It's worse, he does it with girls as well

So farewell George Melly,
Trad jazz man, surrealist and raconteur;
Keith's mum thought you louche
and Keith enjoyed your Profanisaurus

Was saddened to hear that George Melly is no longer with us. My dad remembered seeing him do his trad jazz thing whilst on national service and took a strong dislike to what he perceived to be a stream of ungallantly gynecological ribaldry directed at the waitresses and serving girls.

As a regular of Shepherds Bush's top restaurant the wonderfully chintzy Polish palace 'The Patio' it was always a delight when a deathless hush descended on the bigos and borscht as George entered, his sheer presence reaching out in time and space in advance of his rugged physical form, eyepatch in place, a boozy boho Pirate on shore leave.

On one occasion whilst dining with bear friends George was accompanied by a most astoundingly good looking , tall black man. We immediately thought dark thoughts about how embarrassingly obvious this was, how does George hold court and get to sleep with men way above his league at his age and with his reputation until sober reflection suggested maybe this was just a jazz encounter.

At another time whilst dining with my brother, George came in with a good looking Aussie blonde number on the right side of her thirties, both pissed to the gills, smoking and arguing continuously. Well less arguing than drinking and eating through a miasmatic fog of cultural confusion and anecdotage.

As Haliwell's Companion to Film would have it: 'Sample dialogue'

"And then I went to meet Princess Margaret Accompanied with Robin Day"

"Did you say Robin's gay?"

"Robin Day!

"Robin's gay??" Repeat ad nauseam.

On a club toilet door in deepest darkest 50s soho was written the grafitti "George Melly does it with men" to which some scribe had appended "it's even worse, he does it with girls as well".

Seeing Melly naked was a sight not confined to a few. One of his party tricks was to take his clothes off, get down on all fours, and rearrange his genitalia to impersonate a man, a woman, and then a bulldog.

For a full life lived with no regard to outward propriety or petifogging moralising, as a staunch humanist, Surrealist, fly fisherman and contributor to the joy and gaiety in all senses of the nation, and for leaving the universe in a better place than as he found it, I for one will be knocking one back for George.