Sweep Tells It Like It Is
Warning - May Contain Hot Takes
“What’s Sooty like, then?” is the question I get most of the time. If the truth be
told, we never mix, apart from the odd drink after the show. There are many
reasons why this is so: the fact we’re totally different people being one; and
secondly, the fact he’s a massive showbusiness arsehole with this – “this” much
talent. The fucker doesn’t even speak, and he gets paid double the rest of the
cast. This much talent. You’ll have to excuse me, I had a bottle of wine with my
dinner earlier on, and I went on somewhere afterwards. Fuck it.
My downtime is very important to me. I have many hobbies which help me
unwind when I’m not being squirted by that furry yellow cunt with a water
pistol. I’m a big wrestling fan – if Wrestlemania’s in town – I’m ON it. The way
they chuck themselves around the ring reminds me of the way Harry Corbett
used to deal with producers who dared question his piss-poor, Sooty-heavy
Many of my showbiz colleagues such as Jamie Redknapp, Chris Evans and
Sooty spend their spare time on the golf course. It’s birdie this, bogey that and
19th hole for a cheeky pint. Absolute wankers, the lot of them. “A good walk
spoilt”, said Mark Twain. Fucking too right. If I had my way all golf courses
would be mined.
Oh, and please, enough of all the “these pro-celebrity golf tournaments do a lot
for charity”. Just set up a direct debit for the charity or put your hand in your
pocket and put the money in a tin. That way we don’t have to endure Tony
Jacklin and what’s his name off the Onedin Line having a laugh and joke on the
11th green. Sooty was always getting asked to appear in these things – fuck
sakes, even Butch got asked to do one. They must’ve been desperate. One
moment Butch is drinking light bitter with all the hairy arsed bastards in the local boozer, the next he’s on the golf course dressed like a white pimp,
and swapping quips with Tom O’Connor. The fucking sell-out. As a result of this
fall from grace, I gave all those Sham 69 albums Butch lent me to a jumble sale.
However, there are some people in the business I do have a good relationship
with. I have a lot in common with Ramsbottom – we spend a lot of time
together pursuing our passion for real ale. We’ve both been members of
CAMRA for over thirty years. The best thing about attending beer festivals is
the fact no matter how many people are queuing to get served, the moment they see Ramsbottom, they disappear in a flash. The fact he’s a scary looking fuck does help sometimes.
Ramsbottom isn’t poisonous in the traditional sense of the word. What you see
is what you get with Ramsbottom (a scary 9-foot Python). He can hurt people’s
feelings, not to mention crush your windpipe in 15 seconds. During the show’s
production, he’s been known to make grown techs cry. In one take, our last
sound man didn’t pick out his trademark “SSSSsssssssssssSSSSSSSSS!”, and
the poor lad got a proper bollocking from him. But for all the stories
surrounding Ramsbottom such as the time he got drunk in the French House and
called Lucian Freud a “cunt” for “doing my head in with those horrible
paintings of old geezer’s saggy balls”, he’s a good snake - a snake with
principles. Which ironically isn’t what I can say for some bears who are fucking
snakes. Mentioning no names.
I got wind of the fact that Soo and her partner had thrown one of her
“legendary” dinner parties the other day. I can safely say it wasn’t as
“legendary” as the time I was invited around a couple of years ago. I turned up
with a young lady friend (Candy) who’s a dancer in a club Ramsbottom and
myself used to frequent. I was a bit worse for wear, it must be said. It didn’t
help that His Highness was sat at the head of the table, with his stuck-up missus
(a New York performance artist). I went to see one of her shows once (on
sufferance). It consisted of her sitting on her head, humming the Stars & Stripes whilst footage of the Vietnam War played in a loop on a screen in the
background. Time Out gave it Five Stars, I gave it a swerve and buggered off to
The Coach & Horses after 25 minutes (the fucking thing went on for 4 hours).
To cut a long story short, the dinner party came to a premature end when Butch
threw up over Sooty’s Pound Shop Yoko (Saki and Pedigree Chum do not mix).
Of course, Soo goes totally ape and chucks us all out, even poor old
Ramsbottom who was busy taking a crap and had nothing to do with the resulting
Showbusiness, hey – dontcha just love it.
- Sweep is currently appearing in Run for Your Wife at the Battersea Arts