Bob Hope, king of the one-liner, reaches the end of a long road

Bob Hope, the indefatigable British-born actor and comedian who entertained three generations of US troops and flattered presidents with his gently self-deprecating one-liners, has died in Los Angeles, two months after celebrating his 100th birthday.

His publicist said he died on Sunday night surrounded by his family at his home in Toluca Lake, just a stone's throw from the big movie and television studios that lapped uphis prolific comic output ina career spanning seven decades. Hope had been in poor health for some time and died of complications arising from pneumonia.

Although universally admired by his peers for his unerring timing, idiosyncratic brand of whimsical nonsense and the inexhaustible dedication to his craft, Bob Hope was always more than just another actor or comedian.

In the United States, he was regarded as an institution, thanks to his dependable ability to raise a smile or chuckle without risk of offence to anyone. Long after his heyday on the big screen had passed, he remained a fixture of Christmas specials on television, willingly travelled to entertain soldiers facing combat overseas and became a friend and confidant of many American presidents from Franklin D Roosevelt to Bill Clinton.

In the flood of tributes that poured in yesterday, one of the first came from President George Bush, who said the nation had lost "a great citizen". "Bob Hope served our nation when he went to battlefields to entertain thousands of troops from different generations," the President said. "We extend our prayers to his family. God bless his soul."

There was no form of entertainment that Hope was afraid to plunge himself into. Starting out in vaudeville, he moved on to Broadway, into radio and then into film ­ most memorably in the string of Road movies he made with Bing Crosby and Dorothy Lamour in the 1940s and 1950s. Woody Allen later credited the best of these, The Road to Morocco (1942), as the film that set him on his own cinematic career.

Hope was one of the first Hollywood stars to embrace television, arguably the medium he was best suited to. He was also a favourite presenter at the Oscars, so much so that he poked fun at the fact that he was never nominated for Best Actor. In his house, he said, the Academy Awards were known as Passover.

There was no lack of recognition for his work, however. He won five honorary Oscars for his services to showbusiness, was awarded a KBE by the Queen, and, in the late 1990s, he was named the United States' first "honorary war veteran" by a special congressional resolution. According to The Guinness Book of Records, he was the most decorated figure in showbusiness, with more than 1,500 awards.

The hallmarks of Hope's humour were lightning speed, sparkling wit and a good nature that ensured he would offend nobody, no matter how grave the subject matter.

The latter quality made him especially endearing to members of the armed forces, who could count on him to raise their spirits in particularly trying circumstances.

On his first trip to Vietnam in the 1960s, his arrival in Saigon coincided with a bomb attack on an officers' billet by Vietcong agents. "I was on the way to my hotel," he quipped a few hours later, "and I passed a hotel going in the opposite direction." When, in 1963, President Kennedy presented him with a Gold Medal for "services to his country and to the cause of world peace", Hope remarked: "I feel very humble, but I think I have the strength of character to fight it."

His ability to make audiences feel good about themselves was a sign of his innate conservatism. An entertainment columnist, Irv Kupcinet, once described him as "Uncle Sam, Santa Claus and a letter from home all wrapped up in one neat package of hilarity".

Once the counter-cultural winds of the 1960s began to blow, however, his humour started to look a little dated, his films no longer enjoyed the massive successes of previous decades and he suffered the first real criticisms of his career as it became clear he supported the war in Vietnam.

But the animosity did not last and Hope later backed off, saying he hoped for nothing more than an honourable peace so that young US servicemen and women would not have to keep dying. He largely retired from overseas military tours in 1972, returning only occasionally for special occasions, including the eve of the Gulf War in 1991.

Away from entertainment, Hope led the life of an old-fashioned conservative: making a string of shrewd property investments in California that turned him into one of America's richest men but giving lavishly to charitable causes. His passion for golf included sponsorship of the Bob Hope Classic at Palm Springs in the Californian desert.

There was no stuffiness about him. Once, after touring Frank Sinatra's ostentatious new estate in the hills above Palm Springs, he asked: "So where's the gift shop?"

Hope was born Leslie Townes Hope in Eltham, south London, the fifth of seven children of a stonemason and a singer. The family moved to the United States when he was four, only to struggle against economic hard times in Cleveland, Ohio. He changed his name to Bob because his strange English name prompted ridicule from classmates. Forced to start working as a boy ­ he delivered newspapers, sold shoes and developed his passion for golf as a caddy ­ he was also an accomplished performer from an early age. He won a Charlie Chaplin lookalike contest when he was just 12.

Ultimately, he was never more comfortable than when he was standing in front of an audience. "Audiences are my best friends," he once said. "You never get tired of talking to your best friends."

HOPE CLASSICS

Explaining why his family emigrated when he was four: "I felt I wasn't getting anywhere in England."

"I grew up with six brothers. That's how I learnt to dance: waiting for the bathroom."

"My folks were English. They were too poor to be British. I still have a bit of British in me. In fact, my blood type is solid marmalade."

After meeting Prince Charles in 1976: "He was bare chested and in good trim. I said that just looking at him I knew there would always be an England."

About a fan: "She said she was approaching 40 and I couldn't help wondering from what direction."

On hearing of his 1998 knighthood: "70 years of ad-lib and I'm speechless."

On flying in Concorde: "It flies so high, I swear I heard the organs playing."

On old age: "I've got to watch myself these days. It's too exciting watching anyone else."

"I don't feel old. I don't feel anything until noon. That's when it's time for my nap."

"Dying is to be avoided - it can ruin your whole career."

"I do benefits for all religions. I'd hate to blow the hereafter on a technicality."