Chuckle Brothers star Paul says Barry contacts him from beyond the grave in dreams

In the midst of the Yorkshire countryside, in an old farm house filled to the brim with retro games, merchandise and trinkets, Paul Chuckle settles down to chat with us, cosied up in a woolly jumper and a pair of fleeced slippers, while his beloved wife of 31 years, Sue, brings in plates of biscuits and mugs of tea.

It’s a subdued atmosphere at first, as Paul is looking through old photographs of himself with older brother and best friend Barry, his lifelong stage partner, who died 15 months ago from bone cancer.

He is adamant that talking about death has helped with his healing.

‘Over the years, I’ve had quite a bit of practice when it comes to opening up,’ he says earnestly.

‘My wife and I lost a three-month-old baby girl back in 1975, that was absolute agony.’

‘Ten years after that I lost my dad, 15 years later my mum passed away, then my sister Shelia, brother Colin, then Barry, and a few months ago [brother and fellow actor] Jimmy Patton.’

‘It gets easier to talk about each time, but it’s unbearable if you keep it locked inside.’

‘Death is an awful thing.’

‘And grief physically hurts.’

‘We need to be as open as possible.’

Working solely with his brother Barry for over 50 years, the pair were always in stitches and told each other everything.

But when it came to his illness, Barry decided to make that the one piece of information he didn’t share.

‘I had no idea he was ill until six weeks before he passed.’

‘For a few years he had pain down one leg, but he said the doctors had told him it was nothing more than sciatica.’

‘I went to pick him up to go and film a sketch, and his wife Ann was helping him out of the door.’

‘He had a walking stick and looked 95 years old.’

‘At the station, he couldn’t get out of the car, so I said, “Baz, we better cancel – if the paparazzi get pictures of you like this they’ll have a field day.”’

‘He agreed and went home, and the next day Ann called me and said he couldn’t get out of bed.’

‘I said sciatica shouldn’t do that, that’s when she said, “I think there’s something he hasn’t told you.”’

‘She passed the phone over and he told me he had bone cancer.’

‘He never walked again.’

‘We filmed a few last voiceover jobs at his home with him in a wheelchair, and within three weeks he was dead,’ Paul says in disbelief.

Despite talking about a heartbreaking loss, Paul is warm, welcoming and continually tries to make us smile throughout our chat.

Everywhere you look is some kind of memory of Barry.

A BAFTA for the brothers’ iconic TV work sits pride of place in the hall, photos of the pair meeting the royals, on holiday as kids and as teens playing football are on every surface – even the coasters in the living room are Chuckle Brothers-themed.

Paul’s beloved brother is cherished every day.

‘He’s been in so many of my dreams since he passed, and I believe in the afterlife – it’s comforting he’s contacting me that way.’

He smiles, ‘I talk about the good times with Sue, so I’m not just being upset, missing him.’

‘He wanted to work up until the end and he did it.’

‘I just miss those laughs we had on stage.’

‘I can’t fathom that we’ll never have that laugh together anymore.’

He had a completely unregrettable life.’

‘A brilliant ride.’

‘We had a ball.’

It all began for the brothers when Paul was just 15 and Barry 18.

Having dreamt of making it in football, he joined Barry on the comedy circuit following a bad accident aged 14 that wrecked his sporting ambitions.

It was then that they hit the big time, and the pair had to grow up fast.

‘In 1963, when I was 19, we played a show with Dorothy Squires, who was a huge name at the time,’ he says proudly.

‘But I was so young, I’d never even heard a woman swear before.’

‘Well, more bad language than you can imagine was pouring out of her mouth,’ Paul explains, shaking his head as wife Sue overhears what he’s said and scolds him.

‘Oh, I can say that, Sue, she’s long gone,’ he laughs.

Fast-forward to many successful years on the club circuit and a long reign as Butlin’s Redcoats, the boys then won Opportunity Knocks in 1967, which put them on the map.

Fast-forward again to 1987 and the now-iconic ChuckleVision started on BBC1, running for 22 years, and at the height of its popularity was shown three times a day.

‘You know what that is?’

Overkill!’

‘That’s brainwashing kids,’ laughs Paul.

‘How many “to me, to yous” would that be per day?’ he jokes, referencing the pair’s iconic catchphrase.

The fandom reached an all-time high in the 90s, and with that the brothers’ lives completely changed, leaving them unable to go anywhere without being spotted.

To this day, their legacy lives on, with Paul even having to flee as far as China after Barry’s death to avoid seeing anyone who knew him.

‘We have so many great fans, but the worst thing that can happen when someone close to you dies is somebody putting their arms around you.’

‘If they hugged me, it set me off.’

‘But Barry was so soft with the fans, he loved them.’

‘He’d let them backstage to say hello to everyone in the dressing room,’ he laughs.

‘We had one girl who followed us everywhere.’

‘She’d cornered Barry outside and asked if she could come inside to say hello to me.’

‘Next thing I know, she’s in my dressing room asking Sue to shift so she can sit next to me.’

‘Sue went to the loo and the second she’d gone, she’d pinched her seat and was beside me, filming me on her phone!’

Paul’s become streetwise when it comes to dealing with slightly more obsessive admirers.

‘Crikey, you do have to be careful,’ he says, taking a sip of his tea.

‘I mean, John Lennon was shot by one.’

‘Some lads got hold of my phone number and were ringing me drunk at four in the morning, shouting, “To me, to you!”’

‘I just kept hanging up, but eventually I had to change my number.’

‘It was a really good one and easy to remember too.’

‘Now I have two phones, like a drug dealer.’

‘But you can’t upset these people for fear they’re going to come and shoot you one day.’

Showing us through his photograph collection, we spot some records in his living room.

Paul is thrilled to have found a passion in a new solo venture – DJing.

‘Sue and I have always been clubbers for as long as we’ve been together,’ he explains.

‘I always fancied being in a rock band, and this is the closest thing to it.’

‘I love all the club bangers, it’s the music I listen to at home.’

‘Fatboy Slim and Dizzee Rascal are favourites.’

‘I go and see them live and get down at the front with everybody else.’

‘I’ve seen Lily Allen and other stars in the crowds dancing with me and they all act completely starstruck.’

‘They call me a legend, it’s mad,’ he adds with a smile.

Some other people who think Paul is a legend are his four sons – one of whom, Paul Jnr, 29, even got a tattoo of his famous dad’s face on his leg last year.

‘I love it, but Sue hates tattoos,’ he smirks.

‘I think I’ve embarrassed them over the years, but I know I’m a great dad.’

‘And I’m an even greater grandad,’ he beams, revealing a cushion he’s perched on that says, ‘Reserved for the world’s best grandad’.

‘Sue always wanted a little girl to dress up like a doll and now we have two granddaughters, so she’s very pleased!’

‘Harder to bring up than boys, mind you,’ he says, shaking his head.

‘But they are lovely and I am officially the world’s best grandad.’

As we get ready to leave, Paul explains he’s in rehearsals for his 52nd panto, and despite absolutely loving performing, Christmas will always be hard without Barry.

‘His birthday is Christmas Eve and every year we did panto together.’

‘On his special day, I’d get the whole audience to sing to him.’

‘So when it came to last year, on the finale, with no birthday singing, I had a tear in my eye,’ he tells us sadly.

‘Barry wanted to make people laugh until he died – he wanted to die on stage like Tommy Cooper.’

‘But he really did bring joy right up until the end, and I’ll do my best to honour him and achieve amazing things – I could even be the next James Bond,’ he exclaims with a grin.

‘And to be honest, although I’ll miss him forever, I’m glad he wasn’t here to see Rotherham FC relegated in April,’ he says, booming with laughter.

And with that, we think the brother’s ability to shine light, even in the darkest times, will never end. ■

How do you spend your Sunday?

■ Lie-in or early riser?

It depends if I’ve been DJing the night before.

I need my eight hours, so if I have to get up at midday, so be it.

I’m grumpy without my sleep.

■ Healthy breakfast or a fry-up?

I have a nice cleansing bacon butty.

Very healthy.

And I like an omelette sandwich.

One egg, whipped up, flip it over, in between bread and butter, heaven.

Very good for you.

■ Lunch out or roast at home?

We don’t usually have lunch.

We have dinner about teatime.

I do most of the cooking, I’m a bit of a chef.

Garlic lamb served on a bed of onions and potatoes is my speciality.

It’s gorgeous with loads of gravy.

■ Chores or relaxing?

I relax after work.

I’ve been very busy with all the Freshers’ Week gigs.

Sue has all the washing and ironing to do when we’re back after DJ tours – she always comes with me, so she’s never resting.

But I do the cooking.

■ TV or papers?

Rubbish TV please.

Gold Rush is my guilty pleasure, and I watch it on an endless loop, which drives Sue mad.

She loves the Women Who Kill series and crime documentaries…

I need to watch my back!

– Marie Curie can help you think, talk and plan for the end of life. It’s never too soon, until it’s too late. Visit Mariecurie.org.uk/talkabout to find ideas and tools to help you get started, or call the Marie Curie Support Line free on 0800 090 2309.