Titter he not

DAVID Walliams is in London, on the set of his new drama, Frankie Howerd: Rather You Than Me, an enthralling new BBC4 biopic about the late comic's long dark nights of the soul.

Dressed in Howerd's fetching get-up from the Roman sitcom Up Pompeii – an off-white toga teamed with a natty pair of sandals – Walliams is standing by the monitor, deep in conversation with the producer. Out of the corner of his eye, the actor spots me approaching and, before my very eyes, he metamorphoses into Frankie Howerd.

In a flash, Walliams puts his hands on his hips, pushes out his belly, runs his tongue over his front teeth, blows out his cheeks, raises both eyebrows and launches into a characteristic Frankie-style stream-of-consciousness monologue. "James Rampton?… I've read your articles… ooo, naughty… all that stuff about comedy?… very wicked… titter ye not!"

It's as if Walliams is possessed by the spirit of his character. Clearly, this is the perfect marriage of actor and alter ego. The 36-year-old performer confirms as much, as he relaxes in his trailer over lunch. Unlike many comedians – Howerd, for example – Walliams is a naturally funny man; he is as entertaining off screen as he is on it. In addition, he is an unusually intelligent performer, given to thinking long and hard about his craft. It's very refreshing in an industry where many practitioners make puddles look deep.

Scripted by Peter Harness, Frankie Howerd: Rather You Than Me might as well be subtitled: "The tears of a clown." In this drama, which goes out on BBC4 at 9pm on Wednesday, Howerd appears tormented by his covert homosexuality. He conducts a secret relationship over four decades with a one-time waiter called Dennis Heymer (played in the drama by Rafe Spall) and is constantly fearful of being exposed. In a big set-piece scene, Howerd blurts out to Heymer the root of his troubles – that as a small boy he suffered in a traumatic incident.

The comedian is persuaded to visit a psychotherapist in an attempt to assuage his sense of self-loathing, but it doesn't help. On returning from one consultation, he lashes out at Heymer: "I hate the way I am. It's dirty, and it's disgusting. I don't want people knowing. What we do together makes me want to vomit." Infuriated and hurt, Heymer proceeds to smash a plate over his partner's head.

The film has the stamp of authenticity because it was produced with the co-operation of Heymer. Now 80, Howerd's former lover and manager has resolved that the time has come to set the record straight about a relationship which had to remain clandestine for 39 years – right up until Howerd's death in 1992.

At lunch, as he picks over a plate of red mullet, Walliams affirms that he feels infused with the essence of Howerd. He beams that, "when my agent told me this was happening, I said: 'Oh God, I must do that. I don't want to see anyone else doing it!'"

Since childhood, Walliams has had a strong link with Howerd. "When I was 14, I played a servant in a school production of Romeo and Juliet," recollects the actor, best known for co-starring with Matt Lucas in Little Britain. "Throughout the show, I mucked about and talked to the audience. Afterwards, the teacher asked me: 'Did you base your performance on Frankie Howerd?' So even though at that stage I didn't know much about Frankie, he was already influencing me."

Later on at Bristol University, Walliams and Lucas bonded by trading outrageous camp impersonations of Howerd. "Of course," the actor laughs, "it's rather easier to do impersonations of him in the student bar than traumatic emotional scenes!"

It's true that in this drama, the actor cannot merely fall back on his old student-union impressions. He has to rely on something completely different: the ability to portray a dark side of the performer which the general public has never witnessed before. Frankie Howerd: Rather You Than Me strays into very bleak territory indeed, but Walliams feels it is crucial to have that darkness visible. "There has to be some friction in drama," observes the actor, who also impressed as the demonic Greville in Stephen Poliakoff's Capturing Mary last year. "If there is no conflict, then there is no drama. Morecambe and Wise were quite happy in their private lives, so their story wouldn't make such good drama."

It may make for uncomfortable viewing, Walliams argues, but you cannot flinch from depicting the misery that was Howerd's constant companion away from the spotlight. Despair and depression were vital parts of his DNA.

"The revelations about what happened to Frankie as a child give the drama a reason to exist," the actor carries on. "With a biopic like this, you could merely recreate scenes from Frankie's life. But if it were merely a case of 'he was born, he was funny, he died', that wouldn't be worth doing. We wanted to give the drama a bit more substance and say something about him. This film is trying to understand why he was the way he was – predatory, very unhappy and unable to express his love."

Walliams goes on to outline what else made Howerd such a troubled soul. For a start, his career experienced more ups and downs than a big dipper. "Frankie went through agonies over his career," sighs the actor, who recently swam from Europe for Africa with Olympic gold medallist James Cracknell in aid of Sport Relief. "Frankie lost his nerve and went out of fashion several times. He got into a vicious cycle of depression. Because when he wasn't in demand, he took it very personally."

In addition, Howerd lived in terror of being outed. "Back then, when homosexuality was still illegal, it could ruin your life to be gay," comments Walliams, who has been pictured out on the town with a variety of glamorous women, from Kate Moss and Lisa Snowden to Patsy Kensit and Denise Van Outen. "Although some popular performers, such as Larry Grayson and John Inman, were pretty camp, no-one was actually out in those days. No-one in the public eye would have dared say: 'Hello, I'm gay!' Frankie was the victim of lots of blackmail cases.

"I think Julian Clary was the first person to make jokes about being gay on stage. Now, with people like Alan Carr, Graham Norton and Paul O'Grady, it's quite normal. But back then, it would have been unthinkable. It would have destroyed Frankie's career to have come out."

To make matters worse, Howerd was repulsed by his own sexuality. "After sex, he used to cry," Walliams reveals. "There's your headline! Because of what happened to him as a boy, he was someone whose experience of sex was very negative. He saw it as something revolting." Breaking into a characteristic flirtatious grin, the actor asks me: "Shall we try it and see if he was right?"

Walliams says the sex scenes with Spall were not too difficult; in one sequence, Howerd and Heymer take an erotic bath together. "There are scenes of a sexual nature," the actor deadpans. "I had to touch Rafe's private parts last week. We were very heterosexual on set that day. We talked a lot about girls we fancy. It was like that scene in Planes, Trains and Automobiles where Steve Martin and John Candy wake up in each others' arms and immediately start saying: 'Did you see the game last night? Hell of a game!'

"But I hate it when actors say sex scenes are terribly traumatic. They're not that bad. In fact, I quite enjoy them! I've kissed Matt many times. In Little Britain Abroad, we did a lesbian scene as the tweedy old ladies. It's more embarrassing if you really fancy the person you're kissing. Then you really don't know where to put yourself!"

Walliams spent many weeks preparing for this role. He locked himself away with a voice coach and immersed himself in archive footage of the comic. The actor points to a tape of clips of Howerd performing that is lying on the table in his trailer. He says it never leaves his side: "It's is my Bible for this drama."

The actor was determined to get it right. "It's a huge responsibility playing a real-life person, especially as Frankie hasn't been represented on screen before. Frankie lives on in people's hearts and minds, and it would be awful to betray that or cheapen the legacy. It's important that you don't take it lightly. You have to take it seriously."

Frankie Howerd: Rather You Than Me is the final instalment of BBC4's gripping Curse of Comedy season. Previous films have uncovered the private pain of Harry H Corbett and Wilfrid Brambell, Tony Hancock and Hughie Green. Walliams reckons that it is the divergence between the performers' on and off-screen personae that makes these films so absorbing.

"We're fascinated by comedians who are deeply unhappy," muses the actor. "That huge contrast between how they are on stage and how they are at home is utterly riveting. Look at Tony Hancock. He's the ultimate example, as he ended up killing himself. The tragedy of that is compelling. In Martin Scorsese's King of Comedy, we're given a similar insight into the austerity of the life of the TV presenter Jerry Langford away from the screen. We see him sitting at home all alone, watching TV. It's a short scene, but it's very telling."

Walliams feels happily drained by the experience of playing Howerd, but he does not have time to rest on his laurels; he and Lucas are busy writing a new series of Little Britain for the HBO network in the US. According to the performer, "all the sketches will be set in America, and we'll be doing 20 new characters, including a cutesy mum and dad and a Howard Hughes-type figure who never comes out from behind the door. But it's always hard to explain characters in advance. If we'd said beforehand: 'We're going to do this delinquent schoolgirl from Bristol called Vicky Pollard,' people would have thought: 'Is that funny?'"

There is a knock on the caravan door. Walliams is being called back on set. As if by magic, the actor immediately snaps back into character and once more starts muttering away as his alter ego. As I wander away reflecting on one of the most felicitous examples of casting in recent TV history, the sounds of Howerd-esque chuntering are still ringing in my ears. "That journalist?… not on your nelly… very wicked… ooo, madam, no… nay, nay and thrice nay."

• Frankie Howerd: Rather You Than Me is on BBC4 at 9pm on Wednesday.

HOWERD'S WAY

BORN in York, in 1917, Frankie Howerd, the son of a soldier, debuted as an entertainer while serving in the army during The Second World War.

• After the war he made his radio debut with the BBC in December 1946, honing his skills on Variety Bandbox. In 1955 he had a cameo role in classic Ealing comedy The Ladykillers, above.

• Despite experimenting with various comedy roles on stage and screen, his popularity began to wane. However, in the early 1960s, he started rebuilding his reputation, first at Peter Cook's satirical Establishment Club in Soho, then achieving further success in the landmark TV series That Was The Week That Was in 1963.

• His stage show, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1963–1965), led to regular TV work, and roles in the St Trinian's (below) and Carry On films (Carry On Matron, 1972, bottom)

• His TV show Up Pompeii! saw him develop his trademark asides to the audience. His favourite catchphrases included the likes of "Oooh, no missus" and "Titter ye not", as he feigned innocence over his puns and double entendres.

• He was awarded an OBE in 1977 and in 1978 Howerd found himself cast in the big-budget Hollywood musical Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, playing Mean Mr Mustard. He was acting alongside musical and film talent such as Peter Frampton, the Bee Gees, George Burns, Alice Cooper, Aerosmith and Steve Martin. But the film was a critical flop at the time.

• In his final years Howerd developed an enthusiastic following among student audiences and performed a one-man show, touring universities and small theatrical venues. He was also a favourite guest on the late night BBC Radio 1 programme Into the Night.

• Howerd suffered respiratory problems at the start of April 1992, and died of heart failure at home, two weeks after leaving hospital in London.