The Entertainer
Comedian, actor, panellist, ballroom dancer, reality-show participant – in all his guises, Julian Clary has been part of the national fabric for over three decades. To that list can now be added children’s author. So, if he had to pick just one word to define his occupation, what would it be? ‘Entertainer,’ he decides. With a God-given facility for making people laugh.
We have met in the York & Albany, Gordon Ramsay’s gastropub in Camden. At 56, Clary is a strikingly goodlooking man, tall and slim (he’s given up chocolate, bread and wine) with a flawless complexion. Dressed today in a biscuit-coloured summer suit and navy blue shirt, he’s the effortless epitome of smart casual.
He’s keen to talk about his first children’s book, The Bolds, which has just been published. ‘It was my agent’s idea,’ he says. ‘And, I must say, it was rather liberating to take all the usual innuendo out of the equation.’
Aimed at ages seven to 12, it tells the story of a family of hyenas and the scrapes that befall them. ‘I don’t have children of my own, although I do have six great-nephews and greatnieces – my two sisters’ grandchildren – and, for some reason, I didn’t find it hard to access my inner child.’
As a comedian, it can surely be no accident that he chose an animal famous for laughing. ‘I was very interested in Africa as a child and I was a member of the World Wildlife Fund. I’ve always liked hyenas.’ Apart from a liberal sprinkling of cracker jokes, the book also features terrific cartoon illustrations by David Roberts.
Clary has already written the second book, The Bolds To The Rescue, in what he hopes will be a long-running series. ‘In time, I have a vision of 20 Bolds books on the shelf.’ David Walliams had better look out.
Bullied at school, Clary knew, he says, that the real world would be much more accepting of him. ‘And I was right. As soon as I went to university’ – he read drama and English at Goldsmiths – ‘the world opened up for me. I wanted to be a pop star or an actor, and by a process of elimination I ended up doing what I do.’
His CV pretty much defines eclectic. His first assault on the public consciousness was with his act The Joan Collins Fan Club, featuring his whippet, Fanny the Wonderdog. Collins herself took a dim view of Clary trading under her name and instigated legal proceedings.
‘But, of course, she thawed out in time. Now we’re great friends. In fact, I recently came back from staying at her beautiful house in the south of France. As a matter of fact, I saved her from drowning while I was there. Well, she got into trouble in her pool and I jumped in to the rescue.’
In 2004, he came third on Strictly. ‘It was much more demanding than I’d thought. As well as the physical impact, you have to use a different part of the brain to remember the complicated choreography.’ He then went on the tour five years later. ‘I wasn’t going to play arenas any other way. And it’s rather wonderful to hear the laughter of 10,000 people.’
He has a cabaret act in which he sings songs written by Burt Bacharach and others made famous by Celine Dion. ‘But really, it’s just an excuse to tell jokes,’ he says.
This Christmas, he’ll be in panto in Birmingham with Lee Mead and Marti Pellow. He’ll be appearing at London’s Crazy Coqs club next March, then going on a six-week tour.
Does he not worry that his type of suggestive humour has perhaps had its day? ‘I did for a while. I started doing what I can only describe as single entendres, but I realise that I’m happiest telling anecdotes. It’s why I enjoy doing Just A Minute on Radio 4. It’s very good mental exercise and I’ve become quite good at it now.’
As well as a house round the corner from where we’re sitting, he also owns a 15th-century manor house in Aldington, Kent, just down the hill from his good friend Paul O’Grady. That he lives there at all is a continuing source of surprise to him. So much did he used to detest the countryside, he nominated it for oblivion on the TV show Room 101.
Then O’Grady rang him one day to tell him that the house – once owned by Noël Coward – was on the market. ‘Coward used to travel endlessly, and somewhere in his diaries he said that, returning exhausted from yet another trip, he liked little better than being embraced by the house and garden. And that’s exactly how I feel about it.
‘London struck me at that moment as being particularly noisy and dirty, so I agreed to go down to Aldington to have a look. Well, it was love at first sight. I’ve been there nine years, during which time I’ve had it extensively refurbished. It’s now pretty much as I want it.’
His two dogs love the time they spend in Kent. Valerie is 16 and suffering, says Clary, from a form of canine dementia; Albert is nearly six. ‘But they enjoy London, too. I divide my time between the two.’
Sharing both houses is Clary’s partner of nine years, Ian Mackley, who works as what Clary calls a ‘creative’. What does that mean? ‘He thinks up marvellous ideas to promote films,’ he says, rather doubtfully. At 39, Mackley is Clary’s junior by 17 years. ‘But he’s like an old man in many ways. I’m the young, naughty one.’
They’ve never married. ‘We’re not even civil partners. I can see that it would be nice to make that commitment to someone, but we can never decide whether to have a big party or something really small and intimate.’
When he was the subject of Piers Morgan’s Life Stories, Clary revealed he once got a girlfriend pregnant (she later miscarried). He spoke also of subsequently getting broody. Is that still the case? ‘No, not any more. That moment has passed.’
Sir Elton John and David Furnish have come to parenthood late. ‘And they seem terribly happy. Clearly, it’s been a life-changing experience. A bit of me is slightly envious of that. But not enough to go down the same path. Ian and I might spend a whole weekend talking about it. Then on the Monday, we’ll agree to get another dog instead. In the end, my dogs are my furry babies.’
He’s content with his lot. ‘By this stage, you’ve either done it or you haven’t, both professionally and personally. If the teenage me were sitting next to me today, I’d tell him not to worry so much and do what I do: rely on the universe to provide.
‘I’ve scratched a living as a camp comic for 30 years and more now. Mine is a very trivial way of life, but I seem to be able to make people laugh, which I find deeply satisfying. I suppose I’m quite proud of the fact that I’ve always lived by my own wits.’
The Bolds, by Julian Clary, is published by Andersen Press, priced £6.99.
We have met in the York & Albany, Gordon Ramsay’s gastropub in Camden. At 56, Clary is a strikingly goodlooking man, tall and slim (he’s given up chocolate, bread and wine) with a flawless complexion. Dressed today in a biscuit-coloured summer suit and navy blue shirt, he’s the effortless epitome of smart casual.
He’s keen to talk about his first children’s book, The Bolds, which has just been published. ‘It was my agent’s idea,’ he says. ‘And, I must say, it was rather liberating to take all the usual innuendo out of the equation.’
Aimed at ages seven to 12, it tells the story of a family of hyenas and the scrapes that befall them. ‘I don’t have children of my own, although I do have six great-nephews and greatnieces – my two sisters’ grandchildren – and, for some reason, I didn’t find it hard to access my inner child.’
As a comedian, it can surely be no accident that he chose an animal famous for laughing. ‘I was very interested in Africa as a child and I was a member of the World Wildlife Fund. I’ve always liked hyenas.’ Apart from a liberal sprinkling of cracker jokes, the book also features terrific cartoon illustrations by David Roberts.
Clary has already written the second book, The Bolds To The Rescue, in what he hopes will be a long-running series. ‘In time, I have a vision of 20 Bolds books on the shelf.’ David Walliams had better look out.
Bullied at school, Clary knew, he says, that the real world would be much more accepting of him. ‘And I was right. As soon as I went to university’ – he read drama and English at Goldsmiths – ‘the world opened up for me. I wanted to be a pop star or an actor, and by a process of elimination I ended up doing what I do.’
His CV pretty much defines eclectic. His first assault on the public consciousness was with his act The Joan Collins Fan Club, featuring his whippet, Fanny the Wonderdog. Collins herself took a dim view of Clary trading under her name and instigated legal proceedings.
‘But, of course, she thawed out in time. Now we’re great friends. In fact, I recently came back from staying at her beautiful house in the south of France. As a matter of fact, I saved her from drowning while I was there. Well, she got into trouble in her pool and I jumped in to the rescue.’
In 2004, he came third on Strictly. ‘It was much more demanding than I’d thought. As well as the physical impact, you have to use a different part of the brain to remember the complicated choreography.’ He then went on the tour five years later. ‘I wasn’t going to play arenas any other way. And it’s rather wonderful to hear the laughter of 10,000 people.’
He has a cabaret act in which he sings songs written by Burt Bacharach and others made famous by Celine Dion. ‘But really, it’s just an excuse to tell jokes,’ he says.
This Christmas, he’ll be in panto in Birmingham with Lee Mead and Marti Pellow. He’ll be appearing at London’s Crazy Coqs club next March, then going on a six-week tour.
Does he not worry that his type of suggestive humour has perhaps had its day? ‘I did for a while. I started doing what I can only describe as single entendres, but I realise that I’m happiest telling anecdotes. It’s why I enjoy doing Just A Minute on Radio 4. It’s very good mental exercise and I’ve become quite good at it now.’
As well as a house round the corner from where we’re sitting, he also owns a 15th-century manor house in Aldington, Kent, just down the hill from his good friend Paul O’Grady. That he lives there at all is a continuing source of surprise to him. So much did he used to detest the countryside, he nominated it for oblivion on the TV show Room 101.
Then O’Grady rang him one day to tell him that the house – once owned by Noël Coward – was on the market. ‘Coward used to travel endlessly, and somewhere in his diaries he said that, returning exhausted from yet another trip, he liked little better than being embraced by the house and garden. And that’s exactly how I feel about it.
‘London struck me at that moment as being particularly noisy and dirty, so I agreed to go down to Aldington to have a look. Well, it was love at first sight. I’ve been there nine years, during which time I’ve had it extensively refurbished. It’s now pretty much as I want it.’
His two dogs love the time they spend in Kent. Valerie is 16 and suffering, says Clary, from a form of canine dementia; Albert is nearly six. ‘But they enjoy London, too. I divide my time between the two.’
Sharing both houses is Clary’s partner of nine years, Ian Mackley, who works as what Clary calls a ‘creative’. What does that mean? ‘He thinks up marvellous ideas to promote films,’ he says, rather doubtfully. At 39, Mackley is Clary’s junior by 17 years. ‘But he’s like an old man in many ways. I’m the young, naughty one.’
They’ve never married. ‘We’re not even civil partners. I can see that it would be nice to make that commitment to someone, but we can never decide whether to have a big party or something really small and intimate.’
When he was the subject of Piers Morgan’s Life Stories, Clary revealed he once got a girlfriend pregnant (she later miscarried). He spoke also of subsequently getting broody. Is that still the case? ‘No, not any more. That moment has passed.’
Sir Elton John and David Furnish have come to parenthood late. ‘And they seem terribly happy. Clearly, it’s been a life-changing experience. A bit of me is slightly envious of that. But not enough to go down the same path. Ian and I might spend a whole weekend talking about it. Then on the Monday, we’ll agree to get another dog instead. In the end, my dogs are my furry babies.’
He’s content with his lot. ‘By this stage, you’ve either done it or you haven’t, both professionally and personally. If the teenage me were sitting next to me today, I’d tell him not to worry so much and do what I do: rely on the universe to provide.
‘I’ve scratched a living as a camp comic for 30 years and more now. Mine is a very trivial way of life, but I seem to be able to make people laugh, which I find deeply satisfying. I suppose I’m quite proud of the fact that I’ve always lived by my own wits.’
The Bolds, by Julian Clary, is published by Andersen Press, priced £6.99.