My piece on Chumbawamba, the luddites and pantomime is published in the Guardian today.

All this talk of panto has made me think about my interview with the now sadly deceased (and, it must be said, mildly gin-scented) John Inman. He was known as the Don of pantomime when he was alive and, seemingly, you had to go through him to get a decent job in the game.

This piece comes from 2003 and was for Virgin’s Hotline magazine.

We British are a strange bunch. If today you were to invent a form of kids’ entertainment that involved men in frocks and actresses dressed as young men who end up marrying other women, then the tabloid press would ensure you didn’t get past the first rehearsal. Yet our most favoured form of theatre includes all this with some more besides, and what’s more it is thriving.

West End runs of plays and musicals may be being cut short due to a drop in overseas visitors but packed theatres around the UK resound to the screams of ‘he’s behind you!’ as the pantomime season gets into full swing each Christmas. For many of us, no Boxing Day is complete without booing, hissing and seeing that bloke who you think you recognise from Casualty playing Buttons. Simple enough for young children to follow, but with the odd risqué joke thrown in for their parents and grandparents, panto brings together fairy stories, end-of-the-pier comedy, pop hits and tradition in a couple of hours of pure escapism.

Asking around about the world of pantomime one name came up again and again. John Inman. Variously referred to as The Don and The Dame, the former Are You Being Served star is at the epicentre of all things panto and knows just about anybody who has ever bellowed ‘oh, yes it is!’ at an audience.

With this reputation in mind I didn’t know whether, upon entering his hotel, I would find Inman in a sharp suit shouting something about having Cannon and Ball ‘whacked’ into his mobile or a man in four-feet of wig and enough make up to make even Ann Widdecombe look good. Fortunately, though, he had gone for the shirt and slacks approach and seemed happy enough to eschew the greasepaint and the need to dispose of any showbiz rivals as he enthused about all things panto.

“I love it because it’s two-and-a-half hours of every single aspect of the business I’m in,” he says, in a voice a good octave lower than that of his Mr Humphries character. “There’s acting, singing, dancing, pathos, drama, a lot of colour, kids, ballet and special effects, right down to conjuring tricks. That’s worth a quid of anyone’s money isn’t it?”

Inman has been appearing in panto for over forty years and has risen through the ranks from custard pie-victim to Simple Simon, Buttons, Ugly Sister and eventually Dame. Along with Danny La Rue, he is now one of the most established and sought-after pantomime mothers and has been playing Widow Twankey in Aladdin for the past four years, after a fifteen-year stint as Mother Goose.

Uniquely British panto may be, but its origins and influences come from farther afield and farther back than just music hall and slapstick. Everything from Greek tragedies to commedia dell’arte (16th century Italian improvised sketch shows) and Harlequinades are credited as bringing modern panto to life in the mid-19th century. Though, of course, some of the jokes still used today are older still, having been painted on cave walls by a young Bob Monkhouse alongside crude drawings of mammoths.

Panto as we know it began largely as a platform for the most loved comics and clowns of the day but has evolved, adapted and sucked up popular culture as it has grown. Ugly Sisters have been added, stories mutated and the principal boy has become a role associated with attractive female leads.

“Until recently they were rather buxom, stately ladies,” says Inman. “They weren’t chicks with legs up to their armpits, they were solid women and quite often it would be the manager’s wife. I remember going as a kid to see Cinderella and Dandini (Prince Charming’s servant and sidekick) was a beautiful woman with legs up to her armpits and then Prince Charming was like her mother, because it was the manager’s wife.

“Cilla Black played Jack in Jack and the Beanstalk for years. Her famous story comes from the end. ‘Gotcha. I’m gonna kill him. How shall I kill him kids?’ And they shouted ‘sing to him’. They kept it in. It happened and they kept it because Bobby, her late husband, used to go through the pass door to the back of the stalls and shout it. This is what is so wonderful about it, it is always changing.”

Pantomime may be almost endlessly adaptive, but Inman is not quite so keen on some of the modern innovations that have been brought in to attract the crowds.

“Years ago they tried updating pantomime to space and electronics and things like that and it doesn’t work,” he says. “You are much better with a baddie and a fairy and a lot of nice scenery. Make it magic and they believe everything.” Though he is obviously not averse to the odd piece of plot meddling, as his Aladdin in Cardiff this year features a guest appearance from Spiderman. No doubt many theatres will feature the odd Bob The Builder or Fireman Sam.

Another recent constant in the world of panto is the appearance of soap refugees, who Inman grudgingly accepts can make all the difference between a half-empty theatre and a full house. The likes of Steve McFadden and Claire Sweeney can make or break a six-week run, as panto has to appeal to grown-ups as well as children and it is the promise of Sweeney slapping a thigh that is more likely to have dad reaching for the wallet than the promise of a Tweeny on stage.

In addition to soap stars, Grange Hill alumni, pop failures and even Big Brother barrel scrapings have found their way to pantoland, eking out their fame for the odd thirty seconds over their allotted fifteen minutes to audiences who try desperately to recall which series of the reality show they were in. Destined forever to be known as ‘wasn’t he the one that fed the chickens?’

Inman starred in Aladdin in Newcastle last Christmas, which put him onstage with likeable Jonny Regan, the chirpy Geordie former-fireman from Big Brother 3. Though Inman’s initial worries about Regan’s acting ability were at least soothed by the reception he got every night.

“We used to stand in the wings when Johnny went on,” he says. “The audience would all cheer and we’d say: ‘Oh, they like their own don’t they?’” A scenario no doubt repeated up and down the land each December, as the hometown hero valiantly returns after going off to bring glory to some lost stretch of suburban Britain with their role as the bloke inside Tinky Winky, Armed Robber With Baseball Cap in The Bill or just a fairly good voiceover for feminine hygiene products.

As panto takes place during the Christmas period there is very little possibility for the festive season to be a family occasion for anyone involved, though for many actors (and theatres alike) it represents sound financial sense and helps them to weather ‘resting’ periods until the summer seasons begin. And, anyway, it’s not like they can claim they are missing out on all of the magic of Christmas.

“The atmosphere is wonderful, particularly boxing day,” says Inman, smiling as he reminisces. “Arthur Askey used to say – he was a good dame, well he wasn’t really a good dame, he was Arthur Askey in a frock – he used to say: ‘When the curtain goes up on a Boxing Day, all you can smell is orange peel and wee-wee.’ A lot of people have said to me ‘you’re working at Christmas, do you not miss family?’ Well, I have about fifteen-hundred to my Christmas party on Boxing Day afternoon, which is marvellous.”

Fans of Are You Being Served will be pleased to hear that there is still a small amount of Inman’s much-loved sales assistant in his panto role, as every night Widow Twankey asks the audience: ‘Are you free?’ They of course reply with a camp-but-raucous chorus of ‘I’m free’ – even the kids, who have probably never witnessed Mr Humphries mincing across the Grace Brothers’ shop floor to consult Captain Peacock.
Before we part I ask Inman who he thinks where the future of panto might lie once he has hung up his wigs and frocks. At first he looks stumped, but soon comes up with Ant and Dec as his prime candidates.

“I think they would be brilliant in a pantomime,” he says. “I think they would cost a lot of money, but they would make a lot of money. I was a bit horrified last year, the Hamiltons did a panto at Guildford. She was the fairy and he was the baron. Baron Stoneybroke, very appropriate.”

“How about Gareth and Will?” I venture, trying to think of other likely candidates for Aladdin, Snow White or Peter Pan.

“Oh yes, Prince and Dandini,” chirps Inman. “Will Young might want to put a frock on. You don’t know.”