I was making sluggish progress with the writing today when I went on to notbbc's comedy forum to waste some valuable time and was greeted with the coldly blunt thread title, "Harry Thompson dead". Not a great way to receive some bitter news, but in any case, even though the news was not entirely unexpected, it took a few moments for the the truth to register and I wasn't even really sure I believed it when I had read the link on the Guardian media page, but slowly it sank in.
Harry, though not a very close friend was a much loved acquaintance of mine. He had been a high up producer at radio light entertainment when Stewart and me had started writing there and had been very encouraging to us, at one point using an unheard of 12 minutes of our material in one episode of
Weekending when the last producer - who shall remain nameless and tragically also remains alive (where's the justice?) - had used around about 40 seconds in the eight previous weeks.
In fact my association with Harry went back a little further as after hearing the Controller of Radio 4 being interviewed I had written to him saying how hard it was for new writers to get on (this in spite of the fact I had made no real attempt to get on) and saying there should be some bursary for newbies to give them a chance. Harry Thompson fielded my letter and with good grace told me all about the many ways new writers could get on at the BBC and informed me that there was such a bursary. He told me to come in and try my hand at
Weekending and also surprisingly asked after my brother and how he was doing at cricket. He knew my brother's best friend from school Bill Matthews and had managed to make the connection somehow (possibly he had played cricket with my brother).
Harry also interviewed me twice when I applied to be an LE producer before the writing had really taken off. After the second interview when I got close he told me that he thought I really wanted to be a writer/performer and that I should do that. He was right, I was only trying to be a producer because I thought I might be able to cast myself in some shows. So thanks to him for pushing me in the right direction.
Whenever I bumped into him subsequently we would have a great time, chatting and laughing. I saw him around this time last year at a Viz party and he was in fine form. Then this year I heard he was very ill and as the year progressed the news wasn't getting any better. He was going to be at the wedding of a mutual friend in late July, but I couldn't make it because of Edinburgh and having talked with my friend I realised that there was a strong possibility that I would not see Harry again. I wasn't close enough a friend to try and ring him up and say I was coming over to see him. I remember feeling rather sad about this.
Then I bumped into him again about three weeks ago in the most unlikely of settings. I was doing my Heads Up show on a Saturday in Whiteley's shopping centre. Usually I ate lunch in the studio, but today some journalists wanted to interview me and took me out to one of the many food outlets in that sprawling arcade. As I walked in I saw Harry sitting with his kids and girlfriend at another table. It seemed such an incredible coincidence that we should be in the same place at the same time. There were dozens of places I might have expected to see him, but this wasn't one of them.
Even so I was a bit reluctant to go and talk to him. He didn't look great as you'd expect and I didn't want to interrupt this family meal or to have to go up to him have a brief chat and then say, "Oh sorry, I've got to do an interview". I decided to try and catch him on his way out.
As it happened he spotted me and came over to chat. He was in excellent spirits all things considered, it has to be said and we skirted around the issue, him being pragmatic and light-hearted (he was holding a doggy bag full of uneaten pizza and merrily cursed the condition he was in for robbing him of the ability to eat).
been with his attitude in this now even more heart-breaking article (it seems to be down as I write this, but hopefully will be back up soon). He batted off my compliments, though was proud of how well his new book was being received and joked about how being ill had helped publicise it.
Much as I am sure he hoped he would get better, as did I, we both knew that there was a pretty good chance that we would never see each other again. I wanted to thank him and say goodbye and hug him to be honest, but all these things would have seemed crass and I think he knew what I was thinking. I'll thank him now anyway, even though as Ben Folds might point out, it's too late.
It wouldn't have been appropriate and he was dealing with these horrific circumstances with great grace and humour and dignity.
We parted without too much fuss, though I was left feeling sad and bemused, and also slightly freaked out that this thing that I had wished for had happened. It was really amazing to be given this chance to say goodbye and were I a soppier, less intellectually rigorous person I would have to conclude that the meeting had been divined by some higher power.
At the time I had thought that if nothing else it showed that life and health are very fragile and that we should all make the most of our time her, because it can be unexpectedly precarious. It wasn't a lesson that sunk in immediately though as the last month of prevarication clearly shows.
Harry certainly made the most of his time, working on some of the definining comedy shows of our generation, writing books (the one about Tintin inspired me to shoplift the entire Tintin canon - in fact I think I shoplifted Harry's book too) and loving women (I am sure he will get the congregation full of weeping lovers that I myself so covet, though now I realise I am happy to wait some good time to get that). He had a great life and achieved a great deal. He was stupidly young at 45. I wish he had got the other half a lifetime that he deserved.
And I ended up just having the weirdest day emotionally speaking. I was feeling very tired and down about the script and then this news came through and depressed me further. Then I went to meet my manager feeling puffy eyed and morose and talked over financial business that made me unhappier still. Then I went to meet a man at Channel 4 who really wants me to write something for him, but has rejected all the ideas I have sent for him. In the car, my manager and I realised the meeting was probably going to be a bit of a waste of time. I think Jon was as tired as me and also upset about Harry who he knew very well. We tried to come up with something on the drive, but nothing was coming. Then due to a mix up with times we were kept waiting for half an hour. At the end of this time Jon made a comment about a film he'd seen that he hated and I said I'd never seen that subject (I have to keep it secret for the moment) accurately depicted on TV or film. Then as the meeting got underway I started thinking about doing this subject well, and basically the three of us made up the pitch there and then and the executive commissioned a treatment. Suddenly a meeting that had looked like it was going to be a bit embarrassing had turned out really well.
Then I went to play poker at Century, played the best I have done so far and was unlucky in the end to come third out of 45 and won £670. I even managed to successfully read an opponent on a hand that should have essentially won me the tournament. He went all in before the flop, but then made a gesture with his eyes saying "Come in" which I knew was too false to be true. I had K7 unsuited and called him. He had 78 of hearts. Aside from the unlikely-ish straight or flush I had him pretty much covered. He would need one of the three eights in the pack of forty or so cards to come up and not one of the three kings. The eight came up on the turn, pushing me back to third place and pretty much ensuring he would win. I was however pleased that I had spotted his tell. Even more unlucky cards meant I went out third rather than the second I deserved (missing out on another £400) but I was glad to have performed so well in a Century game at last.
And I got home, now feeling stupidly happy and revitalised. I read the Observer article again and cried, but also remembered the lesson that I had failed to learn. I've had a few problems recently, but nothing on the level that Harry encountered. He dealt with his proper fuck-up much better than I have with my minor ones. I realised that rather than a mill-stone round my neck, all the work I have to do is in fact a wonderful opportunity. I have to make the most of these opportunites while I am still here. The strange final meeting haunted me a little and I wondered if somehow Harry had conspired to once again point me in the right direction with my career. I know that this is stupid, sentimental and slightly tastelessly self-aggrandising crap, but nonetheless it has helped me get things into perspective.
His novel sounds amazing too. I'm definitely going to get a copy. I think I'll even pay for it this time.
