Liz Smith - the greatest granny of them all

On some channel somewhere this Christmas there will be at least one festive episode of The Vicar of Dibley and The Royle Family making us chuckle. Appearing in both you’ll probably find Liz Smith, delivering her lines as ever with perfect timing. 

In each of these classic BBC sitcoms she was at least in her seventies and yet she seems to have been playing grans, nannas and loveable landladies throughout my life.

As a youngster, I felt an affinity with a fellow Smith but I was tickled by her real name. I bet she’d have achieved just as much had she stuck with Betty Gleadle! Liz/Betty would already have been approaching fifty when she made her TV debut. I probably watched her in an early Last of the Summer Wine, No Honestly, David Copperfield and even The Sweeney before she really made her mark on me in 1976 as Mrs Brandon in I Didn’t Know You Cared.

Screened after the Nine o’Clock News this was very popular in our household. It was slightly darker than the typical comedy fare of the era (though nothing like as black as Peter Tinniswood’s excellent source books) but it was good enough to run for three or four series. Robin Bailey’s Uncle Mort was the principal character although a young Stephen Rea was delightfully credible and sympathetic as Carter. Catherine and I particularly loved the doddery Uncle Staveley (Bert Palmer) whose only contribution seemed to be the occasional interjection of “I ‘eard that, pardon?” However, the series turned Liz Smith into a comedy stalwart for nearly three decades and, thanks to endless repeats, probably ‘til the end of time.

She wasn’t only in half-hour comedy, sketch or children’s shows. Her distinctive pinched features and piercing cackle of a voice made a fair few costume dramas bearable for a corset-and-breeches-phobe like me. She was a regular character in the Beeb’s nostalgic country vet series One By One and also cropped up in The Duchess of Duke Street, Fay Weldon’s brooding ‘80s Life and Loves of a She-Devil adaptation and a 1993 Lovejoy episode.

However, her peerless credentials as an elderly eccentric made her in huge demand amongst comedy writers. She was not one but three top-rated BBC situation comedy staples of the Nineties. It’s easy to forget that one of the best was 2Point4 Children, in which she played both Aunt Belle and Bette. I actually attended one of the studio recordings but don’t recall whether Liz featured in that one but in her twelve episodes she proved an impeccable foil for Belinda Lang and Gary Olsen. The latter’s death in 2000 sadly prevented an extension of Andrew Marshall’s hit into the new millennium but not Liz Smith’s career.

By this time she was the typically dotty Letitia Cropley, creator of the most bizarre culinary concoctions in The Vicar of Dibley and Nana Norma in The Royle Family. Even amidst two splendid ensemble casts she would shine as bright as any star. In the latter she would occasionally join Barbara, Denise et al on the crumpled sofa to deliver deadpan observations and non sequiturs to make Jim’s beard crease in amazement and eyes turn somersaults.

The programme’s ‘Queen of Sheba’ was eventually granted a dignified exit, in one of the Royles’ most touching and tear-jerking specials. Like Ronnie Barker’s picture on the wall in Still Open All Hours, the ghost of Liz Smith’s Nana would always haunt the living room, a benign presence and spark of fond family memories.

I did see Liz Smith in real life just once, in February 2001. I can’t quite remember exactly where in London it was, probably Oxford Street or Regent Street near my BBC office, but I can visualise the light-coloured coat and hat to protect from the winter chill. I don’t know whether she was forever pestered by autograph-hunters (selfies were not yet part of everyday life) but I’m sure she would warm the hearts of any of us mere mortals who crossed her path on an otherwise ordinary lunch hour.

Of course, like all grannies and Queens of Sheba Liz Smith MBE inevitably passed away. It was three years ago today when the perennial eccentric old dear died at home in Worthing at the age of 95. Rarely the star but the most glorious of supporting cast members, the one-time Betty Gleadle from Scunthorpe is an unforgettable TV treasure. In a typical understatement, playwright Mike Leigh described her as “a complete breath of fresh air….not your bog standard middle-aged actress”. She may have played so many apparently bog standard characters, but they were usually larger than life, as any family’s nanna should be...