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Cooper was born in Caerphilly, moved to Hampshire, and here, at the age of seven, his Aunt Lucy gave him a magic set. The more I panicked and made a mess of everything, the more they laughed.From then until his death he was obsessed with tricks, and one Christmas, when he was an apprentice at the British Power Boat Company, the management asked him to perform in the canteen. I came off and cried, but five minutes later I could still hear the sound of the laughter in my ears and was thinking maybe there's a living to be made here." War came, he joined the Guards, and was soon doing a turn at troop concerts.
Today, even people barely old enough to have seen him regard him as the funniest man of all time.
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When they met later, the old lad didn't ask for payment but a lift down the street.
Copper coldly replied: "I'm not a fucking taxi service." Stage doormen did not get a tip but a choice of three envelopes.
As Fisher says: "For all the drinking and tantrums and meanness, he was, and is, a national treasure.
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I said: 'Stop throwing those bread rolls at me.' 'And why should I stop? 'Because I haven't got an ad lib for people throwing bread rolls at me.' " The hard cases immediately melted. In April 1969, his wife Gwen made the first of several calls to Cooper's manager, Miff Ferrie, telling him she was leaving Cooper because he had struck her in front of the children. Ferrie spoke to Cooper, who said his wife must have been drunk, which she sometimes was, and their late son Tommy said she gave as good as she got in the fights. After the last one, Ferrie noted: "She has had enough. The Italian doctors were in no doubt about the cause: chronic alcoholism.
By the Sixties he was a major star, living in Chiswick (with a seaside retreat at Eastbourne), happily married, and the nation's most imitated performer, loved as much for his Easter Island face as his daft jokes ("I went to the doctor. There was also the stress of running a mistress, divorcee Mary Kay.
For this he wore a pith helmet, but one night, at an RAF station near Cairo, he couldn't find it, so he grabbed a fez from a passing waiter.
He thus emerged from the war with an act recognisable as the one that would take him to the top.
An organiser once said to him as he arrived late: "You were on half an hour ago." He replied: "Was I? " Kay later wrote: "You just don't know the number of times before a show I've said: 'Please, Tommy, don't drink.'" At times he would battle it, going to a Hampshire health farm and turning to alcohol-free lager.