Andy and Steve Coogan played Nick Lee, now a big star. The head of the fan club was played by a pre- Little Britain David Walliams; a relatively unknown James Corden played the fan who turned out to be my son, and Russell Brand was an extra. We shot at what appeared at first sight to be an idyllic though, on closer inspection, turned out to be a mosquito-ridden beach resort a few hours from Athens and then on a cruise ship for a couple of weeks as it sailed between Athens, Venice, Dubrovnik, Santorini and other Mediterranean beauty spots.
On location for Cruise of the Gods with James.
This was the first time I had met David Walliams, and we hit it off from the start; he was a very appealing combination of Frankie Howerd, Kenneth Williams and a Pet Shop Boy, making us all laugh as he minced around the ship, camping it up. He did something very funny, though it’s hard to explain. As he walked around a room he would reach out and touch various pieces of furniture – a table top, a door frame, a vase of flowers. It doesn’t sound like much, but it had me in stitches.
We began to form a little double act, two old queens cruising the seas in their retirement, one minute affectionately calling each other My David and My Rob (‘Ooh, My Rob’s enjoying that ice cream’ ‘My David’s loving it …’), the next bickering and mercilessly savaging each other in front of our fellow cast members (‘Ice cream? You don’t know the first thing about ice cream!’ ‘I’ll ice cream you in a minute!’ ‘I wish you would …’ ).
It’s not how it looks.
All the while that we were on the boat, David’s main topic of conversation was the pilot that he was going to be making with Matt Lucas once we got back to the UK. ‘Me ’n’ Matt are making a pilot of Li’l Britain … Li’l Britain , me ’n’ Matt … me ’n’ Matt, Li’l Britain …’ It was a constant bubbling in the background; he was fantastically focused.
Midway through the cruise the ship ran aground and ripped a hole in the hull. All the guests were taken off the vessel by lifeboats that evening, slowly chugging towards land as, behind us, the brightly lit cruise ship shifted further away. It’s a tad obvious to say it was like something from Titanic , but it was. After a couple of hours waiting on the dockside, David and I shared a cabin on a rough and ready overnight ferry to Athens and kept up our old queens act as we struggled to get to sleep on hard bunk beds in a tiny cell, obviously too close to the engine room for comfort. David would call out in the night from the bottom bunk, ‘Oh, My Rob! This constant pounding, it’s incessant – will it ever stop?’
When we eventually got back on the sister ship of the stricken original there were not enough cabins to go around so David and I said we’d share. Joining ship again at Athens, we were shown to our quarters by a smiling young stewardess who took us into the room and pointed to the beds, two singles pushed together to make a double. ‘Ooh, My Rob!’ squealed David with delight. Sometimes I would wake at night and make my way through the darkness to the loo, assuming David was asleep, until, mid-flow, I’d hear, ‘Ooh, My Rob!’
We had such a laugh together; each night before dinner I’d take a bath and he’d arrive in the bathroom with a glass of champagne, which he would hand over like an inappropriately intimate butler, a butler gone bad. In Athens we visited the Acropolis together, very Kenneth Williams and Joe Orton; then, on the island of Santorini, David, Steve, James and I rode donkeys from the port up the steep hill to the town, all the while David wailing like a demented Frankie Howerd, ‘Ooh, yes … well, hmm … It’s a big donkey, I’ll give it that …’
This trip was also the first time I’d met James Corden, an eager young pup of a boy, who loved to tag along with Steve, David and me and join in any banter that might arise, often starting it off himself
On location for Cruise of the Gods with James.
This was the first time I had met David Walliams, and we hit it off from the start; he was a very appealing combination of Frankie Howerd, Kenneth Williams and a Pet Shop Boy, making us all laugh as he minced around the ship, camping it up. He did something very funny, though it’s hard to explain. As he walked around a room he would reach out and touch various pieces of furniture – a table top, a door frame, a vase of flowers. It doesn’t sound like much, but it had me in stitches.
We began to form a little double act, two old queens cruising the seas in their retirement, one minute affectionately calling each other My David and My Rob (‘Ooh, My Rob’s enjoying that ice cream’ ‘My David’s loving it …’), the next bickering and mercilessly savaging each other in front of our fellow cast members (‘Ice cream? You don’t know the first thing about ice cream!’ ‘I’ll ice cream you in a minute!’ ‘I wish you would …’ ).
It’s not how it looks.
All the while that we were on the boat, David’s main topic of conversation was the pilot that he was going to be making with Matt Lucas once we got back to the UK. ‘Me ’n’ Matt are making a pilot of Li’l Britain … Li’l Britain , me ’n’ Matt … me ’n’ Matt, Li’l Britain …’ It was a constant bubbling in the background; he was fantastically focused.
Midway through the cruise the ship ran aground and ripped a hole in the hull. All the guests were taken off the vessel by lifeboats that evening, slowly chugging towards land as, behind us, the brightly lit cruise ship shifted further away. It’s a tad obvious to say it was like something from Titanic , but it was. After a couple of hours waiting on the dockside, David and I shared a cabin on a rough and ready overnight ferry to Athens and kept up our old queens act as we struggled to get to sleep on hard bunk beds in a tiny cell, obviously too close to the engine room for comfort. David would call out in the night from the bottom bunk, ‘Oh, My Rob! This constant pounding, it’s incessant – will it ever stop?’
When we eventually got back on the sister ship of the stricken original there were not enough cabins to go around so David and I said we’d share. Joining ship again at Athens, we were shown to our quarters by a smiling young stewardess who took us into the room and pointed to the beds, two singles pushed together to make a double. ‘Ooh, My Rob!’ squealed David with delight. Sometimes I would wake at night and make my way through the darkness to the loo, assuming David was asleep, until, mid-flow, I’d hear, ‘Ooh, My Rob!’
We had such a laugh together; each night before dinner I’d take a bath and he’d arrive in the bathroom with a glass of champagne, which he would hand over like an inappropriately intimate butler, a butler gone bad. In Athens we visited the Acropolis together, very Kenneth Williams and Joe Orton; then, on the island of Santorini, David, Steve, James and I rode donkeys from the port up the steep hill to the town, all the while David wailing like a demented Frankie Howerd, ‘Ooh, yes … well, hmm … It’s a big donkey, I’ll give it that …’
This trip was also the first time I’d met James Corden, an eager young pup of a boy, who loved to tag along with Steve, David and me and join in any banter that might arise, often starting it off himself
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