The strange thing about Michael Palin is you feel you know him; that he’s an old friend or much-loved uncle you’ve not seen for a while. He decides to come to Guardian HQ for our interview, and nobody seems surprised to see him, despite the fact that it’s his first time in the building. People smile at Palin with easy familiarity: ah, Michael’s popped in. He smiles back with that fabulously genial smile: a little bit cheeky, a little bit shy, and very warm.
We have never met before. But he’s been in my life for 50-odd years. First as part of Monty Python, the surrealist comedy troupe I quoted ad nauseam as a youngster (“Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition!”), then as star of the wonderful TV series Ripping Yarns, which I also quoted ad nauseam (“Oh shut up, you boring little tit!”). There were also the films: Time Bandits, A Private Function, A Fish Called Wanda and, more recently, The Death of Stalin. For the past 35 years, he has travelled the globe for TV shows, and written books to accompany his odysseys. In 2019, he was knighted for services to travel, culture and geography – the only Python to receive a knighthood.
