The hearse was just pulling in to Rotherham United’s football ground when the first cry rang out. “To me!” shouted one woman. “To you,” yelled another. Inside one of the funeral cars, Paul Elliott, better known as Paul Chuckle, sat silently, head bowed. His brother Barry was dead, and along with it a lifelong comedy partnership, the Chuckle Brothers.
Among the mourners was Tommy Cannon. One half of Cannon and Ball, he knows how special it is to be part of a double act. “Losing Barry will be like losing an arm for Paul,” he said. “If I’m ever doing anything without Bobby [Ball] I’m always looking around to see where he is.”
Paul (the tall one) didn’t even know Barry was ill until just before he died of bone cancer this month. Barry didn’t tell him because he knew he’d cancel their gigs and stop filming a new Channel 5 show, their first mainstream TV gig since the end of ChuckleVision in 2009. “He wanted to die on stage like Tommy Cooper,” Paul told ITV’s This Morning. “He just loved working and making people laugh.”
The funeral began with Roberta Flack’s The First Time, before tributes from Brian, an older Elliott brother, and two friends, Nick Thomas and Tony Peers. Barry’s coffin was carried back out to the sound of Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones.
Vicki Michelle, best known as Yvette, the saucy French waitress in ’Allo ’Allo!, had come up to pay her respects. She met Barry in panto and has fond memories of the after-show parties. “Paul didn’t come out with us much but Barry always did. Once we went to a club and he was boogying on down,” she recalled.
The comedian Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown passed reporters, swearing too much for the broadcasters as he made a gag about Paul now only being able to say “to me, to me”.
Around 300 members of the public braved the South Yorkshire drizzle to remember Barry Chuckle, who died on 5 August. Barbara Gamston was perhaps the oldest fan to have made the journey. She arrived on her mobility scooter, garlanded with a sign she had made on Friday morning.
“To a Yorkshire lad from a Yorkshire lass. Goodbye from me to you,” she had written in a wobbly marker, before adding a smattering of emoji stickers. With 59 great-grandchildren, 28 grandchildren and seven children, she has watched many episodes of ChuckleVision over the years with her offspring. “They’re always saying the catchphrases. ‘To you, nan’, ‘To me, nan’.”
Every day for the past two years, 10-year-old Alfie Whatmore has been getting his daily Chuckle fix, despite being born after ChuckleVision was sent to the TV graveyard by BBC bosses.
He contracted the Chuckle bug two years ago when his parents, Claire, 47, and Peter, 46, took him to see a panto in Wolverhampton. Alfie was immediately hooked. “I just find them such an inspiration,” he said solemnly, having made the journey up from Birmingham in a Chuckle Brothers T-shirt.
Not a church person, Barry’s funeral was held at Rotherham’s New York stadium, home to his beloved football team. Along with his brother, he was made honorary life president in 2007 and never forgot the day the club let them film an episode of ChuckleVision at their old stadium.
(The plot revolved around the brothers ending up on the pitch after being confused for players Ronnie Moore and Tony Towner. Paul scored a glorious header after receiving a perfect cross from Barry, only to learn they were playing in the wrong direction and it was an own goal.)
The funeral was private, with fans invited to line the streets outside the grounds. Rhona Hampton, 65, was with her husband, daughter and three grandchildren. “It’s family viewing,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about the kids hearing something naughty.”
Though the brothers did include the odd joke for grownups, they were always safe before the watershed: Barry waggling his hand and then saying it was “Sooty in the nude” was as risque as it got.
Later in life the duo sometimes felt their niceness held them back. Barry once said he’d have liked to do Celebrity Big Brother but after initial discussions producers never called them back. “I think they thought we weren’t nasty enough,” he said. Too nice for reality TV? No finer compliment.
