There’s something peculiar about Michael Palin, you feel as if you know him intimately; as though he’s a cherished relative or a long-time friend who has been away for some time. Remarkably, he chooses to visit our workspace for the interview and his arrival, despite it being his first time here, doesn’t surprise any of us. A sense of casual familiarity permeates the air as people bestow him with warm smiles: oh, Michael’s popped by. His return smile radiates an endearing mix of playfulness, modesty, and warmth.
Our paths have never crossed before. Yet, he’s been a part of my existence for nearly five decades. First as a member of the avant-garde comedy group Monty Python – a favourite of mine in my youth known for lines such as “Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition!”. Then as the star of the brilliant TV series, Ripping Yarns where phrases like “Oh shut up, you boring little tit!” remained etched in my memory. Beyond this are the films: Time Bandits, A Private Function, A Fish Called Wanda, and more recently, The Death of Stalin. Over the past three decades and a half, he has trodden across the world for TV projects, penning books alongside that document his travels. The significant contributions he made to travel, culture, and geography led to him being bestowed with a knighthood in 2019, the only Python to have such an honour.
Currently, he’s working on a fresh three-segment TV series focused on Nigeria. Here, he crosses paths with hopeful youths pursuing their dreams: a young lady endeavouring to reconstruct her life post her abduction by Boko Haram; an environmental activist standing against government corruption; and a woman who scolds him over Britain’s past misconduct regarding colonialism in Benin.
The interaction between Palin, who appears ever apologetic and reserved, and the forthright Nigerians, is intriguing to witness. The moment a woman loudly criticises him on the streets and holds him accountable for Britain’s savage Benin Expedition of 1897 visibly shocks him.
For him, the series serves as an investigation into Nigeria and a confrontation of Britain’s historical actions. Still, it holds personal significance as well. This is his first major undertaking since his wife, Helen, passed away ten months prior. After a 57-year-long marriage, which began with a chance encounter in 1959 at Southwold, Suffolk, during a family holiday when they were just teenagers, her absence was deeply felt. Her memory was woven into his 1987 BBC drama, East of Ipswich, based on their summer love story. Despite Helen rarely joining him on his trips, he was anxious about navigating the Nigeria trip without her. Understandably, he had worries about both his physical and emotional stamina so soon after her demise. But he found the experience invigorating, affirming his ability to proceed without being treated as a sympathy case.
Helen, who devoted her life to teaching, then grief counselling, was 80 at her death resulting from kidney failure, having decided to stop her painful dialysis treatment. She was his driving force behind his travel documentaries. Palin was 45 when he was offered the chance to feature in ‘Around the World in 80 Days,’ a seven-part BBC series inspired by the Jules Verne classic. Helen had foresight about the regret he would feel if he passed up on the opportunity and knew that travelling would make him happier than staying put.
His adventures included an extensive 23,000-mile journey from the north pole to the south pole, visits to North Korea and Ethiopia during a coup. Did the danger ever concern Helen? He chuckles. If it did, she didn’t reveal it. Palin recounts, “She took calm strides however uncertain my whereabouts were.” Palin is known for his sophisticated skill in understatement, typically utilizing ‘quite’ to qualify his thoughts and opinions.
His travels often saw him away for up to five months at a stretch, he recalls. He admits it was challenging at times, yet he remains resolute that these absences bolstered their matrimonial bond. As the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” demonstrating truth in their case. Their relationship was rich in love, but it was also grounded in practicality and pragmatism. They treasured their autonomy and yet, they shared an abundance: shared values, shared confidences, shared humour, shared companionships.
Throughout the final couple of years of Helen’s life, she was in tremendous discomfort. “She spoke to me about the severity of her illness and her frustration at not being able to lead the life she desired. Much of my time was dedicated to alleviating her pain. Her handling of her condition was remarkable,” he notes. Helen passed away in the Marie Curie Hospice in Hampstead, north London, in the previous May. Palin describes their last few weeks with their three children as the happiest possible under the circumstances. “The period shortly before she passed away, when she had accepted her impending death, was actually filled with some of our best memories. I was mentally prepared for it. Helen, having resolved not to continue with dialysis, had made her peace with the situation. The care she received was outstanding, and we had the entire family around her. That was the culmination of our 60 years together.”
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Palin speaks with such gentleness about Helen and her final days. He suddenly stops, as if snapping out of a trance. “Apologies, I’m rambling,” he remarks. When asked what he meant by ‘the culmination’, he explains, “Well, our long history together meant that we understood each other exceedingly well.” He halts momentarily, seemingly aware of the understatement he just made. “Incredibly well. We didn’t need to express why we preferred certain things or why we were the way we were. A lot went unsaid, but we understood. So when we knew she had only two weeks left, everything we had built in our relationship made the process of her departure somewhat easier to bear.”
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There were no old wounds to heal, no confessions to be offered, no differences to mend. They had complete understanding of one another, so much so that their silence spoke honest conversations. “In her final days, my primary focus was to ensure she was surrounded with her loved ones, that she had the means to connect with her friends, the ones she knew she wouldn’t be seeing again. I was a mere guide, facilitating her wishes, whether to interact with others or savour tranquil moments alone.”
Does it feel like it happened recently?
“Absolutely! It has been a shock, honestly. I have been keeping busy since her passing as a form of distraction. Occasionally though, the emptiness of our home strikes me; the space she filled, the bond we shared, no other friend comes close. There are discussions that only she could understand. I have a circle of great friends, we share light-hearted talks. But the unique connection Helen and I shared over the years was one of a kind and it’s irreplaceable. I miss her presence. Reflecting back, she lived till the age of 80, I am of the same age now. So, I am left to ponder upon what life has in store for me. At times, I believe life after 80 is just a waiting game at the exit gate.” His tone is not tinged with self pity, more like he’s musing audibly.
I contend, you’re an incredibly vibrant octogenarian. Would you consider sharing your experiences with someone else in the same manner? “I sincerely doubt if anyone could fill the void that Helen’s departure has created.” However, he adds, in a sense, she’s still with him. “Helen’s thoughts and opinions still resonate with me. In that way, I feel like I converse with her every day because her thoughts often align with my daily decisions.”
Do you find yourself conversing with her? “Indeed, I engage in sporadic chat.” When? “Oh, it typically happens when I enter a vacant room, post a laborious session or endeavour, such as an extensive Guardian interview or any other taxing activity! Upon my entry and whilst making my way through the door, I often vocalise, exclaiming: ‘Phew, that was quite something!’ It’s a small instant that rejuvenates me as I transition into the domiciliary sphere, subverting the mundane act of unlocking the door to silence.” Apparently, he stresses, he does not voice grievances. He acknowledges the fortune of having tasted such affection. Upon rumination, he realises, he really is charmed by life.
Palin was raised in Sheffield. Like his progenitor (a craftsman employed by a steel enterprise) and forefather, he attended the independent institution, Shrewsbury, and received an Oxbridge education.
His father, Edward, possessed a quick wit, although his jests were often compromised by his severe speech impediment. “A temperamental individual, with an easily ignited temper. The atmosphere at home made communication quite challenging. He constantly instigated disputes with my mother. His manners gave the impression that he preferred to vent his frustrations on those around him, maintaining a combative behaviour. This pattern probably led to me adopting an aversion to confrontations. I attempt anything to bypass such conflicts.” Quite in Palin’s fashion, instead of dismissing his father, he endeavoured to fathom his vexation and dedicated the Michael Palin Centre for Stammering to him.
While he never imagined forging a career path in comedy, acting, travel, or writing, that’s exactly the life he fell into. He cites his 2018 book ‘Erebus: The Story of a Ship’ about a ship who voyaged further south than any human had been and eventually disappeared with its 129 crew in the Canadian Arctic, as his proudest achievement. Originally aiming for a conventional, respectable job, Palin found himself continually in auspicious situations at the opportune moment.
At Oxford, he happened upon cultural historian, Robert Hewison. Hewison suggested his knack for comedy could be not only valuable, but profitable too, he also made acquaintances with his future Python colleagues – John Cleese, Eric Idle, and Graham Chapman, all Cambridge alumni, collectively they decided to collaborate.
The landscape of political discussions, as he observes, has grown increasingly disconcerting, with the nation being exploited for monetary gain everywhere. It seems to revolve around aggressive marketing and selling strategies.
In an incredible stroke of luck, in 1969 the team dropped by the BBC, hoping for a chance at employment. They were led by Barry Took, who admired their independent works. As Took was appropriately dressed, he decided to bring the whole group to a meeting at the BBC. They met Michael Mills, the head of comedy, who, in a convivial mood post-lunch, hurled a slew of questions at them, to which they could barely muster a coherent response. The entire affair appeared to be an ill-fated job interview. Queries on aspects such as music, guest performers, or female presence in the show were met with utter ambiguity from the group. Much to their surprise, Mills, on concluding the meeting, offered them a contract for 13 shows, giving Palin the most memorable moment of his life.
“Does he believe the same could occur at the BBC now? “Absolutely not. In previous times, the BBC demonstrated more daring and audacity. There used to be individuals who possessed the autonomy to make choices, even if these choices were provocative and unliked by others. To be frank, most of the head honchos at BBC initially were not fans of Monty Python. Despite that, one had the freedom to do it, and it was respected. However, the present scenario would involve more scrutiny of your intentions, people vetting content and ensuring there’s no offense to individuals. I firmly believe it would not have got off the ground today. It would have been blocked right from inception.”
Palin echoes Cleese’s apprehensions regarding the increasing restrictions on humour around certain topics. “I think it’s becoming a trifle absurd when there are constraints on what one can express. I am of the opinion that comedy should not be dictated by external societal pressures. Comedy should be subversive. The essence of comedy lies in the freedom it brings.”
Why does he reckon Python had such a transformative impact? “The audience found it invigorating. It gave them the liberty to laugh at authority figures like the prime minister, the military, and the church, a novelty that didn’t exist prior. The ability to escape the enforced conformity through comedy is vital.”
He warns against romanticising the past but expresses concern that the society is becoming less empathetic and more intolerant. “The tone of political communication has turned rather harsh. The primary focus seems to be on extracting as much money as possible from people everywhere. It has converted into a race of marketing and sales.”
When asked if he has seen a change in himself over the years, he responds, “Not particularly. I’ve always been somewhat reserved and cautious. However, I’ve been fortunate to have had opportunities to do things beyond my wildest expectations. All of this is pleasantly astonishing to me.”
Throughout his life, he has borne witness to numerous harsh experiences. Early on, he faced the loss of several close companions, including former Pythons Terry Jones and Chapman, along with ex-Beatle George Harrison. His sister, Angela, took her own life at the age of 52, leaving a void in his life that he cannot understand. Angela was a wonderful individual, but she dealt with deep-rooted depression whose source and intensity failed his comprehension. Reflecting her loss brings him to the question of why someone with so much talent and admiration could have such darkness within them.
But he has been fortunate to have a positive attitude towards life and a sense of stability to keep him level-headed. He attributes this stability to Helen, with whom he has spent six decades. He is content living of local horizons – long years in the same corner of London, maintaining the same relationships, friendships, and residence. This all helped him maintain a balance and not be completely swept away by the illusions of fame and success.
Exhausted, Palin brings our conversation to a close and teases his age, saying that he is now “80-plus.” In 2019, he underwent an open-heart surgery where one valve was replaced and the other repaired. Now that the risks of his diet have been understood and managed, he reports feeling healthier than he has in years. Despite life’s trials, he insists that he’s largely content. He talks about the importance of maintaining his liveliness and although he misses Helen’s chastising, he is very pleased with his present situation.
His latest series “Michael Palin in Nigeria” kicks off on Channel 5 at 9pm on April 16th.