Spike: An Intimate Memoir

I'm really glad I read this one. Not because of the style of writing (because although it's easy to read I do feel it's missing a bit of polish, not that that's important given the subject matter) and not even because of the sensational goings-on inside, but because I now feel I have a balanced view of Spike Milligan after years of straight admiration for his work. Now I can temper my appreciation for his talents with an understanding of the utter hell that those close to him endured to allow those talents to be exercised. I came away feeling he was a lively, cheeky, sharp-witted, dangerously sensitive and desperately unhappy man. He loved his wives but couldn't live with them, maintained an extensive 'harem' and suffered from depression so vicious he locked himself in his office for days at a time and voluntarily underwent electro-shock therapy. What he would have done without his manager of 30 years, Norma Farnes, I don't know. It doesn't seem that he would have lasted as long as he did.

It highlights too the incredible difference between lovers and friends. Friends can, at the same time, offer you unconditional love and tell you when you're being a pratt, as Norma did - but they can go home at the end of the day and then you're someone else's problem. Passionate love is something else entirely - and part of the pay-off for that intense connection with someone is having to be there when the shit has hit the fan. You can, perhaps, shield your friends from some of your deeper insecurities or more horrible habits, but not your lovers - or your family, for that matter - and there's the distinction. You can only be on your best behaviour for so long! Perhaps you can survive on friends alone but life is best when someone can tolerate your awful bits for the sake of loving your good ones. We need both kinds of love to prosper.