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The Herald Scotland

'When we saw him collapse live on stage, we didn't know what happened'

The memories of the death of Cooper over 40 years ago still burn bright. 'When we saw him collapse on stage we didn't know what happened,' the actor recalls. 'But this was the days of Ceefax, so we turned it on and discovered the reality. He adds: 'I've since found out that the girl who put Tommy's cloak on him at the final moment was so traumatised she gave up the business straight after.' Cooper, the six-feet four-inch magician whose every bone in his body was funny has since featured episodically in the performance life of Damian Williams. 'I heard a few years ago that producers were looking for someone to play Tommy, and they couldn't find anyone,' says the Essex-born actor. 'It was a friend of mine who asked if they'd seen Damian Williams, and they had no idea who I was. Anyway, I auditioned and was literally offered the part before I'd left the building.' The show is on at the Theatre Royal in Glasgow (Image: PAMELA RAITH) Willams then toured with that play. 'I kept coming back to him and then Paul Hendy wrote the (short) film The Last Laugh, which evolved into the current stage play." The actor acknowledges that playing Tommy Cooper is not about offering a standard impression. 'We've all tried to steer clear of doing that,' he says of the comedy trio. 'But it's hard to find footage of Tommy when he's not being Cooper. The routines are no problem, I love doing them, so for the rest you just have to try and imagine what he would have been like in those circumstances.' He adds, by way of example, 'Years ago I did a stage version of Up Pompeii, in which I played Frankie Howerd. And I made a choice not to be a Frankie Howerd tribute act. The play was funny enough in itself.' Williams does admit to picking up lots of Tommy mannerisms over the years, 'just by watching him and being a fan.' Yet, Cooper is far from simply being a gags machine. His personality adjective seems to cry out 'melancholic.' Is that fair? 'Yes, it is. He had lots of health problems over the years, and he drank quite a lot. You can see interviews with him, and you think 'God, he was pissed there.' It was a challenge for him to get on stage on time. The Last Laugh is packed full of gags, as you would expect, but it doesn't stay away from offering insight into the stresses, the pressures of performance. And it dissects the threesome's comedic abilities, with Monkhouse conceding the other two are naturally funny, while he has to work hard at it. 'And we show how these guys know what their job is – and that's to go out there and be funny, regardless of what they're having to deal with in their private lives.' What would have happened if these three entertainment giants had actually come together at one point? 'I think the play is probably very close to getting it right,' says the actor. 'There is a lot of pi**taking, a lot of banter, and Tommy and Bob were good friends, and Tommy was also really good friends with Eric. I've got a great photo of Tommy at Eric's daughter's birthday party at their home.' Read more Williams knew Bob Golding, who plays Eric Morecambe. 'We both play Dame in panto,' he says, (Williams is the winner of British Panto's Great Dame Award) both working for (writer/producer) Paul Hendy. And we'd seen Simon Cartwright in a play A Man Called Monkhouse. In fact, it was while watching the play that Hendy had an epiphany. 'He announced 'Hold on! I've got you playing Tommy Cooper, Bob playing Morecambe and Simon playing Monkhouse. There has to be something in that.' What Williams brings to his work is a range of experience few modern-day actors can claim. 'I left school aged 15 and managed to land a place in a rep theatre company,' he recalls, 'which is so unheard of now. And the bloke running the rep said, 'You don't need to go to drama school - because I can teach you everything you need to know.' And he did.' Rep theatre is (in)famous for chaos, sets falling down, catching fire . . . What are his favourite worst moments? He smiles. 'Well, there was one time we were half-way through doing an Agatha Christie play and this bloke wearing a hi-vis jacket walked across the back of the stage and began to measure the set. I thought 'What the f*** is this?' Did this lovely juxtaposition of period play costumes and modern-day health and safety uniform sit well with the audience? 'Yes, they were in stitches. And it turned out he was the lorry driver sent to collect the set and take it to the next venue. But he didn't realise the play was going on.' He laughs. 'And we kept on going on.' There were many such surreal moments. 'I remember once working on a play called Bedside Manners and I had to stand at a concierge's desk, reading from a big book. And as I opened the book, the lights went up and a butterfly flew down from the dress circle, in full spotlight and landed on the page. The audience gasped at the sheer delight of this moment, and I said 'Sorry, no pets!' and it flew off again, and I got a massive laugh. But after the show, some of the audience asked 'Does this happen every night?' And I said, 'Yes, of course. It's a trained butterfly.' "But that was better than the bat which dive bombed us for ever during a performance of John Godber's Bouncers. We couldn't get rid of it, and the audience were in hysterics.' The Last Laugh, the Theatre Royal, Glasgow, July 15-19