Strictly's Len Goodman: How breaking my foot playing football got me into dancing.

The judge talks about his upbringing in East London, schooldays, jobs and how he started ballroom dancing and never stopped

 

I was almost born within the sound of Bow Bells, nearly born in Wales, but ended up born in Kent.
But never mind all that, I’m a Londoner through and through.
I blame Adolf Hitler. If it weren’t for him I would have been born in Whitechapel.
As it is, I was born in Farnborough, Kent, which is also the county in which I’ve lived most of my life.
Despite this, I still consider myself a Londoner and, of course, when I open my mouth, everyone thinks I am!
In early 1944 Dad and Mum were living in a little village called Felinfoel, which is near Llanelli in South Wales, where my father was working as an electrician mostly at airfields.
A doctor sent my mum to Swansea to have me but there were no beds, so she got on the train and headed for home.
When she finally arrived at The London Hospital in Whitechapel, they decided that it was safer to send her to Kent, because there had been a massive air raid the night before.
All of which explains how I ended up being born in Farnborough on April 25, 1944.
I spent my first seven years living in a two-up two-down in Harold Street, Bethnal Green. Ours was the end of the row and had three bedrooms – very des res.
My mum and dad lived there with my mum’s family and it really was an amazing household.
My grandad was a costermonger, a barrow boy who started out with a stall in Bethnal Green market before eventually owning two London shops, along with another my mum ran in Kent.
One thing I have to thank my grandad for is that he was the one that gave me so many funny sayings, some of which I’ve even used when ­critiquing dancers on the television.
“It’s freezing cold out, you’d better wear two hairnets” is what he’d say to my nan.

Another time he said, “Lou,” – my nan’s name was Louisa, like my mum – “This toast is as hard as a beggar boy’s a***.”
In our back yard we had a boiler that was used for cooking the beetroot we sold on the stall.
Underneath the copper boiler was a large metal ring with eight burners that was connected by a long pipe to the gas supply.
Besides cooking the beetroot in it, Nan also used it for doing the family’s washing.
As the water was heating up, before she put the beetroot in, Nan would strip me off and put me in the water.
She’d give me a bloody good scrubbing down while I stood in the cauldron – I must have looked like a cannibal’s lunch.
After I got out, the water was heated some more and then in would go the beetroot for cooking. Customers always commented on how good Grandad’s beetroot tasted.
At senior school I played football and cricket. At Westwood Secondary Modern in Kent I played for the under-13s cricket team.
In one game, always the grudge match, against Chislehurst and Sidcup Grammar School, I caught their leading batsman.
I say caught but in actual fact he hit the ball so hard that I didn’t get my hand out of the way quick enough and the ball kind of lodged there and somehow I didn’t drop it.
I was fielding next to my pal, Pete Dawson, and we started whooping and hollering and jumping around.
The next day in assembly the headmaster stood on stage in front of the whole school and said: “Goodman and Dawson please come here.”
We walked forward smiling, ­anticipating his congratulations for our fine ­performance.
“Goodman and Dawson, I understand from the sports master that there was disgusting behaviour on the cricket pitch.
"You both acted in a very unsporting-like manner and because of this you will take no further part in any cricket for the rest of the season.”
It was football that got me into ballroom dancing, in a roundabout kind of way.
When I left school and was an apprentice I was football crazy.
I was playing for Slade Green United on Hackney Marshes when I broke a metatarsal bone in my foot – the same one that every other footballer seems to break these days.
I kicked the ball north while at the same time the biggest centre-half in the world tried to kick the ball south (well that’s my story and I’m sticking to it).
The outcome was my foot went west and I was in agony for weeks.
All the doctor said was: “Try to keep off of it as much as possible.” This was ludicrous, as I still had to go to work, so I spent my life hobbling around.
The foot was incredibly slow to heal and I went back to my doctor but ended up seeing an old Scottish locum.
“You’ll need to build your foot up a lot more before you can play again. Laddie, you could try dancing.”

“Dancing?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Aye, lad, you need to keep that foot working, you need to exercise it and so dancing is my recommendation.”
Later that day, the girl I was seeing drove me round my dad’s place and he immediately said: “That’s lucky, there’s a new beginners’ ballroom class starting next Tuesday.”
Despite my thinking “no way”, the following Tuesday I was at Erith Dance Studio and a whole new world was about to be opened up to me.
My first exposure to the entertainment industry was going to the pictures.
When I was a boy and wanted to go into a film, one to which you had to be accompanied by an adult, we would stand outside and ask a man to take us in.
“Mister, will you take us in, mister? We won’t sit with you, promise.”
This was especially important if he was with his bird. Later on, I was the one going to see a film with a girl and that first time was a bit of an ordeal.
Her name was Sally and she and I went to the Granada in Welling in Kent to see the 4pm double feature.
In the flicks we sat side by side watching the film, neither of us moving. I’m not sure how this happened but suddenly we were holding hands.
It was magic. It must have been hot, that or nerves were playing a part, because both our hands were wringing wet with sweat by the end of the first film.
The second film was barely past the opening credits when I put my arm around Sally and her head rested on my shoulder.
There was only one problem, her hair was so highly lacquered it was like having a Brillo pad rubbing against my face.
It was like sniffing glue, which I think added to feeling as though I was getting high.
I thought going to the pictures with a girl was the best thing that had ever happened to me in my life.