Constance Tomkinson continues her account of Charlie Rivel circus clown in her 1956 memoir Les Girls…

The little man, who had walked through the rehearsals as if in a coma, was a brilliant clown. You merely looked at the bulbous red nose, bald wig fringed with tufts of frowsy hair, eyebrows curved in an exaggerated arch of astonishment, and you laughed. He wore loose trousers with a bright red jersey, which came down to his knees and his shoes extended beyond his feet like huge flippers. Pauli, in a shrunken undershirt and baggy check pants held up by bits of string, wore an expression of great fierceness under his battered felt hat. Alfredino, a white-faced clown, elegantly dressed in close-fitting jacket, knee-length breeches and white conical hat, carried himself with dignity. He was the ‘clever’ one. When her performed some acrobatic feat with ease and finesse, Charlie overcome by his virtuosity clapped his hands with glee, and skipped around the stage like a child crying exstatically, ‘Acroba-at.’

Pauli attempted to copy Alfredino and clumsily succeeded. It was Charlies’ turn.

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