10 things that changed my life: Gavin Mitchell, actor

WOMEN have always been a great influence on my life, but when Margaret Thatcher came along it suddenly broke the romanticism.

We were a socialist family, particularly left-wing, and from being brought up in Springburn I moved to Lanarkshire, where my stepfather was a miner. All my adult life we were ruled by Conservatives, until Tony Blair won in 1997, and it had a massive effect on my politics and still does.

Apart from the logical question about why we are constantly ruled by people that we haven’t voted for, there was this woman, who clearly had nothing but distaste and contempt for people like me – my class and my nationality.

Then, because of that, I joined the People’s March for Jobs in 1981 when I was 16. Thatcher politicised me unwittingly, so in a perverse way I have a lot to thank her for.

When she passed away, I was very careful about what I said about her on social media, but I couldn’t agree with those who were saying she was a poor old woman now and we couldn’t say anything detrimental. People have short memories. This was a woman who decimated communities and succeeded in turning working-class people against one another. I will never feel sorry for that woman.

2. Libraries

I WOULD say that I’m self-educated and to this day books are my addiction. I’m sure I know every library and librarian in Glasgow – look at a map and I’ll tell you where the library is.

My first would have been in Springburn and then on to Airdrie and Coatbridge. I’m not alone. Alasdair Gray, Billy Connolly and many others have said their main education came from their local libraries.

I still go to the library nearly every day and they always allow me to take out more than they should. For me it’s where you dream, far beyond the internet or anything. You have a book in your hand, and everything is there. Whether that’s knowledge in non-fiction or escaping into another world with fiction.

People are always saying I should get a Kindle, particularly for travelling, because I always carry so many books. When I’m packing to go away my girlfriend always reminds me that I need to fit in some pants around the books and art supplies. But no, it’s commando again – lucky her!

I think we’ve lost 800 libraries or so in the past decade under the Tories. It’s taking away our means of self-education and escape. They’re also much more than books. They’re gathering places, a centre of the community where you could also borrow music and films, giving access to people who can’t afford to experience those. Truly egalitarian places.

3. David Bowie

MY ultimate hero and my North Star for as long as I remember. From the moment he pointed at me from the TV, doing Starman on Top of the Pops in 1972, he’s been the person that made me realise you can be whoever you want to be.

There was something of the Renaissance man about him, in a society that always tries to tell you not to be too big for your boots and tries to keep you in the box it chooses for you.

I started a running gag on social media that David Bowie was actually my dad. People accepted it in that spirit. For example, when he got Kate Moss to say, “don’t leave us Scotland” in 2014, Tom Urie got in touch and said, “what do you think about what your dad saying, don’t leave the Union?”. I replied: “He’s clearly pissed. Is it one of these awards ceremonies where he’s been drinking Blue Nun and off his tits now?”

Then when he passed so many people got in touch to say “sorry about your dad”.

He did feel like a member of the family, particularly as mine was so fractured. He was my bedrock in lots of ways – something I could look to and rely on. I had the honour of accepting his Barrowland Hall of Fame Award on his behalf just after he passed away and then managed to pass it on to Earl Slick (above), his foot soldier for more than 40 years.

4. Bob The Dog

HE’S looking at me because I said his name! He’s a rescue dog from Spain.

My friend Clare sent me a picture, and said his name was Bobby ... I said I canna have a dog called Bobby! I went to meet him, and we clicked. I won a watch considering all he’s been through. He was probably a hunting dog and dumped. He found his way back to his owner, who took him to a kill shelter, where he only had days to live.

When I said I was going to adopt him, the woman from the rescue told me that the last four dogs brought over were named Jack, Victor, Isa, and Bobby and I chose Bobby. Things happen for a reason but he’s now just Bob the Dog.

5. Citizens Theatre

THIS was where my new life started. I knew I had always wanted to be an actor, but I never really admitted that.

I was unemployed but would get casual work at the Citz, scene painting. A friend of mine called Ian Muir worked there as a carpenter and said they had asked him to be an extra. He said he would do it if I would do it, so it started off as a dare really. That was ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore, around 1988.

Although I was untrained I was there for four or five years and I have everything to thank Giles Havergal, Robert David MacDonald and Philip Prowse for. They changed my life and gave me the best training I could ever hope for. I have no idea where I would be without the opportunity they gave me.

6. Dad and the GFT

BEFORE my dad was a porter in Stobhill Hospital he was a cinema projectionist and passed on his love of cinema. In the 1960s he would screen the Bond films and epics such as Lawrence of Arabia.

It was the Glasgow Film Theatre where it really all happened for me, even though I was unemployed. I had my UB40 so I could go to see amazing classic old films like Night of the Hunter.

The GFT doesn’t get enough support. It’s the only place in the city to see classic movies on the big screen – how they should be seen. Also, foreign language films that open up the world to us. I would go to see Wim Wenders films and it was part of my schooling.

7. Gran Murphy

I’VE always preferred women’s company to men’s and I think that comes down to having amazing women in my life. My gran was my rock.

My mum and dad were constantly splitting up and running away with me, but in the middle of all that my gran was solid. She was quiet, an old-fashioned grandmother who sorted you out with a good stare.

She was a good Catholic but never shoved it down anyone’s throat. In fact she taught me not to be dogmatic, which has had an effect on my approach to politics. People fighting within themselves turns my stomach and I can’t be bothered with it.

She went through so much and didn’t just teach me about empathy and open-mindedness but also about survival.

8. Berlin

IT always held a fascination for me. Partly the Bowie connection of course, but in the 1980s, at my height of youth and pretension, Berlin was the place to go.

Then I met Martin Jagodzinski, who had come to Glasgow from Berlin to avoid the draft. We met at a CND rally where he was pretty cold, and then a few months later at a Pogues gig where he was much friendlier. I found out that his aloofness came from the fact that he couldn’t understand a word I said. He was now used to Glaswegian!

When he went back, I visited. I was in my early 20s and it was my first time abroad, but I decided to stay, landscape gardening during the day and DJing in a French gay club at night.

I thought it was an astonishing city. We were completely surrounded by Eastern Europe and you could get to central Poland in a third of the time it would take you to get back into West Germany. Turn the corner at any point and the Wall was right on top of you.

I was reluctant to go back as it had been such an important experience. I went back in 1989 as wall was coming down and I was there for the first checkpoint opening. I was there a couple of years ago and even though it has changed a lot, it still feels like a bit of a spiritual home.

9. Gerard Kelly

HE was an extraordinary man. The first time we worked together was on the Slab Boys trilogy in the early 1990s, but we were also connected by a love of Bowie.

About 10 years later we were in panto at the Kings and we did many together. I don’t know if you could actually ever call him a friend, because he always kept his distance. He was very professional, intelligent, incredibly well read. He was also extremely private, had some OCD, but was pragmatic. A fascinating individual.

He was an absolute machine when it came to pantomime and taught me so much about the craft and giving 100% at all times. Unless your head is hanging off, you go on.

I think people can be sniffy about pantomime, but in reality it’s the hardest job you’ll ever do is an actor.

A couple of weeks before he passed we had a few coffees over an afternoon. He was on sparkling form and I laughed and laughed.

When the news of his illness came through, I thought the worst-case scenario would be how to keep him OFF stage while he recovered. Then the next day, the message from Andy Gray followed by so many others.

I took over his role and there was no time to grieve. It was just doing your best for him. I had no idea how much he meant to me until he was gone.

10. Still Game

THAT’S it over – what a shame. Onwards and upwards! Of course it changed everything. I met Ford and Greg in 1996 in a show called Pulp Video – that’s where the old men first appeared. Originally it was me and Greg, but Ford came in with a sketch for the three of us and I became Winston. My Winston was very shaky though and wouldn’t have lasted a series!

I went on to do Velvet Soup and they did Chewin’ the Fat, and when Still Game the TV series came about, they did a pilot with Billy McElhaney as Bobby. He couldn’t do the telly and the buggers made me audition! I became Bobby, the figure of abuse, but it kind of backfired and people felt sorry for him.

I was in Mount Florida one day and an old woman came up and said: “Awwww son, can I give you a hug. Those two are ridiculous – the things they say to you!”

The boys were very generous with me over the years, and really rounded Bobby out as a character. They showed that he was a genuinely good bloke and looked after people.

When they told me about how they were going to end it, I got such a lump in my throat. I also had the last line in the last episode – the ultimate honour.