Lily Savage

A boundary-busting standup, a radio sensation, a knockout on TV, a champion for LGBTQ rights, and a pet-lover extraordinaire … stars and writers pay tribute ...

He was backstage at the Tavern in 1987, preparing for his performance and adjusting his wig, when suddenly the police burst into his dressing room. O’Grady developed the act (“a creature,” he said, “that was more cartoon than human”) in the gay clubs of London’s Camden Town – specifically, the Black Cap. Recently, when we were working on a campaign to get an apology from the police for their past persecution of the LGBTQ+ community, he told me a story that stuck in my mind. So, in his final months, he was preparing to stand up, accuse them of homophobia and demand they finally take responsibility and apologise. And what he landed on often, was fury – at the “criminals” in government. The fact that a lot of people who wrote in seemed to be of advanced years – the requests were often to thank helpful younger family members or carers – said a great deal about the breadth of his appeal. He wrinkled his nose and said: “I’m just the burnt-out wreck of a once glorious disco.” He worried about them when they were poorly and shared the joy when we found them loving homes. I got the feeling that, with his programmes about animals, he had to really push to make them happen. These tales echoed back to the war, with secrets and debts and back-alley shags in the Liverpool of the Blitz. He could just talk about whatever was in his head and get laughs. He stared at me like the scan of a 3D printer.