We had been pals for more than 40 years. If he or I needed a friend I think we would call on each other first. Eric is a very fine script writer and a very funny man. He first learned of this latent comedy when we were both signed for the BBC show Educating Archie, a show that won many awards. Apart from Eric and myself the show unearthed a wealth of talent, Tony Hancock, Julie Andrews, Beryl Reid, Hattie Jacques amd quite a few more.

When we were first given the scripts, usually on Sunday morning to be performed 'live' Sunday evening, we'd read our parts in flat early morning voices. It was the inflection of the delivery that brought Eric's scripts to life. It was how Hancock's 'Flippin' Kids' was born and how i made a national catch phrase of 'A good idea son!'

It was because of this early morning reading Eric decided to read his own comedy lines. It was usually half and hour of hilarity as he played each part himself; from this he managed to give us laughs that were unseen on a first reading, now we all knew how to attack the script.

From this his confidence grew until the series came to an end. He then entered the film world and his silent movies like The Plank and others plus the long-running television series with Hattie Jacques endeared him to audiences world- wide.

We became keen golfers together and have be- come quite competent players, but in the early days, we were like most others that take up the game - hackers!

It was during these 'hacking' days that Eric bought a house for his growing family; he had married a lovelly lady who was his nurse when he suffered ear trouble and was hospitalised in Lon- don. Edith nursed him then and has looked after him since. They lived in a beautiful home, back- ing on to St Georges Hill at Weybridge. She also provided them with four super children - I am godfather to one.

About the time I am talked about, the mid- 1950's, it was reported that I was the highest paid peformed in Great Britain.

I was almost resident comedian at the Lon- don Palladium, on radio every week, best selling records, television, my name was on billboards all over London. (I have to tell you this because it has a bearing on this story.) I thought it would have been impossible to have been British and not know the name of Max Bygraves.

Back to the hacking. It was Eric's greatest wish to become a member of the St Georges Hill GC; his home backed on to the third hole, it would have been so convenient and he had made an applica- tion to join.

On this particular day we were out on permission to play. As we searched for a lost golf ball on the fourth hole, two golf balls landed quite near us without a 'Fore', 'Lookout' or 'Kiss my foot!'

Soon after, two irate red-faced 'gentlemen' and I use the term loosely, humphed their way past bristling with anger; later on many more golfers 'came through', Eric and I thought that was all part of golf etiquette, we went looking for our balls. We were that inexperienced.

A couple of days later Eric received a letter from the club secretary. I can't remember it word for word but in essence it read:

Dear Mr Sykes You interrupted a competition on this course today - no courtesy was extended to the com- petitors and your manners leave a lot to be desired. We understand you are desirous of becom- ing a member of this club; if this is the be- haviour we are to expect we beg you not to bother. This applies to your partner MAX HARGREAVES.

Yours etc

All this happened more than thirty-five years ago - Eric who still lives nearby and still enjoys golf is still not a member.