In the 1970s, as a resting actor, I worked as a minicab driver for a company that had the contract with London Weekend Television. One evening I went to the Garrick club to pick up a guest of Russell Harty. While waiting, I joined the doorman in watching the tiny portable TV in his cubicle. We were highly amused by Dame Edna Everage, just as someone joined us from behind, chuckling as much as we were.
I turned and found myself looking at an imposing gentleman in an exquisite suit: it was Barry Humphries.