Writer: David Benson
2026 will see the 100th anniversary of the birth of actor and comedian Kenneth Williams. It is also the 30th anniversary of David Benson’s one-man show, Think No Evil of Us, which won numerous awards due in no small part to Benson’s uncanny ability to imitate the performer.
Doing so is by no means easy. Williams was facially, vocally and almost intellectually dextrous. His dialogue would ricochet between snooty upper-class drawls and rat-faced sneering and several variations in between, all of which Benson is able to deliver with pinched accuracy in the first half of this reworked version of the show. Benson’s delight at capturing some of the icons from the heydays of British comedy – John Le Mesurier and Arthur Lowe in full Dad’s Army mode, the expressive eyebrows of Lancashire’s gift to Hollywood, Stan Laurel – is easily shared. Frankie Howerd, who, like Williams, would use a variety of vocal tics to keep the audience entertained in the run-up to a saucy punchline, also makes an appearance with an impression that seems reluctant to leave.
The first half of My Life with Kenneth Williams is an autobiographical fare, with Benson talking about how his gift for comedy helped with school bullies (“one you have them laughing, they stop hitting you… then you just have to worry about the ones with no sense of humour”). Williams was one of the few personalities he would not impersonate, the comedian’s camp mannerisms being inappropriate for a young boy who was desperate to avoid the homophobic taunts of classmates desperate to pick on anyone they thought of as being a “’mo”.
Benson’s routine revolves around a short story he wrote for a competition celebrating the 10th anniversary of the children’s classic storytelling programme, Jackanory. Benson’s winning story was to be delivered by Williams, one of the series’s most frequent contributors. The 13-year-old was appalled – not only was Williams’s campness a threat to his own safety at school, but his own comedic tastes veered towards Spike Milligan and the Goons.
This reworked version of My Life with Kenneth Williams cuts back on some aspects of Benson’s family life that previous iterations have touched upon. What remains is still entertaining – although asking the audience to sing three rounds of All Things Bright and Beautiful in a re-enactment of a school assembly might be a bit much. It also sits a little too easily in the act of pushing Williams away, almost antithetically to the title of the performance. Still, Benson’s extant recording of how Williams read his story – recorded with a cassette recorder next to the TV – is a slice of Williams history that we would get nowhere else, the BBC having long since wiped their videotape recordings.
The second half of Benson’s show is pure Williams, Benson inhabiting the performer fully throughout. Starting at a poetry-themed performance of Williams, his public persona on full display, we gradually move into his more private life, from his codependence with his mother, who lived in the flat next door to his, and his ongoing pain due to a panoply of gastrointestinal issues. The bulk of the performance, though, sees Williams hold court at a restaurant dinner, where he berates his friends, is snide and leering towards the restaurant staff, and is abusive towards autograph hunters.
This side of Williams is not without humour – ever the raconteur, Benson imbues his version of the comic with all the witty asides and put-downs (plus a remarkably astute impression of Maggie Smith) for which the performer was renowned.
The split between Bensons’ autobiographical first half and the vignettes near the end of Williams’s life in the second does make My Life with Kenneth Williams feel like an unbalanced show. Still, it remains a remarkably detailed recreation of Williams’s persona, showing us all the hard edges of a performer who was often beloved, but simultaneously quite hard to like.
Reviewed on 24 January 2026 and continues to tour
