Where There’s A Will . . .

by Terry Bland

The first time I worked with Les Dennis was in the late Eighties on the pilot for Laff-o-mat, a comedy sketch show based in a launderette. Cannon and Ball ran the launderette, with Les as their flunky and Bella Emberg as their only regular customer. Each week we were to have a special celebrity guest and their dirty laundry would inspire sketches, played in the glass of the washing machines. For the pilot we had Dudley Sutton, Tinker from off of Lovejoy, and his linen led on to numerous hilarious sketches about antiques. There were many reasons the show never made it past the pilot stage. Firstly, Tommy and Bobby were tied into a contract with a rival company and decided to stick with them rather than defect and take our dollar. Secondly, Bella, bless her, was struggling with an addiction to meth. And thirdly, it was shit.

I was to see Les again in 1992 on the set of Where There’s A Will . . . an innovative challenge show shot at Central Television in Nottingham. It was marketed with the line, ‘Got Your Eye on Granny’s Good Stuff?’ and Les would watch as two teams of two fought to either get into or climb up a will. The first will we tackled was that of Mavis Clayfield. And trying to get their paws on her valuables, come the sad day of her passing, was her son and his wife, Alan and Shelly, battling it out against her nephew, Simon, and his close friend Adam.

Les set a series of challenges based on advice from a team of experts and a special guest. In the first show I was delighted to be reunited with my good friend Paul Shane. I’d known Paul for years and have fond memories of him dragging up and starring in my 1987 film Shirley’s War, a heart warming comic tale of miscreant landgirls set on the right path by the eccentric ‘Dame’ Shirley Wobblestone.

A selection of the pre-ceased’s belongings would be brought to the studio and the will chasers chose what they would like to receive by placing a sticker on the goods. For every item that the pre-ceased decided should go to the person that stuck the sticker, they would get five points. However, if they decided not to leave an item they would rip off the sticker and that person would lose ten points. Points were also scored throughout the show by completing various rounds. The winning team’s points at the end of the game were multiplied by ten and converted to pounds. They would receive half and the other half was given to the pre-ceased to put in their will to leave to the winners. Of course, winners would still have to be kind to their chosen oldie because, as we all know, wills are always subject to change. My own children should make note of that if they want to stand a chance of getting their hands on my antique horse brass, or Barbara’s assortment of collectible hedgehog figurines.

Just before the mid-break Les introduced a special treat – the All-Star Eulogy. Our guest stood in a mock pulpit, as the will writer lay in an open casket. This game was played for charity, the longer the pre-ceased lasted without laughing, under the watchful eye of the CoffinCam, the more money would go to their chosen good cause. If they lasted the whole three minutes we gave them a bonus £300. Paul had us all in stitches and some of his material was pretty near the knuckle, I feared the casket would be sodden with old lady wee but Mavis managed to remain straight faced throughout. She was certainly made of stern stuff. Les asked how she managed and she replied by stating that she’d been through worse during the Blitz. What a trooper.

Our final round was the Last Supper. The two teams made what they thought to be Mavis’s favourite meal, which was then served to her by girls in sexy grim reaper costumes. Alan and Shelly did a traditional roast with all the trimmings. Alan was confident as he explained to Les that he’d gone through his mum’s cookbooks, and all her notes, and found her secret gravy recipe that he then revealed to the whole nation. The reapers put the roast in front of Mavis. She smiled and made a joke about them being scantily clad harlots who would catch their death of cold before burning in the fires of hell. She then took a bite of her dinner and quickly spat it out, screaming that Alan was a thieving bastard and who did he think he was looking through her private cookery notes. Simon’s beef stew fared better. Mavis declared that the energy she saved by not having to chew could then be spent watching that her neighbours didn’t steal from her garden because they were as bad as Alan and probably foreign.

The points were added up and most of Alan’s stickers ripped off, apart from the one on his late father’s carriage clock, which Mavis said he could have, as she’d never liked it. It’s just a shame that she accidentally knocked it off the table smashing it to the floor.

We lasted for one series before a lawsuit by Alan and Shelly forced us off the air. The show was later to be revived for the quiz show channel PuzzleBox on Sky. For a couple of weeks you could catch Les at his best but unfortunately PuzzleBox’s original programming led to its downfall. Passport to Paradise, featuring impoverished Eastern European women competing to marry a British citizen, was the main culprit and was even mentioned in a UN document on people trafficking and an EU directive on gambling.

Mavis Clayfield is still alive. Alan and Shelly have since emigrated to New Zealand and haven’t spoken to Mavis since the recording. Simon and Adam send me a Christmas card every year and have two German Shepherds, named Ken and Stuart.