He loved showing his bum. Loved it': the subversive genius of Kenneth Williams

"I wanted to mention Kenneth Williams because he was so profound, Allen tells me. And yet, because he was also funny, that profundity hasn't been acknowledged. As a child, I connected with his outsiderness. Rather than trying to fit in, he went in the opposite direction. Not only did he not apologise for being different, but he was queer in every sense, truly at odds with the world in which he found himself."

"Williams, born to working-class London parents 100 years ago, on 22 February 1926, was close to ubiquitous in British culture in the second half of the last century. On stage, screen and radio, from bawdy comedies to chatshows and children's entertainment, his adenoidal voice was inescapable. Up and down the class scale it slid, swanee whistle-style, from sandpapery cockney to Sandringham pomp, the elasticated vowels so capacious you could run around in them."

"Physically, too, he was unique. He described himself as a dried-up prune-like poof but the reality was more arresting: he was like a living Gerald Scarfe caricature, the flared nostrils wide as shotgun barrels, the twitching eyebrows telegraphing disdain, prurience or relish, the pinprick eyes glinting at whichever punchline or put-down was coming over the horizon. When he tipped his head back and peered at the audience down his knife of a nose, he had the look of an anteater about him."

Kenneth Williams was born to working-class London parents on 22 February 1926 and became a ubiquitous presence in British culture during the mid-20th century. He performed on stage, screen and radio across bawdy comedies, chatshows and children's entertainment. His adenoidal voice ranged from sandpapery cockney to Sandringham pomp, marked by elasticated vowels. Physically striking, he resembled a living Gerald Scarfe caricature with flared nostrils, twitching eyebrows and pinprick eyes. He described himself as a dried-up prune-like poof but embraced an outsider identity, refusing to apologise for being different and embodying queer otherness in his persona and comedy, which mixed erudition with vulgarity.

Read at www.theguardian.com