WHEN I met Benny Hill in 1970, I was a young single mum struggling to bring up my baby daughter, Shelly. I had no job, no money, and things looked grim, but I met a girl with a small agency who said she might be able to get me some TV work.

I had an audition for Benny, at his flat in Queensgate. I thought it was a bit strange going to meet him at his home, but I went, and he gave me lunch of fish fingers and baked beans. I think he felt sorry for me, and pretty soon after he booked me on the show.

Benny was a private and complex person, but there was a side to him that seemed to have enormous compassion for people he considered hard-done-by. He'd quietly help these people in ways he would never brag about.

For example, it was quite expensive for me to get to Teddington, where we often did the filming. So Benny suggested I go in the studio car with him, but not to let on to the others in the cast, because they might see it as favouritism.

It was all thanks to Benny that I started my glamour agency. He used to ask my advice on the girls on the show, saying things like: 'Do you think she's got "twinkle?"' - his word for talent.

In 1971 he said: 'You should start an agency. You're very good at motivating people and I'll help you any way that I can.'

I started up 'Blondes', advertised for girls and pretty soon business was thriving. Benny would book my girls on his shows, and not only that, he had enormous influence at Thames, so he would put a word in for me with other shows.

Contrary to what some people thought, he never financed me in any way. Our 23-year friendship was based on mutual respect and helping each other business-wise.

Benny wouldn't go to the normal showbiz haunts, and he would never go somewhere to 'be seen'. Showbiz functions were something he mainly shied away from.

One day he called me up and said: 'I'd like you to meet my new producer.' So I got all dolled up thinking we were going to some swish restaurant for dinner - and we ended up going to the Golden Egg, a greasy spoon cafe.

His funeral was as cryptic as his life had been. The fact that he was a world-famous comedian was made obvious by the streets of Southampton lined with weeping fans. But there was only a smattering of people at the actual funeral, and very few from the world of showbiz.

As a tribute to Benny, the women attending had all agreed to wear suspenders underneath their skirts. So there we sat in the pews, with stockings and suspenders hidden, and as the service ended they played the famous Benny Hill theme tune. It was comic and tragic at the same time, which summed up dear old Benny.