DON’T mention the appeal of instant fame from a TV reality show to Stu Francis, who cut his teeth as a comedian on the club circuit… and almost had his act wrecked in the North-East. “You’re judged by people before you can do anything these days. It’s instant fame or failure. A lot of people off reality TV can’t perform because all they really want is instant fame,” he says.

Francis’ apprenticeship started in the holiday camps and the working men’s clubs. He says that the clubs were known to be hard, but they could also be very, very good.

“It wasn’t a bear-fight every night because people are people. I was half-way through a week of working the North-East clubs and I’d had a rough time because I was trying to entertain guys who had just come out of the pits. It was midweek and I arrived at one place and was told, ‘You think the others were tough, wait until you play here’.

“I’m thinking oh no, but I went on to do the first of my two or three spots and it went terrific and the concert secretary told me it was brilliant and he took me to the bar. He said, ‘That’s a good sign you’ve gone well, they’ve stayed in after the bingo. A lot of them usually go home’.

“We walked back from the bar to the dressing room and we found that my suit had gone along with my bag and shoes. Everything had been nicked,” says Francis.

The 63-year-old had to return to the stage in his shirt and jeans, but won so much sympathy from his audience that the committee had a whip-round to help him replace all the stolen gear.

“I laugh about it now, but at the time I was at my wit’s end because I didn’t know what I was going to do,” he says.

As the headline act in The Good Old Days Of Music Hall And Variety at Darlington Civic Theatre, this month, Francis says that it’s almost like coming full circle for him as he joins the ranks of tried and tested entertainers.

“Or, it’s maybe I haven’t been found out yet,” he jokes.

I reply that his favourite football team Bolton have, but he hasn’t.

“Tell me about it. Oh my God, can it get any worse? They make you laugh, they make you cry. I was out last night with Roy Greaves, who once played for Bolton, and we were talking about the penalty shoot-out between Sunderland and Manchester United.

Roy said, ‘I used to take penalties for Bolton, and watching that was a joke. If the keeper stops it okay, but anybody taking a penalty should hit the target’. I think United won by conversions if it was rugby,” says Francis.

THE all-round entertainer has a similar view of hitting the target involving the acts ahead for the Darlington audience. “It’s the days of variety again. If you don’t like this, hang on five minutes and something else will come on. Fashions change, times changes and now you go and see an act or a band, and the days of variety aren’t there now. The audience is what I like to call recycled teenagers, who know what showbiz was like when they were younger. A lot of these shows are now in the afternoon because the recycled teenagers don’t like going out in the evenings. This is the old time music hall meets the golden days of variety,” he adds.

As the king of the catchphrase, the man best remembered for threatening to crush grapes or jump off dolls’ houses, on BBC1 teatime Friday favourite Crackerjack, reveals that he gets that side of his long career out of the way first.

“I do the Crush A Grape song first and get all the catchphrases out of the way. Otherwise, people are shouting them out when there’s a pregnant pause. Then, it’s just me and the stand-up act. I have a stock act, and then I add stuff or leave it out, but the main scaffolding is always there,” Francis says.

Another piece of regional entertainment history relating to Francis is that the BBC offered him the job of hosting Crackerjack in 1979 as a result of watching his act at Scarborough.

“I was at the Opera House in Scarborough, which is sadly no longer here, when I was checked out by the BBC, but I didn’t find out until the head of BBC Entertainment came to welcome me in the Crackerjack make-up room. He said, ‘We came to see you in Scarborough, sat at the back and decided that you were the one we wanted’. I said to him, ‘I wish I’d have known because we could have had a bite to eat and a drink afterwards’. He said, ‘No, no, no, we don’t do that kind of thing. We saw what we wanted to see and hence you are here’. In other words, ‘We don’t fraternise with the likes of you’, “ laughs Francis.

THE new host of one of the UK’s most-popular children’s shows took Crackerjack to its final transmission in 1984 and then launched ITV’s Crush A Grape.

“Whenever anyone mentions it I just smile. It’s just a great programme to do and a happy time in my life. I used to watch it (back in the 1950s and early 1960s) when Eamonn Andrews was the host and, later, with Leslie Crowther, who I had the pleasure of meeting and he was a lovely man.

“The BBC de-commissioned it, so it wasn’t a case of me going on the transfer list, and I was approached by ITV, who knew that the style of show was so popular. I’m aware that it was a financial thing for the BBC because it stopped Doctor Who at the same time. The shows were felt to be too expensive,” Francis says.

Perhaps, alongside the catchphrases engraved on his tombstone, in many years time, Francis fans will add “You were a Crackjack they couldn’t afford”.

  • Tuesday, February 18, 2pm, Darlington Civic Theatre, The Good Old Days Of Music Hall and Variety.

Box Office: 01325-486555 darlingtoncivic.co.uk