Unlike the bulk of the crowd at Morecambe, I don't have every punchline memorised. I stress this to alert tourists who may know even less than I did, and to point out that the play works on its own merits as a portrait of an artist - albeit one that's more hagiography than warts-and-all.
Directed by the redoubtable Guy Masterson and starring Bob Golding, this magnificent work took us from Morecambe's earliest forays onstage - pushed by his mum - up to his death. The emotions were as wide-ranging as the story: I laughed and cried. That's an achievement, since very often when watching plays I wonder: "Why must they be so bloody dramatic about it all?"
Instead, I was sucked in - behind the scenes at variety performances, into the rehearsal rooms, and most grippingly, out on to a dark, terrifying highway during Morecambe's first major coronary - a scene so vivid that I feared for Golding's life.
He deserves combat pay for portraying a national treasure whose post heart-attack return to the stage prompted a four-minute standing ovation. In addition to dancing, singing and acting his socks off as the eponymous lead, he breathes life into Eric's mum, partner Ernie Wise (with the help of a ventriloquist's dummy), and a range of agents and co-stars.
The most touching element of Tim Whitnall's stellar script is that it pays tribute to Wise, and to the pair's close friendship. Having adopted musketeer-style rules - one for all and all for one - early on, they stuck to them. When Eric was unable to work Ernie still rigorously split his earnings straight up the line.
You could quibble that it's an overly rosy picture, but for all that, this nuanced show doesn't insult your intelligence.
