My Dad died in 1988. I think. I was in my second year at University. It may have been 1989.
In 1996 I was going through one of those phases where I was trying to make money by getting letters published in fatuous magazines and I remembered a letter I had read in The Sun when I was a child. (We used to have The Sun delivered to our house when I was a child. Imagine that.) So I sent my version of that letter in to Take a Break with a picture of my father clowning around.
My letter was published and I was very pleased.
That is my father. He looks like Syd Little.
My father’s name, incidentally, was not Joe. My father’s name was Leslie. On the whole he was a bit of an arse – drunk, paranoid, frightened and angry. But – it has to be said – he did have his moments.