Simon Hattenstone’s wonderful interview with Russ Abbot (‘In 1984, I worked 363 days’: how Russ Abbot soared to success – then walked away, 24 August) brought back a treasured story that leaves my family eternally grateful to him.
During the summer of 2010, we travelled from Scotland on holiday, staying in Windsor, and attended Oliver! at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. When the show ended late at night, I had to set off on a 30-minute walk just to retrieve our car.
With my wife in a broken-down electric wheelchair and our two daughters, aged just eight and six, beside her, they faced a long, vulnerable wait on the pavement. Making matters worse, I then got caught in a central London driving nightmare, desperately trying to navigate back to them with a broken satnav, no map, and no knowledge of the city streets.
When Russ walked out of the stage door, he didn’t just pass by. Seeing my stranded family and my young daughters deeply distressed, he stayed and went to work comforting them, running through multiple Fagin monologues right there on the street. The girls were so completely sidetracked that they forgot anything was amiss. They were absolutely buzzing to meet “Fagin”, and it became an overriding memory they talked about all night. He turned a stressful situation into pure magic.
Our evening was saved not only by Russ’s incredible warmth, but also by the extraordinary humanity of two Polish doormen from a nightclub across the street. They rushed over to assist, letting my children stay warm in the back of one of their family cars until I finally found my way back.
To my family, the man who stepped out of the Drury Lane stage door that night was a true class act, both on and off the stage.
Philip Showell
Hamilton, South Lanarkshire
Simon Hattenstone’s interview with Russ Abbot took me straight back to our living room in the early 1980s – Saturday evening, dinner over, and all of us settling into that post-dinner golden hour of family television.
Russ always seemed such a happy chap, and his humour was wonderfully infectious. I can still hear my dear mother’s uncontrollable laughter one evening in particular as he launched into a gloriously over-the-top Bruce Forsyth, complete with cries of “higher! Higher!”
More than 40 years on, the memory still makes me smile. Thank you, Simon, for taking me back to that very happy time and place. And to Russ and his wife, Trish, after 60 years together, may the laughter continue.
Noel Hiney
Dublin, Ireland
Reading the Russ Abbot interview reminded me of a time when Saturday afternoon telly into the early evening would be a gathering force for our family.
Wrestling and Big Daddy and the latest American show like The A-Team or Airwolf, followed by gameshows hosted by the big comedian of the time and then the sketch comedy series. It didn’t matter if it was a repeat such as The Two Ronnies or Russ Abbot’s Madhouse.
Strict timings were adhered to and tea worked around a Radio Times-driven schedule – that, or you mastered the recording settings on your VCR.
Something’s been lost in an era where each of us has an individual screen and streaming services, meaning we can watch as and when we like. My father had the remote, and dictated the narrative on the box, but at least we were all in the same room at the same time, laughing simultaneously.
It’s never as good as you remember – but I do miss it. Lovely article.
David Howes
Hebden Bridge, West Yorkshire
