Billy Connolly and Pamela Stephenson are two comedic personalities who provide me and millions of my kind with fond memories from the 1970s and 1980s. Connolly the funny Glaswegian famous for long rambling rants on stage (my daughter Fran's favourite, by the way) and Stephenson the breathy blonde from the brilliant Not the Nine O'clock News.

Connolly and Stephenson have now been married a good number of years and since I knew them their careers have developed at a pace. Billy is the first of two books (I think, sorry but I haven't checked) by Stephenson about her husband. He is still a major stage success, is a film star and presents round the World history and culture programmes. She is Dr Stephenson, doctor of psychology and is a serious medical practitioner.

Apart from his being a shipyard worker and coming from working class Glasgow I knew next to nothing about Connolly: I now know a huge amount more.

I thought Stephenson was an Ozzie but it turns out she's a Kiwi turned Ozzie: none the worse for that.

Connolly grew up in the Glasgow of the monologues he does so well: literally, by the look of it: eiderdowns with sleeves and all! There is sexual abuse, severe punishments from an aunt, his mother having done a runner when Connolly was just a wean. There are the closes of the tenements, shipyard work and workers, driving the length and breadth of Scotland as a musical career gets under way and then there is world travel, name dropping, houses all over the world and cigars. There are also, drink, drugs and despondency.

Connolly's early life, departure from the shipyards and then the parade through his career are pretty well described although how he was persuaded to sit still long enough to tell his story might be something of a mystery. His behaviour on stage is a mere reflection of his behaviour in life apparently!

It's an interesting story and the insights into Connolly's banjo playing history is testament to those gainsayers from similar backgrounds who bemoan the fact that there is nothing to do where they live. Connolly gives the lie to that nonsense and good for him: these young wasters who can't think of what to do or who are waiting for someone else to provide them with their diversions need to read books like Billy.

The teenager who had never before been motivated by anything quickly became a skilled and stylish banjoist and surpassed his teacher within a mere six weeks. (page 103)

Stephenson has written much of the book with psychology in mind: trying to explain her subject from the standpoint of her new found career. I appreciated the insights: largely centred around the links between Connolly today and the Connolly of the tenements. In the end I think this was overdone. Yes nurture is important and yes the treatment of the child will helpt to form the man. I felt, however, that Stephenon at least, if not Connolly himself, dwell too long on some of that. Sexual abuse in the circumstances described is appalling but I didn't get the impression that he threw his father away ... contradictions and confusion really are the order of the day here and I didn't feel that Stephenson had got fully to grips with this one.

Very early in the book there is the contradiction that resurfaces much later in the book: does Connolly like celebrating his birthday or not? It says in chapter one that he doesn't like celebrating his birthday but then at one of his gigs he tells his entire audience that, yea, today, verily, is his birthday. Near the end of the book (sorry, I didn't mark the page) we are told that Connolly loves celebrating his birthdays!

On page 118 there is another contradiction in that we have already been told that Connolly doesn't like anyone touching him without invitition; but then says, Mona would burst into tears and have nothing much to say, then one of her fellow patients would come shuffling up and start rubbing Billy's hair.

Stephenson makes a lot of the clothes and outfits that Connolly wears: gaudy, hippy style, outlandish ... although she analysed a lot of the Connolly psyche, I didn't get the impression that she tried to explain this aspect of it. It strikes me as a good subject to delve into. After all, the man lacks a large volume of sartorial elegance! No offence!!

It's clear that Stephenson has never been in the Wolf Cubs, as they used to be called. On page 49 she reports on the chanting or war cries of a Cub pack but I thought I'd offerwhat we used to say:

the books says	my version
Akela we'll do our best! Dyb dyb dyb dyb dyb ... Do your best We'll dob dob dob dob ... WOOFF!	Akela we'll do our best! We'll dyb dyb dyb We'll dob dob dob

We never added the wooff! Perish the thought.

Now, both Connolly and Stephenson are talented comedians but I was pulled up short by this one, page 111:

It was quite a circuit: they played Fife, just North of Edinburgh - as the Scottish joke goes, when you cross the Forth Bridge you're in Fife ....

Erm, why is that funny? No offence, just asking.

If you want to see a mass of name dropping then this is the book for you. Stephenson starts chapters and sections with snippets from 1999 or 2000 or 2001 that tell us about their Los Angeles home or their home in London or the home in the Highlands of Scotland. Then there are those snippets that tell us about Elton John (there are lots of them), Erics and Idle and Clapton, Michaels Parkinson and Caine and many more. So the Connollys are now rich, moving in exalted circles and have a happy family life. Well done! Since this is a biography then of course name and house dropping are fine: a more literal approach would have suited me more than simply throwing them at me in snippets.

Connolly has gone through alcohol and substance abuse problems and I have to say that I am unforgiving as far as these are concerned. I don't like to hear about drunks and addicts: in a sense it's the equivalent of the nothing to do situation I mentioned above. I have no time for it. I was disappointed to learn so much about these aspects of Connolly's life. Stephenson tried to describe and explain these problems rather than defend them I think; but still it was a black mark against the man.

I have seen the film Mrs Brown about Queen Victoria (Judi Dench) and her Ghillie John Brown (Connolly) and enjoyed it. I wasn't aware than Connolly had appeared in so many more films over the years. That was a surprise!

I was aware that he'd done some television in the US. Let me name drop a bit now. When I was in Los Angeles a few years ago I was surprised to see Connolly acting the part of a high school teacher in an American school. I thought he had sold his soul to the devil. Although Stephenson tells us that it was a successful programme I thought his was a slimy, insidious character that was far removed from the Connolly that I thought I knew then. I didn't like it at all. This programme was called Head of the Class I relearned on page 247.

Connolly was raised and both physically and psychologically abused by his aunty Mona as she acted in place of his mother. I was puzzled to read on page 117 though that he visited her when she become infirm towards the end of her life. I'm not sure I could have done that.

I may be wrong but by my reckoning the song The Fields of Athenry is a song about deportation rather than emigration. I came across this song, the Dubliners' version, about a year ago and that was completely by accident. I love the song and it's been in the car's CD system ever since. I know the words and sing along at least two or three times a week. I didn't know that it's a song they sing at Celtic Park but Stephenson says this on page 218:

This tinny rendition of the Irish emigration song [The Fields of Athenry] is Billy's latest attempt at a timely awakening.

If I'm wrong, I've missed something without a doubt. Find the song and take a listen yourself and see whether it's to do with emigration or deportation.

Did anything get on my nerves? Yes! At the start of the book we are told if not warned that the "f" word appears many times (precisely how many times is revealed on page 290 by the way). That didn't get on my nerves except that I suppose some young people will read this book and such language isn't good for them (I know, I know but it's the grumpy old man in me!). I was rent by the number of times the word Billy appears in the book. Every page has Billy once, twice, three, four, five times. Dr Stephenson, you could have varied that a bit.

I found the book readable albeit a little anally retentive in some ways: after all, a PhD must write seriously, surely. Especially since the subject of the biography is a Monster Raving Loony if ever there was one!

Connolly still describes himself as a welder ... I don't think so!

 

© Duncan Williamson
19th July 2006

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