Sweet Charity

Charity is a funny thing. I mean it’s serious and all that, but it can raise a laugh too can’t it? When I was a student I stood, very woozily, outside Buchanan Street Bus Station having missed my last bus and started singing “Show Me The Way To Go Home”. A polite lady gave me fifty pence for a coffee and told me I needed to find God. Unfortunately she didn’t tell me which bus route he was on but her heart was in the right place.

We’ve just finished Help For Heroes, and now Children In Need is upon us. Then it will be filling shoe boxes for needy families at Christmas and New Year haggis collections for Burns night. It’s serious and it’s necessary, but it’s bound to make you laugh at some point too.

Doing Help For Heroes last week on the radio I was struck by how much ego had been left at the door by the stars. There were no agents, managers, bodyguards, tax advisors or tipped off paparazzi, so I was hugely disappointed that my new suit, sunglasses and tinted make up went unnoticed.

Some stars sat in their cars outside drinking coffee from a paper cup because there was no room in our packed reception area for them, Ronan Keating hung around for ages signing autographs, Gary Kemp of Spandau Ballet filled in magnificently for singer Tony Hadley who was stuck in a jam, and Jimmy Tarbuck dashed to a phone when he encountered traffic and called in pledging a round of golf for the auction.

Lee Mead meanwhile encountered nothing more alarming than my cheek but he complied willingly when I asked him to embarrass himself and share the warm up exercises he does before going on stage. However when I questioned whether he and Denise van Outen were having kids yet he said No, they were still practising. Next morning the papers had the announcement that a baby is on the way. I’ll kill him next time I see him.

Michael Bolton’s assistant told him and me that her boyfriend, who is ex army, saw some terrible things in Afghanistan and sometimes wakens up shaking. Aware that the conversation was getting heavy Michael lightened it perfectly by saying “and you thought it was foreplay?”.

I’ve hosted Telethons and it’s always the same. After coming off air, the euphoria evaporates and tiredness hits like quick drying liquid cement being poured over your head. As the Telethons lasted twenty seven hours and I was the only constant while everyone else did shifts, I watched enviously as they all headed off to a huge party while I drove home to my bed, once ending up an embankment after falling asleep at the wheel. After Help For Heroes, the boss gave us a beer. I sat all the way home on the train smiling, singing to myself like all those years ago at the bus station, and generally feeling like Dean Martin at Happy Hour. For all I know the beer may have been almost non alcoholic, but it was enough.

Next morning, feeling rough and looking unshaved and dishevelled, I was stopped at the station by a woman with a charity tin. “I’m collecting for underprivileged kids - you know the ones that won’t get any presents this Christmas.” I put my hand in my pocket but couldn’t find any change, same in my bag and wallet. I must have looked a pauper. “If you like I can put you in touch with the charity”, she said. Whether this was to make a later donation or to ask for help with my kids’ Christmas, she didn’t make clear.

In the past I’ve been punched at Children In Need by angry parents because their kids couldn’t get on telly, I’ve been threatened and I’ve been pushed and shoved by people desperate to get in the camera shot during Telethons, but I still maintain charity is funny.

A few years ago I was rushing to meet my parents after picking up a charity cheque back home when I was stopped by a drunk Glaswegian who recognised me and asked how I was doing. With bad grace, and a lack of charity, I said “fine” through gritted teeth and I then asked how he was doing. Back came the answer “mind your own blo*dy business”.

I laughed for hours afterwards, as I have after every charity fundraiser I’ve been involved with. I leave with the euphoria of knowing that people want to do good, that they’re having fun, and that they make me laugh.

Charity is a funny thing.