Even if you didn’t have an Auntie Dot in Cockermouth (the one who ate a raffia drinks coaster, mistaking it for a high-fibre biscuit), it was impossible not to feel Victoria Wood got you, somehow. Her death in 2016 triggered an outpouring of grief commensurate to her talent, but it also revealed how intimately, how individually, she was loved.
Emma Beddington
Victoria Wood: stiletto in an oven glove
With her musician’s ear for the perfect line, Wood was a steely taskmaster when it came to the exact delivery of her scripts, says Jasper Rees
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