Fagin may have been Ron Moody's most celebrated role, but for me his defining moment was when he bounded onto the stage in the Old Theatre of the London School of Economics, in cutaway black frock coat, cigar held between his first two fingers, thick black moustache painted onto his upper lip, leaning forward, and looking even more Groucho-like than Groucho Marx himself.

It was my honour and pleasure to be a co-performer with Ron Moody in two LSE annual revues in 1949 and 1950, the first entitled Place Pigalle, the second Freeziesta.  I also contributed lyrics to some of the songs in the 1950 revue.  Both shows were compered by Bernard Levin who also doubled as Chico to Ron's Groucho.  I can't recall who played the part of Harpo Marx;  possibly Alan Kingsbury, who also produced the Place Pigalle revue.

"How can that be me?  I'm over here!"  The real Groucho meets the Moody lookalike.

My admiration for Ron and my envious regard for his versatility pre-dated the respect which he shortly thereafter enjoyed from the wider world.  But not by much, I have to say.  He very quickly decided that the world of "show business" was where his future lay.  My own polymathic leanings caused me to confide to him my indecision about my own future and my yearning for the sort of "buzz" obtained from the performance arts.  He quickly disabused me of any such foolish notions, but did suggest one thing that I have never forgotten.  He believed that I should give up any sort of commercial ambition and equally any thought of performing; but he did feel that I could have a real future in the entertainment industry in the role of theatrical agent.  I don't know what gave him that idea and certainly made no effort to move along that path.  But I have retained the memory of that advice for more than sixty years.  In retrospect I now recognise an aspect of my character that he possibly identified - perhaps instinctively - all those years ago.  Namely, that I tended to be a better advocate for others than I was for myself.  And still am!

It was in the 1950 production Freeziesta that I contributed most.  In the earlier Place Pigalle, I seem to recall, I was merely one of the "others who can be coerced" into joining Les Etrangers.  But in the subsequent production I contributed lyrics to one of the ensemble numbers, as well as performing in a sketch alongside Naomi Glynne (who was to become the first Mrs Sinclair) and Fenella Feldman (who was to become the notable Fenella Fielding).  I also appeared in a sketch with Martyn Davis and Lionel Arbis - about which the least said is already too much!

But the piece with Naomi and Fenella was very exciting.  Neither attended the London School of Economics.  I petitioned successfully for the inclusion of Naomi on the grounds that she had studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art - neglecting to mention how short a period that had encompassed.  Fenella, I believe, was similarly "coerced" into appearing by a friend who was involved with the production.  And she was a tremendous success.  This "thread" will be continued in Fenella's own entry in this Cast of Characters.

I met Ron several times over the years, but with vast gaps between our meetings.  Much of his life he lived with his mother in their north London home, a short walk from my own in Hornsey.  One meeting, however, will always stay with me.  It was in 1976.  I had returned to London, on leave from my job in Hong Kong, and my wife and I planned to treat the "kids" to Peter Pan at the London Palladium where Ron Moody was playing Captain Hook/Mr Darling and Lulu was Peter Pan.  I had arranged with Ron that we might bring the children to his dressing room after the show.  They were delighted! 

Ron was seated before his dressing-room mirror, removing make up, when with wife Ines, 5-year old Philip, and 3-year old Emily, I entered the room and Emily promptly burst into uncontrollable tears.  She had expected to meet the flying - albeit now grounded - Peter Pan or, at least Wendy or Mr Darling.  Instead she was confronted with this balding vision removing disgusting makeup.  She was inconsolable.  There seemed to be nothing we could do.  But Peter Pan to the rescue!  Lulu tapped on the door and then entered, leading her little nephew by the hand, took in the scene and promptly succeeded in having Emily metaphorically eating out of her hand.

A lovely young woman who appears as young as ever when I see her on the small screen 35 years later.  Peter Pan was obviously an example of perfect type-casting.  That dressing-room performance alone has earned her her own spot in this Cast of Characters.