As a child from Swaziland, I was bowled over by seeing Max Bygraves at the Palladium. This year, I took to the stage myself
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When I was 12 years old, in 1969, my father decided that as Swaziland (now Eswatini) had only one cinema, one amateur theatre club and no television, I would benefit from an injection of culture in the northern hemisphere.
We flew to London and the culture shock was immediate and unforgettable. Emerging from Piccadilly Circus tube station, I saw the Eros fountain crowded with hippies, strongly smelling of patchouli oil. Walking through Soho and Carnaby Street, I saw mini-skirted women with see-through blouses. Until then, the only naked adults I’d ever seen were in National Geographic magazine. We went to the Shaftesbury theatre to see the musical Hair, which featured the entire cast standing stark bollock naked for a few seconds, just before the interval. In other words, I got to see Elaine Paige’s front bum. (We’ve since become friends and I can officially say that I’ve never seen it since.)
Richard E Grant is an actor. His memoir, A Pocketful of Happiness, is out now
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