Gone but not Forgotten
Dave Myers is dead. He’d looked so very brave for so very long battling his cancer that while the end was clearly neigh, it was still a surprise.
Myers was an extremely accomplished presenter able to absorb script at speed and deliver it with light and shade. He understood the need for multiple takes and could hit his mark with precision on every one of them, throwing lines to Si as fresh on four as one. What he didn’t understand is why he and Si had been given a single camera wielded by a self-shooting director, when Gordon had a whole crew.
He was the other famous product of a town that makes nuclear submarines. That should have been a warning. The most mercurial talent I’ve known, and the bar is high, he could open his front door to you with a smile and within seconds the fan would be clogged with shit and the team sheltering in the pantry. Anyone who worked with him knows this.
He was half of a dysfunctional relationship that paid dividends to the broadcaster at great cost to everyone else, including his co-star. Our association was short and hot, a summer filler that became a smash hit, giving the hirsute motorcyclists their greatest ever book success, toppling 50 Shades of Grey from the bestsellers’ list. Recently we survivors spoke by phone, sent Si our heartfelt love and ruefully rubbed old scars. We remembered the moments after the daily wrap, shut in the unit car, mass-screaming the C Word until we were hoarse.
Dave was the make-up artist I never made up with, but I hope he is at peace and his family enjoy the bounty of his success.
