Much of the comedy is difficult to describe without it spoiling some of the impact generated by his mastery of a pratfall or sight gag. Some of the live footage which captures the supreme silliness features a chaotic stage invasion for a version of We Are The Champions in Wigan which topped anything I’ve seen for a ‘proper’ band recently. Or having my own drunken memories of being stood some distance outside the comedy tent at Reading Festival as 10,000 people sung ‘In my big shorts’ being jogged. His love for football or living life as a performance reflected in the stories of him taking his place with the suitably attired Timperley Big Shorts Sunday League team and coming on late in the game to try and get his head on it.

In some ways it’s the impact of the interviews with his estranged wife that highlight the excitement and frustration of living with someone who can’t accept the everyday that proved most moving. For his part Frank would have called notions such as writing about music being like dancing about architecture ‘bobbins’. Balancing accessibility with elusivity is however his appeal and in the post film Question and Answer session Sullivan recounted Sievey’s close range card tricks at half time in the middle of a pre plutocracy Man City pitch. The sheer chutzpah and desire to confuse by performing this absurdity as illustrative of his genius as anything.

Not surprisingly he saw the quirky Mrs Merton that Caroline Aherne played as his next door neighbour move up the comedy property ladder while he remained difficult to pigeon hole. Neither outcome seemed to help as his low rent descent mirrored hers, before in 2005 he launched himself into a five-year plan with as much thought as Chairman Mao but a significantly lower mortality rate. Part of this involving Frank conquering America by flying straight there and back for one gig in New York. With somewhat fitting irony but not before Chemo Frank was unleashed on the world Chris Sievey died in 2010.

Ultimately Being Frank hangs together on the blurring of the lines between Sievey and Sidebottom. That the writing of this causes consideration of which epithet could be a sign of success but was Sievey refusing to be photographed out of character about preserving the mystery or reflective of some sort of embarrassment? The film can’t resolve the cod psychology but the joyful just do it nature of the comedy is tinged with the feeling of a dissatisfied man in a fake head with a peg on his nose. A physical discomfort that may have contributed to the slightly unsettling aspect of his performance. Sullivan concluded the night with a roundup of his day. Met at the station by a Sidebottom obsessive he had been given a cut price Magical Mystery Tour of the Housemartin hotpots he had read about as a fan. This culminated in the Grafton pub where Paul Heaton took inspiration and a landlady that had previously not heard of Sidebottom had accompanied them to the screening. Somehow somewhere Frank is still working his magic.

Photo from the Manchester Central Library Archive Exhibition.

After leaving the sweeping balcony and thinking that had been worth three rupees I was immediately brought back down to earth in what with hindsight could have been far worse circumstances. A particularly polite youth who explained he had moved to Mumbai to try and earn money for his family back in rural India needed the same amount to buy a shoe cleaning kit to work outside the fabulously ornate Victoria Train Station that features in Slumdog Millionaire. Feeling spectacularly uncomfortable in this impromptu episode of a global Dragons Den I may have contributed enough to pay for the brushes.

An early morning journey showed no matter how high the rich build they cannot outrun the smog that the poor are generating to pay for their apartments. During our well over hour long journey to SJ Studios in what is still central Mumbai everything teeters on the brink of gridlock before we are met by a no nonsense type of woman called Barbara who said that the industry was still in mourning for Sridevi but she would get us as much access as possible to what was going on.

This turned out to be more Eastenders than Bollywood as were manoeuvred into an ever tighter space to avoid the props and equipment which was being set up for the series father in law to deliver a piece to camera while someone held a piece of polystyrene in front of him to double for a table that would be added by CGI later. Any closer and I would have been eligible for the 1000 rupees a day that extras are paid before an unfortunate looking youth caused much silent amusement by squeezing through and into shot when returning with what looked like his dinner. That Barbara had been clear that we were dealing with some pretty highly strung artistic temperaments would have meant an intake of breath if that was possible. Instead time stood still as I waited for a diva tantrum and a flurry of dust as imaginary furniture flew but Dad handled it like the old pro he probably was and simply wandered over to join the people we were being photographed with.

Now if there has to be a hierarchy it might as well be dictated by who has the flashiest shirt but as otherwise I didn’t have the faintest idea who these people were, I could remain as cool as a cucumber could be in 35C. As we left the set and Barbara pointed out an actor’s trailer that was longer than a slum street my own rampant ego made me think I had struck a blow for masala boy and the rest of the crew who had to put up with his.

Since the leaking on social media of the moves from a film called ‘Happy New Year’ had meant that it wasn’t, people were not allowed to see a dance sequence being filmed. This left spirited demonstrations of Bollywood dance routines such as the obligatory run through of the Slumdog Millionaire finale to an eighties disco number even deemed a bit much by this most over the top of genres. Before each style the origins of it were explained before the instruction to take this and make it more ‘peppy’ was applied. An invitation to join the dancers for a run through needed to be met by the sort of gusto which left Barbara in her role as my portfolio photographer in danger of concussion.

While still possibly feeling the effects of this an invitation to a recording studio for a taste of the process which produces much of India’s popular music was duly accepted. In Bollywood the dubbing or playback of a great singer over the acting of a particularly photogenic face is seen as a win win for an audience who don’t place as great an emphasis on authenticity as some western ones. With ‘Titanic’ being the only Hollywood film to ever hit the Indian top five and people having enough gritty realism in their lives there seems to be more desire for the sort of illusions that Bollywood provides. Summoning this spirit through the choice of a particularly painful ‘Suspicious Minds’ was apt as in reality SJ Studios had seven sets such as a hospital or a jail and while they seem to have only been used for short sequences in film this only enhanced the splendid ridiculousness of the whole experience.

With my big break and attempt at method acting my way into a greater understanding of Bollywood proving elusive hanging around the Leopold Café was a last throw of the dice. Just down the road from the Regal Cinema and monitored by the same sort of armed security since the 2008 terrorist attack begun here this was the place where foreigners got asked to be in the movies. In the tome that is Shantaram an Australian bank robber escaped jail and ended up here. Author Gregory David Robert’s spent time as a Bollywood extra and the book had been rumoured to have Johnny Depp involved in a film adaptation but all anyone seemed interested in doing to me was selling expensive beer.

This gave me plenty of time to mull over what I had experienced and made me curious to see and discover more. Yes the portrayal of relationships can seem ridiculously wholesome and what appears to be the crow barring of a song and a dance into every story can interrupt the flow. Even so with previous interference in the country not going so well to wonder when India is going to see the light would be a cultural colonialism that constitutes a particular type of western arrogance. There are horror films, remakes of Twelve Angry Men and even silent movies out there but the vast majority of India’s film output is still Bollywood so it might be good to just celebrate the existence of this parallel world. 

Khomdram Gambhir Singh seems to be. Having moved to Mumbai from the state of Manipur about 2,000 miles away in 1978 and working in construction an accident left him turning to drink and sleeping rough. Then a clip of him singing old movie songs on the streets of Mumbai came to the attention of his family in the state of Manipur about 2,000 miles away and the police somehow managed to track him down. So forty years later hooray for Bollywood as it provides him and me with a traditional ending.

Initially helicopter pilots from the war in Afghanistan flew over Reactor 4 while sand bags were dropped into it and thousands of miners dug underneath it in an attempt to create a cooling area. Other people worked in 45 second bursts clearing rubble or burying trees and houses in ditches before many died predictably horrible deaths shortly afterwards. Having dinner in what may have been the staff canteen I wondered what would have been my view of a group of tourists sat eating a three course meal. These are now mostly people who maintain aspects of an enormous dome that was wheeled into place over the original ramshackle construction last year and is forecast to contain contamination for about 100 of the 24,000 years the area has been declared to be radioactive for. There are limits on the hours these people can work but in reality the Americans on our trip will have been exposed to more radiation on their flight to Europe than on today’s tour. Areas were things have been buried produce “hot spots” but even the spectacularly titled “Death Claw” used for dropping things from the helicopters only caused a small spike in radiation levels.

Inside the 10-kilometre zone and after a cursory look at the new construction with some more photography flouting it was time for the town of Pripyat which was built in 1970 to house the workers and families of the power plant. Deemed a triumph of Soviet urban planning its flats and leisure facilities an anomaly Communist regimes are fond of escorting visiting dignitaries to. Having now gone to seed in spectacular fashion it was a mini bus of rubber neckers who because of the decay were not supposed to go inside the buildings anymore. We were even given a code word to alert each other if we spotted any officialdom: the thought of a flustered back packers shout of “Cheese Burger” echoing around the derelict Olympic sized swimming pool seeming like it might be worth a night in the Gulag. All that really seemed out of bounds was the hospital and possible bad taste destination too far where fire fighter’s clothes had been locked in a basement which had been broken into and was now consequently the most radioactive building in Pripyat outside of the reactor.

The tour seemed to be building to the show stopper which is the amusement park that has ironically become most synonymous with Pripyat and all the more poignant by the inauguration of the Ferris Wheel due on the May Day a few days after the disaster happened. Other particularly striking sights were the most distressing football ground this side of Elland Road and a previously uncharacteristically fully stocked Soviet era supermarket which looked like George Romero had forgotten to lock up after “Dawn of the Dead”.

If it’s not too ridiculous to judge “The Chernobyl Diaries” on an aesthetic level combining some stock Chernobyl footage with film of empty flats near woods in Hungary and Serbia unsurprisingly fails miserably in conjuring up anything like the reality of what could be seen as a triumph of nature. The return of animals to the area has seen wolves and pigs returned in the absence of humans while introducing wild horses in a bid to keep the grass down has clearly proved less of a success. In the aftermath of the explosion dogs were shot to prevent contamination and in “The Chernobyl Diaries” they tore tourists apart. Today in Pripyat perfectly placid dogs follow humans in the hope of food in much the same manner as anywhere else.  You will also not encounter the rampaging bear in the film as they probably only inhabit the Belarussian side of the exclusion zone but a large mural of one has been handily depicted on the side of a derelict building to keep visitors happy.

In the Ukraine the desecration of statues of Lenin in imaginative ways has an artistic element but in Chernobyl he remains completely intact and without comedy clothing to be eternally taunted by the mess they feel he started. The secrecy which characterised the Soviet Union being manifest in initial denials of the incident which was then seen as part of the dysfunctional system used by Gorbachev to highlight the need for reform. Back in Moscow he claimed he was told the reactor had been made safe enough to be put in Red Square. That must have seemed quite appealing over here as the guide directed my gaze towards what turned out to be a ballot box just inside a doorway and said it was the “most useless thing in the Soviet Union”. Its position did seem a little staged but with comic delivery this deadpan I wasn’t about to object.

After walking through what felt like something from a Dan Dare comic that was supposedly monitoring our contamination levels there was a video from a nu metal band who did seem to have been let loose in Pripyat on the bus. As we got off back in Kiev our top notch guide said with a wry grin “that we will see you after the next disaster” which bearing in mind the country is currently at war with Russia shows you how high the bar is here. Meanwhile me and the gang had already agreed to message each other about a reunion stride around Fukushima.

After portraying the Arab Chieftain Prince Faisal in “Lawrence of Arabia” Alex Guinness took centre stage again in 1973’s “Hitler: The Last Ten days”. At the Museum his relief at the conclusion of filming is captured by a diary entry in which he describes himself as feeling “extravagant and light headed” when he removed the moustache and need to try and occupy the character of Hitler.  

America’s move towards more introspection in war films is represented by story boards from “Ride of the Valkyries” helicopter flight and the “Dealers in Death” playing cards which were left on their victims in 1979’s “Apocalypse Now”. Visitors to the Saigon area of Vietnam can easily visit the Cu Chi tunnels that the Viet Cong used to stage surprise attacks from. If the ever expanding western waistline makes it through a specially enlarged tunnel real Movies4Men aficionados can pay by the bullet to fire an AK47.  

There was no Wagner but the playing cards and a section on film music which featured the theme from “The Dam Busters” in the museum reminded me how elements were co-opted by the football fan experience of the eighties. At the other end of the spectrum and also represented here is protest musical “Oh! What a Lovely War”. Enduring a school production of this in a brand new comprehensive now seeming like something from a bygone golden age of education.

The stylised depiction of the quest to find Marlon Brando’s Colonel Kurtz in “Apocalypse Now” and the insanity which surrounds it felt like an acknowledgement of the futility of conventional attempts to portray the horror of war. By 1998 Steven Spielberg was trying to show D-Day as realistically as possible in “Saving Private Ryan”. The start of the film being run alongside actual footage from the landings at the exhibition.

One appeal of war to story tellers like Spielberg is the way the protagonist learns about his new world. Discovering the situation in a different country alongside the viewer clears away the need for exposition and inherently provides a vehicle for drama. As flickering images of war becomes the war the portrayal of it in a heroic light will become increasingly difficult.  Here the debate about whether it is possible to make an anti-war film which doesn’t excite the viewer may reach a bloody resolution.

The 2016 film about drone warfare “Eye in the Sky” brings the century to a close at the Imperial War Museum. With this and the likes of WikiLeaks footage of air strikes in the Middle East the circle is complete.  From the dim witted big game hunting of Prince Harry comparing his killing of people to a computer game and drone warfare conducted from a building on the outskirts of Las Vegas the new armchair warrior is doing it for real.

Unfortunately this couldn't be more timely in the face of the greatest humanitarian crisis in Europe since the Second World War and the prospect of forging links with the diverse population of the Beverley Road area is something the Trust would be keen to see. To this end a role as community hub or catalyst in the much needed regeneration of the area is possible. Alan feels all manner of period yet contemporary uses are up for discussion: “Growing your own veg, making clothes or an outdoor cinema as people are learning about these things now”.

It is even more apt to have these plans for the National Picture House as cinema played a pivotal role in the war as a source of news and morale raising entertainment. “The Great Dictator” auteur Charlie Chaplin was aware of the anti semitism in Europe and based his mockery of Hitler on the propaganda film “Triumph Of The Will”. Finding the fact he was born four days apart from Hitler in 1889 disquieting he nevertheless used his physical similarities to great effect. Described with characteristic stupidity by the Nazis as as “a disgusting Jewish acrobat” because his Little Tramp character fitted their racial profiling Chaplin's riposte went on to be his most commercially successful film with attendance figures of nine million people in British cinemas.

Now with the Council ready to use a Compulsory Purchase Order to buy the site sometime this year the Trust is readying itself for a big push. As Alan describes it they “need to see we can raise money” for the running costs whilst a “youthful input to take it forward with history qualifications or an interest in the the Second World War” to help facilitate the events and education is required.

Hitler is rumoured to have seen the film twice and whilst his reaction was not recorded the synchronicity of possibly the two most well known people in the world coming together in a street in Hull helps the story hang together. The real story is though that while Hitler may have won the battle and Chaplin had the last laugh it was the people of Hull with their humour and resilience who helped to win the war.

If you want to join the Trust, make a donation or get involved as a volunteer please consult the Trust website

Unfortunately the same cannot be said for the food. Prominent on every menu was the Wiener Schnitzel which didn't seem to be for the tourists as several Austrians were seen ploughing through it in what can only have been patriotic obligation. Another soundtrack to any stay in Vienna will be the sound of desultory hammering as someone tries to flatten the pork or veal usually sacrificed for the dish. The Schnitzel has it's roots in Byzantium where meat was eaten after being sprinkled with gold. This seems to fit a nation which was at the centre of world history until relatively recently but now finds itself a bit part player.

Having what can seem a disproportionate amount of history is highlighted by the Sigmund Freud Museum in the apartment he lived in prior to going into exile from the Nazis in 1938. It contains much of the original furniture and an audio guide which highlights his major works and least successful ventures. Despite his protestations the claim to have cured a friend of a morphine addiction by giving him cocaine had all too predictable results.

In the same area of medical institutions and the University is the Pathology Museum but be careful what you ask for when trying to find it. Part of a large hospital complex considerable time was spent following instructions to the Pathology Department before locating the imposing looking round building and 18th-century “fools tower” for people with mental health problems. Inside exhibits illustrate various pathological changes to body parts in an atmosphere of period decay or almost eastern bloc neglect depending on your disposition.

 The Viennese love a coffee but attempts to explore the myriad of options in the student area were hijacked by locals knocking back beer and schnaps. One gentlemen who described his condition as “delicate” insisted on spending an inordinate amount of time writing down offbeat visitor attractions before the waitress equally insistently transcribed his handwriting.Indeed the Karlsplatz Christmas market which forms part of the cities famous festivities has the quality of an alcohol induced nightmare with children in bird's cage fairground rides and buskers resplendent in Wicker Man style masks.

Less central but only the last stop on the U4 metro line is the enormous “Red Vienna” apartment block which runs the length of four tram stops and is where where communists retreated during the short lived civil war of 1934. Described to Graham Greene by friend and double agent Kim Philby their escape through the cities sewer system gave rise to some of the most famous movie locations ever.If you need to refresh your memory don't despair as “The Third Man” is screened at the centrally located Burg Kino indefinitely. As you leave in the early hours the flagstones might be glistening in just the right way and even without the spirit level prescribed by American Director William Wyler to Carol Reed one of those disorientating shots from the film will surely suggest itself.