A memorial event has been held in London to remember comedian James Miller, also known as James Macabre, who died suddenly last month, aged 58.
The event was organised by his friend, stand-up Ivor Dembina, and took place at the Angel Comedy Club at the Camden Head, which was where Miller co-founded the Meccano Club in the 1980s. Comedians, friends and family gathered to swap and share stories about the late comic who was famous for his surreal ideas, deadapan delivery, his love of film trivia and cardigans.
Among those in attendance were Charmian Hughes, Logan Murray, Joel Sanders, Mandy Knight, Keith Dover, Nick Revell, Caroline Cooke, Lucinda Denning, Geoff Boyes, Brian Mulligan, Rob Hitchmough, Andre Vincent, Monika Bobinska (who co-ran the Meccano Club) and Miller's niece Emma-Louise Miller.
Robin Ince was unable to attend but wrote on Facebook: "My first memory of him was hanging around the Edinburgh fringe flat he shared with Jo (Brand) when I was a frequently drunk teen working at Greyfriars Kirkhouse. He was so friendly and we talked of indie bands and his annoyance with a shabby review in the NME. For years, i was blamed for stealing the work boots left outside the flat below. This led to the neighbour coming upstairs and bashing on their door threatening to kill them all. I would like to make it clear that it wasn't me, I reckon it was American keyboard artiste Ray Hanna."
Mark Hurst was unable to attend but wrote this poem, entitled Poem for Jim, which was read out at the event by Brian Mulligan:
Meccano Man,
Holy Cardigan,
Fellow Mott The Hoople Fan.
Down The Cafe,
Having a laugh,
Am I really writing your epitaph?
Been thinking about,
That night on the stout,
When you sang The Smith's, 'There is a light that never goes out'.
And it felt like we
Could never be
Without music, booze and comedy.
But I've got a bone to pick with you mister,
'Cause you could be a right old truth-twister.
Like that time you told Linda Smith that I'd said, she was Myra Hindley's sister!
- You daft cunt!
And I remembered that thing we used to say,
About having a go at 'Trepanning' one day?
If the pressures of life got too much in the way.
Yes, you knew well, the dark,
But you always had spark,
I can hear you now, 'Hello Hursty', it was rarely Mark
Well, I've had a little weep,
Gonna leave you to sleep,
Those Mott albums you gave me, I'll be sure to keep.
Macabre Man,
Epicurian,
Late night, vintage British film fan.
You need Trepanning like a hole in the Camden Head.
No more stress mate, peace instead.
A light left on,
Epitaph read.
More to follow...
