When a British comedy legend launches his autobiography, you make sure you go out and read it. We went one step further and saw Ade Edmondson live at The Lowry in Manchester for his one man tour.

Berserker! hit bookshelves on 28th September 2023. We got our copy four days early (neh neh neh neh neh!) as they were handed out during An Evening With Adrian Edmondson.

Having now read almost all of it, we can confirm it’s a fabulous read. It has all the humour and wit you’d expect, but it’s also very moving when reminiscing about the legend that is Rik Mayall.

Poignancy Overload and a Punch to the Knackers in Berserker! An Autobiography

Berserker! has 11 parts, with the opening stages covering Edmondson’s childhood and family life. Which, we must note, were rather bereft of love.

He struggled with all manner of things from the off in a repressed post-WWII environment. Born in January 1957, the forename “Adrian” is thought of as a girl’s name by his peers. Additionally, his surname is long and awkward.

His father hates the surname, partially as all sorts have a habit of spelling it incorrectly, and projects this issue onto his family:

“One thing that really got his goat was people missing out the second ‘d’ when writing our name. He successfully passed this splenetic fury on to us and it used to bother me a lot until I learned there are only six existing documents on which William Shakespeare wrote his name, and that he spelled it differently on each one. There are eighty different spellings of his name from contemporaneous sources, ranging from Shappere to Shaxberd. I told Dad. He wasn’t impressed.”

His father also uses the excellent term “Blood and stomach pills!” instead of swearing like a trooper. As swearing is strictly forbidden in proper British households.

And its through his father’s odd behaviour that Edmondson develops a great deal of personal angst, uncertainty, and even dislike for himself.

His father is ultra-conservative and, at age seven, tells his son there’s no need for hugging anymore. A handshake will do. Of his father’s behaviour Edmondson notes:

“I don’t really blame Dad for being how he was. He was ten when the war started, so he’d spent all of his formative years, up to the age of twenty-five, on rationing. Money was never easy when he was young. People were careful. Finances were precarious. And strangely, being in hock to some bank for twenty-five to thirty years had become the accepted ‘safe’ way to do things [mortgages]. A badge of prudence and respectability. ‘They must be good people – they owe thousands of pounds to the bank.'”

Like many young people of his era, Edmondson was greatly excited by what was going on in the charts. And it’s obvious from his formative years he wanted to be a rock star.

Throughout this book he refers to himself as an “accidental comedian”.

His comedic popularity peaked in the ’80s and ’90s and since the ’00s he’s taken on all sorts of diverse projects, including working as a musician in his band The Bad Shepherds.

Fans of his (and this was notable at the gig we attended at The Lowry) are disappointed Edmondson doesn’t engage in much Bottom or Young Ones banter and tends to try and avoid public attention when out and about.

His autobiography isn’t here for laughs and to have you rolling around on the floor in giggles with masses of profanity.

Edmondson is forward-thinking and doesn’t sit around milking former successes. He stopped working on Bottom in 2003 when it was still hugely popular and making a lot of money, frustrating his comedic partner in the process.

It’s a very personal work for him, this book, and it’s obvious he had a desire to address issues from his life in a new era of open discussion.

One where talking about mental health issues, the troubles with family, and a sense of grief are encouraged (rather than repressed in the ’60s and ’70s mentality):

“My parents grew up in the trauma of the Second World War; my Uncle Douglas’s face sags on one side, a kind of palsy brought on by watching his friends die under a tank as it slowly sank into soft ground with them sleeping underneath. But nobody talks. And that attitude still persists in the seventies. I don’t know I’ve got a mental health issue.”

There are many other very personal reflections such like this. And the result can be very moving.

Perhaps surprisingly, given the crazed, careless characters he’s played throughout his career. But that’s acting for you and the man behind the berserk antics has a keen intelligence and introspective quality to anything he’s ever done.

And, of course, he has to write about his comedic double act with another British legend.

Edmondson’s Rise to Stardom and England’s Alternative Comedy ’80s Scene

There’s an enormous amount of sadness to Edmondson’s reflection on his formative years. Not connecting with his family, the beatings from pervert teachers in grammar schools, and feeling ill at ease with his place in the world.

At one stage he wondered if his family was even still alive. They were in Uganda during Idi Amin’s purges and didn’t write to their son for a long spell.

Once he headed off to university in Manchester, in 1975, things changed. He and Rik Mayall bonded magnificently and began doing comedy shows immediately:

“I get shockingly bad grades – but they let me in anyway. Rik gets in through clearing – his grades are even worse than mine. 1975 must have been a thin year.”

They played Manchester’s clubs and post-university went down to London’s seedy Soho district in the early ’80s. That was after reading an ad in a paper advertising an alternative comedy scene looking for new talent.

Rik and Ade’s violent act soon became popular.

Their first hit was with The Dangerous Brothers, which laid the foundations for the rest of Rik and Ade’s comedy partnership:

“Rik plays Richard Dangerous who looks as demented as Ron Mael, the mad keyboard player from the band Sparks, but on amphetamines. Like Ron he appears to have a hidden agenda but he’s wired, anxious and hyperactive. I play Sir Adrian Dangerous who is fundamentally a berserker – he is furiously violent and out of control. He’s the obvious foot soldier in the relationship, but is too stupid to understand his position. There’s always a suspicion they are being watched by a higher power – Mr. Cooper – and that if they fuck up they will suffer serious consequences, so there’s a frenzied urgency to get everything right. They’re more like hitmen than comedians, but it becomes evident they’ve been sent to deliver a bog standard cracker joke:

‘What’s green and hairy and goes up and down? A gooseberry in a lift.’

But they never get to tell it in this simple form.

Rik springs onto the stage and shouts: ‘We are the Dangerous Brothers! I am Richard Dangerous! And this …’ he says as I rush on after him ‘… is Sir Adrian Dangerous!’

At which point I run forward and headbutt the microphone. It not only makes a brilliant sound, but usually bursts from the mic stand and lands in the audience.”

It’s a bit awkward, but very promising. The core to it is the level of violence involved, which was a step above Vaudevillian slapstick.

You can see the Buster Keaton influences (although Edmondson is fonder of his beloved Laurel & Hardy).

Mayall’s trademark frenetic energy is already there, alongside the caustic violence of Edmondson’s voice (although he’s softly spoken when not putting that on).

In the early ’80s, it was punk meets comedy.

Across their career together the punky violence was always borderline concerning, but Rik and Ade were always capable of making extreme acts look amusing (often as they were accompanied by absurd, cartoonish sound effects).

Of his early time spent with Mayall, Edmondson has this to say:

“He’s a shockingly handsome boy and he carries himself with such easy confidence. He manages to be amiably available to everyone without ever coming across as unpleasantly pushy or arrogant.

I don’t know what it is that makes him so beautiful. Is it something to do with the width of his forehead? His cheekbones? The angular nature of his jaw? His smile? The way his hair almost stands up at the front?

The older I get the more I realise that beauty mostly comes from within, and with Rik, especially in the early student days, he’s just remarkably uncomplicated, and I think that’s what people find attractive. You get what you see – a fun-loving charmer, someone who’s easy to be around, someone who wants to laugh and to make other people laugh, a bit of a show-off but someone who just wants the night to go well.”

The pair of them, with their natural intelligence and seeming telepathic ability to work together, make for a revolutionary moment in British comedy.

With Ben Elton and Lise Meyer, they helped create the manic surrealism of The Young Ones (1982-1984), starring as lunatic punk Vyvyan (Edmondson) and hypocrite anarchist Rik (Mayall).

The show was crude, gross, had biting social commentary (daring to poke fun at robotic Prime Minister overlord Thatcher), and was like nothing else the UK had ever seen before.

Up until then, sitcoms were delightful twee affairs with inane grinning and discussions about lovely things. Think of The Good Life with Felicity Kendal and Richard Briers.

The characters in The Young Ones are unashamedly horrible.

You can see that, and hints of The Dangerous Brothers, in much more polished form in the slapstick social commentary of Bottom (1991-2003).

Edmondson played drunken nihilist Eddie Hitler and Mayall was the insane and delusional snob Richard Richard. It’s definitely their career highlight together and features some excellent performances and writing.

The pair of them were obsessed with Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, being one of the few people who viewed the play as a comedy.

That influences the existential nature of the show. Its success with a sect of the British public led to five Bottom live shows (of which we saw two).

And whilst these dipped in quality on the fourth and fifth ones, in part due to a severe head injury for Rik Mayall in 1998, they still found time for a film in 1999.

This was the underrated Guest House Paradiso, which we thought had some serious high points to it.

Bottom wasn’t well received by critics many across the UK. Edmondson notes:

“The reviews for Bottom when it’s first broadcast in the early nineties are mostly scathing, and often use the word ‘puerile’ as an insult. Perhaps reviewers fear that enjoying slapstick might make them appear lacking in intellect.”

The show is still terrific, but its use of swearing and extraordinary Vaudevillian violence will always alienate some viewers. You’re not going to get some upper-class Conservative sort sitting there and enjoying it.

But again, it was a huge hit of a show here and inspired a generation of budding comedians and performers.

It’s also worth highlighting Edmondson shot to fame at an early age.

We suggest that allowed him to ignore his personal battles. Gloss over them and revel in the moment. He didn’t need to address his early life issues when there was so much work to be getting on with.

Now 66, calming down and reflecting on his life (although still looking for the project that’ll define his career, as he’s stated), he’s finally had a chance to address the earlier, troublesome part of his life.

Final Notes on Berserker! as a Self-Deprecating Account of Success

This is a terrific autobiography. But one his fans may be surprised isn’t packed with swearing and frying pans to the head.

It’s a considered and moving account of a life that the writer still has big plans for. Edmondson is still working on many projects and is determined to land his career defining project in the years ahead.

Berserker! is poignant but packed full of charm, written in self-effacing style that isn’t about hailing his career as a “success” or to boast about his wealth.

That includes anecdotes of famous people he’s met.

These isn’t celeb showboating to make him look great, they’re warnings about meeting your expectations and staying grounded.

We note in Pete Townshend’s autobiography Who I Am (2012), Townshend has a long chapter discussing how he’s trying to buy a boat for his property in London.

Edmondson met Townshend and was invited to perform on stage with The Who, cordoned off away from the main band. Then:

“I go to a rehearsal on a soundstage at Shepperton where I discover why the three surviving members of the band are so profoundly deaf – they play far too loud …

I have a drink with John Entwistle in the Shepperton bar afterwards and have the most surreal conversation I’ve had in my life. He cannot hear a single word I say, nor can he be bothered to lip read, but he avoids any kind of social awkwardness by simply presuming everything I’ve said. Half an hour of complete non-sequiturs ensues before he leaves with an attractive young woman.”

And another time he met dancing superstar Mick Jagger.

He had a meal at Jagger’s home, but the singer didn’t have a clue who he was and spent the meal calling him “Adam” and obviously didn’t want to be there (Jagger’s wife made him turn up). As a huge fan of The Rolling Stones, it’s a disappointing time of it for Edmondson.

It seems to be his early life, so grounded in disappointment, that keeps his reality in check through such encounters.

He’s particularly frustrated by Rik Mayall’s clowning around when they become famous, noting it’s a “trial” to travel with his comedy partner anywhere in the UK. Mayall actively encourages people to expect his autograph.

Mayall was self-aware about that, realised it was absurd, but couldn’t help himself. The inner jester letting itself loose (to his credit, he did also note he led a “charmed life” thanks to his early rise to stardom).

From Edmondson’s side, he’s clearly avoided all the more grandiose trappings of fame. None of this has gone to his head and it all seems more of a surprise to him than anything else.

With his wife Jennifer Saunders, who he met in the early ’80s at the alternative comedy club in London, the pair have an agreement not to discuss their relationship in public.

He doesn’t mention her much in the book, other than to note her own brilliant comedic chops in the likes of Absolutely Fabulous.

But his autobiography does, inevitably, lead up to the sudden loss of Rik Mayall in June 2014. News that shocked the nation.

And something Edmondson hasn’t talked about much over the last nine years.

Yet Berserker! is also funny and witty; laden with a kind of Shakespearean farcical clout that makes it essential reading for fans of his work.

Or for anyone who wants a keen insight into how to lead a life intelligently whilst overcoming internal battles.