Eventually, Jon and I parted company around five o'clock in the morning. I had discovered a man considerably younger than myself who not only made me laugh but was entertained by my limited repertoire of silly voices.
That might have been simply the beginning of a long friendship except for one thing.
I was a television producer and director at the time and was straining my brain to come up with a new programme.
I wanted it to be a satirical show and was boring my colleagues by repeating a tiresome mantra. If newspapers had political cartoons why shouldn't television have them as well? As I put the new show together I was surrounded by a group of old friends who shared my ideas and were prepared to make the leap into the dark.
It was then I introduced my new friend Jon Gadsby and we all set off to do battle with the executives of television. Recently, there was a newspaper story about a performance artist who was digging a hole in Christchurch.
He announced that his artistic endeavour was to dig until he reached Spain. Believe me, his undertaking was remarkably easier than getting comedy on New Zealand television and considerably simpler than keeping it there once you'd got it on.
Somehow we managed to convince the executives that the new show - A Week of It - deserved a longer run that seven weeks and three years later we finished that last show.
During those years the public was introduced to one of Jon's more memorable characters - a large, docile and completely naive fellow named Wayne. He would stand at a leaner in a bar - allegedly the old Gluepot Tavern at the top of College Hill - and earnestly attempt to follow the tirades of his two drinking mates, George and Gary.
As they hurled insults at politicians and in particular the Prime Minister, who Gary christened Quasirobo, Wayne would contribute innocent ideas that nearly always produced an exasperated outburst from his mates.
"Jeez, Wayne!" they'd bellow. Much to Jon's surprise this expression crept into New Zealand speech and quite recently I heard an enraged driver yell, "Jeez, Wayne" at a motorist who was sticking to the speed limit.
There's a curious aside to the Wayne character. Although in the spotlight of public attention, few people knew that Jon Gadsby was an accomplished musician. He was an enthusiastic guitar player and singer.
As well, he wrote many songs. One of his most poignant is called Wayne's Song. It has the line, "Something is passing me by".
The words obviously refer to Wayne's naive personality. But during the song there are hints of Gadsby's own reflective nature.
When A Week of It finished there were many changes. Actors such as Annie Whittle and Peter Rowley were ready to move in new directions. Ken Ellis and Bruce Ansley had juggled their real jobs to be in the show.
Other performers such as the inimitable Chris McVeigh had to decide between their careers or a life of insecurity in the snake-pit of television.
Finally, there was Jon, the unforgettable A.K. Grant and myself. The result was McPhail and Gadsby.
Many people thought it needlessly narcissistic to name a show after yourselves. The simple fact was no one could come up with an amusing name and the production forms called the project McPhail and Gadsby until it was too late to change. I mean "This Will Make You Laugh" or "The Fun Show" is leading unnecessarily with your chin.
During the next eight years the three of us wrote and appeared in hours of television.
The timetable was viciously tight and many sketches were re-written on the floor of the studio with the clock ticking down. Jon would never accept what he thought was a soft punch-line so many precious minutes passed as I ran possibilities past his unyielding stare. Finally we'd get one and continue.
Although the show was called McPhail and Gadsby, A.K Grant was our stalwart. His wit, erudition and bloody-minded views on what was funny and what was not, kept us on track. If one person is writing a comedy script he or she will go mad. If there are two writers they'll kill each other.
But with three, there's always a singular voice that will calm things down. A.K. would always stop me when I was about to hurl the Imperial typewriter across the room at Jon. This illustrates my age. Gadsby and I only used computers in our later years. Back then our scripts were hammered out on clanking typewriters. We had 16 hours to write a 25-minute television show.
So, what did we write about? Anything and everything. Most of our targets have disappeared. Many disliked us. Jon was pleased. It meant we were doing our job. The most tragic complaints came from politicians who hadn't been lampooned on McPhail and Gadsby. Jon insisted that every show should contain a comic song. This was an entertaining idea but we had to find a tune that was out of copyright and then spend hours wrapping new lyrics around an unusual melody.
It was not a problem for Gadsby, who earlier in his life had rhymed "telly" with "Stephane Grappelli".
McPhail and Gadsby ended. The key thing about comedy is knowing when to stop. We had invited our audience to laugh at ridiculous politicians, strange social trends, odd rock'n'roll bands and even life itself. Later, we made many other shows together and some of them remain in people's memories.
My memory is of a funny warm-hearted man who loved laughing and loved making other people laugh.
Jon Gadsby was a great friend.
READ MORE: Jon Gadsby remembered
