The Mirror – November 22, 1996

When actor Michael French sped out of Albert Square in tears last night, he left behind one of the most charismatic men ever to grace a British soap.

David Wicks was that good. That memorable.

The goat-skin leather, the immaculately ironed shirt, the slicked-back hair, the swarthy looks, the cocky swagger of a boxer after a good round, and the flash jewellery that hung on a salesman who hadn’t sold a car since the seat belt was invented.

David Wicks had been in EastEnders for less than three years, but the character whose actions laid waste an entire cockney community (and a couple of streets in Bolton) has sailed into the company of the all-time soap greats.

To the list of Jack Duckworth, Stan Ogden, Mike Baldwin, Dirty Den, Nick Cotton, the Bruvvers Mitchell, Joe Sugden, Jimmy Corkhill and Barry Grant, add David Wicks. And put him comfortably in the top half.

Then look at his type. The cad, the two-timing womaniser with the glint in his eye. Only Dirty Den can go the distance.

His appeal was simple. Women viewers wanted to drag his clothes off, men to drag him down the pub in the hope of getting lucky on the back of his charms.

Unlike Den, he was never a complete bastard. Just a fatally-flawed chancer unable to commit himself to anything other than a quick thrill. But amid all the chaos he caused, everyone that mattered forgave him. His kids, his ex-wives, even his mum. Last night’s stunning, tearful finale saw him turn confessor, visiting all the people he’d wronged. Desperate to make amends.

It took quite a while.

In one hair-raising scene, he told the brilliant Bianca: “I’ve lied. I’ve cheated. I’ve slept with my half-brother’s wife. Betrayed my own family. You name it, I’ve done it.”

And he had.