{"id":40348,"date":"2026-03-09T03:17:44","date_gmt":"2026-03-09T03:17:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/demo4.dedicatedhost247.com\/news\/comedy-legend-rob-newman-escaping-into-relative-tranquility-of-wwii-books-entertainment\/"},"modified":"2026-03-09T03:17:44","modified_gmt":"2026-03-09T03:17:44","slug":"comedy-legend-rob-newman-escaping-into-relative-tranquility-of-wwii-books-entertainment","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/demo4.dedicatedhost247.com\/news\/comedy-legend-rob-newman-escaping-into-relative-tranquility-of-wwii-books-entertainment\/","title":{"rendered":"Comedy legend Rob Newman escaping into ‘relative tranquility’ of WWII | Books | Entertainment"},"content":{"rendered":"


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\"Rob<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

Rob Newman’s brilliant new Second World War-set book stars two women philosophers (Image: Courtesy Robert Newman)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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On November 20, 1944, a US P-47 Thunderbolt nicknamed Peggy III was hit by flak while returning from a dive-bombing mission over the German city of Bonn. Its 25-year-old pilot, Captain Robert J Bradford, was killed attempting to escape his burning aircraft, which subsequently crashed near the village of Liblar. The young US Eighth Air Force pilot, a member of the 56th Fighter Group, 63rd Fighter Squadron, had grown up in Dallam County, Texas, and trained as an architect before learning to fly and travelling halfway across the world to fight the Nazis.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Fellow airman Randel L Murphy Jr recalled: \u201cThe last time I saw him was at approximately 11:20 hours and it looked as though he had broken for the deck from which there was a lot of light flak and 40mm. I called him and there was no reply.\u201d Aside from the obvious family tragedy represented by Bradford\u2019s loss, you might wonder about the relevance. After all, some 26,000 members of the Mighty Eighth were killed in the European campaign during the Second World War.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But intriguingly, the Texan airman, whose remains were eventually interred at the Ardennes American Cemetery in Belgium, was the grandfather of British comedy legend and author Robert Newman. Having dated a young divorcee while posted to RAF Boxted outside Colchester in Essex, he left her pregnant, almost certainly without knowing it, when his aircraft fell from the sky in flames.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Read more:<\/strong> My father-in-law died 8 days after cancer diagnosis \u2013 I’m not scared of death <\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"US<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

US airman Robert J. Bradford left a Colchester divorcee pregnant when he was shot down in 1944 (Image: Unknown)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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\u201cIt\u2019s an incredible story,\u201d Newman marvels today. \u201cI\u2019ve thought a lot about my grandfather over the years. A young man who came to Europe and never left\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Neither does the remarkable tale end there. Newman\u2019s mother was subsequently adopted and her own child, the comedian himself, was also put up for adoption after being born in Hackney, East London,in 1964. Out of respect for their family, he doesn\u2019t name his mother or his grandmother.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI never got to meet them but it was good to find out my mother had herself been adopted because she was a GI baby,\u201d he says. \u201cI don\u2019t know if he [Bradford] even knew she was pregnant, but apparently it\u2019s not that uncommon to repeat the pattern.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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At 61, Newman is now more than twice as old and then some than the grandfather he never met but the thread of history \u2013 social, military and family \u2013 runs through our conversation like the vapour trail from Bradford\u2019s doomed Thunderbolt. Sitting in a north London cafe, the acclaimed stand-up comic, historian and author is a far cry from the floppy-haired pin-up of early 90s TV and radio. In his place, a thoughtful middle-aged man who stepped away from fame at the height of his success.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"Rob<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

Newman as a floppy-haired stand-up at the height of his fame (Image: Sunday Mirror)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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Just under half a century after Bradford\u2019s aircraft went down, Newman and his then comedy partner David Baddiel took to the stage in front of 12,000 fans at the vast Wembley Arena in North London for the biggest comedy show ever at the time.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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One of the night\u2019s undoubted highlights came when the pair appeared as elderly professors presenting a serious discussion show \u2013 History Today \u2013 which soon descended into a torrent of childish, playground-style insults. The gloriously silly sketch had wormed its way into the national consciousness as a recurring part of their previous TV series \u2013 The Mary Whitehouse Experience \u2013 repeated ad nauseam in playgrounds across Britain.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It was, in many ways, a golden age for comedy, before the \u201cdawn of the edgelords, where people wanted to show how close to the wind they could sail\u201d. Even today, with someone of a certain age, you can utter the immortal catchphrase, \u201cThat\u2019s you, that is\u201d and they\u2019ll know exactly what you mean.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Ironically, it would be Newman and Baddiel\u2019s final show together even though their success opened the doors for a new generation of stand-up stars as comedy became the \u201cnew rock \u2019n\u2019 roll\u201d and ever-bigger venues, mega-tours and million-pound pay-days became the norm.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"Newman<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

That’s you, that is… Newman, right, and Baddiel in iconic History Today sketch (Image: BBC)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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\"Mary<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

Philosopher to be Mary Midgley, one of Rob’s inspirations, when she was a student in 1945 (Image: Newcastle Chronicle)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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Today Newman, who lives with his wife, an environmental lawyer, and two children in North London, says that he got bored of fame, had a haircut and walked away. If he has any regrets, they\u2019re not on display.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cWe were offered another series [of Newman and Baddiel] by the BBC<\/a> but I think we just felt tapped out,\u201d he says. \u201cThe thing was, I didn\u2019t love television. I didn\u2019t think, \u2018This is my home\u2019. I used to get really bored in a make-up chair. When I was writing the sketch, I\u2019d put in someone with a beard, then I\u2019d have to sit there for three hours having one put on.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Another favourite skit that presumably featured unwanted time in the make-up chair saw Newman as Robert Smith of The Cure, performing jolly songs like The Laughing Policeman in Smith\u2019s distinctively sad voice. \u201cI liked that,\u201d he smiles. \u201cAfter they did Friday I\u2019m In Love, I just thought, \u2018Robert Smith can\u2019t carry a happy tune\u2019, so I had him doing Roll Out The Barrel and the Hokey Cokey. When we eventually met, he wanted to know if we were fans, which we were.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Does he miss any of it? \u201cI could do with a tour bus now that I\u2019m older, with a video player in it,\u201d he smiles. \u201cThese days I\u2019m strictly public transport, which I really enjoy, but every now and then you think it would be really good to have a tour manager ora tour bus.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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While he deliberately chose a less high-profile path than Baddiel and his other colleagues, Steve Punt and Hugh Dennis, he has never stopped working. \u201cI still get a huge buzz from live performances, being on stage, doing a sound check, all those aspects of stand-up,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Touring his comedy, well-received radio series and documentaries, and a series of critically-acclaimed books, starting with Dependence Day in 1994, have kept him busy. Which brings us to the point of our meeting today \u2013 his brilliant new Second World War-set novel, Intelligence. It might be a coincidence that he\u2019s named after his long-dead grandfather, but the story helped galvanise the new book.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"Baddiel<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

Rob Newman with David Baddiel, left, during their early-nineties partnership (Image: Getty)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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\"The<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

The Mary Whitehouse Experience, from left Steve Punt, Hugh Dennis, Rob Newman and David Baddiel (Image: BBC)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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It features two young Oxford philosophers, Texas-born Ida (a nod to his grandfather) and Merry, inspired in part by the real-life British philosophers Mary Midgley and Philippa Foot \u2013 among Newman\u2019s real-life heroines \u2013 who are thrust into the world of intelligence gathering. The pair stumble upon secret German information that could change the course of the war \u2013 if only they can get someone to listen to them.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cIt might have come from the feeling I sometimes have that no one\u2019s ever listening to me,\u201d he smiles. \u201cBut Ida and Merry are philosophers and women too, so nowonder they find people don\u2019t want to listen to them.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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It\u2019s a fabulously English kind of a novel, filled with understatement and dry wit and warm characters with plenty of stiff upper lip, and \u201cKeep calm and carry on\u201d about it. Newman hopes it\u2019ll find an audience and, if there\u2019s any justice in the world, a big and appreciative one awaits it.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI didn\u2019t go to Oxford and I didn\u2019t study philosophy, but I got really interested in English philosophy between the wars because it\u2019s ordinary philosophy, which I can understand because it does what it says on the tin,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI was introduced to Mary Midgley, one of our leading philosophers, when she was in her nineties and still redoubtable. What I really liked about her was that she rebelled against the specialised language of philosophy and I could relate to that. The Oxford philosophers were also quite chipper and comic. I can\u2019t abide that idea that, if you\u2019re deep, you\u2019ve got to be dark and miserable.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Hertfordshire-raised Newman went to Cambridge having been turned down by nine other universities. \u201cMy teacher told me, \u2018You\u2019ll either get into Cambridge or nowhere\u2019, and he was right,\u201d he says. The early intelligence services were largely made up of characters from academia and society, although they \u201cbecame more professional\u201d as the war went on.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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But many bonkers true stories were inspired by these incredible characters who suddenly found themselves in the thick of the fight against the Nazis, something he has faithfully reflected in his novel. \u201cThey were a good company when I was writing,\u201d he says. \u201cThey allowed me to escape from the ugliness of this present moment we\u2019re living in, into the relative tranquility of the Second World War!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\"Cafe<\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/source><\/picture><\/p>\n

Ruins of Cafe de Paris, London, following an air raid in March 1941 which killed 34 people (Image: SSPL via Getty)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

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Newman\u2019s wartime London feels real and vital, taking in Blitz-hit streets, the drab greyness of life and the notorious bombing of the Caf\u00e9 de Paris in March 1941, which killed at least 34 people.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cThey used to carry on playing when the bombs were falling because they were so deep underground they thought it was like Churchill\u2019s bunker,\u201d he says. Sadly, a bomb fell down a ventilation shaft and exploded above the dance floor.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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In the book, Merry gets a job at the nascent Photographic Interpretation Unit, formed from the private company Aerofilms in Wembley, North London, before moving to RAF Medmenham in Bucks.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cIt was formed to look for oil, I think, by taking pictures from the air,\u201d says Newman. \u201cIts founder went to the military at the start of the war. He took it to the Admiralty, the Air Ministry, the War Office and they said \u2018no, what\u2019s in it for us?\u2019 It became massive once they realised what they\u2019ve got and can get \u2013 1,700 people at RAF Medmenham \u2013 and that\u2019s an important intelligence story that\u2019s not been told in fiction. Unusually, there were equal numbers of men and women at all levels.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Books aside, where does Newman get his live material, I wonder?<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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\u201cI walk around talking to myself, imagining saying it on stage,\u201d he says. \u201cYou\u2019ve got a sort of an idea, and it\u2019s not funny yet, but as you talk to yourself when everyone else is out, you\u2019re imagining you\u2019re on stage and then it comes. Occasionally a joke comes straight away, or you see a funny thing. My big fear was that it\u2019d be like being a mathematician. You know, they say, \u2018Oh, we\u2019ve done all our best work by 32\u2019, or something.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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Happily, that\u2019s not the case for Newman. \u201cI just finished a live tour and the new stuff got some of the biggest laughs,\u201d he smiles.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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And that shows intelligence.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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