Brian Beacom explains just exactly how he went about recreating a world of jaded egomaniacs, nymphomaniacs, alcoholics and sociopaths

Any similarity to person or persons living or dead is purely coincidental is the usual legal safeguard producers attach to scripts. But when it came to penning the comedy drama, The Last Variety Show, for Radio Scotland, any similarity to the likes of Stanley Baxter, Rikki Fulton, Duncan Macrae and Dorothy Paul was entirely deliberate, I have to admit.

Stanley was the motivation for the play, set in 1962, which tells the story of a group of jaded performers desperate to save a struggling theatre and their own careers. Or at least the rather ordinary series of plays the showbiz legend recorded a few years back was the motivation. "The characters I'm supposed to play are all old farts," he would often complain.

And so, despite never having written a play before, I decided to create a vehicle for Stanley and set it in the heyday of variety theatre. Why? Over the years, Stanley's best stories centred not in television but his early showbiz days in Five Past Eight, a world of incredible colour inhabited by egomaniacs, nymphomaniacs, alcoholics and sociopaths (and some nice people). And I loved the paradoxical notion that these vulnerable, self-obsessed creatures - all desperate to be placed on top of the bill - were often pressured to the point of collapse to produce new material - yet, somehow, magically, caused audiences to trip home happy.

I also came to realise that in 1962 the headiest scent in the theatre air was not Max Factor or Old Spice. It was desperation. Variety theatre wasn't quite dead but was being slowly killed off by television and foreign holidays (a prescient Stanley left Scottish variety behind for London in 1958, for that very reason.) So I had a backdrop. Now all I needed was a dramatic plotline. Thankfully, it emerged after some research into the demise of local theatres, but if I told you the tale it would spoil the ending. All I can say is it involves a theatre boss, Mr Watson, who makes Machiavelli seem like Mister Blobby.

Then it was time to colour in the character lines, which was easy. Why make them up when you can borrow from true life?

Lenny Conroy, the local boy turned west end director who decides to put on one last show to bring the crowds back to the struggling Coliseum Theatre (think Cabaret meets Espresso Bongo), is based on Stanley's chum, former light entertainment boss David Bell, a wonderfully camp, upbeat figure.

Lenny signs up Archie Anderson, a once-famous comedy actor and impressionist, but Archie has had a breakdown and his last performance is weaving raffia coasters in a seaside rest home. Now Stanley did indeed spend some time in such a retreat (although his breakdown had more to do with convenience than collapse), but, like Archie, he was invited back to play a final variety show.

There's Ronnie Falkirk, a fantastic comedian but a difficult man with a voracious sexual appetite, who treats writers as if they were lower than a spear-carrier's flip-flop. Ronnie was mostly based upon Rikki Fulton, given the stories I'd amassed over the years. But there is an element of Duncan Macrae in there too, whose comedy genius was matched only by his ability as a world-class upstager and talent for taking young actresses under his wing.

High on the Last Variety bill are The Singing Paterson Sisters, Sandy and Sonja, a tribute to the likes of the golden-blonde Beverly/Andrews Sisters - but with darker roots. One is entirely familiar with the casting couch principle, but both have the toughness to survive in a man's world. Character elements were added from the likes of Kathy Kirby, Dorothy Paul and Mary Lee.

It's difficult to name the inspiration for theatre manager Mr Watson because he's something of a hybrid of two people (and either one could sue), but his secretary Alice, a Scots-Australian, was inspired by Stanley's actor sister Alice Dale, now living in Oz.

The commentators are journalists William and Forsdyke, who represent the Good v Evil of the profession. As you've probably guessed, William is based on me. And, no, it wasn't too hard to find someone to model Forsdyke on.

Smaller Ewan, The Whistling Highlander, who is every naff Scottish variety act you can think of. And the compere is based on the former Laird O'Coocaddens, Thingummyjig's Jack McLaughlin.

Now, having written the play over the course of a year, and then re-written it three or four times, polished it, taken notes and jokes from talented pals, and feeling hugely pleased with the result, all I had to do was present it to Stanley who'd immediately declare me the new Neil Simon and recognise Archie was a part he simply had to play - and phone his radio bosses immediately. Or that would have been the ending I'd have written.

On judgement day Stanley simply didn't want to read it ("Doesn't it sound too much like The Entertainer?") and reached for his copy of the Evening Standard. This was hard to come to terms with, given we'd been so close and he was screaming out for a decent play, but when I reviewed the odd decision later in my head I realised it shouldn't have been surprising. Stanley likes to originate all his ideas. This wasn't his baby.

And so the baby was dumped in the bottom drawer until one day, about a year later, while chatting to Ford Kiernan, the actor revealed a fantastic range of voices. "Could he play Archie?" asked a voice in my head. Ford didn't think so (he was wrong) but he read the play, liked it, and before you can say "Let's put on a show!" his Effingee production company agreed to make it for the BBC.

Now, all I had to do was find a fantastic cast - which turned out to be incredibly easy.

The brilliant Alex Norton said he'd do it straight off, taking on the lead role of Archie - without having read the play - and later revealed a huge talent for voices. Tony Roper agreed to star as Ronnie Falkirk before opening the script and gave Ronnie a great Belfast accent.

Barbara Rafferty and Karen Dunbar readily agreed to play The Singing Paterson Sisters - and produced some great 1960s' harmonies in the process. And the legend that is Gerard Kelly committed to playing Lenny, the larger-than-life Sean Scanlan plays the wonderfully despicable Forsdyke and Iain Robertson took on William.

And one afternoon during a chat with Clare Grogan I asked, out of the blue, whether she could do an Australian accent? She said she could but it turned out she was fibbing, though by the time of recording, the talented Ms G had nailed it.

Ford agreed to play Watson, and his Cockney spiv is electric. And who better to play the Compere, the Jack McLaughlin role, than the Laird himself?

Regrets? Yes. Due to time constraints, two audience members, Florence and Ethel, had to be dropped and I was disappointed to have to tell my mother, Florence, and Auntie Ethel they would never make it on to the BBC airwaves.

And not every actor asked to take part jumped on board. Showbiz icon Dorothy Paul declined. And, while she later changed her mind, by that time casting was completed.

Now, there's just the critics, people like me, to worry about. All I would say, to get my defence in early, is that the reason the play features a series of double-handers is because it's emblematic of variety theatre itself, not because I didn't know any other structural technique. Honest.

The Last Variety Show features in Radio Scotland's upcoming Summer in the Sixties season, July 6 at 1.15pm.