Julian Clary

Julian Clary joins Celeb Big Brother

The Celebrity Big Brother housemates have been unveiled with comedian Julian Clary, Cheryl Fergison and Julie Goodyear joining the fray.

Celebrity Big Brother 10: Meet Julian Clary

The King (or Queen) of camp, cross-dressing comedy and double entendres.

Julian Clary: a look at his manor house in Kent

Julian Clary, 53, escapes to his manor house in Kent once owned by Noël Coward.

Robert Webb, actor and comedian, opens the diary he kept when he was 17 for the benefit of host (and comedian) Rufus Hound and an enthralled audience. His entries include one about going to a party and kissing a girl he didn't really fancy. I always listen to this programme, now in its fourth series. But I often wonder whether a real conversation with the diaries' authors (who have included Meera Syal, Sheila Hancock, Michael Winner and Julian Clary) would produce something more satisfying than some wisecracks from Hound and lots of easy audience laughs.

Monarchs of the entertainment world rather than royalty are the subject of this engaging three-parter celebrating some of showbusiness's most flamboyant performers. It does promise some serious intent, reflecting on how the likes of Paul O'Grady, Graham Norton and Elton John have changed attitudes to homosexuality. But it's the performances from the archives that really glitter.

This opener looks back to the Dark Ages in 1952, and features such shining stars as Danny La Rue and Liberace. Contributors include Cilla Black, Julian Clary, Ronnie Corbett, Boy George and Arlene Phillips.

Taking an alternative spin on the queen theme, we travel back to 1952 for the first in a tongue-in-cheek three-part documentary homage to the men who dared to inject a flamboyant flourish into the stuffy world of black-and-white TV entertainment.
A mixed bag of camp followers, including Julian Clary and Boy George, share their appreciation of trailblazers such as cross-dressing Danny La Rue and piano tickler Liberace.

This is the third attempt to put JAM on the box, the BBC having done it previously in 1994 and 1999. Parsons and Merton appear in each episode, with guests appearing being Sue Perkins, Gyles Brandreth, Stephen Fry, Liza Tarbuck, Graham Norton, Josie Lawrence and Julian Clary. There are also a fair number of new contestants: Jason Manford, Miles Jupp, Ruth Jones, Phill Jupitus, John Sergeant and Russell Tovey.

The format is the same, but there are some obvious changes; for a start, there's no scorer sitting next to Parsons. Instead he just has the scores on a screen, and the clock is started by a large button next to him. There's also a little bell rang to indicate they are moving into the final round.

Some things do remain the same, though. The studio is designed to look like the art deco BBC Radio Theatre, where the radio series is normally recorded. For some reason, however, the studio lights change from blue to purple when the subjects start. Why they need to do this I have no idea. I find the camerawork even more irritating. There's no need to cut from here to there every three seconds.

However, there's still much to enjoy from this show. I for one enjoy the little amusing asides that go through out each episodes. My personal favourite was in the fourth episode when the panel kept making jokes about Miles Jupp being the supposed love child of Gyles Brandreth. The jokes just kept snowballing throughout.

With regards to the TV adaptation, I know that there will always be people who will insist that it's not as good as the one on radio, but there are always people who complain about TV adaptations of radio shows. If we rejected every TV adaptation of a radio adaptation out of hand we wouldn't have had the TV successes of shows like Whose Line is it Anyway? or Little Britain.

I'd love to see more episodes of the TV version of Just a Minute; but I doubt they'll produce them. Unless they want to celebrate the show's 50th anniversary, that is, and given that Parsons is 88 years old that might be a bit dangerous.

A room of my own: Julian Clary

The comic and writer in the living room of his ancient Ashford house, which was once the home of Noël Coward.

Whereas previous series have displayed a certain demented resolve to entertain on their own terms, this scarcely credible fifth series of Benidorm is visibly going through the motions - not that this is likely to stop millions tuning in. There's the super-camp guest-spot (cabaret crooner Asa Elliott); the injection of focus-grouped new talent (Loose Women's Sherrie Hewson as the Solana's fearsome new manager); the last gasp shortcut to emotional connection (a climactic Don't Stop Believin'); and enough double entendres and toilet humour ('arsonist'! Bottom from A Midsummer Night's Dream!) to have Julian Clary checking his jokebook for plagiarism. Plenty of the regulars are back, but the joie de vivre that covered many of the cracks is long gone, leaving behind a tired, cynical cash cow.

You're entitled to ask why you should be interested in a comedian you've never heard of who died 60-odd years ago. Bob Hope called Sid Field "probably the best comedian of them all". For Tony Hancock, Field was inspirational and David Suchet tells a good story with actorly flourishes. Tragically, scarcely a fragment of Field in action survives. Yet we get a glimmer of how Field created the character-based sketch comedy that's become the norm in British comedy. He also pioneered camp - "the original mince," observes Julian Clary, tartly.