At 88 years old, the celebrated poet and broadcaster Roger McGough remains as sharp and witty as ever, offering a characteristically humorous and poignant reflection on his life and career in a recent interview.
A Life in Verse and Laughter
Born in Liverpool, McGough worked as a teacher before finding fame in the 1960s as part of the comedy, poetry, and music trio The Scaffold, alongside John Gorman and Mike McGear. The group secured a number one hit with their comic song 'Lily the Pink'. Beyond pop success, McGough has built a towering literary reputation, publishing more than 100 poetry books for adults and children. He is also the familiar voice hosting BBC Radio 4's long-running programme 'Poetry Please'.
When asked about his happiest moment, the poet pointed to a recent family gathering. "Last Sunday when all the family came round to celebrate my 88th birthday," he said, before adding with typical self-deprecation, "(Or was it Saturday. Or the week before, perhaps?)" This playful uncertainty ties into his confessed greatest fear: losing track.
Wit, Wisdom, and a Brush with Danger
McGough's trademark humour shone through when discussing his aspirations as a young man. "I had dreams of becoming the first scouse pope," he revealed. "Unfortunately, the girls got to me first." His personal life took a decisive turn in 1978 during a bus strike. Waiting at a bus stop, he was, in his words, "bewitched by a beautiful blond biochemist from Yorkshire." He is now married to her, his second wife, and they live in London.
The interview wasn't all light-hearted reminiscence. McGough recalled the closest he has come to death as a child during the war. On a picnic at Seaforth beach, he managed to wriggle through a barbed-wire fence and run across a minefield. He was bravely rescued by his teenage aunt, Kat.
Reflections on Poetry and Popularity
When asked what trait he most deplores in others, McGough expressed irritation at "critics and academics who dismiss poetry that is popular, comprehensible or humorous." This stance underpins his own accessible and beloved body of work. Describing himself in three words, he chose "Unimpeachable, nonpareil, self‑effacing," a blend of grandiosity and modesty that perfectly captures his persona.
His quick wit remains undimmed. Questioned about how often he has sex, he replied: "Sex? Hang on, and I’ll find out … Alexa, how often do I have …" On fame versus anonymity, he opted for fame "because it’s easier to spell and pronounce."
As for the most important lesson life has taught him? "That it will go on quite happily without me," he stated, a moment of profound and characteristic clarity from a poet who has, for decades, ensured life is a little brighter and more thoughtful with him in it.
