Henry Cooper

I don't suppose there is such a thing or person as the quintessential Englishman, any more than there is the quintessential Frenchman, but Henry Cooper, who died a few days ago, epitomised for me all that is best in a certain kind of Englishman. My equivalent for France would be Bourvil. You only had to mention Cooper's (quintessentially English) name for my face to break into a broad smile.

Mention of 'Enery takes us back to an era when the sport of boxing was capable of enthralling an entire nation. It was actually a very popular sport at my school and, thanks to the presence of an excellent coach, we consistently beat much bigger schools.

Part of me would not be sorry if boxing, at least professional boxing, were to be banned. But part of me also looks back fondly to the time when 'Enery's hammer wreaked havoc on rivals, including the legendary Cassius Clay (as he then was). I always remember Cooper's manager, Jim 'The Bishop' Wicks sizing up the prospects of an opponent before a championship bout: "'E's a good boy and we'll 'ave to be careful. 'Course, if 'Enery pokes 'im with 'is 'ammer, 'e'll 'ave to go".