Ooh! What a Lovely Pair: Our Story Read online

  When I was eight, my parents separated. I was old enough to know it was on the cards, and my mam and dad tried to work things out, but in the end my dad moved out and I didn’t see him for a few years. He later had a daughter, Emma, with a woman called Maxine and, although Emma is technically my half sister, Sarha and me class her as our sister and we all see a lot of each other. In 1985, two years after my parents split, my mam met the man who’s now her husband, Davey Woodhall. I liked Davey straight away, because he made my mam happy, and that was the only thing that mattered to me. He also treated me like an adult – he never asked me to call him Dad; he was always ‘Davey’ to me. When him and my mam met, Davey already had a daughter, Nicola, who’s four years older than me, and a son, Robbie, who’s four years my junior. Are you keeping up? There’ll be questions at the end.

  Like Dec, I’ve got really fond memories of my childhood. After my dad left, my granda became like a father figure to me, and I loved growing up in Fenham. There was a real sense of community there too, and that gives me and Dec one other thing in common – the ability to sound like we’re eighty years old when we talk about our youth. In the summer, we’d go to my auntie’s caravan in Amble, which was about thirty miles away, with my grandparents, and everything just seemed so simple and happy. In case you’re wondering, me and Dec are sharing the rose-coloured spectacles.

  I had the same four best mates for most of my childhood – Ginger (real name Craig Jobling); Athey, aka Paul Athey; Goody, who’s Paul Goodwin; and Boppa, or Stephen Robson to his family, the teachers, or anyone else who was telling him off. (Just to make things confusing, Athey also had ginger hair, but two people nicknamed Ginger would have been too much.) I was very fortunate to have such great friends, and also to be the only one without a nickname. These days, I see Ginger occasionally, and I’m still really close to the other three. We used to hang around at the chippy in Fenham, because it was an equal distance from where we all lived, and because everything it sold was either deep-fried or fizzy – two very important qualities for any growing lad.

  One thing me and all my mates had in common was very strong mothers. Most of us came from single-parent families, and the mams ruled the roost. If there was trouble at school, they went down there to sort it out, and a lot of them would work two or three jobs. I was really close to my mam, growing up. We had a fantastic relationship, and I’m proud to say we still do.

  I’ve got so many happy memories of my childhood, although I did start early on the rocky road to romance. My first kiss was with a girl called Gillian, who lived at the top of my street. I must have been about ten, and me and Gillian were ‘playing out’, a phrase you don’t hear so much these days, but a pastime that was a big hit in the seventies and eighties. It basically means going out into the street and playing games. When we’d finished playing out, Gillian asked me in to hers for a glass of juice.

  Oh yeah, the old ‘glass of juice’ line, eh?

  We went up to her room and she sort of stuck her lips on mine. Despite my tender years, I instantly felt very grown up, and I also assumed that, because we’d had a snog, Gillian was now my girlfriend – and the best thing about that was that I could brag to my mates about it. Imagine my shock, a few days later, when I heard Gillian had been snogging other boys too. I wasn’t particularly heartbroken, just confused. Fortunately, Athey, who was the first person I’d told about me and Gillian, cleared it up for me.

  ‘Did you ever ask her to be your girlfriend?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then she’s not your girlfriend and she can kiss who she likes.’

  Gillian had played me like a violin and, between her and Athey, I learnt some serious life lessons that day.

  As for me, I made the big leap from the Irish Centre to the telly thanks to the local paper. My dad has always read the Evening Chronicle, and I’d often look at the Newcastle United news in it. One night, as I sat on my BMX beanbag, I noticed something very interesting – an article that said the BBC were going to shoot a new children’s drama in Newcastle. After some encouragement from my mam and my sister Camalia, I did what any confident, precocious twelve-year-old would do in that situation – I rang them and asked for an audition. I can still remember taking the big cream phone out of the hallway and into the living room to make the call. Strangely, the woman at the BBC, who’d obviously had the life bothered out of her all day by kids who’d seen the article, hadn’t heard of Declan Donnelly, the famous kid who nearly got Geordie Racer, so I had to act as my own agent. But I cut a very good deal with myself – I took 15 per cent of my own earnings.

  The BBC woman told me to write to the producer and send a photo. Again, my mam and Camalia were really supportive and helped me. I can’t remember exactly what I said in that letter, but I’m pretty sure it included the words ‘Irish Centre’, ‘dancing’ and ‘ashtray’.

  I got a letter back from the BBC a few weeks later. Basically, it said, ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you.’ It sounded to me like they were trying to palm me off and, I don’t mind telling you, I considered retiring again.

  Then, a few days later, there was a phone call informing me I had an audition – the programme was called Byker Grove – and I was to go to the BBC in Newcastle the following week.

  They sent me a few pages of script through the post to learn, and I went along to the audition. At the end of it, after I’d recited those carefully learnt words in front of a hastily assembled video camera, they said they’d like me to come back on Saturday for the shortlist day, where I’d be reading again – this time for the part of Winston.

  I can’t picture you as Winston – you’ll always be Duncan to me…

  The shortlist day turned out to be a full drama workshop. It was horrendous. I was incredibly nervous, and it all felt a bit pretentious and actor-y to me – plus, I was one of the youngest there, which didn’t help. I might’ve been a natural show-off, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed pretending to be a tiny acorn growing into a huge oak tree. It seemed more like Gardeners’ World than Byker Grove. By the end of it, I was practically wearing a cravat and calling everyone ‘luvvee’.

  I got home and just lay on the sofa, thinking about how awful it had been, convinced I was never going to get the part and that I’d been an idiot all along to think I would.

  The phone rang later that evening. It was the producer, and he said, unfortunately, they weren’t going to offer me the part of Winston. I knew it. I was just about to inform him not to consider me for any future opportunities in showbusiness as I would be retiring forthwith, when he asked if I would be interested in playing the part of Duncan.

  I immediately said yes, in a voice that was supposed to sound cool, calm and collected but came out squeaky, high-pitched and over-excited. My family were thrilled too. As far as we knew, none of the Donnellys had been on telly before, and they were all very proud of me.

  Right there and then I started a glamorous new life, a life where I, Declan Donnelly, pretended to be someone called Duncan for a few hours every week. This was the break I’d been waiting for since Geordie Racer: I was on the first rung of the acting ladder, and it meant I got to do what I did best – show off – and this time for a living.

  But Duncan needed one more thing to really make his part come alive, something that wouldn’t arrive till series two. Something, or rather someone, called PJ.

  For those of you without an encyclopaedic knowledge of Byker Grove, my character, PJ, was a maverick, this kid was a rebel, and it was often said that the Grove was never the same after PJ arrived.

  Who said that?

  Me, mainly.

  Thanks to Lynne Spencer, the teacher who’d encouraged me to audition for Why Don’t You?, I’d had an audition for the second series of Byker Grove. Even though I’d decided I wasn’t keen on performing after Why Don’t You?, Lynne had given me yet another push. The audition was at school, and I had a plan – turn up, do the audition, not get the part and forget about the whole thing. My plan was,
however, foiled, when the producers sent a letter to my house asking to see me again. The idea of another audition put all sorts of questions in my head: Would I have the courage to go through with it? Would I still get teased at school? And did they even have a drunken bloke on a bus in Byker Grove?

  The second audition was held at an old stately home called the Mitre, in Benwell, where Byker Grove was filmed, so I thought I could get away with not turning up – because it wasn’t at school, Lynne wouldn’t be there, so I could just say I was sick, or the dog had eaten my letter, or something else equally mature. I hid the letter from my mam and only told my mate Ginger about it, and that’s when fate intervened. Or rather Ginger did, because he was the one who let my mam know what I’d done.

  My mam went mad, and rang the producers to tell them I’d definitely be at the audition. She took me down there herself and, when we arrived, she was brilliant, she said, ‘Right, now it’s up to you. If you want to do it, do it. If you don’t like the experience, that’s fine, but at least give yourself a chance.’

  So I did the audition, in a little darkened room at the Mitre, and I remember thinking, ‘This place isn’t even in Byker. They’re crafty, these TV people.’

  I’d learnt two pieces of script – one as PJ, and one as a different character and, of course, I always had a drunk up my sleeve – not literally, but you know what I mean. And, just like the audition for Why Don’t You?, I was nervous, but unlike the audition for Why Don’t You?, I was also terrified. This was a whole different kettle of fish to the auditions I’d faced at school.

  Even now, when we watch kids audition for Britain’s Got Talent, it takes me and Dec back to our first auditions, because we know exactly what they are going through. Although if, by some strange twist of fate, Simon Cowell had been at the Mitre that day, I’m not sure I’d have made it – but we’ll come to The Prince Of Darkness later in the book.

  I got through the audition without any major disasters, went home and, later that day, the producer rang the house and offered me the part of a character called Robert.

  I was over the moon. I’d gone from feeling fairly lukewarm about it all to being ecstatic. I’d seen the first series of Byker Grove, so I knew it was a much bigger deal than Why Don’t You? It was a proper acting job, with long-term prospects, so I thought it would be worth putting up with any hassle I might get at school. When I got the news, me, my mam and Sarha indulged in the traditional celebration of running round the sofa and screaming.

  Then the phone rang again. I thought, ‘That’ll probably be Steven Spielberg, he’s heard about Why Don’t You? and now Byker Grove, he’s probably about to cast me as the new Indiana Jones or something.’ To my surprise, it wasn’t Steven Spielberg, it was the producer of Byker Grove. They’d changed their mind – they didn’t want to offer me the part of Robert, after all. My heart sank, until he said they’d like to offer me the part of PJ – PJ the DJ. I thought, ‘PJ the DJ? That sounds cheesy,’ but of course I took it and, as soon as I put the phone down, I did what any other twelve-year-old would have done in that situation: three more laps of the sofa.

  I think the way we got into Byker Grove also tells you something about our different personalities. I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry, we’re not about to get all deep and psychological, this is just a quick observation.

  I jumped straight in and couldn’t wait to get going, and that’s what I’m like with people – I’m happy to talk to almost anyone, being what’s technically known as a complete show-off.

  I, on the other hand, took my time to decide acting was for me, I wasn’t sure at first, and I suppose that does reflect my personality. Even now, I never jump straight into things – except swimming pools – I always reserve judgement and take my time. If you don’t believe me, it took me twenty minutes just to come up with that sentence.

  I think there’s a lesson there for everyone reading this book – if you ever bump into us two, talk to Dec, he’s much better with new people than I am.

  We had our parts, and we were ready to go. Just to refresh your memory, and our memories for that matter, Byker Grove was a weekly kids’ drama on BBC1 set in a youth club in, well, Byker, which is a real area in the east end of Newcastle. Most of the characters were aged between twelve and sixteen, and the series ran from 1989 to 2006, although, obviously, the actors changed, otherwise you’d have had a load of people in their thirties going to a youth club, and that would definitely have damaged the show’s credibility.

  So, it’s the late eighties, we’ve got our first proper acting jobs, and nothing was going to stop us making a go of our new careers.

  Well, nothing except a complete lack of any genuine acting experience…

  Chapter 2

  I turned up on my first day at Byker Grove absolutely terrified, and I noticed there was a pattern emerging here:

  Audition for Why Don’t You? – nervous.

  Audition for Byker Grove – scared.

  First day at Byker Grove – absolutely terrified.

  Between you and me, I was starting to think it might be some sort of allergic reaction to performing. I considered having a stiff drink to steady my nerves, but then I realized I was thirteen years old, so I took a deep breath and headed into the Mitre.

  I walked into a big room where all the cast were and immediately felt intimidated. There were teenage actors everywhere, all laughing, swapping stories and generally having a great time. Most of them had been together for series one, so they’d already formed friendships, whereas the only relationship I had with them was based on watching them on the telly on a Tuesday afternoon. And even then I sometimes used to watch Children’s Ward on ITV instead…

  How could you?

  I know, I’m sorry.

  They really were a daunting bunch – they were all mates and, in my eyes, they were famous.

  Oh yeah, having been in series one of Byker Grove together, we were huge celebrities – it was like a Geordie Ocean’s Eleven.

  Lyndyann Barrass, aka Spuggie, was there – I’ll never forget that shock of red hair. There was Sally McQuillan, who played Donna; she was the Queen Bee. Jill Halfpenny, who went on to bigger and better things, was also in the room. Like I say, I found them all very intimidating. The weirdest thing of all was that, for the entire day, we didn’t do any filming. I didn’t know it when I arrived, but the whole thing was designed as an ice-breaker to welcome the new kids, and with me, well, let’s just say there was a lot of ice to break – a pickaxe would have come in handy.

  We all sat in a big circle with Dee Wood, one of the chaperones, and played word-association games. I didn’t have a clue what was going on. The only word I could associate with the whole thing was ‘cringiness’. After that, we moved on to a game that they all knew and I didn’t, called, ‘I went to the shops and I bought…’, where you had to recite a shopping list. Or something. I was so confused, I nearly popped out to Tesco when it was my turn.

  Of course, this was the first time me and Dec met. People often ask us about that first meeting, and you probably think it was this magical moment where we instantly connected, immediately hit it off and then started finishing each other’s…

  … sentences.

  But it wasn’t…

  … like that at all.

  That first day was terrible. It couldn’t have been scarier if I’d been walking into the Royal Shakespeare Company as the new Hamlet.

  As you can imagine, I felt like a complete stranger on the edge of the group. And there was a good reason for that: I was a complete stranger on the edge of the group.

  I just thought you were a grumpy bugger.

  In fact, I still think you’re a grumpy bugger.

  Pretty soon we were all talking to each other – you know what kids are like, they’ll talk to anyone, especially when adults force them to. The first thing I noticed about Dec was how small and young-looking he was, and we quickly got chatting about a subject we both had in common, something t
hat’s caused us tears, pain and no end of misery over the years: following Newcastle United. We also bonded over the fact that we were both from the west end – a lot of the other kids on Byker Grove were from other parts of the North-east, whereas we lived fairly close to each other.

  I must say that, on the whole, everyone was really nice to me. I must say that because some of them might be reading this…

  But, as I said, there wasn’t a magical moment where Dec and me bonded and decided to spend the rest of our lives together.

  You make us sound like a married couple.

  Don’t be ridiculous, married couples spend every waking minute together, always know what the other one’s thinking and constantly bicker with each other.

  No they don’t.

  Yes they do.

  No they don’t. Look, what did we say? Not in the book…

  Okay, okay.

  As well as the kids who’d been in series one, there were also professionals, grown-up actors. People like ‘Little’ Billy Fane, who played Geoff, the youth leader in charge of the Grove.