WITH his smart suits, shiny shoes, caddish air and old-fashioned repartee, Bruce Forsyth is the last surviving member of the league of dapper English gentlemen. But if he craves to be called Sir by anyone other than the Strictly Come Dancing minions,
the chat show host will have to wait at least another six months for the honour.
Despite a 5,000-strong petition calling for him to be knighted and bookmakers were offering odds of two to one on it happening, the man with the world's most famous TV chin (he beats Jimmy Hill to the top spot by a dimple) last week had to sit back and watch much younger talents, such as cyclist Chris Hoy and sci-fi writer Terry Pratchett receive the accolade many believe he so richly deserves.
With a 65-year career, three marriages, six children and a CBE behind him, you could be forgiven for thinking Forsyth should rest up and enjoy retirement, playing his beloved golf on the Virginia Water course near his home on the Wentworth Estate in Surrey. Instead, at the age of 80, he is still capable of hosting the jewel in the crown of the BBC's Saturday night schedule and is arguably as popular as he was in his 1970s heyday.
Admittedly there are those who carp, who claim he sometimes fluffs lines or misses a cue and others who feel his suave arrogance and chauvinistic asides are anachronistic. There were even rumours, this year, that he was being forced out of SCD because of his age (he responded with a variation on one of his catchphrases: "I am not doddery: doddery I am – Not.")
But to rework an act based on music hall smarm and cheesy one-liners for a knowing 21st-century audience – and then sustaining it in the face of growing frailty – is surely an achievement worth acknowledging; a feat that compensates for all those dodgy toupees. Certainly, that was the position of Alfreda Pearson, who created the petition: "I have been entertained by Bruce Forsyth for 50 years and myself and everyone else I know is mystified by the fact dozens of inferior musicians and entertainers have received knighthoods over the last 15 to 20 years while this family entertainer... has been overlooked," she said. Her sentiments were echoed by the signatories and the 15,000 fans who joined the Give Bruce Forsyth a Knighthood group on Facebook.
The nation's affection for Forsyth is principally founded on nostalgia. To anyone brought up in the Seventies, he was the face of Saturday night television. For more than a decade The Generation Game – which pitched families against each other as they struggled to use a potter's wheel or ice a cake – occupied that hallowed territory between Doctor Who and Morecambe And Wise. The mere mention of one of Forsyth's catchphrases – "Let's have a look at the scores on the doors" – is enough to summon memories of TV dinners and screaming "cuddly toy" at the screen as contestants struggled to remember the prizes on the conveyor belt.
Not that Brucie didn't have his foibles, a penchant for women half his age being chief among them. In 1973, he left Penny Calvert, his wife of 20 years, for Anthea "Give us a twirl" Redfern, then 20, whom he met at a Miss Lovely Legs competition. She became his co-host on The Generation Game, and then his wife, but they split up in 1979. A year later, he met and fell in love with Wilnelia Merced, a model and fellow judge in the 1980 Miss World competition, who was 24. Despite universal scepticism, their union has survived. And such is Forsyth's ability to draw people to him, his large and unconventional family muddles along together, with his five daughters, one son and two ex-wives often attending functions together.
Forsyth's real talent, though, is for survival: while many of his peers – Les Dawson and Jimmy Tarbuck, for example – struggled to fit into a world dominated by alternative comedians, he never really disappeared from our screens. Although for much of the late 1990s he was relegated to afternoon slots, and – in 1999 – he was devastated when Play Your Cards Right was axed, Forsyth rose like a phoenix in 2003 to guest host the satirical show Have I Got News For You and claim his place back on primetime TV.
There are those who would say that's just as well, since Forsyth seems to exist solely for showbusiness. Born in north Edmonton, London, he knew he wanted to dance from the age of eight when he saw Fred Astaire on screen, and he was utterly determined. "As soon as I got home from school, I'd take the carpet up because there was lino underneath and I'd tap away," he has said. His parents, though not in the business, were musical and supported him, paying for and transporting him to lessons in Brixton. By the age of 14, he was touring the country's provincial theatres as Boy Bruce, the Mighty Atom. Black and white photos show him in a smart blazer, with shiny buttons, playing the banjo.
Those early years were clouded by the death of his brother John, an RAF pilot who was posted missing after his plane went down in a training exercise over Scotland. Despite this, Forsyth kept plying his trade, working his way up from the small theatres to the Moss Empires. It wasn't until 1958, however, that he got his break, compering BBC's Saturday Night At The London Palladium. He was an overnight success, and his first-ever catchphrase "I'm in charge" was soon being repeated all over the country. His sudden fame allowed him to top the bill at every theatre and to star at the country's premier nightspot, The Talk of the Town.
But it is as the debonair host of The Generation Game – a role he filled between 1971-77 and reprised in the early 1990s – that most people remember him: his egotism, kipper ties and eye for the ladies, making him a perfect fit for the decade. Forsyth had his own distinctive OTT style, which he carried over to other shows such as Play Your Cards Right and The Price Is Right, and which made him a target for many a professional and amateur impressionist. Long before Anne Robinson abused guests on The Weakest Link, Forsyth was mocking his contestants, albeit less offensively.
When his star waned, Forsyth was content to make shows for other, less prestigious channels, such as UKTV Gold, so long as he was performing. Now Strictly Come Dancing has given him a new lease of life, which he is reluctant to relinquish. Relying on a flask of Complan to stop his energy levels from flagging, Forsyth is the dictionary definition of a trouper. A knighthood may have eluded him so far (although he has received a Bafta Academy Fellowship Award as well as the CBE). But if honours were decided like the SCD contest – by public vote – then there is no doubt Forsyth would be a Sir several times over.
Catchphrases from The Generation Game – "Nice to see you, to see you, nice"; "Didn't he do well?" and "I'm in charge" – have all featured in The Oxford Dictionary Of 20th Century Quotations.
• "I think Judi Dench might get me a part as a Bond villain. I think I would be a good villain." Forsyth on his 007 ambitions.
• When Forsyth married Wilnelia Merced in 1983, her mother gave him two pointed wedding gifts: a detailed letter instructing him on how to look after her daughter and a book called The Fountain Of Youth on the exercise routine of Nepalese monks. Every morning since he has spent 30 minutes each day doing Tibetan stretches.
• Forsyth tap-danced so much in his house as a teenager that his father made him a special mat to muffle the noise.
• The game show host has an antipathy towards rock music but is a big fan of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, above.
