Kenny Everett

Kenny Everett recordings unearthed

Rare recordings of eccentric pioneering radio DJ Kenny Everett broadcast on local radio in Portsmouth in the 1970s have been unearthed.

Radio Times review

"He was not scared to wander along the edge," says Billy Connolly of the creative cyclone that was Kenny Everett. Anyone who grew up with Cuddly Ken on the radio will remember wanting the records to finish just to hear his ingenious links and in-fills, beautifully sung jingles and out-takes. And archive of the DJ at work in his sound lab, his hands a blur over his beloved tape recorders, is wonderful.

Pop stars from the Beatles to Kate Bush wanted to work with the man comedy writer Barry Cryer calls an "imp from another planet", but he was prone to biting the hand that fed him.

This excellent tribute takes us from Ev's early days in radio (he was the first DJ in the world to play Strawberry Fields and a driving force in getting Bohemian Rhapsody launched), through his various sackings and anarchic TV series, to his 1995 death from an Aids-related illness.

Some of Ev's rougher edges, including his unfortunate flirtation with politics, are passed over. But his wife Lee - talking of her little gay friend - and sister Cate provide most insight into a conflicted talent, and a huge personality that masked shyness and insecurity.

The World According to Kenny Everett, review

The documentary didn't offer much that was new for those familiar with his story but it was a fitting reminder of his genius, says Jasper Rees.

"He was a sort of imp from another planet!"

This documentary about Kenny Everett, who died in 1995, is packed with contributions from his showbiz friends, including Barry Cryer, Chris Tarrant, Billy Connolly and Paul Gambaccini but we also hear from Kenny himself in generous archive footage.

We start with his childhood. He was born in Liverpool on Christmas Day during the war and Everett makes affectionate fun of his mother, a polite and traditional lady who would have hated to be considered 'common' so would carefully arrange a fruit bowl on top of the TV (a terrible place to put your fruit, Everett declares) and would never permit her young son to take a piece as it would upset her nicely arranged display.

His father wasn't quite so genteel, being a tugboat captain on the Mersey and possessing a wicked sense of humour.

From this childhood, a combination of strict manners and cheeky jokes, we trace his journey as he became one of the most beloved and daring comedians of the 1980s.

Unseen Kenny Everett footage to air

ITV is to air a documentary about Kenny Everett this Christmas, featuring unseen home movie footage and family photographs.

Let Us Praise... Kenny Everett will "celebrate his professional career but with people who knew him very well".

The Barry Cryer extended interview

Barry Cryer is an incredibly popular entertainer, raconteur and a writer, but don't you dare call him a legend! Martin Walker talks to the great man himself about David Frost, Kenny Everett, John Cleese, Michael McIntyre, Susan Calman, Eric Sykes and Ken Dodd. But first they talk about Twittering On, the show he's performing at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe with Colin Sell.

TV loves a tragic stand-up... but who's next?

We've had Kenneth Williams, Kenny Everett, Frankie Howerd and Steptoe & Son - now Tommy Cooper is getting the tears-of-a-clown dramatic treatment.

The Authorised Biography of Kenny Everett - review

The real Kenny Everett remains obscured in this cliched, sanitised life story.

In the leading role of Best Possible Taste (BBC Four) Oliver Lansley was good at copying Kenny Everett's funny voices but this only reminded you that the star was at his funniest when talking straight. "I love you," he told his wife, "but I fancy Burt Reynolds." His muse, the improbably beautiful Cleo Rocos, wasn't in the script. When I saw the two of them together I thought: he's done it, he's reduced sex to a Platonic ideal, the lucky swine. Actually, of course, he was wretched.

Cheeringly, we have also seen the reappearance, from beyond the grave, of Kenny Everett, a groundbreaking DJ and comic who was denounced from some quarters as a pervert on the basis of his homosexuality.

There is perhaps a sliver of comfort to be had from the fact that, while Savile's reputation is finally getting the drubbing it deserves, "Cuddly Ken" is now being celebrated as a mischievous spirit pushing the boundaries of comedy and broadcasting. While a recent biopic on BBC4 looked at Everett's private life, interspersing the inevitable sad clown narrative with re-creations of his sketches, Radio 4 Extra was dusting down a long-forgotten doc Kenny Everett: The BBC Local Radio Years, which told the story of what happened when the broadcaster was removed from the national airwaves at the peak of his powers.

Everett was forever getting into deep water at work, whether being reprimanded for criticising the BBC's music policy on air or being handed his P45 for cracking a joke during a news bulletin at the expense of the wife of a Tory politician on Radio 1. Everett was subsequently offered a slot on BBC Radio Bristol, much to the ire of his former bosses who thought he should never darken the corporation's doorstep again. We learned how, on his first broadcast, he sang a song, set to the tune of "The Blue Danube", bemoaning his circumstances: "No food in the fridge, boo-hoo, boo-hoo/ No heat in the pipes, boo-hoo, boo-hoo/ No dough in the bank, boo-hoo, boo-hoo..."

Once local producers got wind that Everett was available for work, the comic found himself doing pre-recorded stints across the country, from Merseyside and Nottingham, to Solent and Brighton. Tapes would be transported from his home in the Sussex countryside to the relevant destination by railway, with minions dispatched to stations to pluck them directly from the train. A vetting process would then take place with producers weighing up the wisdom of airing the more risqué gags.

The usual customs of broadcasting were of no interest to Everett. His programmes were platforms for his array of daft voices, improvised skits and terrifically silly - yet technically sophisticated - jingles. His record choices were quirky, to say the least. "If you don't like it, ring me and I'll take it off," was a typical introduction. Listening to the acres of improv in this affectionate and meticulously researched documentary, contemporary music radio seemed horribly anodyne by comparison. For once, the word genius is apt.