Wolverhampton Express and Star - Monday 12 February 1979
[BIG PHOTO]Naughty Norma's a sweetie, relly
“I'm naughty Norma, as rand¥ as they come. When ?t turned on by the bombs, I'll leap on top of anything in a uniform." Blonde, braless and eminently buxom, Debbie Watling sits in her flat overlooking Wandsworth Common, reflecting on the way in which the simple act of chanil‘ng the colour of her hair has tinged the light in which producers see her. The sexy roles are eomi.nf her way, and the girlnext-door image has faded somewhat. Debbie is curren:l{y showing a great deal herself fl"yi”g the cfi:n of the manungry landlady’s daughter Norma in Thames Television’s wartime drama series Danger UXB. “When my agent first told me there were nude scenes in it, I said simply ‘No, this 'i;“ just bl;ogt on." But the irector me to trust him, and I m and he was marvellous. It all came off very smoothly (no pun intended) and tastefully.” A change of hair colour meant a change of image for Debbie Watling. GERRY ANDERSON talks to the actress who is currently revealing her talents in TV’s Danger—UXß
Amazing l?o::bisv t;nging:::?ly the w a - know exactly how to land a plum role. Thef simply book a holiday. “It's amazing, really. Everytime any one of us decides to take a holiday, a good g‘rt lands in our laps. ut I'm not complaining.” The Watling family are very close . . . possibly because every single one of them is in the acting business, with the exception of mam, who once was. Mam was Patricia Hicks, also known as Mam. Dad is Jack, also known as Dad. Thereafter, weird names creep in. Debbie is known to the family as Donks; Nichola 1s Nick-Nack; brother Giles is Gizie; and Dylis is Diddee. You know it makes sense. “We allfi;t on very well together. re is eomyet,i-tion between us, but it's a healthy sort of thing. We're very critical of each other's
really performances, but it -is always meant constructively, and there's never any resentment when one of us lands something good. We're just pleased for each other. “We. have always been a very close-knit family, and every year we somehow or other manage a holiday all together down at Frinton, where Daddy runs the summer season.”’ Daddy has always been a fine, honourable and upstanding man. Jack Watling endeared himself to the hearts of the nation in such memorable series as The Planemakers and The Power Game. “But he wasn't always the decent type,” says Debbie. “When I was younger I got fed up with seeing him in roles where he was a goodie A ays ending up of roofs and lyinfi manglg and dead, with the blood running out of his mouth. Ugh!” A stranfe home life for a young girl. But then she'd never known anything else. In her childhood, girls at her school would ask her to get her parents’ autographs, and she could never understand why they wanted them. Stars that her friends would give their eye-teeth to see were constant visitors to her home. ‘‘Debbie, darling, this is Patrick McGoohan,” and Debbie would say Hello and think nothing more.
Awkward H;red first professional role Pop; up at the age of ten, when she played the part of Sally, niece of the Invisible Man. At the audition, she was told to read a scrif)t.. and she decided to play awkward and pretend she couldn’t read. X When she was eventually persuaded to do it, she promptly got the part and various chaperones were employed to see her back and forwards to the studios. Three of them left with nervous breakdowns. At the age of 11 she was in A Life of Bliss, with George Cole, but then it was decided she was missing too much school, so she was sent back until the age of 16. “l was sent to drama school then, and I walked out after three weeks. I saw no point in it. I don't mean this in a big-headed way, but they simply weren't teaching me anything I couldn’t have learned far better at home. “My parents were away in Australia at the time, so I sent them a message telling them that I'd got myself an agent and landed the éfirt of ice in the first BBC Wednesday Play. I think they realised straight away that I intended doing things my way. She finds it odd, and a little annoying, that certain mple in the television and industry have minds that slot actresses into certain categories.
“How do {:)u want me to look? I can look it. How old do you want me? I can be that, within reason obviously. I can be the girl next door or I can be the sexy creature, and to be quite honest I'm enjoying my new blonde role. “But it is a bit annoying when you have got to show a new image before they can realise it. L | reallg did enjoy doing Norma, though. I've got a very funny bedroom scene in the sixth episode, because Norma is very gullible and copies Veronica Lake, and oh mfi God! what a mess.”’ Debbie’s private love life is pretty frantic, too. “I've got lots of boyfriends, with no strings. I suppose they're mainly actors and writers, but I've got one nice boyfriend who's in melerty. “I think the thing about geople who are not in this usiness is that they tend to ask such naive questions about the things we aa;.. butthenlmflxpose the questions I would ask about property or finance would be just as naive.” She shakes her head when marriage is mentioned, and her face takes on that honest, frank, Watling look. “I like games,” she says. “The whole family likes gmes. I've got this box of arrod’s tricks, and I'm going to put a dartboard on that wall, just above your head. And Nick-Nack wants to buy some bar skittles.” And 1 feel like saying Why the hell don't you go out to the pub, because sfie is reminding me of that TV ad with the bloke and all his mates crowding into the front room. “I also like collecting Victorian butterfly jewellelx'. and I love books. I'm really looking forward to curling up with this one.” It is an autobiograph[\;. Lauren Bacall, By Myself.
https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0003126/19790212/045/0004