Roy Hudd- a gentleman and showbiz entertainer par excellence.

Roy Hudd- a gentleman and showbiz entertainer par excellence.

Roy Hudd, who today died at the age of 83, was the quiet man of showbusiness, a man with no airs or graces, no skeletons in any cupboard and no hidden agenda. For well over 60 years Hudd trod the boards of some of Britain's grandest and oldest music halls and theatres with his very unique and distinctive style.

He was, by turns, extremely funny, charming, sharply observant, irreverent at times, full of occasional end of pier seaside innuendo, witty asides and overflowing with tales of fellow professionals, capturing the absurdities of the era with wonderfully measured gags about politics and politicians. There was a salty flavour about Hudd's sense of humour which never really deserted him and by the time the 1950s  had become the second decade of the 21st century, Hudd was still biting, acerbic and garrulously gossipy.

Above all though Hudd will always be remembered for the long running BBC Radio 2 Sunday lunchtime programme the News Huddlines, a perfect vehicle for a man of Hudd's rich seam of many talents. Accompanied by the always enchanting June Whitfield, Roy Hudd was never short of a humorous remark about everything and anything, his finger on the pulse of all the latest news developments and the giddy 1960s pop culture that surrounded him almost constantly./

But it was his encyclopaedic knowledge of the music hall, old comedians and comediennes that set him apart from his peers. He would think nothing of holding court on the likes of the great, old time comics such as Will Hay, Max Miller, the inimitable Flanagan and Allen with their unforgettable Underneath the Arches and most of the more modern contemporaries who had done so much tickle his funny bone as well.

During the 1970s Hudd was a frequent guest on the BBC's glorious The Good Old Days, a variety show that wallowed in Victorian nostalgia, insisting that the whole audience to join in with jaunty versions of music hall songs in the costume of that period. Hudd's infectious smile and jolly hockey sticks routine endeared him fully to his vast network of admirers. Hudd had a natural rapport with his fans that spanned four decades before age rapidly mellowed him.

There was a gentle and inoffensive naughtiness about Hudd's comedy that could be considered as quite definitely politically incorrect in the modern era. Hudd was mischievous, impudent, cutting at times but never outrageous. Frequently taking the role of wartime comedian Bud Flanagan, Hudd loved to stroll across the stage with the Flanagan coat and hat as if it were something he was destined to do on stage.

Naturally Hudd fondly indulged himself in frequent trips down memory lane, wartime reminiscences that seemed to flood from his act like a warm tap of beer that spills over a pub pint. Hudd would often talk about his parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles with all the affection that he could muster. There were references to the Blitz, the pounding that London had taken by Hitler and the Luftwaffe and the Anderson shelter that his family would always retreat to when the guns were at their loudest and bombs were raining down from the war scarred skies.

Hudd, Croydon born, continued to entertain Britain through bleakness and triumph, jubilation and disaster. Throughout the News Huddlines, Hudd would never take life seriously and always see the lighter side of life even when it all looked as if the darker shades would drag everybody into the ground.

With the passing of Roy Hudd, Britain has not only lost one of its upright gentlemen but a man for all seasons. Hudd was never seen stumbling out of seedy nightclubs, a man of courtesy and dignity, a showman who deeply respected the manners of the day and believed quite fervently that the audience who had come along to see him should never ever be disappointed. The world of showbusiness story tellers has lost one of its more cherished friends.