You fat b******: an interview with Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown, Front, 2002
WORDS: LEE GALE
MAIN PHOTOGRAPHY: SAM BARKER
Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown doesn’t do magazine interviews but he wanted to talk to FRONT. With his sell-out live shows, and DVDs and videos shifting by the shedload, it’s time to have a natter with Mr Old School, Royston Vasey
Front, 2002
[I have a soft spot for old-school comedians because they learnt their trade the hard way – working men’s clubs. I asked Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown if he’d agree to an interview if we plugged his upcoming video/DVD and never expected a reply. He didn’t need to do interviews because he was selling out wherever he played. I was astonished when I received a reply inviting me up to Blackpool. After the interview, me and the photographer went a bit wild round the bars and took the first train back to London on Saturday morning, 5am. Oof. Roy used this interview in his next tour programme – LG, 2023]
Blackpool is frontier land. Show weakness and you’ll be thrown in front of a tram by cackling Glaswegian mams. It is what mid-west America must have been like in the 1850s, only the cowboy hats have been replaced by Nike caps. The 11.30am Preston to Blackpool train is rammed. The passengers are lagging-drunk already, be they men, women or dogs. One man falls on the tracks when we arrive and cracks his head on a rail.
Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown, real name Royston Vasey (also the name of the village in which The League Of Gentlemen is set), is backstage at the North Pier. Recovering from cancer of the vocal chords, Royston is planning a comeback show. He’s a bit croaky at the moment, but he looks as fit as a… c***, to coin Royston’s favourite swearword.
Are you a British comic legend because you don’t do television?
There are many senses of opinion. Television takes what you’ve got and dispenses with you. I’ve known acts that’s happened to. It either makes you a superstar or makes you shite. The good thing about Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown is it’s untouchable unless you buy a ticket. I’m not really available. You’ve got to get off your arse and come and see me.
Where are the good places to play, and the bad?
That’s just it, there’s no such thing. Monday night here [North Pier, Blackpool] can be fantastic, but Tuesday can be crap. It depends what side of the bed they get out of. You can go to Reading and have a fantastic night, and go to Aldershot and have a bad night.
Do you get a good mix of men and women?
There’s no set Chubby Brown fan, we get ’em all. We’ve had silver-haired women in their seventies. The bouncers go, “You do know what he does?” And they go, “Yes, we f***in’ love him!”
Is that what you do, have a bouncer on the door checking the queue?
It depends on the venue. Not here, because we’re established. You go to a transport cafe, you expect the beans to be on the side of the plate and your chips all over. But years ago, when you had two theatres through the same door, that’s when we had to say, “Are you sure, cos you know Max Jaffer’s on next door. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
How come you’re associated with The League Of Gentlemen?
They rang the office. The first thing they asked permission for was if they could call the town Royston Vasey, cos that’s me name. And I said, “I don’t mind.” And the next thing they said was, “Would you like a part in it?”
Are you a fan of the new series?
I’ll have to get into it because the old series was so good. I have to watch it two or three times. I might not be as quick on the uptake as your readers.
Had you done much TV before?
Walk-on bits. I did your Opp Knocks and your New Faces. When I first started television I was a clean comic. The world changed, so I changed to survive. Then everyone said, “If he can do it, I can do it.” But they couldn’t, because of their character. Manning got away with it because he was the controversial one of The Comedians, always f***in’ and blinding and doing up-the-arse jokes.
Why do people complain about swearing so much?
It’s tradition. It’s like people who say, “Why do you wear a cap?” It’s because I don’t like having a f***in’ bald patch. Well, you know, lads these days shave their heads, and what do they look like when they shave their heads? F***in’ yobbos. Yobbo culture was bald heads, wasn’t it? We take a long time to change, us.
But the British like swearing. Everybody does – even kids.
I came along this pier one night and a little girl came over, she must have been five or six, blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful. She pulled on my jacket and said, “You’re a fat bastard, aren’t you?” And I looked, and her mam and dad were there, smiling away. The mentality of that. You get parents swearing at kids all the time nowadays. I never swore in front of my father or mother, because they’d have killed me.
Who is your biggest comic rival?
I don’t like to look at people as rivals, we’re friends. Bernard Manning was the first person to ring me when he found out I had cancer. Everyone thinks we’re rivals. We’re not. These are my people, my peers, the people I admire. The people I think are funny. I’ve had letters from Ken Dodd, Bob Monkhouse, and I’ve framed the letters. These are the people I’ve always admired.
Bernard Manning thinks you two are the real big guns.
I first met Bernard at a club in Stoke. There were six mud wrestlers on that night. He didn’t know who I was but I’d gained a bit of a reputation in the Northeast. I had to do half an hour before he came on. My opening line used to be, “My wife’s got two c***s and I’m one of them.” When I came off Bernard was sat in the dressing room. I’d never met him before, and he said, “Where the f***in’ hell have you come from?” I said, “I’m from the Northeast.” He said, “Remind me never to go on after you again.” He had a Tannoy in the dressing room and he’d been listening to me. He said, “I’ve never f***in’ heard owt like that before. Even I don’t say c***!” We’ve been friends ever since.
What do you think of the new generation of British comics: Lee Evans, Phill Jupitus and Eddie Izzard?
I’m the old-school, aren’t I? They’re on a different wavelength. I’ve gained a lot of fans through League Of Gentlemen. People come up and say, “He’s nothing like them, but we like what he does.” If you and your friend are sat there, and I take the piss out of your friend, you’ll think it’s dead funny. If I take the piss out of you, your friend thinks it’s dead funny. When you’re on stage, having a go at these so-called celebrities and millionaires and politicians, the audience loves it. I’m not daft. I’m quick on the uptake. When I started 35 years ago, we used to go, “Pat said to Mick, Mick said to Pat.” That’s all gone. Now you talk to people about a given situation. I’m painting a picture for them. Which is what good comics do. I appreciate how good Eddie Izzard is. He doesn’t make me laugh, he’s too advanced for me. But I can see they’re laughing along with him. I think Peter Kay is very funny because he’s my humour. He uses a lot of old gags in sketches, but I can still relate to it. Some of the stuff he’s doing I was telling 40 years ago, but it’s good. He’s taken the pub comedian and put him in a drama situation, which is great.
You finished fourth on Opportunity Knocks in the Seventies, behind a spoon player. Did you have a few words with Hughie Green afterwards?
Hughie Green, he was a miserable bastard. He used to smoke a pipe. Miserable bastard. He was too busy doing one of his secretaries.
What, he was having a fling with her?
I think so. He’d rattle anyone. He was a f***in’ alcoholic, him. Ohh, f***in’ bottle of whisky a day. I remember him opening a furniture shop in Stockton-on-Tees. I had to put him upstairs on a bed to sleep it off before he could cut the tape.
Do you have to be careful what you say on stage?
Chubby can say anything.
Who do you support?
Middlesbrough. I’m a season-ticket holder.
Do you go to all the home games?
No, because I’m working most of the time.
What do you reckon to Steve McClaren?
I think he’s fantastic. If he gets in the top six and wins the FA Cup, I think he’ll be the next Man United manager, me.
Do you think you’ll win anything while he’s in charge?
I don’t blame managers, I blame players. If the players want it bad enough, I think we’ll get something. Do you know what made me laugh on Saturday? Our centre forward’s called Job. He beat two men, hit the post, and they started singing, “There’s only one Job on Teesside!” And there was a big flag that said “We’re the smog monsters of Teesside”.
You can’t top terrace humour.
Do you know what happens also, league teams must have looked at Middlesbrough and thought, “That’s three points.” They don’t now. We have in our defence Ehiogu, Southgate, Stockdale, and a good goalkeeper. We were in Australia and the girl booking us in says, “Oh, you’re from Middlesbrough. Do you know my brother, Schwarzer?” I said, “Did he drop everything when he was a baby, as well?”
Are Boro fans fickle, because attendances have dropped.
That’s unemployment. If you have a pocketful of money, you don’t mind where you spend it. If you have to think, “Hang on, you’ve the car to pay for, l’ve the TV licence to pay for… Middlesbrough people have their priorities right.
Which are the funniest, Northern or Southern comics?
Northern comics, yeh, very much so. They’ve got more character. Most of the really good Southern comics are actors. Your Stephen Frys and all that are actors, aren’t they? I think Blackadder was fantastic. The writing in that, with Rowan Atkinson, was superb.
Did you ever think of moving to London?
No. You can’t get decent fish and chips.
How did you start out?
In 1968, ’69, I was a drummer with a pop group and if you did a bit of comedy in clubs in them days you got more money. Then I met this lad who was an impressionist and he wanted to perform a duo. We called ourselves Alcock & Brown. He did the impressions, I played a ukulele-banjo and the drums. And I started writing comedy songs. He could do a good Norman Wisdom, Ted Heath, Harold Wilson. Of the day, they were the ones. Norman Wisdom rung the other day. I’ll tell you this. I’ve been friends with Norman Collier for many years. Do you remember the chicken? Well, I started getting these phone calls from everybody. The phone rang, and I said, “Hello?” This voice said, “It’s Norman.” So I did the chicken routine – “Bock, bock, bock!” and all that. And he went, “Chubby, I think you’ve got the wrong person. It’s Sir Norman Wisdom. After I put the phone down I went, “Yooouuu arsehole, Chubby!” He got my number from a friend he plays golf with and wanted to wish me all the best. He’s the ultimate. I must’ve rung everyone and said, “Guess what’s f***in’ happened?”
How do you deal with loudmouths in the audience?
I’ve got about 250 answer-backs. They get away with nothing. You feed off a line. “Where did you get that suit from?” “The same place you got that mouth, the f***in’ outsize shop.” A professional heckler waits till you say something and shouts in-between. Arseholes just shout. I’m telling a story, painted a picture, and just before the final answer someone goes, “Chubby, you’re a c***! It’s f***ed the gag up. I have to destroy them after that.
What’s the hardest performance you’ve done?
Auditioning for New Faces at ten-past-eight in the morning in an empty theatre, to five people sat on a bench. And I had to be funny. I was the first comic on. I look back at that and think, “How the f*** did I do it?” How did I do that?
What makes you chubby?
I’ve always been a big bloke. Egg and chips; beans on toast; bacon sandwiches. Things you’re not supposed to eat. That’s where I’m going now. I’m starving.
Chubby Brown’s Standing Room Only (£15.99 video; £19.99 DVD), is out now on Universal Pictures Videos.