They say that you should never meet your heroes.
It is a warning that they may not always meet your expectations.
That the person that you have admired for years, sometimes decades, may not be the person that you thought they were.
And if that’s the case, then it’s better to avoid coming into contact with them and ruining the image that you had created over the years.
My reasons for following this advice is not so much the chance of finding out that said hero is not all you thought that they would be, it’s that it is too much of a risk of making a fool of yourself.
And yesterday, I successfully managed to do just that. To use a term that I believe the youth of today would understand, I gave myself the ick.
The 1990’s were my decade in many ways, a decade of amazing music, comedy, television and football. I had left school and took my first tentative, but welcome, steps into adulthood and began a journey of self-discovery.
There were many highlights during the nineties, including Vic and Bob, Blur versus Oasis, Richard Curtis, The Premier League and Jet from Gladiators. But it was also the decade of The Mary Whitehouse Experience, Newman and Baddiel, Fantasy Football, Euro ’96 and Three Lions. Oh, that never ending summer of 1996!
When I think of the 1990’s, David Baddiel was one of my bigger influences. My comedy tastes developed around those formative years when I would tune into The Mary Whitehouse Experience on the radio and then the TV series, the stand-up shows with Rob Newman where comedy became Rock and Roll, the chemistry with Frank Skinner on Fantasy Football, Three Lions and Unplanned towards the end of the decade. I was a big fan, admired the humour and writing, and even unintentionally looked like him.
In 2018, we were about to see the show, My Family, Not the Sitcom, in Truro. At the time it has just become fashionable for kids at football matches to ask for the shirts of their favourite players…
…I thought that this would be funny, hilarious even, and posted it on Twitter. DB replied, and said that I couldn’t have his shirt, but he would sign my programme!
Over the years I’ve read his books, watched his television shows, listened to podcasts that he’s appeared on and, most recently, attended the Princess Pavilions in Falmouth where he was ‘In discussion’ about his new book, My Family.
The evening started off well enough and the interview was funny and engaging and David Baddiel was everything that you wanted him to be. Funny and engaging. Anybody who knows his work will know that he is pathologically honest, compelled to share almost every detail of life, and his latest book is proof of that. He shares sometimes intimate details of his mother’s affair, but as with the stage show of the same name, it is a very touching and poignant tale of his family, and particularly of his mom.
The moment that I have been reliving for the last 24 hours happened after the show, during the book signing.
I was waiting patiently in the queue for my turn to get my book signed and was thinking about how I would approach the imminent interaction with one of my comedy heroes. I felt as though I needed to let him know how much of an influence he’d had on my personal development and sense of humour. It wasn’t for him necessarily; it was largely for me. I wanted to show my appreciation. Of course, a part of me thought that if I was able to eruditely express that appreciation, crack a few jokes and show him just how funny and cool I was, he would want to be my friend, and we’d meet up for drinks whenever he came home to Cornwall.
My turn at the desk soon came and I handed over my book to sign, the sheet of paper with my name written on it sticking out of the top.
“David.” he said to me. “I bet you have people tell you that you look like me every day, don’t you?”
It was a curve ball, I wasn’t expecting him to initiate a conversation in that way, and as true as it was, I was thrown.
“Yes. Yes, actually.” I replied. “Quite a lot. Especially back in the day.”
I went on to explain that back in nineties Birmingham I would often get into clubs and pubs on the back of bouncers nudging each other and saying that ‘Baddiel’s on his way in’!
“Any chance of a quick photo?” I asked.
“Yes, of course, we have to show everyone that we look alike.” he said.
It was all going so well.
With the photo taken, I should’ve thanked him and left. We were maybe not new, lifelong friends, but up to that point our conversation had been friendly and as good as I could have hoped for beforehand. However, the little speech that I had prepared whilst queuing was itching to get out and into the public domain.
I started to bumble my way through it, saying what a fan I was, going back to the radio days of Mary Whitehouse, but embarrassingly lost impetus when I realised that the growing queue behind me was willing me to leave. David was polite, but the awkwardness of the situation was evident as I looked from him to the queue and froze, time seemed to stand still. As I did, horrified at the situation that I was now in. The eyes of the people behind me looked on quizzically as I stood for what seemed like four or more hours, not moving nor talking, hoping that my brain was going to save me by coming up with something witty and clever that would make the room fall about laughing, and encourage David to look me up on Facebook in order to arrange a get together at our soonest convenience.
When I eventually came to my senses and realised that I was not going to be bailed out by a humorous quip, I self-consciously made my exit, head down and into the dark Falmouth night.
I had most certainly given myself the ick!
At certain points throughout the day I have felt a cold shiver run down my spine, possibly my spidey senses telling me that David was at that moment telling someone about the weird encounter with a fan who had a faint resemblance to himself. Hopefully he has had more unusual interactions with fans in the past, and that although awkward and mildly embarrassing, it wasn’t as bad as my flashbacks are telling me.
If by any chance David Baddiel reads this, please accept my apologies for making our brief meeting slightly weird.
And so, the advice about not meeting your heroes is certainly worth listening to, if only to avoid embarrassing yourself in front of them and a room full of strangers.