
If you shared a household with children in the early noughties, there is a good chance you remember Dick and Dom in Da Bungalow. The BBC game show, presented by twentysomethings Richard McCourt and Dominic Wood, was a riot of silliness that saw young contestants compete each Saturday and Sunday morning to be crowned King or Queen of the Bungalow. There were challenges, sketches, regular custard fights (dubbed "creamy muck muck") and segments where Dick and Dom competed to shout the word "bogies" over one another in a quiet place such as a library.
Despite being criticised by a senior Tory MP in the House of Commons for promoting content "of a lavatorial nature", the popular show ran from 2002 to 2006 and drew in over one million viewers at its peak. What many will not have known is that, once the laughs ended and the gunge had been washed away, Richard would drive home to Sheffield to support his mum Helen, who was living with dementia. "That was a difficult time because obviously I was doing that every weekend," Richard, now 49, recalls.
"You go from one crazy situation to a different one. You have to turn up every Saturday and still do what we did with a smile on your face, telling jokes. But in the back of your mind, in a few hours' time, you're going to be at home caring for someone who has dementia."
Richard's family cared for Helen from her 2005 diagnosis until she died in 2010, aged 64. They often felt that support for those living with the condition was lacking. Two decades later, he fears little has changed and is backing Alzheimer's Society's new campaign, "It Will Take a Society", which highlights that everyone must play their part in beating dementia.
Helen's diagnosis came at the age of 58, after loved ones and colleagues noticed subtle changes in her behaviour. She had always been meticulous in her work as an NHS medical secretary, but one day her boss phoned to raise concerns about mistakes.
This was "very unlike my mum", Richard says. "She had been doing it for so many years. Then there were things around the house. My mum liked to cook a lot and some of her recipes were changing.
"Sometimes she would wander out of the house and go for a walk, which was unusual. These were just little things but you start adding them together and thinking: 'Something's not right here. Let's go and get her checked out.'"
Helen was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia, a less common type thought to account for 2% of all dementia diagnoses. Hollywood actor Bruce Willis announced he was living with FTD in 2023.
Richard's dad was nearing retirement and decided to become his wife's full-time carer, supported by Richard and his older brother James. "We all just had to get involved and do what we could," he says. "I took on roles like keeping the house clean and cooking meals, making sure my dad had different meals ready for each day of the week because he was obviously caring for my mum 24/7."
They were happy to do it but caring was "hard work" for his dad, and Richard remembers the family being left to cope with little advice about what help was available. "This is the problem and sadly I can't believe I have to sit here saying the same thing. Still to this day you hear that there's not enough care out there.
"After you leave the neurologist, the consultant, and they tell you the diagnosis of dementia, they give you a couple of leaflets, but that's it really. You're then left to go about it on your own.
"We were lucky that Alzheimer's Society was there. I had heard of them before, so I got in touch. That's where all our help came from - the resources, advice and helplines were a godsend. Without that, I don't know what we would have done because you're just left in the dark."
Richard's experience remains all too common. A recent Alzheimer's Society report found that one in five people affected by dementia had received no health care, social care or financial support.
Of those who had received some, fewer than half were satisfied with it and only 29% said dementia-related healthcare was easy to access.
The survey of 3,500 people, including those living with the condition, loved ones and carers, found more than half believed the situation could be improved if more support was available from professional carers trained in dementia.
The charity connected Richard's family with local services. His parents sometimes visited dementia-friendly cafes or attended "singing for the brain" sessions. They found a respite centre near Sheffield where Helen would occasionally spend the day while her husband had a break. And in the final years of her life, they were supported by a local retired nurse who Richard has described as their "fairy godmother".
As Helen's dementia progressed, the entertainer struggled to reconcile the changes he witnessed with his memories. He explains: "My mum was just great fun, larger than life, always had a big smile on her face, the life and soul of the party.
"When someone is like that, and that's how you remember them, when something like dementia happens you can tell that something is totally wrong because they just become a different person.
"It's quite sad really. It's kind of like you feel you had two different mums - the one you remember up to the point of diagnosis and another. It's sometimes hard to put the two back together.
"But we were lucky that she was still smiling all the way to the end, as much as she could. She couldn't speak anymore but her personality didn't go 100%."
The family saw the humour where they could. Helen began eating more chocolate as a result of her dementia and Richard fondly remembers one occasion when she polished off an entire packet of walnut whips in a single sitting.
He adds: "We had to try and find the funny side because that was the only way through it. You have to laugh about it or you'd be crying all the time."
Richard took on fundraising challenges, including a charity cycle ride from London to Paris, trekking the Great Wall of China and running the London Marathon. "On those trips you'd meet so many people who were in the same situation," he says. "It was great to be able to talk about it, that really helped me."
After Helen's death, both her sister and brother were diagnosed with dementia at a similar age. Richard knows tests are available to estimate genetic risk and admits that "you do worry sometimes". But he says: "Life's too short to sit and think about that."
He has remained a passionate campaigner for Alzheimer's Society and advises anyone facing a diagnosis to contact the charity. He also wants to challenge the stigma that still exists.
"My mum lost quite a few good friends during that period, sadly. I think that stigma is still there, people don't understand it properly. So if we can get the message out there that people can live with dementia, live normal lives for many years, then people might not shy away from it as much."
Alzheimer's Society's It Will Take a Society campaign is encouraging people to join the organisation in one of four ways: donate, volunteer, campaign or become a Dementia Friend. Richard adds: "Every year you keep hearing these stories and trying to push people to understand it more.
"This campaign tagline is great because everybody needs to start saying: 'Dementia is as important as cancer or heart disease now, I need to learn about it and how to deal with it if it happens to me or someone I love.'"
- Richard is part of the society working to beat dementia. Find out how you can help here.
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