From the Vaults: When Sam (and WHAM!) went to Paris
A childhood spent in TV studios gives Sam Wonfor a special back catalogue of memories. This week she recalls a whistlestop tour of the French capital as George and Andrew pondered their pop legacy
Arriving into the Vermont Hotel’s function room after my Dad’s funeral on what would have been his 74th birthday (December 8, 2022) was pretty overwhelming.
A small group of us had left the beautiful Newcastle Cathedral service for a private family cremation1 so, by the time we got back to Dad’s most favourite of Newcastle’s overnight options, the wake was in full swing… he would have loved it, which is exactly the vibe we were going for.
A N Y W A Y.
As I worked my way towards a large glass of wine, there were just so many people offering their sympathies, shoulders, bear hugs (ever grateful, Jill Halfpenny), beautiful memories and lots of tears.
I was starting to wonder whether I would have the strength or stamina to get around everyone (sadly for my local night-time economy, I did not inherit my parents’ commitment to last-man-standing status).
And then one of my high school friends pipes up. ‘Hey! You never told me you’d been to Paris with Wham!’
It was exactly what was required.
My lovely pal - and lifelong George Michael devotee - had picked up on a line in the words I wrote to pay tribute to my incredible Dad2, pointing out that although we got to go to the Baftas and the Brits and fly off to Paris with Wham! and what have you, all my best memories of him and Mum were when it was just us. Usually doing bugger all.
‘How can I not have known that?’ She continued. ‘That must have been a-m-a-z-i-n-g.’
In the same spirit as what I’d written, I told her that while the 1985-ish trip to Paris to make one of hundreds of films dad made for 1980s music show, The Tube did indeed hold excellent memories for me - Wham! themselves were a bit of a footnote.
Memory number one is treading what felt like miles along the paths of Paris hunting for pizza with a young lass I think was called Jo. She was (and I hope I’m remembering this correctly) either the sister or cousin of Bob (Geldof) and Paula Yates’ live-in nanny, who must have been on holiday or something.
Me and Fifi (Paula and Bob’s first of three daughters) decided to sidestep room service in favour of a takeaway, and so it fell to me and Jo - who had quite a strong northern accent and downwards of zero French vocab - to go hunting for pizza.
I can still see her now, striding into the reception area of restaurant after restaurant, loudly asking a succession of bewildered maitre ds, ‘DO YOU DO PI-ZZ-ER?’
Having spent every summer up until that point holidaying in Provençal campsites, I think I may have ventured a few suggestions around the use of phrases such as ‘Avez vous, Je voudrais, and pizza emporter?’, but Jo was having absolutely none of it.
Fair play to her though. Proving unequivocally that all the English need to do to be understood abroad is talk slowly and loudly with a determined stare, we did end up with an excellent pizza, which was scoffed in bed because it was well past bedtime when we finally got back to the hotel, triumphant but absolutely knackered (or absolument épuisé as they might say en France)..
Next up on the Wham! In Paris league table of moments would be Paula’s bare-faced determination to turn the upcoming Tube Special they were making - which was to take place on a boat going up the Seine - into an opportunity to do some serious clothes shopping.
Having decided nothing that she had brought with her was going to fit le bill, off we went to what I’m confident would have been some of Paris’ most exclusive stores in search of the perfect outfit.
(I’ve just realised that both these vivid recollections involve a challenging search. Maybe I should have leaned into investigate reporting. Ah well. Back to 1985/6 Paris.)
I did love shopping with Paula. I mean, I was 10 and - despite all outward appearances - loved fashion. Every now and then, she’d send me a bag of gear to dress up in and once bought me an outfit for my school Christmas party from Harrods, leading to a surreal conversation in her living room between my Dad and George Harrison about whether £75 was a reasonable amount to shell out, given that it was - after all - Christmas.
As you can see from the above photo, she was absolutely thrilled with the dark indigo trouser/jacket combo which was dripping in sharply angled zips and - as per - looked incredible.3
While (see my recent Tina Turner-focused ramble) I can usually remember all the films Dad made for The Tube between 1982 and 1987 in ridiculous detail (let me know if you ever fancy hearing the Belfast buskers’ song, word for word), I struggle to remember much of the Wham! in Paris half hour.
Maybe it was because I wasn’t a big Wham! fan, so was more excited about the Eiffel Tower, takeaway pizza and the hotel pool than spending the afternoon with one of the biggest bands on the planet.
Or maybe it was because of my other big memory of the trip, which always makes me smile and - as anyone who has worked with him will attest - is filed under ‘Classic Geoff Wonfor’.
Picture the scene. We’re in a boat, on the Seine, all set up (which takes a while) and waiting for Wham! to arrive so Paula could do her on-deck interview to a backdrop of France’s iconic capital.
But within minutes of the band - the aforementioned George and Andrew Ridgely - stepping on board, word reaches us that George has serious barnet concerns.
Apparently it took quite a lot of effort to keep his hair in the perfectly coiffed ‘do he was favouring at the time (there were no GHDs available in the 80s, remember)… and no amount of Elnette was going to be enough to counter the curl-provoking potential of an open-air voyage.
“We’re going to have to do the interview inside,” came the word from one of Wham’s entourage. “Will that be ok?”
‘Of course, no problem’ came the reply from the director, who’d cleared plucked his tone from a sarcasm marinade he’d been saving since the seventies.
‘I mean no f***** will know whether we’ve been in Paris or f****** Newburn, but as long as George’s hair is happy, that’s the main thing. Fellas, let’s move everything inside.”
And so it was that the centrepiece interview of The Tube’s big Wham! In Paris special took place in a thoroughly non-descript setting, despite the expense of sending a hefty-sized crew all the way to France.
At least Paula got a fancy outfit… and it has to be said that George’s hair looked terrific.
Obviously in the years that followed, any hard feelings any of the Wonfors harboured towards George’s behaviour evaporated as it became clear what an absolute treat of a supremely gifted human being he was.
Weirdly, when I came across the very enjoyable WHAM! documentary on Netflix, I was suddenly transported back to that boat via an archive clip of Paula’s interview.
As it turns out, it was a pretty important moment for pop music.
Wham! had announced they were hanging up their white shorts and drinking their last Club Tropicana cocktail and - having presumably had a lovely time when they played in Tyne Tees’ Studio Five back in 1983 when they were at the start of their stratospheric journey - they were opting to talk to The Tube ahead of their massive farewell gig at Wembley.
The 10-year-old me was clearly wandering through life taking exactly zero notice of the big pop culture stories of the day… even when they were literally sitting in front of her.
In a scruffy boat room in Paris.
Big love to former Tyne Tees director of broadcasting, Peter Moth who took charge of proceedings for my Dad at the crematorium, making his Wonfor tally: one christening (me); five funerals; one wedding; and an extraordinary memorial service. He’s an absolute legend.
Props also to Newcastle Cathedral’s glorious Canon Clare MacLaren, (now Canon Provost of Sunderland Minster) who kindly read the tribute out on my behalf.
Many years later when I went to hang out with Paula after The Big Breakfast had wrapped for another day, she slung the jacket - now well worn - on over a pair of jeans. Still looking incredible, it was an excellent lesson in building a wardrobe that lasts.