The Carry On star was more than the queen of double entendre. She was very clever and camp as Christmas, with all the steel that that involves
‘And who are you, my darling?” Fenella Fielding said when I plonked myself down next to her on a sofa at my local literary festival. There she was, tiny, frail, almost kabuki-like, with the giant lashes and red lippy. Her look was unchangeable and it matters not to me if it was the artifice of wigs and makeup – there was a core in her that made her carry on being Fenella Fielding long after the Carry Ons that made her famous.
I asked for a picture. She arranged herself and made that noise. It undid me. She was a purr in human form and my eyes popped out of my head.
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