He was the cheeky-chappy with the twinkle in his eye and the catchphrase that defined a generation—“Chase me!” For millions of Britons growing up in the 1980s and 90s, Duncan Norvelle was more than just a television personality; he was a fixture of Saturday night, a guaranteed laugh, and a reminder that sometimes the simplest humour is the most enduring. But this week, as news broke of his d3ath aged just 66, the nation was left reeling—not just from the loss of a beloved entertainer, but from the heartbreaking reality of his final years: a man who once made the country roar with laughter, dying penniless and ravaged by illness, with only his partner and children by his side.
It’s a fate that seems almost unthinkable for someone who, at his peak, was a household name. Duncan Norvelle’s rise was meteoric—catapulted to fame on ITV’s Saturday Royal in the early 80s, his effervescent persona and playful, camp humour made him an instant favourite. He wasn’t just a comedian; he was a phenomenon, his “chase me!” catchphrase echoing through living rooms from Land’s End to John o’ Groats. He had the rare ability to make people laugh without ever being cruel, to send up stereotypes while somehow remaining utterly loveable.
But the spotlight, as ever, is fickle. The 90s brought new stars, new tastes, and Duncan’s presence on the small screen began to fade. There were occasional appearances—Pointless Celebrities in 2019, Celebrity Come Dine With Me in 2011—but the glory days were behind him. The public moved on. The industry, always hungry for the next big thing, forgot. Yet Duncan never lost his love for performing. He never stopped chasing the laughter.
Behind the scenes, however, the reality was far from the glitz and glamour of primetime TV. In 2012, tragedy struck. A devastating stroke left Duncan paralysed down one side, robbing him of the quick physicality that had always been part of his act. For a man whose entire life was built on movement, on chasing and being chased, it was a cruel twist. Rehabilitation was long and arduous, and while he fought valiantly to regain his independence, the shadow of that day never truly left him.
His partner of over a decade, Linda Trevallion, was there every step of the way. In her words, he wasn’t really showbiz—he wasn’t one for parties or the red carpet. He was happiest at home, surrounded by family, or on stage in front of a crowd, no matter how small. As Linda told The Sun, Duncan’s final days were spent in the company of those he loved most. He d!ed from a chest infection and sepsis, with Linda and two of his children at his bedside. “He’s at peace,” she said. “He’s made millions of people laugh in his lifetime. I’ve never heard anyone say a bad thing about him.”
That, perhaps, is the true measure of the man. In an industry notorious for egos and feuds, Duncan Norvelle was universally liked. Even as his career faltered and his health declined, he remained optimistic, determined to keep performing. In 2015, he attempted a comeback, taking to smaller stages and even headlining an event for the Stroke Association in Skegness. It wasn’t the O2 Arena, but for Duncan, it was enough. The laughter was still there, and that was all he ever wanted.
But the world can be cruel to those who fall from its favour. Financial hardship followed, as detailed by Mail Online. The collapse of his two companies, Chase Me Management, in 2016 marked the end of any security he might have had. The gigs dried up, and with them, the money. Duncan was forced to sell personalised video messages to fans, to perform on cruise ships just to make ends meet. There were times, he admitted, when he wondered if anyone remembered him at all.
Then came Covid, and with it, another blow. The world of live entertainment ground to a halt. For Duncan, who had already been told he was “too slow” and “too disabled” for some events, it was devastating. He was denied the chance to do what he loved most, to stand in front of an audience and make them laugh. But even then, he refused to give in to bitterness. In a touching Christmas message from 2021, he thanked his fans for still wanting him. “It’s so nice to still be wanted to perform for your events,” he said, his gratitude shining through every word.
He also paid tribute to his partner, Lynn, calling her his rock. “Laughter is the best medicine that anyone can be given. I also want to thank my incredible partner Lynn. She is my rock and always will be and without her I would be lost.” It was classic Duncan—humble, heartfelt, and always thinking of others.
For those who remember his heyday, it’s hard to reconcile the image of the vibrant, mischievous comedian with the frail, wheelchair-bound man of recent years. But that, perhaps, is the tragedy of fame. The world moves on, but the stars it leaves behind are left to pick up the pieces. Duncan Norvelle gave everything to his audience—his energy, his humour, his heart. And in the end, it was those closest to him who gave him the love and care he so richly deserved.
His legacy, though, is secure. He was the original host of the Blind Date pilot, a regular on Surprise! Surprise! and The Bob Monkhouse Show, and a stalwart of the British variety circuit. He made millions laugh, not just with his catchphrase, but with his warmth and wit. He never took himself too seriously, never lost sight of what mattered. He was, in every sense, a true entertainer.
As the tributes poured in this week, it was clear how much Duncan meant to those who knew him, and to those who simply watched him from afar. Colleagues remembered his kindness and generosity. Fans recalled the countless evenings spent in front of the telly, laughing until their sides hurt. For Linda and his children, the loss is immeasurable. But they, like the rest of us, can take comfort in the knowledge that Duncan Norvelle’s spirit lives on—in every giggle, every smile, every cry of “Chase me!” that echoes down the years.
It is, perhaps, the most British of endings—a man who brought laughter to millions, who faced adversity with courage and grace, slipping away quietly, with little to his name but the love of those who mattered most. In a world obsessed with fame and fortune, Duncan’s story is a reminder that true wealth lies not in bank accounts or red carpets, but in the joy we bring to others.
So here’s to Duncan Norvelle—a star who shone brightly, if only for a while, and whose light will never truly fade. Chase me, he’d say, and for a moment, the world would forget its troubles and just laugh. In the end, that’s all any of us can hope for. Rest in peace, Duncan. You’ll be sorely missed, but never forgotten.
