Johnny and the Bandit I grew up with the skiffle artists of the 50s such as the Vipers and Lonnie Donegan. You could play most of the songs if you had a guitar, so we formed a band: Johnny and the Bandit. That sort of music was banned at my school, so we had to practise in the changing rooms. The acoustics were good because it was quite echoey. We had a couple of guitars, a banjo and even a washboard. I was the singer. We thought we were the business. Plus, we were doing something illegal, which made it even more exciting. Our music master still encouraged us because he saw these kids – who hadn’t shown much interest in classical music – suddenly playing musical instruments. Eventually, things loosened up and we got to play at a parents’ concert. We did House of the Rising Sun by the Animals, about the red light district of New Orleans, and we were banned again. How we suffered for our art. Jacques Tati in Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot There were two cinemas in Epsom, the Odeon and the Granada, so we always got the big films. I loved Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; I thought he was absolutely riveting. I loved Jimmy Stewart in It’s a Wonderful Life; the everyman, struggling alone against impossible odds. I was fascinated by the movies. I thought it would be the most amazing thing to be up on that screen, telling these stories. When I was very young, my parents would leave me at Saturday morning shows to see comics like Charlie Chaplin, but I didn’t find them very funny. I loved The Goon Show on the BBC Home Service. When I was 11 or 12, I saw this French comedy, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot with Jacques Tati. I thought he was hilarious. He was a comedy genius who left a trail of destruction wherever he went. I owe a lot of my comedy to him. The Argyle Theatre for Youth I was fascinated by accents. I had a facility for impersonating people and was always trying to show off. I wasn’t an A-level student; I wanted to get out on the road as soon as possible. But everybody put me off, saying – quite rightly – that acting its very insecure with lots of rejection. So I became articled to an estate agents, a nice steady job where you studied while gaining practical experience. Sitting in an office in the middle of Surrey for six months bored me to tears, and eventually I got sacked. I answered an advertisement in the Stage and ran away with the Argyle Theatre for Youth. Five of us crammed into this little blue van with lights, costumes and a pop-up theatre. We toured the country doing Pinocchio and The Nightingale at two schools a day. I didn’t live anywhere for years because we were always out on the road, but it suited me. I loved being able to muck about doing silly characters and get paid for it. Tom Graveney The other thing I was quite good at school was sport. I had good hand-eye coordination and was in all the school teams. I was a big Arsenal supporter from the age of five and I loved cricket. My hero was Tom Graveney. He had a big peak on his cap and stood casually cross-legged at the crease. He just had a wonderful style and artistic flow to his batting. I was born in Bristol, so we shared a West Country connection. A relation of my grandfather took to me to see him play for Gloucestershire, where he scored a lot of runs. I just latched on to him, like he was my man. I was taken to meet him afterwards and was completely speechless. I used to sit and watch him on the telly, but I was so full of that childish desperation for him to succeed that I couldn’t bear watching these horrid bowlers – my enemies – trying to get him out. At school, I tried to emulate him, something I succeeded more in style than I did by scoring runs. I could be out for nought – but quite attractively. Very early Rolling Stones The Rolling Stones were the house band from 1963-64 at the Crawdaddy Club in Richmond, south-west London. I went with a chum of mine. It was packed and boiling hot. These oiks came out and did American blues covers such as Chuck Berry. It was just electrifying. The next year, I was doing repertory theatre in Kidderminster and saw them again. People were throwing themselves from the balcony. They were just amazing. Many years later, I took the wife to see Bill Wyman’s Rhythm Kings. Someone clocked me and said: “Mr Wyman would like to meet you backstage.” Apparently he was a big fan of Only Fools and Horses, but I was completely starstruck. Ronnie Wood wanted to meet me. The Stones played at a big football ground in the US in the 90s. I went into the hospitality area. Charlie Watts walked in and went: “What are you doing here?” I’ve never met Richards or Jagger, but at least I’ve met the rhythm section. The Ten Days of Christmas by Rentaflop I wanted to be a lead guitarist – I’m still waiting for the Stones to call. I would love to have made a century at Lord’s. I could have been a decent soccer player, but I was too lazy. Acting just seemed within me. I joined the repertory theatre and wrote a couple of comedy sketches for the revues. Writing is hard work, even though I’ve managed two autobiographies and two novels. At the Royal Shakespeare Company in the 60s, I met this fellow actor called Andrew Jack. He had a similar lunatic sense of humour and we recorded the worst record of all time, The Ten Days of Christmas by Rentaflop – that was just full of ridiculous noises: “a quack quack in a pear tree”. Kenny Everett played us on Radio 1 and described us as “a real granny frightener”, and we got to be on telly even though we were dreadful. I’ve been very lucky with my acting. I’ve just been doing this DVD – Boycie in Belgrade – about why Only Fools and Horses is so popular in that part of the world. Belgrade has been attacked from left and right, but the people are still very entrepreneurial. Everyone’s trying to make a living, so they identify with Del Boy especially. He never gives up and I think that’s very inspiring, especially after everything the people of Serbia and the rest of what used to be Yugoslavia have been through.