National treasure Christopher Biggins will do Barbara Windsor proud says VANESSA FELTZ
There's a Yiddish blessing: "May you live for 120 years!" It is to be fervently hoped that the Almighty bestows such a gift of longevity on our national treasure Christopher Biggins - who, while I'm on the subject, should really be called "Sir Christopher" or even "Lord Biggins of Pantoland".
Barbara Windsor: Christopher Biggins reveals funeral plans
Why am I beseeching the Lord to cover Biggins in glory? If you were a radio or TV presenter, trust me, you’d know. Christopher is one of the only people on earth capable of evoking the character, spirit, quirks, flaws, humour and quintessence of a beloved star once they’ve shuffled off this mortal coil.
Think about it. In fact, try doing it with deceased loved ones. Once you’ve said that they were “a tower of strength”, “a giant among men” and “a dab hand with a jam roly-poly” you might flounder.
Relevant anecdotes escape your memory. You’ll struggle to recall a single memorable thing your subject said, did or achieved. In seconds, you’ll find yourself relying on a stream of clichés – he was a “diamond geezer”, she was a “wonderful wife and devoted mother” – and you’ll know you’ve let the dead down badly.
Conjuring the personalities and peccadillos of our dear departed out of thin air is difficult. So creating a vignette that brings a human being momentarily back to life is not just a skill but an art.
That’s why, whenever a star breathes his or her last there’s one number punched into the phones of TV and radio producers nationwide, and that is for Biggins: our warmest, wittiest master of the extemporaneous elegy.
Of course, Christopher has been asked to speak at the funeral of his adored chum Dame Barbara Windsor.
Barbara’s husband Scott knows he’ll do justice to her soft and saucy sides, the legacy of hurt left by her aggressive father, the betrayal of her first two husbands, and most importantly the relish she took in simply being Barbara Windsor.
Christopher will no doubt describe the care with which she backcombed her hair, applied her frosted pink lipstick and selected the most vertiginous diamante-encrusted stilettos before wiggling her way to the shops for a pound of apples. Every foray from home for Barbara was a performance and a chance to engage with the public who worshipped her.
We can relax with Biggins, who will do our Barbara proud.