It’s been a year and a half since I said goodbye to the funniest man in my life; my grandad, Barry Cryer.  

There are so many things I could talk about but I’ll keep it short and sweet, (something he never did – there was always one more joke…) He and my Grandmother Terry were always in my life – from my babyhood onwards. Some memories are too far back to recall but when I was very little my mother, actress and singer Jack Cryer, did the musical interludes with Colin Sell for a show that Grandad used to do with Willie Rushton. It was called ‘Two Old Farts in the Night’. When not backstage in their dressing rooms, I spent a lot of time sitting at the side of the stage laughing along, even though I probably understood a fraction of the jokes. 

My father, Garry Cooper, is also an actor and I would often spend the night at my grandparents while my parents were working on their various shows.  Grandad himself would normally return late from an after-dinner speech, show or recording of ‘I’m Sorry I haven’t A Clue’. I was sleeping in a small pull-out bed in their room, so I would hear him – if not just see him, later. The next morning, I would wait for him to get up and then we would sit at the dining table, eating our cheese and crumpets, while he read the Daily Mail. He often got material from it – rich pickings! 
After breakfast, we would walk down the road to Safeways, me for sweets and Grandad for Consulate cigarettes. Always Consulates.  He would smoke the cigarettes and use the box to write new jokes and ideas on – filofag!