For those of us in my generation, and my father’s for that matter, who grew up with the sound of Harry Secombe’s inimitable voice booming at them from the wireless, this last week has seen the approaching end of an era with the passing of a truly special person and the last but one of the original Goons.
After enduring every kind of appalling suffering and illness in his later years with Job-like and indomitable faith, one of the great life-enhancers of our age has departed the stage of life trailing behind him nothing but memories of laughter, happiness and sheer goodness.
A light has quite literally gone out in our lives with the removal of such a vital spirit. Harry made a deep impression on me, in company with many others in our country, during that unforgettable period of The Goon Show when enormous efforts were made to tune into the BBC each week so as not to miss a single episode. Indeed, such was the impression made upon my young self that at a later stage my younger brothers actually believed I was one of the Goons …
But Harry also made a deep impression on so many people for a multitude of other reasons. For his unforgettable singing voice, for his frequent television appearances and, above all, for his countless acts of kindness and irresistible, unstoppable good humour. Not one generation but two owe a huge debt to Harry for quite simply making life infinitely more worthwhile and totally hysterical.
When it is increasingly noticeable how cynical, tasteless and devoid of true wit so much of what passes for humour has now become, you begin to realise just how refreshingly, gloriously innocent and uncomplicated Harry’s approach to life was.
No wonder more and more people want to watch or listen to the older programmes that bear the elegant hallmark of wit, the subtle play on words, the double intent and the sheer skill of proper farce.
Harry exemplified the enduring importance in our lives of those great and timeless traditions that are fast disappearing – unless perhaps we mark his departure by rediscovering these vital elements in our battered culture.
I often wonder how much of a role the shared suffering and constant danger of the last war played in helping to bring out the peculiarly zany humour of those former military combatants – Harry Secombe, Spike Milligan, Peter Sellers and Michael Bentine. I suspect that their experiences had a pretty profound effect and in many ways we have all been fortunate beneficiaries.
I remember Harry telling me years ago that some of the characters featured in The Goons had been inspired by eccentric figures they had come across during the war, and in wonderfully unlikely situations. Major Denis Bloodnok, for instance, must have been partly modelled on a particularly eccentric individual whose encounters with various types of curry have a faint ring of military truth.
Whatever the case, Harry Secombe’s unique gift was to have been able to enrich the sum of human happiness and to have become a much-loved household name throughout the length and breadth of a land that has always thrived on laughter and on seeing the funny side of life even in the worst possible situations. He has left so many of us with a genuine feeling of sadness and loss at his departure.
The Observer has made a donation to a charity supported by Sir Harry Secombe