Alexander Armstrong, 54, and Ben Miller, 58, are best known for their late 90s sketch show Armstrong and Miller. Former members of Cambridge University’s Footlights, they honed their sketches on stage before getting their first TV show commissioned in 1997. After four series, they branched out into acting (Miller has starred in Death in Paradise and Johnny English); presenting (Armstrong is a host of Pointless and Have I Got News for You) and writing. Armstrong’s debut novel for children, Evenfall: The Golden Linnet, and Miller’s new children’s book, Robin Hood Aged 10¾, are available now.
Alexander
My cousin Neil took this for our first publicity photoshoot. I didn’t own anything cool, so I climbed into the clothes Ben brought and we posed for all it was worth. Working in a double act with Ben, and latterly Richard Osman, I’ve done every possible combination of double act shots. But I particularly like this one: the saturated colour and that we were slightly taking the piss by being desperately serious and moody.
Ben was several years above me at Cambridge and already famous in my eyes. He was in a band [the Dear Johns], a leading figure in Footlights and eye-catching with his peroxide-blond hair and earrings. I didn’t meet him properly until after we left university. The playwright Jez Butterworth was a mutual friend and while he and Ben lived together in Islington he said, “You really should be working together.” That was in 1992.
Ben and I bonded because we liked pastiche. We secretly fancied ourselves as actors and loved trying contrasting styles and committing to authenticity. When we went up to Edinburgh in 1994, we received only one review. It was from the Independent and it read: “Armstrong and Miller have invented a new kind of comedy – one with no jokes.” They were right. It was a bold decision not to do punchlines but we wanted to do sketches we thought were more like homages to certain ages. If you knew what we were trying to do, it was funny.
Ben’s the eldest child and I’m the youngest, so we slipped into those roles in our working relationship. I’d grown up in Northumberland and was terribly unsophisticated. Ben supplied me with all the smarts I needed to get by. We spent all our time together – we would write stuff in the day, then go out. Every night was party night. It was an extraordinary, carefree existence.
For a few years we lived on baked potatoes and things out of tins – a very brutal existence, but great fun. A gang of us got together and ran a comedy club – a sort of collective performing at the Gate Theatre in Notting Hill. It didn’t earn us anything, but we would write tons and tons of material for it and we were performing every weekend. We assumed we were terrific, because we always went down really well, but as soon as we went elsewhere we realised that it might be somewhat different now we weren’t performing exclusively for our friends.
Ben and I didn’t really fall out but I do remember one evening he and I being really cross with each other and slamming the door, saying, “That’s enough. I think that’s it.” That was short-lived and fixed itself fairly quickly. After four series, with the best will in the world, it did feel as if it was time to move on. In the early 00s we had a break – from each other, as well as work. It felt necessary to try other bits and pieces, having lived in each other’s pockets for years.
I love Ben. Now that we aren’t forever trying to craft something, or arguing over what’s the better way of telling the story, or what’s going to be the funniest reveal, it’s nice having a proper friendship with him. Do we speak about emotions? I guess my wife is my go-to for those sorts of things. Mainly because Ben and I don’t live that close to each other, and as my double-act partner, I felt he could be spared that particular responsibility.
When this was taken we were on the precipice of it all. Never in a million years did I want to be myself, or alone, on stage or on television. In fact, Have I Got News for You was the first thing I did on my own that I felt at peace with. Since that photo was taken, in those intervening 30 years, I’ve learned who I am, and how not to be repulsed by myself. I am very grateful to have met Ben. Without him, I would never have dreamed of achieving what we have.
Ben
This is peak 90s, isn’t it? It’s absolutely true these are all my clothes. However, it’s not true he didn’t own anything cool. One of the reasons I wanted to do a double act with Xander was because of some shoes he was wearing when I first met him. Not brogues exactly, but a kind of suede loafer. I was totally sold. That’s how shallow I am.
Comedy was considered the new rock’n’roll in the 90s, so in this photo we were desperately trying to look like we were in a band. One of the things I loved about Xander was that he was so musical. We started a sort of Norwegian rock band and became one of the house acts on Saturday Live. As Strijka, we got to meet Ray Charles, and one time Nigel from Dodgy was a bit late getting to the show, so Xander got to stand in at rehearsals and sing the lead part to Good Enough.
At the start of our career, life felt incredibly surreal. Everyone was doing something interesting in comedy, like Simon Pegg and The League of Gentlemen. There was no expectation of success and it was very creatively fulfilling. We didn’t make any money but we ate very well. Xander is a brilliant cook. He would mostly roast vegetables in olive oil. In the 90s that was like watching someone do magic. Roasting a carrot? I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
Xander and I both have very strong opinions. Most of the time we agree with one another, but occasionally we disagree and then we have a massive row. It’s a sibling-like relationship, but whatever is said, we always stay close. Xander has been a huge support in my life, during various crises – splitting up with girlfriends, illnesses, divorce. Male relationships are very different to female relationships; meeting up is more about something you’re working on together. It’s probably 80% larking about and 20% getting quite serious without looking at each other. Often while driving in a car.
What’s funny about this photograph is that we had to put on a moody, disaffected attitude, which is something we’ve never had. We definitely had defiance, however. That is one of the advantages of youth: we didn’t really listen to anyone else. In creative situations that can work well. These days, my basic attitude is one of deep gratitude to even be here, whereas back then I had a tremendous confidence in what we were making and all of our creative decisions. I could probably do with a bit more of the old Ben’s confidence.
Xander is a very thoughtful person. He’s very positive and much better than me in social situations. He was a grounded person when I wasn’t, and I benefited an awful lot from knowing him. The reason I’m able to do anything on my own today is because of him.
