Arise Sir Lenworth of Dudley!

Lots of comedians have ‘larger than life’ personalities.  It’s nothing new. But when you’re 6 foot 3 or thereabouts, Lenny Henry was always going to be noticed. And still he would wear over-sized suits, just to rub it in. Then, of course, he’s black. It’s been ages since I’ve thought of Lenny as ‘black’; he’s just Lenny Henry. But on Seventies television, black faces were rare. I recall Charlie Williams taking over from Bob Monkhouse on The Golden Shot, a brave move. 

And yet a sixteen year-old from Dudley, son of Jamaican immigrants, could do impressions of Frank Spencer and actually win talent show New Faces. He must have been special. Now, we didn’t watch much ITV in our house so I didn’t witness this phenomenon for myself. Nor did I see his role in the first all-black sitcom The Fosters, nor even the anarchic Saturday morning kids’ show Tiswas. However, by the time I was leaving university he had already honed some of his most famous impressions and comedy characters, which would appear periodically like old friends for years to come. His David Bellamy and ‘Trevor McDoughnut’ were legendary. 

Fortunately for me, his first real break as a primetime light entertainment star came on the Beeb, alongside Tracey Ullman and David Copperfield (no, not the magician) in Three of a Kind. Through the lens of a twenty-first-century telescope, it all seems rather tame but at the time it seemed quite fresh and new. There were some amusing sketches and spoofs of big shows of the time but some of the best material manifested itself in the music parodies. Sorry, Len, but this was Tracey’s playground. Whether ‘doing’ Toyah or all of Bananarama, she was the bee’s knees. However, Lenny Henry always seemed to possess a love of music and this was evident from his subsequent TV career, especially in the Eighties. 

For all his daft pastiches of Michael Jackson, Prince and Stevie Wonder, Lenny possessed a passable soul voice which for a while he seemed to demonstrate at every opportunity. Channel 4’s Saturday Live was renowned as a vehicle for new ‘alternative comedy’, hosted by sparkly-suited Ben Elton and featuring the Comic Strip crew, Harry Enfield, Julian Clary et al. However, as a comedian, Lenny has never been ‘alternative’. Even his edginess seemed to have rounded corners. However, Ben Elton couldn’t sing so it was down to Lenny to give the songs of Sam Cooke and others a good go on live TV. In 1988 and 1990 he was the principal host of huge Wembley concerts celebrating Nelson Mandela, the first as political prisoner, the second as recently freed man. I’m not so naïve as to disregard his ethnicity as a factor in his getting the gig but Henry’s love of R’n’B and ability to entertain with vim and vigour were also irrefutable. On a less global scale, he has presented a few live Top of the Pops editions in his career, making a refreshing change from the likes of Bates, Brookes and Campbell. I can’t imagine Peter Powell or Mark Goodier introducing an act in the guise of Delbert Wilkins… 

I think the aforementioned fictional Brixton pirate radio DJ was Lenny Henry’s first foray into a sitcom whose success rested entirely in the comedian’s sizeable hands, although it was still called The Lenny Henry Show. At the time – it was the mid-Eighties – only Lenny could have pulled it off without accusations of racism or making fun of the growing urban sub-culture. Delbert Wilkins was a character you could laugh both at and with, and offered a diverting if not hilarious half-hour. One of Delbert’s favourite words, “Crucial”, gave its name to Henry’s Nineties production company which, amongst other things made three series of Chef. Lenny’s lead character Gareth was less sympathetic than Delbert had been which, in my eyes, made it a better watch. 

At Christmas 1993, Lenny Henry played an unconventional panto character brought to life in ITV’s Bernard and the Genie but by this time he was stretching himself in more serious dramas. Back in ’87, he was back in soul music mode for an enjoyable BBC2 thriller caper, Coast to Coast, portraying an unemployed mobile disco DJ, then four years later he was a drug dealer and addict in the more hard-hitting Screen Two, Alive and Kicking, alongside Robbie Coltrane. 

However, the first series which demonstrated to me that Lenny had genuine thespian credentials was Hope and Glory. Written by Lucy Gannon, he played a ‘super-head’ drafted in to save a failing inner-city school, using his maverick personality to win over staff, pupils and governors to achieve the goal. OK, so maybe the star was outshone in the acting stakes by Richard Griffiths, Clive Russell and Amanda Redman but I thought he was credible and held his own in such exalted company. 

More recently he was just as believable as one of many suspects in the third and final series of the brilliant Broadchurch and as the slightly bewildered Godfrey, who has Asperger’s, in Kay Mellor’s The Syndicate. Obviously this is a serious mental health condition but it lent itself to some light-hearted scenes for which Lenny was admirably well suited. Then earlier this year a strikingly svelte Mr H appeared as an evil billionaire in none other than Doctor Who. This was something of a transformation given his portrayal of a black Doctor (when the Time Lord played by anything other than a white male was unthinkable!) 35 years earlier. 

Lenny’s sketch shows have occasionally been revived over the years with limited success. I remember seeing his live tour at the Cliffs Pavilion, Westcliff in ’93, which also reminded me what an engaging ‘stand-up’ he could be, and in 2000 he was back on BBC1 in Lenny Henry In Pieces, introducing a few memorable characters more appropriate to the more mature comedian. I was also delighted this year to learn that his blend of new and familiar voices were back at the Beeb - on Radio 4.

I’ve enjoyed watching him in other guises, too, whether hosting The Magicians in 2011 or flogging Premier Inn on assorted ads but even now I cannot disassociate him from Comic Relief. Forget Ross, Rhys Jones, Whitehall, McCall, McGuinness, French or Saunders: Red Nose Day is Lenny Henry! Whether he’s enthusiastically drumming up donations, doing a serious film report from Africa or performing hilarious rehearsed sketches, he has helmed the Beeb’s biennial fundraiser for well over thirty years making us feel good about getting involved, be it texting a tenner or baking cherry-topped biscuits for sale in the High Street.

One of his most popular characters is Theophilus P Wildebeest, In part homage to sexy-voiced soul legend Teddy Pendergrass, this guise was guaranteed to embarrass some unsuspecting female in the audience. And not only on Comic Relief, as my sister can attest!                                                          

Now deservedly a KBE, Sir Lenworth, undoubtedly paved the way for a host of black British comedians on our screens. He may never be quite as edgy or cool as Felix Dexter, Richard Blackwood, Gina Yashere or Mo Gilligan, but the tall dude from Dudley has become part of our mainstream media culture. His status has enabled him to speak out on political race issues close to his heart, and understandably so, but it’s the Lenny with that ear-to-ear grin and smart suit which I’ll treasure the most.