Just A Minute

 
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Keith Matthews on Clement

Messages in this topic: 1
Dean BedfordMay 2, 2009
 

 
My dear friend Keith wrote me a long letter on Clement's death that he
asked me to put up on the blog. As he has been such a tremendous
contributor to the site I could hardly do otherwise. I copied it here as
I'm sure you'll find it very interesting.




My autistic nephew had taken his dog for a walk and had come back with
today's newspaper. Always a cheerful lad bit I do wish I hadn't heard
the news from him. "'Ere your mate is dead!" he said with the same
nonchalance he uses when noticing a sudden shower.
I had no idea that Clement was showing any sign of waning at his last
ever recording of Just A Minute - the one he recorded with Paul and
David Mitchell at Broadcasting House. The thing I noticed and was
heavily edited out of those shows was the devil-may-care attitude of
Clement. His performance had a real bite to it and only those regular
attendees would have noticed the aggression in Clement's performance.
Thankfully Sheila Hancock was on hand to help Nicholas Parsons jolly the
shows along when they hit a sticky patch and there were many of them,
when Clement's challenges hit a momentary wall of silence. He used his
old tricks, listing and doing a "Freud", getting in just before the end
of the minute. He also switched tactics and behaved like the more recent
players, sucking up to the chairman to please him!
I had seen him literally hundreds of times, first with his comedic
opposite, Kenneth Williams. What an idyllic pair they were, sitting
there next to each other like two masks of drama, comedy and tragedy.
Secondly with Paul Merton. They were the tortoise and the hare! Between
them they ensured that Just A Minute was never short of laughter or wit.
I am an epileptic whose seizures come on when they are least expected.
Three times my seizures have encroached upon my enjoyment of my
favourite comedy panel game.
The first was when I collapsed in the foyer of the BBC Radio Theatre and
the capped commissionaires were scratching their heads wondering what
they could do with this man who was rolling about on the floor. As I was
coming round I noticed Clement coming in. He asked what had happened to
me and told the commissionaire to "look after him". The most recent was
when Dean and I went to Stratford-upon-Avon. Who should be seated on the
train opposite us - Clement Freud. He was accompanied by his
ever-present lady assistant and they were tucking into a lovely looking
picnic hamper. It was Clement who when the shakes came upon me, offered
Dean a fizzy mineral water "for your friend".
He is photograph and autograph shy to the point of obsession. I remember
Clement's behaviour when at the end of a recording at the Leicester
Comedy Festival he fled from the stage as quick as a greyhound rather
than be included with the other participants in an impromptu photo
session with the local press. He hated the craze of celebrity status and
at times would probably have wished he was at the racetrack with normal
everyday punters.
At his last Just A Minute, after the recording he remained on stage as
the others left. He was looking for his assistant but she was late. He
remained on the stage debating whether or not to negotiate the three or
so steps to the floor of the auditorium. The house lights were switched
off and the theatre dark.
I approached him and introduced myself. I thanked him for his previous
kindnesses and a glimmer of recognition came over him. "Are you better
now?" he asked in his customary two-edged way. "Yes much better thanks",
I replied.
I offered him my History of Broadcasting House to sign. "As you know, I
never sign autographs", he replied.
I offered my shoulder to help him down the steps and he accepted. "Thank
you for helping me," he said with a smile. "Any time Sir Clement."
As I was leaving, I looked back at the stage set out with its three
desks. Something must have made me turn around for one final look. How
much fun and laughter has this show brought to my life, I was thinking.
Clement and his assistant made his their slow progress up the side
aisle. I pretended to be admiring the wonderful carved pieces that cover
the wall of the Radio Theatre to emable Sir Clement to catch up with me
and my friends.
As they passed us his secretary asked him "Are you all right?" "I am now
you're here", replied Sir Clement.
Clement was integral to Just A Minute from the first show. If the show
had not had such a witty, point-hungry, Kenneth-Williams-tolerant,
educated man such as Clement Freud, the show would have collapsed under
the weight of self-promoting thespians.
Clement was the calm panellist who never ever lost his cool in public.
Underneath he probably displayed the nerves of an actor, but he never
showed them.
You could always guarantee that Clement would come up with remarks that
stopped the show. Some of his more recent ones would have been edited
out in earlier days by over-zealous producers. But thankfully sanity has
prevailed and many of his performances on the show are in tact.
He never really got to grips with the new interpretation of the
deviation ruling that allowed Paul Merton to talk about how he used to
be a private investigator for MFI unchallenged. Something that an
outraged Kenneth Williams would have challenged for. But Just A Minute
was changing with the times and having many improvisational comedians on
the panel, laughing in the face of rationality, led to this change.
He never got to grips with the awarding of bonus points for funny
remarks. It got so bad that anyone could make a remark during an
incorrect challenge and be awarded a point.
Clement could no longer play the game his way. He could no longer
guarantee a last-second challenge to allow him to win or at least catch
up with the leader because the leader had been awarded so many bonus
points. Playing the game logically with all the knowledge to hand - the
same way he carefully bet on horses at the race track - could no longer
guarantee him his usual win as was usually the case in his first 20
years on the show.
Win or lose, Clement was still there in recent years, scrabbling for the
"benefit of the doubt" and his rarely awarded bonus points. Still
amazing us all with his long lists and stunning us with his witty
remarks.
Nicholas Parsons asked me once if I thought that some of the newer
players were frightened of Clement. "No," I replied. "They're more
afraid of playing the game and making a fool of themselves." I continued
"you need someone like Clement on the panel because he is an eccentric,
an oddity, an enigma, and he stands out from all the rest. The audience
love him and his peculiar ways that defy logic. Without him the show
will become four comedians all trying to get their oar in and the game
part of the show will go out the window."
Time will tell.
Dear witty curmudgeonly tricky clever Clement. I will miss you more than
words can say. For your laughter and kindnesses and the signed Grimble
book that you sent me I award you a thousand bonus points. Now let's see
if the others are clever enough to catch you up.
Graham Norton once called Clement The Just A Minute ninja, and so he was!

 
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