Arthur Worsley

The strange art of ventriloquism had no finer exponent than the variety and television performer Arthur Worsley, who has died aged 80.

His lips never moved and, indeed, he never spoke on stage except through the voice of his aggressive and contemptuous dummy, Charlie Brown. He simply looked mildly bored, embarrassed or, occasionally, amused as Charlie insulted and criticised him.

"Turn me round, son," Charlie would instruct. "And look at me when I'm talking to you."

Although he looked like a conventional cheeky-boy dummy, Charlie Brown had an unusual personality. He constantly grumbled and complained, often asking the audience to take his side against Worsley: "How would you like to go through life with no guts, and his hand where my kidneys ought to be?" he would plead.

If this sounds slightly sinister, reminiscent of Michael Redgrave's malevolent doll in the 1945 film Dead Of Night, it should be borne in mind that Worsley was working in a field that, before it became part of music-hall entertainment, had been regarded as necromancy. Ventriloquism is mentioned in the Bible, and was condemned by the church in the Dark Ages, with many practitioners put to death.

Worsley's purist stance extended to band calls, rehearsals and television run-throughs - it was always Charlie who spoke to the technicians and floor managers. But, unlike Redgrave's haunted ventriloquist, once the dummy had been packed away, Worsley was by no means in thrall to his bad-tempered creation. "He's just a well-worn piece of wood with two spare heads," he once said. "But once I walk on stage, Charlie becomes a real person to me."

Worsley was a star of British variety and television through the 1950s, 60s and into the 70s. He made regular appearances on American TV, and worked with Laurel and Hardy, Elvis Presley and the Beatles. Roy Hudd said of him: "He was, quite simply, the best ventriloquist I have ever seen. He was not only very funny, but he had the best technique of them all."

Born in Failsworth, Manchester, the son of a car dealer, Worsley decided to be a ven triloquist at the age of eight. He started to make his own dummies and began touring at 11; by 14, he was a fulltime professional, billed as "The Youngest Ventriloquist in the World".

By the 1950s, his billing had changed to "England's Premier Ventriloquist", and it was no idle boast. Peter Brough and his dummy, Archie And- rews, may have been better-loved by the public, and, in some ways, were more successful - Brough was a star of radio, where his notoriously flapping lips posed no problem - but Worsley was the more admired. In a tradition where the dummy often calls its manipulator "Guv'nor", it was other ventriloquists who used the name for Worsley.

It was a sense of perfectionism that led him to becoming mute on stage. By remaining silent, with never a twitching lip or bobbing Adam's apple, he drew attention to his consummate skill as Charlie pronounced each difficult consonant perfectly. There were no awkward "gottles of geer" in his act. One critic wrote: "Looking at Arthur Worsley's lips is like watching a play by Chekhov; nothing happens."

Worsley was confident enough to challenge television viewers to inspect the procedure. Charlie would taunt him: "I can see your lips moving. Yes, they're moving!" But, of course, they never were.

There is a classic story that most ventriloquists claim as their own, but it really did happen to Worsley - and is believable because his silence and diffidence made Charlie Brown seem so very alive. In the middle of a radio rehearsal, the producer instructed him: "Not quite clear enough, Mr Worsley. Could you put the dummy closer to the microphone?"

In the days when a ventriloquist was part of every variety bill, Worsley toured constantly, and was a favourite at the London Palladium, often appearing on the televised Sunday night show. Although the basic format of silent ventriloquist and garrulous dummy never changed, he was able to prevent the act becoming tired by making sure that Charlie's material was always excellent.

Then, some time in the 1980s, ventriloquism ceased to be a force in British showbusiness. There are still odd sight ings of the likes of Ray Alan and Lord Charles, or Roger de Courcey and Nookie Bear, and the American David Strassman has attempted to breathe new life into the ancient skill, but ventriloquists are thin on the ground today. Perhaps, in a world of animatronics and digitally manipulated images, the notion of someone talking to, or through, a wooden doll is just too quaint.

Worsley, the ventriloquist's ventriloquist, noting the winds of change, left the business for a long and happy retirement in Blackpool. He is survived by his wife, Audrey, a former singer and dancer, and a son.

Arthur Worsley, ventriloquist, born 1920; died July 19 2001

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