Original subtitles

To millions of fans, he was the funniest man in the world.

He really knew exactly what he wanted to do. He was a master, a genius.

His childhood dream was to be the star of the show.

It was a dream that became an obsession.

The work had always devoured him, really.

And that's what he was. He was his work.

He wanted to be as famous as his comic hero, Charlie Chaplin.

He did achieve his ambition, but what a price he had to pay for it, because at

the end of the day, he gave up everything and everybody for his

After more than 40 years in show business, Benny Hill received the

Chaplin Award for Comedy at his hero's Swiss home in 1991.

It was the crowning moment of his life.

After the ceremony, Chaplin's son Eugene took Benny to his late

father's study.

He couldn't believe he was like in heaven.

And I was looking around the room and I went, hey, Ben, come here, look at this.

And there was his telly and there was his armchair.

And I said, look, and the rack said, Benny Hill, Benny Hill, Benny Hill,

Hill, Benny Hill. And he went, oh, my God, a chaplain thought that much of me.

And Eugene said, my dad thought you were the greatest.

In Southampton, a busy port on Britain's south coast, Benny Hill was born on

January 21st, 1924.

Christened Alfred Hawthorne, he was the second child of Helen and Alfred Hill.

His brother Leonard was two years older, but it was to be nine years before his

sister Diane made the family complete.

Benny was his mother's favorite. They shared a love of singing.

A quiet woman, she was the bedrock of the family.

He was very fond of his mother.

He thought the world of her.

She, I suppose, sort of stood up for him against his father when his father

became too domineering.

His mother was the biggest influence in his life.

His father used to come out into the front garden to do a bit of gardening

he always wore a beret.

That same beret which I saw later in some of Benny's shows.

The Hills lived in an affluent suburb north of the city.

Benny's father managed a shop that sold surgical trusses and other medical

goods, including condoms, though they were never mentioned by name.

Situated next to Southampton's docks, the shop was very profitable.

There was a quite notorious pub nearby, so I think perhaps it was the place

where you might find prostitutes if you were looking for them. And it sold what

was then called rubber goods.

So it was a bit of a joke that that's where his father was manager.

I think the shop did quite well.

Benny's blood was touched by the big top. His father and uncle had both been

clowns, but Alfred Senior was so strict his sons called him the captain.

His father had originally been with the circus before the First War.

And then he joined up in the First War and was taken prisoner by the Germans

spent a couple of years in German prison camps.

And whenever Benny or any of them complained about the food, he would

the wonderful food they were having with what he'd had in a German prison camp.

At 11, Benny won a scholarship to a local school.

Not very athletic, he excelled at art, but was not really academically minded.

Content with his own company, Benny was something of an enigma to his

classmates. He did live to a certain extent in his own little world, even

And that's why perhaps none of the other boys in the class really ever knew him.

Despite his reserve, his mother encouraged him to join a musical group.

Benny played guitar and told jokes which he'd quietly try out first on his

school friends.

He would sidle up to you and stand very close to you.

Sometimes he might put his arm around you.

And he'd tell you perhaps the latest smutty story.

He'd sometimes have pictures of girls.

They were often glamorous girls.

Those were not the girls we were. I mean, the other boys in the class were

interested in girls in the flesh, whereas he seemed to be more interested

pictures of girls.

It was the glamour, perhaps, which interested him.

Glamour to Benny meant show business.

His family had always taken him to Southampton's theatres, where he was

entranced by the touring reviews.

It was a glimpse into a world he wanted to join.

He said, when I was a kid, my dad used to take me to the variety theatres all

the time, and you'd see a touring revue, and you'd see a foldy rolls type thing.

He said, and there was this little sort of chubby guy with a funny hat on,

surrounded by beautiful girls, and making everybody in the audience laugh

clap. And he said, even as a kid, I said, I want to be that man.

It was the dream Benny pursued all his life.

When World War II broke out in 1939, Benny's school was evacuated, and a year

later he dropped out. At 15, and without qualifications of any kind for a job,

he started out delivering milk, and then found work in a local Woolworth's

store. He was surrounded by 26 shop girls, but he couldn't impress them with

new job.

He was a trainee manager, but as you said, it was mostly, they'd say...

that the dog had done something over there by the perfumery, would you come

pick it? He'd go with a shovel and pick it up, you know.

He was learning to be a manager from the bottom upwards, you could say.

At 17, Benny sold his guitar and left his hometown to pursue his dream.

He set out for London and slept in an air raid shelter for lack of funds

taking his first steps into the world of show business.

He became a prop boy and assistant stage manager with a touring review.

One night, the straight man didn't turn up.

He was probably in the pub or something and forgot to come out.

And Benny volunteered off his own back to go on and play the part of a straight

man for the comic.

And the comic thanked him and said, that was very good, you know, I think you

should stay in the business or something like that.

His fledgling career ground to a halt when he was drafted in 1942.

The army trained him to be a mechanic, but as the war ended, he saw an

opportunity to get back on stage, and he transferred to the army's

entertainments division, where his saucy humor went down well.

One night in Germany, the colonel in charge of forces entertainment came to

the show.

Benny was in a stars in battle dress party. He was actually the second comic

the driver of the lorry.

And I went to a little tiny...

beautiful little theatre, Schloss Theatre in Cella, and the local

officer had said that Benny was not to do his act because he didn't think he

funny. But the sergeant in charge, another comic, said, I think you'd

it tonight because the colonel's in front.

I thought he was very funny, so I went round to see him and I said, listen, you

and I are not going to be in the army forever.

I'm going to be an agent, I expect you're going to be a comedian.

You'd better come and see me when you come out of the army.

By the time he was signed up by Colonel Stone, Alf Hill became Benny Hill after

the popular comedian Jack Benny.

I sent Benny to audition, and Peter Sellers was at the audition, and I think

beat Peter Sellers to the job, and he went down to Margit to feed Reg Varney.

Reg Varney was one of Britain's top variety comedians. He needed a new

After our first performance, I thought,

This is going to be good, you know.

But I didn't realise how good he was going to be until we'd been together for

quite a few weeks.

And we had this rapport which was uncanny, but he was so quick, it wasn't

and he was a brilliant writer.

For three seasons, their partnership blossomed, but Benny's ambition was to

the star of the show like Reg.

When he got the chance, he found the stage to be a very lonely place.

Strange thing, when he was feeding me, playing characters, he was fantastic.

Brilliant, to say the least.

But as soon as he went on to do his own act, to be himself, no good.

No good whatsoever.

The public didn't like him.

Then he got less laughs the farther north he travelled.

It was a famous graveyard for London comics.

He persevered, but his lack of success made him ill.

Reg passed on advice to help his partner get over his stage fright.

I went to this fellow who taught me how to relax and showed me what to do.

And I was telling Benny, I said, it's marvellous. I said,

he said, well, he said, he said, it's not that, he said, I can't sleep either

night. I said, well, you won't do, because you're worried about...

the performance and and i showed him what to do and told him what to do

and uh in the morning at breakfast i said how'd you get on with the relaxing

then ben he said yeah he said i tried he said after a while when it wasn't

working i turned over and went to sleep i used to dread playing up north i

really did it was uh you used to frighten me to death i have to go up

don't know why it was my fault or what but i never seem to click Playing at

North.

It was at a theatre in the north of England that Benny starred with Reg

for the last time.

I'm in the dressing room and I thought, he's going well.

And he's getting clapped and, you know, but when I listened, it was all

together.

And I'd never heard the slow hand clap before in all my life, you see.

And it's a terrifying thing to hear.

When he came off, it was ill, very ill, I think.

And the manager came in, he said, he said, you've got a rotten act.

And he said, well, what shall I do?

Mr. Charlie said, he said, get off as quick as you can.

With the loss of his solo act, Benny left the tour. He was disheartened but

still determined.

He came back and sat in his garden.

in his mother's house in Southampton.

And he sat there for two or three months, I think. It was a beautiful

And he wrote hundreds of sketches.

And he took them up to Ronnie Warmer at the BBC.

And he said, there, Mr Warmer, look at that.

And I think you'll find there's some good stuff there.

And he said, I'm guaranteed.

And Ronnie Warmer looked at them, and that's where he got the job, on

television.

Benny had the break he'd been looking for.

By 1954, Benny Hill was Britain's best -loved comic.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the Benny Hill Show.

The shy 30 -year -old with a risque sense of humor was his country's

He wanted to get on television very badly.

And when he got on, he became the first English comedian to be made by

television because all the other comedians before him had been made by

I owe pretty well everything to television.

It's given me great opportunities outside television.

It's given me the chance to appear in a West End show.

I've done my first film.

And, well, it's done one thing for me that I'm very grateful to television

and that is that it's given me a lot of friends in the north of England.

Before he became a TV star, Benny remembered that he had died a terrible

with his solo act in the theatre in the north of England.

My agent said, you're going to play this theatre again, you know, but you'll be

topping the bill this time. And I said, I'm not going up there anymore.

He talked me into it and I went up there and went on the Monday night and they

were really fabulous. They were the most wonderful audience I've ever played to.

I thought they were kidding at first. They were taking the mic out of me.

Here we have the barbell, sir. There we have the weight.

That's for getting your weight down. Television, not the stage, was Benny's

home. Get the camera on that. Look at that. Look at that.

Is it on?

Yes. Cool.

His characters, like Fred Scuttle, sprang to life.

All the subtleties that had been lost in the theater from the fourth row back

were picked up by the camera.

I told you to wear a vest when you used these, didn't I?

I think his tradition, you know, was more American than English. I

think he followed in the tradition of American burlesque.

As you can see, Benjamin's wearing a new broad shoulder look.

He was very unusual as a comedian, even in those days, you know, because...

He wasn't the ordinary stand -up comedian with the jokes.

It's an all -purpose jacket suitable for the smoker.

Or equally suitable for the non -smoker.

It was also Benny's attention to detail that made him TV's golden boy. He found

new ways to use the new medium that delighted his audience.

He was a great innovator in the early, early days of television. And he was the

first person to do three characters in one scene, or it was four, I think, when

he did Jukebox Jury.

And he knew you could do it on a split screen because he knew if you filmed it,

you could, in those days, put a bit of card over it, film it, put a bit of

and then put the whole thing together. So there were four Bennys on a screen.

Then he worked hard at making his humor look effortless.

He brought new life to old material with his sharp observations that found the

audience laughing at itself.

Would you describe yourself as an angry young man?

No, I don't think so, no.

I am.

He teamed up with budding writer Dave Freeman.

What makes you angry?

Oh, I thought you said hungry.

For ten years, they collaborated, living in each other's pockets. It was the

only time in Benny's life that he shared the burden of originating his comedy.

There was nothing affected about him. He was very down -to -earth.

He was like the chap who might work on the next bench in the factory.

But he was a craftsman. Benny had perfect pitch in music and a way with

In 1961, this song reached the top 20.

I went to view a lady's house, she handed me the key.

She said it's to be let as it stands with all that you can see.

I said, are you to be let with the house in a very softy tone?

She said, I'm not to be let with the house, I'm to be let alone.

Benny's many faces and suggestive eyes were made for TV.

Oh, we know it's right, it's in black and white, and it's all written down in

diary.

Show business was his entire life. That was really all he thought about. It

obsessed him, and he thought about it early morning till late at night.

He had very few hobbies. He didn't read much.

He'd go and see films and he'd go and see shows, but always with an idea of

whether they would inspire him into doing something.

The gorgeous women from his childhood dream were on the screen to see, but

in life did not mean lucky in love.

On his first tour with Reg Varney, Benny met Elizabeth English, an actress from

the theatre next door.

She remembers him, he had beautiful hair, thick blonde hair, and lots and

of scripts, always under his arm, piles and piles of scripts.

But it was a dancer from her show that Benny fell in love with. One night he

proposed marriage, but was turned down.

He was very upset and tried to get a message through via my mother to this

and it didn't work out. So my mother took him for a cup of tea and fish and

chips or egg and chips to cheer him up.

But he was very sweet and very sensitive, very sensitive young man.

To the outside world, Benny was the funniest man. It was a role he played to

perfection.

Turning out to promote his first movie, which was followed by five more, he

delighted his fans.

But the real Benny was always happiest away from the celebrity spotlight.

Self -taught and fluent in four languages, he spent months abroad, often

Europe's fiestas, theatres and circuses, looking for new material for his shows.

All his life, he travelled alone.

Comedy was to be his only mistress.

He hated responsibility, and I think he hated it because he felt it distracted

him from work.

He thought he couldn't be thinking of a show or what he was doing if he had to

worry about the plumbing in a house that he owned or the roof leaking, and so he

always rented accommodation so somebody else could look after that.

He wouldn't have a car because he felt cars went wrong and you had to take them

to the garage or somebody gave you a parking ticket, and that would distract

him.

Comedy had made Benny rich.

but he had no use for the trappings of success.

Benny kept everything as long as it worked, be it a telephone or a 20 -year

pair of shoes.

Generous to friends in need, he was austere with himself.

He never spent anything, and in fact he was rather suspicious about money. He

was suspicious.

I can remember we put him with our accountants, one of the biggest

firms in London.

And because the managing director of this huge international accountancy firm

went racing on a Saturday afternoon, Benny was very worried that he was

his money at the races and that he'd lose it all.

His idea of money had frozen around about 1950, so that he thought to pay a

pound for tin of salmon was exorbitant.

But... To give £500 to somebody who was in trouble didn't exist, you know. He

didn't think above about £10 a week. That was a different form of currency.

He lived in a sort of dual state of currency.

In 1969, Benny signed a deal with Thames Television, which was to bring him more

money and fame than he had ever dreamt of.

You can hear...

In 1971, Benny Hill recorded a song about a milkman, a job he had held 30

earlier on leaving school.

It shot to number one. His name was Ernie, and he drove the fastest milk

the West.

Now Ernie loved the widow.

A lady known as Sue. She lived all alone in Lindley Lane at number 22.

Benny was now a multi -millionaire. Each year, he made three or four shows,

which he wrote, cast, and oversaw in every detail. His life was devoted to

comedy. And he drove the fastest milk cart in the West. He used to watch

television 24 hours a day.

24 hours a day, and tape it when he went to bed.

It sounds odd to any other human being, but his life was television, and his

life was watching things, and it would always spark off some writing in him.

Benny's show consumed his life. He watched the world, noting everything.

Silent movies, TV, circus clowns and everyone around him were his

His eyes were everywhere and he saw things in people just doing ordinary

everyday things at a bus stop that he'd write down and they would go into a

sketch. If he was at a cafe or if he was walking up the high street, he'd have a

newspaper with him and it would be blue with ink by the time he came back.

When he was travelling, Benny sent his scripts back to the studio on anything

that came to hand.

You know one of those bits of cardboard you get when you get your shirt back

from the cleaners or whatever?

And this arrived in an envelope from Madrid or somewhere like this.

And we were reading it and I went, that looks like bloody glate, something or

the other.

And we studied this all day long and suddenly we went, of course, he's a

Chinaman, a stupid idiot. Why are you no written?

And that's the kind of thing we used to get on bits of anything, backs of

envelopes, you name it. That's how Ben's script arrived from all over the world.

You've just arrived, sir.

I got a fright.

How did you get a fright?

With a fright ticket.

A fright, yes.

It was a miracle.

What was a miracle?

We take off with a miracle.

You took off from a miracle?

United States of America.

America.

Bloody trick.

His shows took three months to rehearse and record at Thames Television's

Riverside Studios.

Benny originated everything from the size and color of the props to the tunes

would hum note by note for his musical director to transcribe.

Benny was a perfectionist to the point of not being a very likeable person

because he was so concerned about the props and the costumes and the scenery

everything that he never lost his temper, but he used to get very tense

would hum, pick his nails, always picking his nails and humming.

And he always used to hum, if it takes forever.

Always shy of strangers, Benny formed a trusted troupe of players.

Henry McGee, Bob Todd, Jackie Wright were his unlikely leading men, and there

were lots of glamorous girls.

If he was rehearsing something in the big studio number one, and somebody

come and sit.

in the audience and they'd be in his eyeline and he didn't know who they

he'd have to stop the rehearsal and go up to whoever it was, someone from the

council or something had come down to watch and have to apologise and say, I'm

terribly sorry, please forgive me, but I really can't do this if you're actually

in my eyeline. He couldn't bear anyone actually being in the studio that he

didn't know.

So the cameramen, the wardrobe crew, everybody became like a family to him,

he could do anything, he could try anything out of in front of them because

knew them.

Away from his professional family, he lived alone in a rented apartment in

Queensgate, an exclusive part of London.

For 20 years, it was his refuge from the world that only a chosen few could

enter. My main job all through his career was to go out every time he

I went out to the studio, watch the run -through, give him a few notes.

watch the show, and then go back to his dressing room, help him put all his

props into his plastic bags, get into my car.

I drove him back to his house in Queensgate, and not once in 20 years did

ever ask me to get out of the car and come up and have a cup of coffee.

Benny didn't live like other celebrities.

He disliked showbiz parties and hated any display of wealth. To his friends,

lifestyle was frugal and uncompromising.

All there was, there was a little settee, and it was a plasticky sort of

and there was an awful coffee table there, and a telly, which was black and

white telly there.

And I went, is this it?

He went, yeah, this is it. And he lives there.

He's got his telly, he's got his cup of tea, he's got a pencil and a piece of

paper. What more is there on this earth?

I said, what's that up there? And he said, oh, it's a room up there. I said,

well, let me have a look around the flat.

And we went into this fantastic...

Fantastic, huge room.

And I went, my word, don't you use this? And it was sort of almost like a damp

field to it. And he went, no, no, no, never go in there.

And I went, that's crazy.

And so he used to always live down there. That's where the telly was.

There were no pictures on the wall.

There were no books, actually.

There was nothing.

I looked around and there was a, in the shadows of the room, there was a

fireplace with a mantelpiece.

And I could see some things on that.

And I went over and there were about, 20 or 30 objects on it.

And they were all awards.

Every one was awards.

But they weren't arranged in any particular fashion. I mean, some of them

lying on their backsides.

That would be planned. They were just sort of plopped. There they were.

And he came into the room and I said, my goodness, you've got a lot of awards

there. He said, oh, there's a cupboard over there full of them.

He didn't mean anything to him.

Benny's obsession with work was only interrupted by his other obsession,

We had a dozen fish fingers each and some peas and a cup of coffee. Now, I

fish fingers, but I mean, this was the sort of diet he lived. I mean, it was a

diet of a bachelor, of course, and this is what he ate.

Benny couldn't control his weight.

He bought his food daily to try to limit his appetite.

But his waistline always fluctuated.

He tried out many diets, especially at the start of filming.

Sometimes when we were filming, he used to be very, very odd first thing in the

morning. Rather stern and very fast, working very quickly. And everything,

nothing was... And it took me a long time to realise he was taking a dietary

tablet which was like speed.

And this man, this lunatic, was hurtling around, being rather stoppy, and not

having breakfast, not all of that. It was to stop him eating.

And then slowly throughout the day, he'd come down to being our Ben again.

Benny's youthful dream of fame and fortune had come true, but at a price.

He had millions of fans and millions of dollars, and yet he remained an enigma

to the world.

By 1974, Benny Hill was at the top of his profession in Britain.

Adored by his fans and with more awards than he could count, he was a star. His

childhood dream had been achieved.

I remember his 50th birthday.

He said to me, we were rehearsing, he said, you know, I'm 50.

And he said, I've had a good life.

He said, it's been great fun and it's been a good life.

And he said, to tell you the truth, he said, I wouldn't mind if I went

And I think he meant it. The extraordinary thing about this was that

before the great glory days.

Before glory came grief.

His mother, always his favorite lady, was dying.

Benny nursed her until her death in February of 1976.

Four years earlier, his irascible father had also died.

His sister lived thousands of miles away in Australia, and he was estranged from

his elder brother. Apart from his cousin, all his intimate friends were in

professional family.

As he got older, family became more important, and when 16 -year -old Louise

English joined the show, Benny welcomed her like a daughter.

I think he loved me as much as I loved him. He didn't like me smoking a

cigarette. I wasn't allowed to do that. If I had a boyfriend, he wanted to meet

him.

So he was actually probably more strict with me than I think my father would

have been with me.

By the late 1970s, there were more scantily clad dancers than ever, and the

humour seemed cruder, less witty.

His public became polarised in their opinions.

Benny faced mounting criticism.

Totally sexist. Because it's completely and utterly anti -men.

I mean, look at them. Little Jackie Wright, Bob Todd, Benny, Henry. I mean,

boys are back in town, aren't they? In the show, Benny always lost and the

always won. Now that is sexist.

Benny's risque humour was ridiculed by the new breed of alternative comedians

who called him old -fashioned.

But he felt he still knew what made people laugh.

I think very often the English public did take his funny sketches the wrong

but you've got to see them from a young boy's point of view.

He was, you know, a man in his 50s.

He had the mind of a 5 or a 10 -year -old.

He never, ever wanted to come across at all as a dirty old man or a lecherous

man at all when anybody met Benny.

They were surprised at his manners.

I think everyone used to go up to Benny and say, Oh, hello, mate. Oh, how's the

girls? Oh, nudge, nudge, wink, wink. And he's sort of in a suit with glasses on,

and such a gentleman. They get quite a shock.

Benny decided to introduce a touch of innocence to his shows.

He wrote sketches that included children, but he didn't want stage

youngsters. He chose instead the sons and daughters of his professional

Ben was like a relative to me. He was Uncle Ben. I mean, we called him Uncle

Benny.

He was like the sort of friendly uncle that comes and takes you out and plays

with you and buys you things. He was always buying us stuff, sort of

gifts on us and always chocolate and sweets and cakes. And we did just have a

great time with him.

Sue Upton's children were extra lucky.

Their Uncle Benny came to stay for a week each year.

Taking them to the seaside and to theme parks, Benny played at having the family

he had never had.

He used to call me Mother, which is quite a strange thing. I don't think

very occasionally would he actually ever call me Sue.

And he'd say, come on then, Mummy, where shall we go now? Where are the

littlies? And I can just imagine that that is exactly how Benny would have

always been.

It was just lovely to see him.

to see the true Benny being a family man.

Almost, I became his wife for that week, if you like.

And he used to say to me, I don't think I could ever find a woman that would

actually put up with me now. He said, because I'm so set in my ways.

He'd like nothing more than to sit out in the garden with a couple of beers,

he'd say, this is jolly pleasant here.

I can think of nothing nicer.

Then, of course, lying on a beach in the south of France, he said, but then I

wouldn't have the company, would I?

At the end of his stay, Sue would drive Benny to catch the train to Felixstowe,

a seaside town where another lady had his company for the following week.

He had visited Phoebe King annually since the 1950s.

She was confined to a wheelchair with cerebral palsy, but the two of them

enjoyed the same simple pleasures.

We sit there and look at the sea and talk and have a joke and a laugh.

And then somebody would run up, can I have your autograph, Mr Hill?

And look at me, wondering who I was.

One girl said, is that your sister?

No, he said my girlfriend.

Oh,

he felt homely with me.

He didn't have to put on airs. He could be himself with me.

You've got to love him and his work.

But I loved him, I loved his work and him as well, so I got on all right.

If you met anybody of his public, then he was Benny Hill.

But I got Alfred Althorne Hill, the quiet gentleman.

Only Benny's closest friends knew about Phoebe and another handicapped friend,

Netta. They were his secret.

In his lifetime, he was a friend to many, but unknown to most.

Half a world away, Benny was becoming TV's hottest property at the ripe old

of 55, as his shows became cult viewing across America.

I've often called it adult animation.

It was a slapstick humor. It was an international humor that we all

what Benny's doing and where he's coming from.

Good evening. Here's the newsflash.

I don't know of a live light entertainment comedy

show, whether it's from here.

Or the UK or anywhere that has had the success that that show has had.

They made an enormous fuss of him. And it gradually dawned upon me, it seems

strange that it should take so long to have any doubts at all.

But then he gradually realized that he was successful.

And I think this gave him a more comfortable confidence in

himself.

By 1989, the Benny Hill Show could be seen in over 140 countries. More people

had laughed with him than his comic hero, Charlie Chaplin.

By 1989, the Benny Hill Show was a worldwide phenomenon.

His employer of over 20 years, Thames Television, called him the world's most

successful comedian and the genius, as they pocketed the millions from sales to

over 140 countries.

On the 1st of May, they broadcast his latest show.

Three weeks later, they fired him.

Ten o 'clock one morning, we went into the outer office, and John came out and

said, oh, do you mind if I have a word with Ben? I said, no, not at all. They

went in, and about a minute later, John came out, and I went in, and Ben was

sitting in the corner, ashen.

And I just said, hiya, how are you? It's fine.

And John was sort of making small talk, and Ben said, you can tell him, you

know, he's a big grown -up lad.

And I said, what's the problem? He said, I don't want to do any more Benny

Hills. And that was it.

Ben was, I mean, he was murdered.

They'd taken away his child. It's like losing your own child. That's how much

the show meant to him.

He was heartbroken, and it absolutely destroyed him. They just said that he

the jewel in their crown, and then they just sacked him like a schoolboy.

Quite, quite disgraceful.

After nearly 40 years at the top, there was suddenly nothing.

An unemployed superstar, Benny returned alone to the apartment he had rented to

be near his beloved studios.

The devastation was so unbelievable, I don't think even crying could actually

get the frustration and the upset out from his whole system.

I think it totally destroyed part of him. I'm sure it did.

With no show to write or to diet for, Benny's weight ballooned. Age was

up with him.

Then Don Taffner threw him a lifeline.

I came over. I couldn't imagine because he was so successful worldwide.

And that's what I hope I can say this. I was so pissed off that I said, OK,

well, let's do our own show. We don't need him.

It was a B -12 shot. It helped him come around.

And besides.

making a few dollars on it, it was good for him and everyone around it that

here's a guy that was so successful and somebody did a horrible thing to him and

we're helping him come back to life, so to speak.

Though shot on location in New York, Benny returned to Thames Studios to

his sketches with his trusted cast and crew.

It was going to be the first of a whole new series, but it became a one -time

special.

By the time another British broadcaster started negotiations for a new series,

Benny had been eating and drinking unchecked for two years and his health

suffered.

Following a heart attack, he was hospitalized with breathing

He booked under the name of Mr. Martini.

And I said, why did you call yourself Mr. Martini? He said, well, any time,

place, anywhere.

Which made me laugh.

He didn't want me to go and see him in hospital.

He didn't want anyone to see him. He wanted to keep himself to himself, but

was very ill and didn't tell anyone how ill he really was.

Leaving the hospital, Benny wanted to finalise his forthcoming shows. He also

was determined to see Louise English, now starring in a West End play.

The theatre's very hot. It's full.

You might find a little bit too much of you. No, no, I want to be there. I want

to be there. And I want you to arrange a photographer.

to take a photograph of us together, which is something he'd never, ever

I thought that was very odd.

And it was a very, very happy day. And he came to see the matinee.

And I remember his face looking up at me. And he had little tears.

And then he came to the dressing room afterwards.

And he stayed and he stayed.

And he wouldn't go. He just wouldn't leave.

And he kept sort of mentioning lovely things to me.

Very sensitive things, and it's almost like he knew.

Benny went home to his Thameside apartment, but when he didn't answer the

for three days and his neighbours heard his television constantly on, his friend

Dennis Kirkland climbed a ladder to gain entrance to Benny's third -floor

apartment.

And then I got to the top, like so, and I could see him sitting there with his

lovely hair all stuck up like that and the TV on, and it was... quite evident

was he was dead and um i crawled onto the balcony and i could see him through

the window and um he just looked oh so sad and his beautiful

hair stuck up and the guy opened the window their kitchen window there next

ben's balcony and he said would you like a drink and i said just give me the

bottle you know then the police arrived and um they broke the door in and then

they let me into the kitchen window and and I won't tell you what it's like when

you discover a body that's been there for a couple of days, but they wouldn't

let me touch anything.

And I said, please, you've got to let me straighten his hair.

And they said, okay.

And his lovely hair was stuck up, so I smoothed it all down for him, and he was

okay. He was okay, and that was it.

Benny was 68.

On the table beside his body, amongst many papers, was the contract for his

series just waiting for his signature.

He was quite prepared in the last seven or eight years of his life, you know, to

go at any time. He felt he'd fulfilled every ambition. He'd become a big star

America. He was known all over the world. What more was there to do, you

Then he was buried next to his parents in his hometown of Southampton.

He died a comedic legend.

like his hero, Charlie Chaplin.

He somehow managed to hit a common thread of humor in people, this

universal funny bone, which very few people have ever been able to do.

He entertains people, and he will always entertain people.

And what he has left is just pure laughter for everyone.

Thank you.