He thought they were fantastic (in particular, Barry’s routine driving a little clown’s car around the audience) but he was struck by how melancholy they were in the interval.
During the break, while serving them at the bar he spent the twenty minutes listening to them lament, on the verge of tears, about where they were in life. Fully inconsolable, 1,000 yard stare stuff.
Then the bell rang, they drained their halves, and stuck the painted smiles back on before they took to the stage again to finish the show.