Gavin and Stacey legend Alison Steadman recalls her main concern before breaking barriers with first lesbian kiss on British TV
The actress on badgers, broken bones, the birth of the Beatles — and the debt she will always owe to Beverly…

This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine.
Born in Liverpool, Alison Steadman is best known for her roles in Gavin & Stacey and The Singing Detective, as well as the unforgettable Beverly in the Mike Leigh play Abigail’s Party and the subsequent TV adaptation. Now she’s back on television playing ebullient matriarch Sue in the third series of Tom Basden’s very modern family sitcom Here We Go.
How does Sue fit into the pantheon of formidable women that you’ve played?
Although she’s pushy, she’s not nasty. And I love working with Jim [Howick] who plays my son. It feels so easy and natural, and that’s down to the writing. If you haven’t got a decent script, you can’t do a decent part. Tom is such a good writer. With every series we’ve done, he brings more fun to it. Everything comes from the writer – or the writers, as it was on Gavin & Stacey with Ruth Jones and James Corden.
Didn’t Jones and Corden write Pam, Gavin’s melodramatic mother, with you in mind?
They sent me the first episode and said “Would you consider playing this part?” So I read the first scene where she’s lying on the couch with cucumbers on her eyes and Gavin goes, “All right, mum?” She says, “No, I’m not actually. I’ve been crying because I just saw these little badgers on the television that had died and the mother was crying.” And he goes “Mum – badgers don’t cry”. And she says, “Gavin, I know what I saw”. Then she gets up and does the evening meal. I love that scene.
In 1974, you were one half of the first lesbian kiss on British TV — in the BBC play, Girl by James Robson. Did it feel daring then?
I don’t think I realised at the time what a big deal it was. It was within the first two or three years of me doing television, but I was most concerned for my parents, really. They were from a small community in Liverpool where everybody knew everybody and suddenly their daughter was on television doing a lesbian kiss! But they were so good about it.

Were your parents always supportive of your acting?
They were thrilled when I got my place at [East 15] drama school and, on my 21st birthday when I was starting my second year, my dad made this lovely speech. He said that they were so proud of me for pursuing this career in a difficult profession and he was sure I’d succeed, but if it wasn’t working out and I wanted to come back home, I shouldn’t be ashamed because the time at drama school will have enriched my life. It was such a progressive, compassionate attitude.
Was it daunting leaving Liverpool for London?
Before my audition, I’d only been to London once, when I was ten. My aunt took me and my cousin, and we went to London Zoo and Buckingham Palace, then we got the train home. In those days, there were very few drama schools and they were all in London. Now, there are too many. Of course, everyone should be given a chance, but there isn’t enough work for everybody when they leave. It’s a shame.
Fast-forward half-a-century. Are you busier than ever?
It used to be that as an actress, if you could keep acting after the age of 40, you were really lucky. I’m 79 in August and luckily, I’m always being offered work. I haven’t been that busy this year because I had an accident [she broke her leg and hand in a fall in January]. But I’m almost back to normal now. I can walk again with a crutch, and I’ve just got to have one more operation.
Have you retired from working in the theatre?
I got to the point where I was finding it too scary. When you’re on top of it and you know what you’re doing, when you’re playing a part you love and you have that rapport with the audience, it’s absolutely wonderful. But as you get older, learning lines becomes more difficult – not for everyone, but for the majority of actors – and I couldn’t enjoy it any more.

What do you think of the infamous Beverly from Abigail’s Party now?
I developed the character, then we did the play at the Hampstead Theatre and within weeks it was sold out. After we finished the run, the theatre wanted us to go back so we went back for three months and it was a sell-out again. That made me think that it was quite important. Guys would come up to me in the bar and say “I know that woman. I know her very well”. It was lovely. And then, of course, getting asked to do it for telly…
When you were a teenager, you saw the Beatles play at the Cavern Club. What was that like?
I can still remember the fun of it. They hadn’t written or recorded anything, but they would play all these different songs and we used to sit in rows of wooden chairs. I remember Paul saying “Say hello to Ringo Starr. Ringo is playing for Pete because Pete can’t be with us today” And we were like “Oh, poor Pete. What’s happened to Pete?”
How do you feel about being described as a national treasure?
I don’t know whether I’m that keen on the phrase. Though if someone gives me that name, I’m not going to say “Oh, don’t call me that!” I’m grateful and flattered I’ve got to that stage.
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