Tom Allen on grieving for his father – and how laughter, love and gardening have helped

Making fun of things makes the world more bearable, the award-winning comedian tells Hannah Stephenson.

Hannah Stephenson
Tuesday 08 November 2022 03:15 EST
Tom Allen on coping with grief (Aemen Sukkar/PA)
Tom Allen on coping with grief (Aemen Sukkar/PA)

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Comedian and TV presenter Tom Allen is recalling the last text he received from his father before he died suddenly late last year.

“He was saying he should come and bleed the radiators in my house,” says Allen, deadpan.

But then again his father – Paul, a working class coach driver from Bromley, Kent – was very practical compared with his “creative, flouncy, oversensitive” son, he adds.

“He had the best heart and, rather than poetic mantras, and in contrast to my quasi-‘posh’ outlook, would say things like ‘Shove it!’ to dismiss anything stressful.”

The award-winning comedian – whose TV shows include The Apprentice: You’re Fired, The Great British Bake Off: An Extra Slice and Celebrity Gogglebox – has now written his second memoir Too Much, essentially a homage to his late father, who died aged 80 from a heart attack on his way to a London show.

“There’s a catharsis putting things on the page, and you come to understand your own emotions by relating them like that,” he says. “I hope that in doing that, it makes other people realise there are good days and bad days in this world.”

Allen was on holiday in the Caribbean with his partner, Alfie – his first boyfriend, he points out – when his father died. “We were there for a day when I got the call. Then we had another odd day waiting to fly back to the UK. I don’t normally do extravagant things like going on that sort of holiday and part of me thought, ‘That’ll teach you!’”

He realises he was in shock in the immediate aftermath.

“In those moments, you have to cry when you feel like it. You’re suddenly given this permission to be emotional and honest with people around you, and I feel it’s brought my mum and my brother and I very close together, in a positive way.”

He describes himself as ‘an eccentric, sometimes very emotional, Patricia Routledge obsessed loner’ in the book, as he records his life in hilarious and at times heart-breaking tones.

But it’s far more droll than depressing. His mother’s delight that the refurbished funeral parlour they visited looked like a show home is one example; his caustic comparison between his father’s funeral and another they attended soon afterwards is another.

While he loved his father deeply and vice-versa, Allen recalls that at times, their relationship was fraught.

Paul was born in the Second World War in a time of rationing, rules and regulations, when emotions were not displayed, compared with his more performance-led son, who tended to focus on interiors and how to re-arrange the kitchen.

There were irritations at home. Paul, for instance, would put the main light on in a room, his take being that it afforded the best light, while Allen would frantically run around switching on the lamps and cursing that he was born into a family without dimmer switches.

“Dad and I were similar in some ways and very different in others and despite that, we were very close. It wasn’t like, ‘I love you Dad’, ‘I’m proud of you, son’. My dad would express his love in other ways. He could express his love in a bacon sandwich.”

In his first memoir, No Shame, Allen wrote about the self-loathing which engulfed him as he endeavoured to stay under the radar of school bullies, tried to navigate online dating, and finally came out to his parents when he was in his 20s.

Today, he recalls: “I came out to my mum first – and she was cautious about telling Dad because he was a bit old-fashioned in some ways. I told him over the phone and actually he was very emotional and got tearful about it, but his only anxiety was that I’d look after myself, as there was still a concern about Aids. He was nothing but caring.”

In the latest book, Allen charts his adventures in Japan and his endeavours to make it as a comedian in New York, as well as the recent revelations on ITV’s DNA Journey that he is Gloria Hunniford’s cousin.

“Other people do the DNA Journey and find they are related to royalty, and in a way I suppose I am too. It’s wonderful in its way that my cousin turned out to be Gloria Hunniford.

“We’ve been in touch and are trying to find a date when we are both free, as she lives down the road from me in Kent. My mum’s keen to have lunch too.”

He reflects that no longer having his father around has made him grow up,  accepting who he is and what he wants in life. When Paul died, Allen had only that year moved out of his parents’ home to his first house just down the road, at age 37.

“I loved living at home, but when you lose a parent, you have to confront the realities of life, which is that none of us are here for a long time, life is ticking for all of us, and I don’t say that in a negative way. My dad always used to say to me, ‘Oh, you’re not happy unless you’ve got something to worry about’. It [his death] taught me to stop worrying and just get on with life and do stuff.

“In the past, I’d go to that party, meet those friends for drinks, and never really check in with myself to find out if that’s what I wanted to do.”

He speaks to a therapist regularly and says it helps him cope with extremes of emotions. He also received support from fellow comedians, including Rob Beckett, who lives nearby and went out on walks with his bereaved pal.

“I was amazed by so many kind friends in comedy. Rob’s been such a great friend to me, a rock, a wave of positivity. He’s an amazing presence because he’s very upbeat, thoughtful and emotionally aware of people. He always picks me up,” says Allen. “Whether it was Zoe Ball or Jamie Redknapp or my friend AJ Odudu, so many people supported me in different ways. I really experienced a lot of love.”

Gardening has helped him manage his emotions, too.

“It’s quite meditative. You have to stop and slow down. I’ve realised the world is full of distractions, like breaking news. There’s always somewhere to go, something to do, someone to compare yourself to on social media,” he reflects. “But I found that gardening slowed me down, it made me concentrate on one thing at a time, whether it was watering the plants or picking the slugs off.”

Comedy has remained a welcome antidote to grief and other big changes in his life.

“With comedy, you have to talk about those honest things, those vulnerabilities, those moments of feeling afraid, and people connect with it and laugh because they feel a sense of relief.”

Paul had met Allen’s boyfriend, Alfie, an events organiser and actor. They’ve been together just over a year.

“Alfie’s been amazing. He’s a very kind person and calming for me. He’s very grounded. This is my first ever relationship and it just calms you down a bit.”

The comedian is embarking on a new tour, Completely, next year, and although he’ll be referencing that he lost his dad, the show will be upbeat, he insists.

“I feel passionate about making people laugh and giving them a chance to smile and laugh at the world. You make fun of things to make the world more bearable.”

He says his mum, Irene, is coping well, but he’s glad he lives close by so he can pop in regularly. And the triggers for grief are random.

“My mum got very emotional walking past a fridge full of trifle at Christmas, because he really liked trifle. It’s a strange thing to start crying at a dessert counter,” Allen says wryly.

“For me, it’s not at the moments you’d expect. It’s bleeding the radiators, or filling up the water softener tablets or taking the bins out, which doesn’t sound very fitting, but those are the sort of things he’d do.”

Too Much by Tom Allen is published by Hodder Studio on November 10, priced £14.99.

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