My favourite author or book
It’s a toss-up between Hans Fallada and Jim Thompson. If you’ve read Fallada’s Alone in Berlin you’ll know how good a writer he is. If you haven’t, then please do. His description of the old couple imprisoned by the Gestapo in Berlin awaiting their death is deeply moving. Jim Thompson’s ear for authentic dialogue reminds me of Harold Pinter. The small-town sheriff, Lou Ford, in The Killer Inside Me is one of the greatest psychological profiles of a psychopath ever written.
The book I’m reading
The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, a claustrophobic gothic horror short story written in 1892 — as relevant now as it was then.
My favourite film
The Hill. I saw it in the late 1970s at the Scala in London — its brutal stark cinematography perfectly serves the portrayal of life in a military prison towards the end of the 1950s. The acting is superb — Ian Bannen as the man out of his time is genius. It’s Sean Connery’s best film. Roy Kinnear is wonderful, as is Ian Hendry. It shines a bright light on class divides and institutional racism, and as a metaphor for the death throes of empire, it sat perfectly with my political leanings at the time.
My favourite play
I would travel to see Pinter, no matter how crap the production you’ve always got the writing. The other play that had the most effect upon me was a lunchtime production of Mister X, written and performed by the Gay Sweatshop in 1976. It had never crossed my mind to consider that for many, their sexual preferences could be the cause of so much pain and fear. These people opened my eyes to the injustices served upon them — extraordinarily brave, they laid the ground for generations to come. Drew Griffiths who acted in and directed Mister X was brutally murdered in South London in 1984 simply for being gay. He never stopped fighting, that’s how brave he was.
The box set that I’m hooked on
Nothing at the moment, maybe because I was so addicted to Succession. I find it hard not to compare everything else to it.
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My favourite TV series
The Young Offenders because it is superbly acted, written and directed, really funny and yet can make you cry with its warmth. Or Endeavour because of the writing’s attention to characters and their relationships. There’s no padding — it’s a beautifully observed period drama without crinolines or horses, what a relief! And, of course, Roger Allam, pound for pound the best actor out there.
My favourite piece of music
An album by an Irish punk poet, Jinx Lennon. He really is a lone voice. If you get the chance, buy the album Know Your Station Gouger Nation!!! Buy them all. His eyes take in the minutiae of Irish life south of the border. He’s funny, uplifting and dangerous, and his writing is up there with the best of Irish poetry. His musicianship is a lot cleverer than he would have you believe.
The last TV programme that made me cry
Gogglebox makes me laugh and cry. I watch it all the time — it’s the most inclusive work on TV. It has no class, race, political or religious agenda, simply a cross-section of the British public watching television in different parts of the country at the same time. I pay close attention to what they’re wearing and what they’re eating and drinking. The positioning of their furniture is a testament to the producers’ ingenuity as they search for the best composition for the camera. It regularly restores my faith in humanity as them oop north and those darn sarf share a tear for some deserved unfortunate. It always amazes to think that living can be such a horrendous experience for so many. Maybe politicians should be made to discuss it at prime minister’s question time.
The lyric I wish I’d written
“Trudging slowly over wet sand [. . .] every day is like Sunday.” You recognise the importance of the sand being wet, not soft — Morrissey at his finest. What happened to him?
The instrument I play
I play keyboards and drums a bit, also the melodica. You have to be very careful when you casually take up an instrument as opposed to actually learning to play one. You can get very disheartened when you don’t improve. It’s best, I think, to commit to learning something of the technique otherwise your moments of inspiration will be isolated amid aeons of disappointment.
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The instrument I wish I’d learnt
The guitar. It’s lighter than a piano or a drum kit, and easily lends itself to the street. I find the ukulele is more suited to tree-lined avenues.
The music that cheers me up
Mantovani’s interpretations of classics such as Fly Me to the Moon, and Some Enchanted Evening — those swirling strings get me every time.
If I could own one painting it would be . . .
Marcus Harvey’s painting of Myra Hindley, so I could put it on permanent display around the country. When it was first exhibited it was picketed by women’s groups and the mother of one of Hindley’s victims. The feeling was that it somehow glorified her image, but I couldn’t understand. I was lucky enough to be shown into Marcus’s studio in south London and asked what I thought. The initial reaction was one of shock. It was so big and brutal, a realisation of the famous peroxide blonde image the media had imprinted on the British psyche. But what it was painted with took my breath away. He had cast children’s hands and attached the moulds to a stick, dipped them in paint, and recreated the image by applying thousands of them on to a huge canvas. It was genuinely thought-provoking, emotional and very powerful. I don’t think art should only be beautiful. I think it should sometimes do what this piece does. I’d also like to own Rembrandt’s Self-Portrait in a Flat Cap.
The place I feel happiest
On my Atco Royale B30 sit-on lawn mower. Those who know, know.
I’m having a fantasy dinner party, I’ll invite these artists and authors . . .
Heathcote Williams, Antonia Fraser, John Betjeman and Maggie Hambling. There would be enough twinkling in those eyes to light up a small town — all very funny, intelligent, like a drink, and apart from Lady Antonia, all smoke. Of course I would invite Nigella Lawson to oversee the presentation of something plump, dripping with juice or sticky thick cream.
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. . . and I’ll put on this music . . .
Nilsson Schmilsson by Harry Nilsson, and the drunker we got the more X-Ray Spex would be played, Oh Bondage Up Yours! being a favourite.
The play I’m looking forward to
The Pillowman by Martin McDonagh. It was due to open in the West End when the virus struck — nothing wrong with a little self-promotion.
The film I walked out on
Goodfellas, another film about men of Italian extraction who love their mums and kill each other . . . I don’t think so.
Overrated . . .
Formula One as a competitive sport.
Underrated . . .
Me.
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Keith Allen appears in Midsomer Murders: The Stitcher Society on Sunday April 11 at 8pm on ITV
