Let's have the first man.
He was an enormously talented man.
I mean, a rather sort of brilliant man, but he was very, very anarchic.
And he could just cause chaos by walking into the room.
I normally... I'll sit on this one.
LAUGHTER
I think Norman was as big a star as we can make in Britain.
Audiences just couldn't believe this extraordinary character.
He used to work like a horse. He really always worked very hard.
Oh, no, don't start me off on that.
LAUGHS LOUDLY
When we were at home, just in any situation, his timing would be spot-on.
He can make a laugh from anything, really. He doesn't need a script.
The cleverness...of movement
and ability to trip over and not hurt himself,
that's what's so clever, really.
He was completely innocent, in a way.
Children liked him.
Everybody liked him. There wasn't anybody who didn't like Norman.
He will always be remembered.
I mean, who could forget Norman Wisdom?
# I'm not good-looking
# I'm not too smart... #
On screen, we saw the master fool,
a cheeky comic character with great musical talent
and a physical prowess
which made Norman Wisdom Britain's biggest and most bankable film star of the '50s and '60s.
His was a natural talent.
Norman's upbringing lacked the luxury of formal training.
Indeed, it lacked any luxury at all.
When asked about his childhood, he would always deliver an old music-hall gag.
I was born in very sorry circumstances.
Both of my parents were very sorry. Really, yeah.
Behind the jokes lay a dreadful reality.
Life was tough for young Norman and his elder brother Fred.
Raised in this house in London's Maida Vale,
in 1915, this area was poverty-stricken.
More devastating still, at the age of nine, Norman's family was torn apart.
His father, a chauffeur, was violent and neglectful.
His mother felt forced to leave home.
Norman's early life was quite hard because his father was quite cruel.
His background was horrendous, a dreadful family life,
beaten, punched and kicked and knocked about by his father.
He used to wallop me and my brother and...
But it did me good in a way because I remember on one occasion he picked me up - this is really true -
and he threw me up and I hit the ceiling.
Really true. And I came down and landed just by the sink which we had then in the drawing room
and, um...it taught me how to fall, you know.
Between the ages of 9 and 11,
Norman and his brother lived more or less as street urchins.
Attending school barefoot, they regularly stole food to survive.
To be discarded by your parents at an early age...
I mean, he stayed with his grandmother for a period.
But, you know, you really are fending for yourself.
Um...you know, it's...
something that you wouldn't even dream about, really.
He had it rough. He really did.
I think that's what gave Dad the determination...
to, you know, make something of his life
and not continue sort of living like that.
At the age of 13, Norman left school.
He walked from London to Cardiff to look for work.
He told me he went with a friend.
I said, "How did you eat? Where did you sleep? It took you two weeks.
"What did you do? What were the practicalities?"
He said he took a sandwich and they just slept rough in a hedgerow.
Before he knew it, he was a cabin boy on this ship,
the Maindy Court, bound for Argentina.
It was a hard life, but it was very helpful for the life to come.
I learnt boxing, for instance.
Who taught you that? The blokes used to be on the deck, all doing the sparring for exercise and so forth.
I used to stand and watch 'em and one day, they said, "Hey, do you want to join in, son?"
He spent three months at sea.
Feeling proud of his achievements, Norman headed back to London to trace his estranged father.
Norman, when he was about 14, decided to find out where his dad was.
He went back to his grandmother and she gave him this address.
He goes round and stands outside the house. He plucks up the courage and knocks on the door.
A woman opens the door and he said...
"Can I see Mr Wisdom?" She said, "Who are you?" I said, "Norman." It was his next wife.
She said, "Come in. He'll be back from work in half an hour."
I went in and sat in the lounge, then when he came in, I heard some chat between his wife and himself.
He just came in and this is, on my word of honour, true.
He just opened the door, looked at me and said, "Out!"
And I went out and I walked down the steps. There were about three or four steps down.
I stood in the road, he slammed the door,
and I said, "I'll never see you again." And I never did. True.
It was a short, sharp exchange and that was it.
What can you say?
I mean, it was "out" and that was it.
How do you get over that? How would you get over that?
And then, you know, years later, to go on and make the world laugh.
Norman had no choice but to live on the streets.
His regular sleeping spot, still popular with the homeless today,
was next to the Marechal Foch statue. He was 14 years old.
Salvation came in the form of the army.
I was honestly sleeping rough just off Grosvenor Square.
In doorways and all that sort of thing and hungry.
At about half past two in the morning, I'd go to a coffee stall keeper.
I used to just look over the shelf like that, sadly,
and he'd push me a hot pie and a cup of Bovril. Really true.
After six or seven nights of that, he said to me, "Why don't you join the army?"
I said, "I can't get in the army at my size." He said, "You've got to do something.
"Just go and try it. Kid 'em."
And kid 'em, he did.
14-year-old Norman, just four foot ten and a half inches and five stone nine, enrolled as a bands-boy.
Joining the army was the best thing he ever did.
He had friends, he had travel and he had a bed to sleep in. His life changed completely.
He'd had no home. He'd had no home life as such.
Then he goes in the army and that became his life.
The sergeant-major or whoever became his dad because he didn't really have a dad.
And the other soldiers became his brothers, so he did love the army because he'd had nothing else.
For him, it was absolutely marvellous
because he had three meals a day and was looked after.
It must have been finding mum again, I think.
Well, I tell you what, on my word of honour... Yes.
I owe everything of my good fortune to the army.
It gave him so much. It gave him discipline and cleanliness, the music, the chance to go on stage.
He learnt to horse-ride and do all that sort of stuff, so I can understand why he loved it so much.
There was 14 boys and we all had different instruments.
We got fed up playing the same one, so we had a go on the others, so gradually, I learnt to play the lot.
Clarinet, saxophone, French horn, trumpet, drums, piano...
That'll do.
Five years of Norman's tour of duty was spent in India.
He became the flyweight champion of the British troops in 1936.
He had also discovered a talent for comedy.
What made him realise that he could make people laugh
was they were putting on a show and doing some sort of entertainment
and he started doing a tap dance in his army boots.
And they started to laugh at him because it just looked so ridiculous.
In his head, he was thinking, "Oh, they're laughing at me."
And that's where it all started.
After seven and a half years, he demobbed to launch himself as a variety artist.
His first significant booking was at the Coliseum, Portsmouth, in 1945.
At the age of 30, he was still unknown,
though he had invented the stage persona which would immortalise him,
that of the little man in the over-tight suit
which he called The Gump.
Early 1947, I had been booked at a summer season
at Scarborough.
I was sharing a dressing room with a conjurer.
We used to do a different show every week.
I'd got the material for the four shows because I was only doing about 10 or 15 minutes each show.
This conjurer was having difficulty with his last show.
He said, "Norman, if I ask someone to come up from the audience to help me do the tricks, it could be you."
I said, "All right." He said, "Dress scruffy."
So I went out and bought a suit for 30 shillings and a cap for one shilling
and when he invited someone up from the audience, I came up
and it worked so well, we were booked as a double act.
But he didn't want to be a double act. Neither did I. But that's how it all started with The Gump suit.
This great Gump character that he created, this ill-fitting suit
and the cheeky cap to one side, was this icon.
I put Norman's Gump character in the same league as Chaplin's Tramp.
It fits that comedy icon, the little boy lost that we all love.
Norman was appearing all over the country as a supporting act.
By chance, one of the biggest stars of the day caught his performance.
# There'll be bluebirds over
# The white cliffs of Dover... #
I first saw Norman's act
when I first came down to live in Sussex just after the war.
And my husband and I were going to the theatre, a very small theatre in Brighton,
to see an act that was top of the bill
and we saw this little chap come on
who wasn't very highly billed.
I hadn't heard of him before.
And he was so funny.
He had me in stitches.
And it takes a lot, really, to make me laugh the way that I laughed.
I thoroughly enjoyed him and I thought, "I've never seen or heard of him before,
"but he really is going to go somewhere."
# We'll meet again
# Don't know where
# Don't know when... #
And they did meet again.
In 1947, Vera Lynn was at the height of her career.
She was booked to top the bill at the Victoria Palace
and at the bottom of the bill was Norman Wisdom.
I was due to go on at a certain time and he was getting very nervous,
because I was going on in the first half, closing the first half, which is a very important spot.
And he was getting very nervous.
I didn't mind what time I went on, so I said, "Would you like to swap places?"
So he said, "Yes, could I, please? You know, I'd like to get it over."
He received three ovations.
Vera's generous act was the turning point of his career.
I really didn't think any more about it.
But then the first time I met him after the occasion, he reminded me,
and every time we met, he reminded me.
He used to say how much he owed me.
He didn't owe me anything. Whatever he achieved, he owed to his own talent.
Norman was about to become one of the top entertainers of the era.
In the audience at the Victoria Palace was the agent Billy Marsh,
the man who would launch Norman's career in films.
Billy was one of the most respected agents in the business.
He was with the Delfont Organisation.
And Billy made a point
of trying to make all these up-and-coming people into major stars -
Morecambe and Wise, Bruce Forsyth and, of course, Norman.
Billy also went across to America with him
and really looked after his career and they became great friends.
It was Billy Marsh who secured Norman's seven-year contract with the Rank Organisation.
Norman's debut as a film star was in the 1953 release of Trouble In Store
where Norman played a hapless shop assistant called Norman Pitkin.
What on earth are you doing here?
Mr Freeman sent me. I'm the new window dresser. You?
How utterly grotesque!
He became the biggest box-office draw
and his films made more money than James Bond films in the early '60s.
This whole Norman franchise came up around it,
so Trouble In Store probably began the whole legend of Norman Wisdom.
I remember him telling me about the night he became a star.
I imagine Rank made his first film...
..you know, under sufferance and with a low budget and all of that.
At the time, the Rank Organisation took a chance on Norman Wisdom.
He was a recognised stage comedian, but films are a different beast.
Apparently, at the premiere for Trouble In Store, he stood there
with all these bigwigs, Earl St John, the head of Rank, coming in.
..being frightfully snobbish and just thinking he was some piece of dirt.
I was too scared to look at the screen. I was watching the audience,
hoping that they'd laugh and lucky for me, they did.
After the film was finished, they were a different crowd of people coming out, the Earl St Johns.
They were coming out and saying, "Norman, oh, Norman!"
It's a very English story. The idea that he then became a film star...
Sally! Sally, look, you forgot your handbag! Sally, you won't be able to pay your fare!
You've got to stop! Stop!
Trouble In Store broke box-office records.
Norman received the British Film Academy Award for Most Promising Newcomer.
He would go on to star in 17 further films.
When the British film industry was going into decline, Norman kept the British film industry afloat.
He made a fortune for the Rank Organisation. He kept Pinewood Studios going for nigh-on 15 years.
Sometimes it was only him and the Carry Ons in there making movies,
so it was a very important part of the industry, as well as making millions of people laugh.
The film plots were based on recurring themes.
The character, Norman Pitkin, the good guy,
pulling through against the odds and always getting the girl.
I think my favourite Norman Wisdom film is probably The Square Peg.
I love army comedies and I love the great cast. Honor Blackman is a wonderful leading lady.
# A square peg in a round hole
# You're in the army now... # Try and get out!
Here we are, miss.
Why don't you look where you're going? Lunatic!
I seem to remember that I was an officer in the army
and at the beginning of the film, I'm based in England.
And that's where Wizzy sees me and falls in love with me.
He was the little Private.
Wasn't he Private Pitkin?
God knows how the army put up with him! I don't know.
Mr Grimsdale, she saluted me. I think I'll have another one.
'There was one particular scene where he's just learnt to salute
'and he sees me coming along and he thinks how wonderful, he can salute,
'so he keeps running ahead and hiding round corners and everything
'to get the opportunity of saluting again.'
I don't remember what my reaction was - a raised eyebrow, I should think.
Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
Yes, miss. Last time we met, I was in civvy street.
Norman's character was often pitted against an authority figure,
memorably played by Edward Chapman.
A scenario which gave Norman his most famous line.
Mr Grimsdale!
We're not here to give all the dogs of the neighbourhood free meat! It was mostly bone, Mr Grimsdale.
Good morning...Mr Grimsdale.
Over the years, many fine actors also took on the role of the straight man.
The late David Lodge appeared in many hits such as The Bulldog Breed and On The Beat.
That's what you have to copy.
When there's a comic and the straight man,
the better the straight man, the funnier the comic, and he knew that.
Years before me, he had Jerry Desmonde, who was not only a fine-looking man who was tall,
but he had power.
You've got to have that certain power for him to bounce off.
By now, Norman had developed a skill for causing a riot on set.
We laughed.
I used to look forward to going to work.
Now, Pitkin...
One scene in the film On The Beat created a particular challenge.
'This man he was going to play, the crook, was very fay.'
I had to teach Norman how to walk with his hand on his hip and do all the...
And when we did it, because I had to do this, it was hysterical.
As you put your foot forward, you let your weight rest on to it,
so that your hip swings out. Oh, yeah.
You then change feet, that is to say, you turn on the other one,
transferring the weight in exactly the same manner.
This you continue to do alternately...
'He walked behind me and of course, he tripped over
'and the producer took us both outside the studio.'
And he said, "You two have got to get yourselves together. It's costing me so many thousands a minute."
I said to Norman, "Look, you're a star, you can do this. It's my living, you know?"
He said, "Come on then."
I said, "Can you do it? Can you get through the scene?" "Yes."
No, hand shoulder high!
We came in. They said, "Right, action!"
And we did it, and as we did it, we fell on one side screaming of laughter.
And Asher was on the floor with a handkerchief in his mouth, but we got the scene.
Oh, sir, he's fabulous!
Can I get my uniform now, sir? By all means.
Thank you, sir.
We come to the fact that Norman was a little man with a giant ego,
which is what I always think,
but he was big in as much as he did what he bloody wanted to do.
And nobody would ever tell Norman.
'He would do the most daring things.'
I heard the result of the two o'clock on the radio. It's exciting! We're absolutely hysterical.
'Norman used to disappear.'
We'd be out shooting on location somewhere
and the director would say, "We'll get Norman now, we'll do scene 42."
And they'd say, "Where is Norman?"
Nobody could find him.
They had megaphones almost in those days. They used to scream, "Norman!"
He'd gone. He'd disappeared. I mean, absolutely...
There is no other person I've ever worked with who would have got away with that.
'This is the BBC Home Service.'
Throughout the 1950s and '60s, Norman was one of the nation's best loved film stars,
seldom off the national news.
He was also in great demand as a variety performer.
Wherever he went in public, he would appear in character,
demonstrating the remarkable dexterity which had long become his trademark.
I thought he was a bit of a nutter, frankly, when I first met him. I think we all did, really.
Certainly, if there's one pair of eyes watching him, he's performing.
He just entertains instinctively.
He... That's who he is. If you're there, he's got to make you laugh.
One would call him a comic, really, a comic mover,
an ability to look as though he was going to kill himself by falling over
and he lands up like a cat does, you know, unhurt.
The last time I had breakfast with him was about eight o'clock in the morning.
I went down and Norman was just going into the restaurant.
There was one step, so he did his little fall, got up. And he'd already been for a four-mile walk.
Norman always maintained his fitness.
And on camera, he endeavoured to perform his own stunts, however demanding...
..or bizarre.
How do you stop it?
Are you there, Mr Hunter?
On one occasion, much to Norman's disappointment,
a stuntman was booked to perform an ambitious scene.
On the first take, the stuntman broke his arm.
The film star cheerfully stepped in.
The result, in the 1963 film A Stitch In Time, is pure Norman Wisdom.
Pitkin will be disappointed he missed all the excitement.
I remember holding myself, watching this scene. It was unbelievable.
So... God, so corny, but the way he pulled it off, it was brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.
And it takes a lot for me to laugh out loud. It really, really does.
But honestly, I used to just scream laughing at him, you know?
I love him. I love the man.
Good afternoon.
What's he doing out of bed?
He walked and jogged and rode his bike. This helped him with his act
because he learnt how to tumble and fall without hurting himself.
One of the lines he used to use in his concert was he just used to think of the money and he was OK.
The big revelation I had about him was this thing of thinking he was a bit of a twit.
He wasn't.
And it was when you realised this, when you started to work with him and talk to him,
you realised that although he was a sort of loner in a way,
he was a very bright man...
and was quite able.
Probably from his background, he had to be.
He had to be a bright man to cope.
What a delightful little fella! BARKS LOUDLY
Behind Norman's huge success lay a complex private life.
Married briefly and divorced in his 20s,
aged 32, Norman proposed to his second wife Freda
on Bournemouth Pier.
As a young army man, Norman had resumed contact with his mother.
Though the family were rarely gathered together,
here they all are -
his mother Maud, his brother Fred whom he had lost contact with for 16 years,
at Norman's wedding to Freda in 1947.
Norman knew the value of forgiveness.
Despite his troubled upbringing, he embraced Maud into his life.
His mother and brother died in the same year - 1971.
Freda and Norman had two children - Nick and Jaqui.
Growing up with Norman Wisdom as your dad was as much fun as you might imagine.
He wasn't really a disciplinarian.
My mother was the disciplinarian, but she was never going to win
because we'd have tea and he'd put the dog on the table.
"The dog's coming to have tea with us." And she'd just sort of shake her head, you know.
I can remember when I was little,
my mum was taking me up to the flat in London,
and I love After Eight mints.
And Dad knew exactly what I would do because as soon as we got into the flat,
I'd make a little beeline for the sweet tray in the lounge.
And there is sitting an After Eight box.
And I just open it up and on the top is a little note that Dad's written.
It just says, "I'm watching you, Jaqui."
The whole box went flying up in the air and I just ran out of the room screaming my head off
because I was convinced he was hiding behind a curtain, so he did love to tease.
To his children, he was both father and film star.
They grew up watching him on the set,
even managing to get in on the act in Follow A Star.
I think it was 1959. I just played the piano. I pretended to have a piano lesson.
Oh! Ow! Hey! Oh! Ow!
HE PLAYS A FEW NOTES
Well, that's all, thank you, Nicholas...
It was very exciting going to Pinewood Studio. Everybody wanted to be on the Norman Wisdom set.
THEY SING HIGH NOTE
Very good.
Mum said, "Jaqui, why don't you go along and sit on the stool in front of the piano?"
So I said, "OK." And then they started, you know, "Action!" And Hattie Jacques came in.
Judy! Judy, read this!
'But they'd actually muted the piano, so when you played, no sound came out.'
I just went, "Mum, this piano doesn't work!" "Cut!"
It's outrageous!
I kept looking at Hattie Jacques. They had to cut again and they said, "Jaqui, try and face forward."
The next time, I was staring right into the camera lens. "What's that?"
So they wouldn't be hiring me again!
NICK: He was a lot of fun, but most of the time, he was pretty normal.
The minus side, we didn't see a lot of him.
A life on the road also put great strain on Norman's marriage.
In 1969, he was busy forging a successful career in the United States.
He did films in America. He did Androcles And The Lion for Noel Coward.
He also did Walking Happy on Broadway.
And it was on Broadway, whilst he was working there, that he heard that his wife had gone off with another fella.
My wife at home had found somebody tall and good-looking.
I think if Norman had stayed in America, he would have been a big international star in the States too.
But I think Peter Sellers eventually got that slot as the English funny man and the rest is history.
We had normal family problems and I had to come back from America
to look after my two lovely children and I'm glad I did.
The man who had been abandoned as a child was granted custody of his own children.
Their mother remarried, keeping in contact.
Norman never married again.
My mother left home and I was absolutely devastated.
And, um...
But he found a wonderful lady called Madge
and we used to call her Magic because that's exactly what she was.
And Dad made sure, because he was obviously still away working hard,
that Madge was there to look after us
and she really was a very, very special lady.
He was a loving father at that time and, um...
But I think probably I should have seen a little bit more of my mother.
You know, she was a good woman and, um...
You know, it was an acrimonious split.
The BBC presents The Norman Wisdom Show.
By the 1970s, Norman was a screen and stage star.
But the pressure was now on to make it in television.
# If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree... #
He did some good shows in the '70s,
just called Norman, Nobody Is Norman Wisdom,
A Little Bit Of Wisdom for ATV, and they were successful,
but not legendarily successful, so they're not repeated now.
You don't see them on TV.
I made sure that he was on every radio show we could get him on or television appearances.
He didn't want to do them because he was Norman Wisdom and he felt, "Do I need to do this?"
But I think with the public, you have to keep that profile high.
# ..the old oak tree-ee-ee... #
APPLAUSE That is all.
Norman toured worldwide.
And from the 1980s onward, he featured in cameo roles in some of our best-loved series like Bergerac.
I'll see if you can pick him out, all right? We'll send a car round.
Yeah, all right. Nothing wrong, is there?
No, it's just that I haven't done anything like that before.
This is a one-off, this is.
And Last Of The Summer Wine.
I'm an honest man. It has to be admitted. She needs a touch of work.
EXPLODING SOUND
The one big TV role he was offered, Frank Spencer in Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em, he had to turn down.
Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em was written for Norman,
but there were scenes in it where they wanted him to put his foot down the toilet and things like that,
which he thought was lavatorial humour.
I'm Mr Spencer.
The wife's a bit tired, so I thought I'd try you.
And consequently, he thought, "This isn't for me," because he was squeaky-clean at the time.
And so consequently, he pulled out of it and Michael Crawford got it.
Come back, Frank!
Please stop me!
That could have been the big sort of TV break.
Off the back of the films from the '60s into the '70s and early '80s,
he could have been doing this sort of comedy for the TV generation and he regretted that for ever.
# Honey, don't cry... # Get off!
But there were no regrets attached to Norman's role in a television play released in 1981.
It cast Norman in a whole new light,
receiving critical and audience acclaim.
The BBC Playhouse, Going Gently, directed by Stephen Frears,
featured Norman and Fulton Mackay as terminal cancer patients.
Do you drink?
Doctor's orders.
And what do the wizards of the knife have in store for you?
They're going to give me an exploratory operation.
Fun(!)
How do you know?
Tomorrow, they're going to make it a triumvirate.
Jesus!
We talked to a lot of people about being in it.
Then his name was on a list. I said, "That's a rather interesting idea."
I think this is a rather wicked thought.
I think I thought that if you were dying and wanted a rather graceful death,
you might well wake up and find that Norman was in the bed next to you.
He was so disruptive and anarchic
that any thoughts of a quiet, dignified, heroic death would immediately be destroyed.
What's the matter with you? I can't understand you at all.
He wasn't such a bad fella. Do you need help? Probably not. I just said he wasn't such a bad fella.
COUGHS AND SPLUTTERS
Are you all right?
'I had to get up my courage to cast him.'
I suppose I'd assumed that he'd be very good and he was very good,
but I could see that I was using bits of him that people didn't normally ask for.
During lunch, Stephen Frears said,
"Norman, I want specifically for you to avoid doing any comedy."
And I said, "Well, it's a straight play.
He said, "Yes, I know, but I want you to avoid doing any comedy."
I could see what he was getting at, but I couldn't help pulling his leg a bit.
I said, "If I'm in a nightshirt..." He said, "You will be."
I said, "There's certain comedy within the bounds of the play.
"If, as I walk away from the bed having got out...
"and I catch my nightshirt on the spring of the bed,
"as I walk away, eventually, it will tighten up and pull me back like that
"and I'll put my foot in the chamber pot underneath the bed..."
And he'd gone pale.
He would just send me up hopelessly.
I asked him.
And?
Not too good. It never is.
What am I going to do?
Complain.
Moan like the rest of us.
How long have you got?
They didn't say.
But my guess is six weeks, maybe seven.
For me, six.
I've got to have longer.
I've got to have more time.
'He just was very, very powerful and potent and expressive.'
And that's always a pleasure.
Certainly I didn't realise before that you could strip away all the faces
and the agility and all that
and just leave that little man underneath.
He'd acquired a sort of wisdom by then.
I imagine... I imagine that life had been quite rough to him in the previous 10 or 15 years.
Going Gently won a BAFTA and established Norman as a serious actor.
Even so, he continued to stay in comic character publicly
and his ability to cause chaos in interviews was by now legendary.
I normally... I'll sit on this one.
LAUGHTER
It is difficult to know what he's going to do, especially if you don't know him,
because he can do anything, he can wind people up. He's got a terrible sense of humour.
APPLAUSE
It's good to see you. Come and sit down there.
No, I meant over there.
'He could just cause chaos by walking into the room.'
You could see people getting nervous and looking for the exits. He was very, very unsettling.
Thank you very much. No, please, don't...
Oh, blimey!
Oh, good Lord, there's my back gone!
Taking my life in my hands, because I admired Norman so much,
I asked if he'd take part in an hour's special and he was brilliant.
Interviewing Norman was hell.
I mean, he was a brilliant raconteur.
And he knew exactly how he was going to time every gag.
You couldn't just ask him a question because he was going to tell you his way.
Norman, still kissing the girls at 82?
Still working at 82? Still making people laugh at 82?
More than 82 girls!
I was speaking of your years. Oh! It's impossible to think of you...
My ears are all right.
It was extremely funny and the audience enjoyed the fact that he ran rings round me.
He popped up all over the place.
He was totally dangerous, unpredictable and always very funny.
APPLAUSE
As the cameras stop rolling on The Esther Show, Norman's antics continue.
And the audience clapped. As the applause died,
Norman leant forward, looked me straight in the eyes...
..and licked the end of my nose.
A sensation I will never forget.
It hasn't happened much since.
Norman would often push the boundaries of protocol.
Throughout his career, he was a firm favourite of the Royal Family,
appearing at nine command performances and coming face-to-face with royalty
on many memorable occasions.
I had him working at St James's Palace once,
but I had to lead the line-up for all the artists to meet the Duchess of Kent.
Vera Lynn was on the show as well.
I said to Norman, "If you stand next to Vera..." He said, "No, I'm not doing that."
So he hid behind a big pillar until I'd introduced the Duchess of Kent to all the artists,
then he jumped out on her and went, "Ohhh!"
I thought, "You can't do that to royalty," but that's the way he is.
He forgets that they are royalty. They're friends to him, so he just joins in the fun.
He had me chasing round St James's Palace on one occasion.
We were there at a tea party for the Queen Mother.
She used to run these tea parties for ex-servicemen
and he was there on one occasion.
Of course, he was always playing the fool and he was chasing me round, trying to tweak my nose.
But that was him. You know, he couldn't help but play the fool.
When he went to get his honour,
everyone was in this big room, waiting for the Queen to appear.
Prince Philip said to him, "Hello, Norman, how are you doing?" He said, "Thank you, sir, fine."
Then all of a sudden, there was... MIMICS SOUND OF TRUMPET
You know, the trumpet going off.
And Norman said, "What's that?" Prince Philip said, "Oh, that'll be the Queen."
And Norman said, "Bloody hell, she can't half play that trumpet, can she?"
For the first time in 25 years, the Queen is visiting the Isle of Man.
Waiting to meet her was the island's allegedly most famous resident
and royal favourite, Sir Norman Wisdom.
Jennie Bond reports on today's gripping encounter.
'This was the Queen's first visit to the Isle of Man for 25 years
'and she took the precaution of wearing a sprig of its national herb, mugwort, on her lapel.
'It's meant to ward off evil spirits.
'It did not ward off the persistent attentions of Sir Norman Wisdom.
'Now 88, he's an old favourite among the royals who has performed for them at Windsor Castle.
'Taking the Queen firmly by the hand at a cheese stall, he invited her to pose with him for the photographers.
'Next he suggested she should try some of the cheese.'
No, not now.
'"Not now," said the Queen, showing him that she was being given some to take away.
'But Sir Norman wanted a longer chat.
'Ignoring royal protocol, he crept up and touched her on the arm,
'then took her hand and hung on and on.'
I don't think the Queen will forget him.
It was quite a surprise to me when I heard he'd given her a piece of cheese to eat.
Terrible, really. I mean, who else would do that but Norman Wisdom?
And who else but Norman Wisdom could achieve the status of a country's hero?
His visual comedy has always appealed to audiences in eastern Europe,
nowhere more so than in Albania.
A lot of the dictatorship over there, especially in Albania,
thought that Norman represented the downtrodden communist by the capitalist,
which is untrue completely.
The people were kind of subjected to a pretty awful regime,
the only joy of which came when they saw maybe on a Sunday night the Norman Wisdom film.
They were shown every week and it's kept going.
For 30, 40, 50 years, they've just had Norman Wisdom
and so he's so in their hearts, it's extraordinary.
And in 2002, Tony Hawks saw a chance to win a bizarre challenge.
I took on a wacky bet that I had to have a hit record somewhere in the world within two years
because I'd had a hit record in 1988 with a song called Stutter Rap by Morris Minor & The Majors.
Somebody called me a one-hit wonder. I said, "I haven't finished my life. I'll probably have another hit."
So I set off going round the world trying to have this hit and failed
until I struck upon this idea of pure genius
which was to involve myself with Norman Wisdom in Albania.
Remarkably, Tony persuaded Oscar-winning lyricist Sir Tim Rice to write the song.
So, Sir Tim phoned Sir Norman. I was excluded from that conversation.
I rang him up and put forward this strange proposition
that he should record a song for us
which would be a Top 20 hit in Albania.
And Norman agreed. "I'll do it. Anything you say.
"Yeah, all right. Where? Albania? They like me there. I'll do it."
We therefore wrote a song, Tony and I, called Big In Albania.
Norman went along with this. He loved the idea. He came down to London and recorded it.
The next plan was Operation Tour Albania.
The morning we left at Heathrow Airport,
Norman began the journey by running up the "down" escalator at 87 years old
and going through the security cordon without going through the bit in the middle. He walked up the side of it.
This was only six months after September the 11th and security was very high.
Norman walked straight through it and into Sock Shop.
He was always doing his act. But in a way, it wasn't his act. It was Norman being Norman.
He just had this desire, this necessity to entertain.
I'm amazed that in some places we went to, he wasn't shot!
# From Scutari to Koritsa
# From Gjirokastra to Berat
# From Valona to Tirana
# I'm really where it's at... #
In Albania, everybody loves Norman.
It was like a scene for Take That, but with an 87-year-old man.
He got lost on at least two occasions, but always turned up.
We just looked for a big crowd and there he was!
The little shepherds and all these fellows with donkeys up the hill would say, "Pitkiny, we love you!"
He was getting kissed by men, kids, boys, girls, all sorts of people.
They just loved him out there.
# I've made my name in many places
# A thousand falls, a thousand faces
# But nowhere's more devoted than Albania... #
Miming superbly with Tim's daughter on backing vocals, his son on trumpet,
Sir Tim was happy to perform on a plastic toy saxophone.
We were all thrilled to be in the presence of somebody that my kids thought was as funny as I did.
# As I wandered down this fine Albanian street... #
I had this dream that if we were going to be a supergroup,
which Norman Wisdom And The Pitkins clearly were,
that we had to perform a stadium gig,
so I arranged for us to perform at half-time at the national football stadium in Tirana.
# I love Albania back... #
Norman Wisdom And The Pitkins did not disappoint their fans.
# I love Albania back... #
The outcome of the bet was a rather happy conclusion
in that the Albanian people in their 20s and 30s voted for us
and we reached the dizzy heights of No.18 in the Albanian charts,
so we all celebrated on the way back and Norman, of course, had had his first hit in Albania.
Surely, that's everyone's ambition, isn't it?
# I love Albania back Oh, I do! #
For the last 30 years of Norman's life, he lived on the Isle of Man. It was a place close to his heart.
He lived in a beautiful house. He designed it himself.
He had these fabulous cars which he used to try and design.
He had a huge, a massive ocean-going yacht which he designed himself.
He just became like Lord of the Manor out there.
I came here in 1978 to do a summer season at the Gaiety Theatre just down the road here in Douglas.
I'd never been here before. I couldn't believe how beautiful the place was.
And the time was coming where I didn't want to work all the time. Just semi-retirement, if you like.
And so I got a place here
and I've never been happier.
Lovely.
# I'd like to put on record that I...
# Need you, need you, need you... #
Throughout his life, Norman supported good causes,
always putting his talents to good use,
talents which were many and varied.
# I love you
# It simply means, my darling, that... #
I love you.
Well, he had a very lovely voice.
Soft. And he knew how to get the best out of a song.
And of course, this was an added talent for his work.
And it was different too
because it brought the comedy down
and I think people enjoyed that as much as they did his antics.
People don't realise what a great musician he is. He was incredible. Seven or eight instruments.
PLAYS JAZZ MUSIC
His passions in life - he loved golf.
He was a great golfer, even though at his age, a lot of people were sitting in armchairs,
feet up, watching the telly, but he was out there.
He loved motorbikes, cars. We couldn't go anywhere without stopping at a car showroom.
But even his friends would admit he had one or two unsettling character traits.
He always used to eat and show his food, which was a bit...
He would be forking the food into his mouth and he said to me, "Robbo, do you like seafood?"
I said, "Yes, OK." He goes, "Naaah." Like that.
"Sea"...food?
LAUGHTER
Quite often, he'd listen to his own tapes or films. He liked his films.
He used to sit in the car and we'd go for a drive and he would sing to me.
All the stuff he'd written. But that's the way he was.
'Norman Wisdom has become the great British clown, very much in the mould of Charlie Chaplin
'with his little man in the ill-fitting suit and cloth cap.
'He has the honour of being the national comedy hero of Albania and not many people can make that boast.'
In his lifetime, Norman received many honours, including an OBE and the Variety Club Award.
'An outstanding contribution to showbusiness, Sir Norman Wisdom...
'Oh, here he goes!' LAUGHTER
I have to say how very grateful I am.
As you did say, I've been 50 years in showbusiness now.
And you were wrong. LAUGHTER
It's nearly 55.
And I'm very grateful to get this. Really, I am.
I'm a very lucky little devil being in showbusiness in the first place.
I've been a lucky little devil all the time because it's given me happiness.
I've thoroughly enjoyed myself and on top of that, you get paid.
Norman continued his career into his 90s.
Aged 89, he played a fitness-obsessed pensioner in Coronation Street.
At 92, he took on his last acting role in a film for charity called Expresso.
BUZZING
By now, Norman's health was in decline with Alzheimer's.
He would still want to keep his finger in the pie a little bit
and something like that was perfect because there were no lines.
At that point, his memory was not that good.
Of course, that's what Dad excelled in with the facial expressions and that perfect timing that he has.
In his final years, he remained on the Isle of Man.
His family, including two proud grandsons, took turns to look after him.
HE PLAYS THEME FROM "The Snowman"
Slower, Greggy.
Very nice. Very nice.
Hello there.
It was just so nice to be with somebody that was always light and breezy
and joking
and Norman just didn't know
how to be sad or unhappy.
Oh, Norman!
In 2007, the decision was reached to place him in a care home.
But he was happy there.
His family were really his life.
And the way that he kept in contact
and everybody would go and see him.
I mean, he was very, very much a family man.
All the family were present when he received the award he held most dear -
a knighthood from the Queen in the year 2000.
Sir Norman Wisdom, for services to entertainment.
Sir Norman Wisdom's career spanned more than half a century
in theatre, film and television.
Wherever he went, Norman could be depended upon for one thing -
to create laughter.
Just a minute, Mr...?
Pitkin.
Thank you, Mr Pitkin. What for?
You obviously don't realise, but you've just done something wonderful.
Me? Mm-hm.
I think he's continued the great tradition of the silent comics,
the ones who provided so much genius for us on the screen,
the sort of... the Chaplin little man.
It seemed to me that his idea was life has been hell
and let's make the most of every minute we have now.
You're... You're joking?
He just wanted to prove that he could be something in life and he was something in life.
It's a very British story of class and snobbery
and tremendous hardship.
What we admire is something that we feel we can't do.
And not many people could do what Norman Wisdom did.
Dickens could have written about him. He's like a figure out of Dickens.
But he was brilliant.
I think his legacy will live on, actually. I think his films will always be there for people to see.
There is one thing that no-one will ever be able to destroy
and that is the love I have for my father.
LESLIE PHILLIPS: I would say he's got more opportunity than most to be remembered.
I don't think we'll forget Norman, somehow.
# Some day maybe
# My star will smile
# On me
# Don't laugh at me
# Cos I'm a fool... #