The Unexpurgated Diaries of Hart Wexford

The recent discovery of the personal diaries of legendary comedian, actor and 1960s icon Hart Wexford provide a fascinating new insight into the history of showbusiness. Here is the first instalment.

5 October, 1962

To the London Pavilion for the premiere of Dr No. Extremely dissatisfying experience: every one of my scenes was cut, which means Bond’s line, “This is exactly what Captain Crumpet warned us about” makes no sense whatsoever. Maybe it’s just ego, but I feel that there was a certain gravitas missing, that leaving me in would have provided. Didn’t like the ending, either: Fleming’s original climax, in which Bond marries Dr No in order to plant a bomb in the marital bed, was much more thematically consistent.

Still, audience seemed to enjoy the film, and pleased to run into Norman Wisdom at party afterward. He confided that he was offered the part of James Bond, but turned it down as he didn’t want to cancel that week’s piano lesson. Ask him how his lessons are going. He refuses to tell me and leaves muttering angrily under his breath. Delightful man.

Home by midnight, to discover that Mother has been waiting up for me. She accuses me of spending all night with my “Fancy ladies”. I tell her I was at a premiere. She responds by offering me a plate of baked eggs. I eat them: I know it’s easier than arguing.

6 October, 1962

To production meeting for new series. Director Allan still thinks it better that I play the character as Welsh. I restate my objection to this, believing it will be confusing to the audience if I am the only Welsh character in ancient Rome. Barbara settles the matter by suggesting a compromise: I play the character in my normal accent, but will wear a kilt. Allan for some reason accepts this. As do I: I was planning to wear one anyway.

Spend the afternoon fine-tuning the episode one script. Realise I have accidentally included the same joke fourteen times. Replace thirteen instances with pratfalls. Feels much more solid now.

To dinner with Kenneth Williams. Kenneth has recently purchased a ferret, which he brings to table. Insists I address the ferret as “Sir”, and hurls abuse at the waiter when he asks if Sir would like a bowl of milk. After calming down, Kenneth confesses that in the last “Carry On” film, he hired a lookalike to play all his scenes while he holidayed in China. I tell him the lookalike did a great job. Kenneth begins to weep softly and begs me to promise to avenge his death. As always, I promise.