20 years ago today – Ian Dury waves goodbye

27 March 2020 marks the twentieth anniversary of the death of Ian Dury.

Here is an extract from Ian Dury – The Definitive Biography that reports on Ian’s funeral on 5 April 2000.

Outside of royalty it was probably the most widely-reported send-off London had seen in many a year. The capital had taken the little guy to its collective heart and his death, aged 57, was mourned by family and fans, colleagues and cabinet ministers. The funeral had been planned, in part, by Ian, with Jemima and Baxter working out the fine detail. ‘We’re gonna have it proper,’ Ian had told his friend Jock Scot some weeks earlier. ‘I want the horses with the plumes and the glass-sided carriage.’ North London funeral directors Levertons had been appointed, as was Ian’s wish. They had administered Peggy’s funeral and, in 1930, that of Henry Croft, the original Pearly King of London, whose coffin had been transported through the streets in the same horse-drawn hearse.

On the morning of 5 April 2000 the funeral cortege stopped outside Ian and Sophy’s home before making its onward journey to Golders Green crematorium. Floral tributes adorned the carriage, including a huge wreath spelling ‘Durex’, curiously appropriate for someone who had died within 24 hours of Dr Alex Comfort, author of The Joy Of Sex. Hampstead traffic came to a standstill, with police in attendance to maintain order. ‘It was one of the most amazing days of my life,’ remembers Baxter. ‘It was such amazingly weird fun and we were lucky to be involved. From the moment we woke up, there were a million incidents.’

An old gangster friend of Ian’s ‘with a name like Stanley Stichett’ turned up bearing a huge smoked trout, which was consumed al fresco. Two motorcycle police arrived to accompany the funeral procession, saying that they were big fans of Ian’s and apologised for the fact they were unable to provide police horses. ‘They stood outside the house with their huge bikes,’ remembers Baxter, ‘and there’s Derek the Draw in the middle of them with a massive spliff on. The paparazzi were on the other side of the road and the gangster was slicing up the fish. It was as if all of Ian’s life started to appear before us. Then me and Jemima and Aunt Moll and Sophy and the kids sat in there. Aunt Moll was wondering what the fuck was going on.’

The journey to Golders Green crematorium took a little longer than expected and by the time the cortege arrived, hundreds of mourners were gathered outside the chapel. They included Mo Mowlam, Robbie Williams, Neneh Cherry and Nick Lowe. It was arranged that Blockheads Norman, Mick, Johnny and Chaz would be pallbearers, assisted by members of Madness, whose Chris Foreman recalls, ‘They wanted some of us and I assumed it would be Suggs and Carl, but the Blockheads are kind of small, so they chose Lee Thompson and myself, as we are of similar height. I was quite surprised to be asked, but it was an honour.’

Jock Scot remembers, ‘There were more people than could be fitted into the chapel. People who had every right to be there couldn’t get in and had to watch the service on television screens. I was standing outside talking to Suggs and asked him if he was carrying the coffin. He said, “No, I’m too tall.” A guy came out of the chapel and said, “Full up.” Suggs said, “Come with me,” and we walked in behind the coffin.’

Annette Furley, from the British Humanist Association, conducted the service, telling the congregation how Ian battled polio and fought cancer with strength and good humour. ‘What made him sad,’ said Ms Furley, ‘was knowing that he would not see Billy and Albert grow up.’ One of the most moving parts of the service was the Blockheads’ vocal rendition of ‘You’re The Why’, a song Ian had written with Chaz and recorded during the last year of his life.

The funeral cortege. Courtesy of Kees Bakker

Later that day a huge wake took place at The Forum in Kentish Town. ‘It was a sad occasion but it was spectacularly sad,’ says Jock. ‘He wanted an Irish style wake where everyone gets together and gets pissed.’ My personal recollection of the event was that there was indeed much alcohol consumed throughout the afternoon and evening, leaving many ‘tired and emotional’. But the musical entertainment was superb and the affection for Ian immense. The stage was adorned with Tom Sheehan’s ‘Paddy’ portrait of Ian, enlarged as a giant backdrop. The Blockheads supplied accompaniment for a succession of guest vocalists, including Baxter, who performed a poignant ‘My Old Man’. Ronnie Carroll appeared in an overcoat and sang ‘Danny Boy’ a capella, adapting the words to ‘Oh Ian Boy’. ‘Reasons To Be Cheerful’ provided a fitting finale to a long and moving day.

Baxter was adamant that his father’s ashes had to be disposed of properly and promptly. ‘We’ve got to do it now,’ he exclaimed. Everyone agreed. ‘Derek went to pick up the ashes and brought them back here,’ recalls Sophy. ‘We had a look. Bill couldn’t understand what happened to daddy between being here, dead and suddenly being in a box. He wanted to know what happened to the box. I had to explain about the magic fire.’

The family hired a car and driver to take them to Hammersmith, where they hooked up with the sage-like Derek the Draw outside Digby Mansions. Sophy, Jemima, Baxter, Bill, Albert and Derek walked up onto Hammersmith Bridge and ceremoniously threw Ian’s old callipers into the river. They were swiftly followed by one of his favourite sticks. Then, on their way to the Blue Anchor pub, where they would remember their loved one over port and lemonade, they strolled down to the riverbank. Baxter, young Bill and Derek took Ian’s ashes and sprinkled them into the Thames, along with some flowers and pieces of poetry. ‘He was now free and free of disability,’ says Sophy.

Ian’s ashes floated down river, winding their way through his beloved London, where ribald tales of ‘Billericay Dickie’ and ‘Plaistow Patricia’ were born, to be carried on the outbound tide past the Medway towns where 30 years earlier he had cut his musical teeth with the Kilburns and then past Southend and the site of the swimming pool where, on that fateful day in August 1949, he was tragically afflicted with the polio virus that wasted the left-hand-side of his body and dominated his life, yet in some magical way inspired him to enrich the lives of us all.

Copyright Will Birch 2010, reproduced by kind permission of Pan Macmillan

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