Remembering Dave ‘Luddy’ Ludlam: A Colourful Life in Every Frame
Anyone and everyone who knew Dave, would surely agree that he was truly a unique character. One of a kind. Straight out of a movie. Terry Venables meets Sid James, with his knack for telling a story, and his unmistakable roaring laughter.
Uniquely Luddy.
To others, it was maybe his life behind the scenes, in numerous colour grading suites of Soho and Los Angeles, that truly showcased his brilliance.
David James Ludlam (June 24th 1969), started his over 35-year-long career in post production straight from school aged 16, as a runner at Carlton TV, delivering late-night food and drinks to the likes of directing duo Godley and Creme, in the height of music video days, in the late 1980s.
Dave had short spells at Ravensdale, Soho 601, Jam, Rascal and Royal Muster, but it’s his time at The Mill (starting in London before moving to LA and back to London again) and 15 years at Framestore (London), that will define Dave’s career.
I met Dave on my very first day at The Mill in 1992 and we very quickly became friends for life. It’s hard to erase the memory of ‘those gold shorts’ he wore at my wedding. Rarely a week has passed since then, that we haven’t shared a Guinness or three, or at least a FaceTime call - his favourite method of communicating.
It was also at this time that Dave met perhaps his closest friend, cinematographer Gary Shaw - becoming best men at each other’s weddings. During the late ‘90s and beyond - under the comedy pseudonym ‘The Cheesy Loafs’ - we would embark on the annual ‘tour’: Driving across countries and continents, often pursued by local law enforcement, for some minor beer and burger induced misdemeanour. The missing life-size fibre-glass pig from a mini golf course in Canada, is probably one petty crime that will remain unsolved.
Dave was annoyingly good at every sport he played, from cricket, football and golf, to darts, pool, karting and bowling. A passionate rugby union player in his youth, he proudly wore the colours of Enfield Ignatians RFC. He often showed up to work with cuts, scars, bruises and the occasional black eye, or crooked nose. But it was the damage to his knees which shortened his career and served as a visible reminder to us all of his true love of the game and more probably the clubhouse.
In 2021 we had the chance to, ‘get the band back together', for a third and final time when we worked together at Rascal. Always the character, Dave was generous with his time and with his down-to-earth methodology, serving as a mentor and guide to so many people over the years.
There will be another time to recall stories of flying fish, flying gateau, and the non flying wedding cake. Tales of forged tickets, toothbrushes, fire extinguishers, the donkey, golf balls and the Bloo Loo. These and many, many more outlandish memories will be recalled over the coming days and weeks, for sure.
Dave’s story is one of a life lived fully, with humour, passion, and an unyielding love for the craft that brought him to the forefront of our creative industry. As we remember him, it’s not just the work he leaves behind but the stories, the laughter, and the undeniable presence of a man who truly was one of a kind.
Andrew (Barnsley) Wood, partner and ECD at RASCAL
Gary Shaw (‘Del’)
Director of photography
What to say about Dave Ludlam…
He was a best friend, a reliable friend, a loving father, an annoyingly good sportsman, a fantastic grader with a great eye, the most argumentative twat who would never back down, even when he was clearly in the wrong. A stubborn mule that had to get the last ‘but’ in and then laugh out loud even more annoyingly!
This made you want to punch him, but you’d end up laughing with him in the same way.
Dave would be the guy you could count on to be next to you no matter how hard or uncomfortable a situation you were in and make you see the funny side of it. His cheeky, loveable demeanour meant he could get away with it in any situation.
I met Dave at The Mill in 1990 – we instantly became firm friends for life. Barnsley, Dave and myself went on many adventures together and made amazing friends and memories along the way. Dave was the best man at my wedding, making sure I was well tortured on my stag do, we even ended up owning a house together.
Dave ‘The Dirt Monster’ Ludlam, RIP.
“You’re not gonna get out of this one Dave.”
(New Orleans -1996)
Pete Williams (‘Frank’)
Colourist, Smoke & Mirrors Bangkok
I had the privilege of working alongside Dave starting around 1989 where we started working together at a small post house in the middle of Soho called Ravensdale. He had a way of making the challenging days speed along with his infectious laughter and crazy stories of which he had loads. To pass the time he would teach us cricket moves with a handmade bat and ball of paper that he would smash around the room.
He moved on and a few years down the line landed up working at The Mill and over many beers he would constantly tell me to apply for a job there. Eventually I did and I landed up again working alongside him.
Shortly after I arrived he went up into the grading department and started learning his craft with which he became very successful. During this time I would sneak away from the drudgery of the machine room downstairs and watch what he was doing. He was incredibly generous with his knowledge and taught me everything about grading along with Adam and Ferg at the time. I learnt from Dave how to control big egos with our clientele but maintaining a sense of humour and bringing laughter to the session.
I could always tell when Dave had been out for a drink or two as I would have to start at six am and there was always a new bit of furniture or a beer tap that had found its way back with him. One of many memories was when he turned up for my stag weekend armed with a tin hat, ten pin bowling ball and a toilet seat that I had to wear the whole weekend made for interesting times.
Dave was a legend not only in post production but as a dear friend. One that you wouldn't necessarily see every day, or even every month or year but the second you saw or heard from him it was like it was yesterday. I for one will dearly miss him.
Miles Stormer (‘The Colonel’)
Colleague at Ravensdale and The Mill
He was the most hilarious, talented, and frustrating person to work with. He was good at everything he did, but he was always high-spirited while doing it!
We have lost an industry maverick and a friend!
Matt Cooper ('Cooperman')
CEO, Little Black Book
I met Luds back at The Mill. He was about my age when I started there – I had a much lower position than him, and he was a colourist. The thing about him was that he was always ready to share his knowledge with other people. But more than that, he was everyone’s friend. People loved him. He was amazingly talented. He’d been around and worked for all the best post production companies in the world – The Mill, then Framestore, then RASCAL. He loved a laugh and he was a bit noisy. But throughout it all, the key thing was that Luds was one of the nicest men that you could have the fortune to meet.
Robin Shenfield
Co-founder and former CEO, The Mill
Chairman, EIKON Group
Dave ‘Luddy’ Ludlam was one third of a maverick creative trio at The Mill that included Andrew Wood (aka ‘Barnsley’) and DOP Gary Shaw (‘Geezer’). Together, they staged various outings and road trips to which other Mill alumni including Phil Crowe, Gareth Brannan, Liz Browne and many others were press ganged into joining.
Darts matches and unauthorised entry to award shows with forged tickets spring to mind though uppermost in my memory is a late ‘90s multi-car expedition to a technology exhibition in Amsterdam. The participants (in this pre-Google age) were forbidden from consulting maps which led to wild detours and yet somehow, they all made it safely to join the ‘official’ party in time for dinner, albeit a little care-worn from their journey. With trademark charm (aided and abetted by the others), Luddy had persuaded me to part-fund this trip on the flimsy professional basis that it would have great research merit.
Truthfully, the real benefit was morale. This adventure was typical of the contribution made by Luddy and an ever-expanding group of like-minded others to the creation of the mould-breaking, cherished culture of The Mill. The impact of his and their professional talent combined with what you might call left-field, team-building enthusiasm, cannot be overstated.
Luddy took his work, but not himself, seriously. It’s a refreshing attribute that was shared by many of his hard-working, but humble colleagues. Sometimes seen as a somewhat wayward maker of mischief – he was happy with that affectionate caricature – Luddy was, of course, nothing of the sort. He was talented, thoughtful, kind and generous.
Paul Harrison
Colourist and co-founder, Residence Pictures
Dave was one of those rare people who made the world a brighter place. The news of his passing was shocking, and really saddening – I felt a real sense of loss.
When I joined the Mill as a 20-something young runner who wanted to learn the telecine, he helped and encouraged me, as all the guys in the department did. He genuinely wanted to help me get on, that was how he was. He made me realise that a career in post wasn’t just for the privileged, it was a meritocracy. I have Dave to thank for my love of Guinness and making me persevere with it. It took a while!
In the following years, as our careers developed and reputations grew, he remained Luddy, true to form, and didn’t become an ego. I’d see and hear of his antics and would be in tears. He was a one off, never to be repeated. When we’d meet up he’d never fail to put a smile on my face and those around him, there were times I’d laugh so hard my face would hurt. He was a truly genuine bloke, I feel blessed that I was lucky enough to have known him, I’m truly saddened he’s no longer with us. Rest in peace, mate.
What a legend!
Fergus McCall (‘Ferg’)
Colourist, Rare Medium
I first met Luds during the late summer of 1990 – I could hear him before I could see him, shouting the odds through a fireproof door in the original Mill MCR on Great Marlborough Street, a door so insulated and tight fitting that usually no sound got through it.
Inside the MCR that housed millions of pounds worth of expensive equipment, he seemed to be playing a hybrid game of rugby with a makeshift ball of a sweater wrapped in camera tape with which he unleashed a fierce grubber kick, while everybody else around him was trying to take cover. This brief tableau of action from the very early days of The Mill summed Dave up – high energy, a big character that could dominate a room with his boundless good humour, a lot of noise and a warmth of nature that was infectious. Not long after this, he would go on to be Adam Scott’s and my assistant and then on to becoming a colourist during the halcyon days of ‘90s Soho post production. Happy, creatively productive and exciting times to be a part of!
I’ve got other stories of the adventures and misdeeds of David Ludlum, many of which seemed to happen in Amsterdam, but these can be retold when we raise a glass or two in some establishment somewhere and reminisce about the guy we loved so much and will miss terribly.
Adam Scott (‘Giggsy’)
Founder, Meticulous Timing
I first encountered Dave at The Mill in ‘93. He worked in the machine room and showed a keen interest in becoming a colourist. Fergus and I contemplated if he would be a good fit as our first assistant, managing a dark room full of clients all day, as interpreting and massaging creative egos into a graded commercial may not be something that Dave could withstand.
I think Dave came bursting out of the womb, grabbing life by the balls and shaking it for all it was worth. I imagine he was one of those kids who was naturally very good at any sport, a perfect scrum-half and cheeky with it. He was full of ambition and dedication, coupled with a lust for life and enigmatic laughter. So we took him on. On a Monday morning it was never a
pretty site as he hobbled in with various injuries from the rugby pitch and ensuing celebrations. He managed to handle the film and make tea for everyone whilst grabbing 40 winks to catch up from the weekend’s abuse.
Dave loved sport, especially rugby and cricket, riding motorbikes, consuming fast food, burgers, crisps, Twiglets and pork scratchings, all washed down with inhuman quantities of bitter or Guinness. But I think most of all, he loved people, and they loved him right back.
When you drank with Dave you’d better keep your pint covered as he was deft at dropping unwelcome gifts in there! Maybe it came from rugby, but Dave never really went on holiday, he went on tour with his mates, and there are countless stories of their adventures. Almost getting arrested for wearing an American flag he had stolen during a tour being one.
Dave included everyone in his joy, and gave us all nicknames. I am Giggsy. “Alright Giggsy,” he would exclaim when entering the suite.
Dave progressed as a colourist, and then left The Mill to build his reputation at Framestore, creating joy with whoever he encountered.
Years later I had the pleasure of working alongside him again when he moved to LA with his family, who he adored. Luckily the flag escapade hadn’t caught up with him. He hadn’t changed a bit, and I wondered what Americans would make of him. Of course they loved him – that passion for life and laughter sucks you in, although they probably didn’t understand every word.
He returned to England to spend time with his ailing dad. I met him for lunch in LA one day a couple of years ago, we reminisced and laughed all afternoon. He had a ticket to see The Who at the Hollywood Bowl that evening. “Are you up for it Giggsy?!” After a burger and a Guinness at the Roosevelt we wandered up to the Bowl. It was a really special evening, we were right at the back, singing and laughing whilst sharing the occasional Drum tobacco roll up. I'm so glad I seized that opportunity, who knew it would be our last.
So many fond memories of Dave, a life lived in full!
Roy Trosh (‘Rex’)
Former VP global systems architecture, Technicolour Production Services
Luddy started working in MCR at The Mill in the very early ‘90s and quickly made an impression on the place for being someone who was not only dedicated and reliable but cheery, smiley and with an incredibly positive outlook on life.
After repeatedly pestering the unfortunate telecine team he eventually moved from MCR into a colour grading role where he worked on some very memorable projects.
I could easily reminisce about the mad times we had in Tommy Rockers in Las Vegas and various other bars, but my enduring memory of Dave is the smile, the cheeky grin and the way he would always call me Rex (I’m still not sure why).
Matt Turner (‘Large’)
Creative director of colour, No. 8
I first met Luddy when I joined The Mill as a tape OP, and was immediately struck by his extraordinary energy, his sense of humour and his blunt honesty. I knew I wanted to grade and in taking me under his wing, he was incredibly generous and selfless, sharing his knowledge with me, always encouraging me, giving me useful advice. By the time he moved onto Soho 601, we had become firm friends.
In 2003 he poached me from The Mill and I went to work with him at Framestore. Dave, Stef Perry and I formed a strong team and, when joined by Ben Rogers, we became a force to be reckoned with. We had a serious amount of fun together. His relentless creativity and formidable work ethic inspired us all to push ourselves harder and to compete against one another in the best possible way.
Dave’s output was immense, working with the most high-profile commercial directors and unsurprisingly he was nominated and won BTAA Best Colourist several times. I’ve felt a keen sense of Lud’s influence throughout my career, right up to this day.
In collecting my thoughts about him I was struck by the idea that he was the actual polar opposite of lazy. Dave was a maverick, a force of nature, always excited by something, with a relentless passion for travel, adventure, and one of the most talented and natural sportsmen I’ve ever met (that bit was infuriating). He had the worst dress sense and some savage musical tastes, he could be unbelievably blunt and insensitive at times – but it all came from a place of authenticity. He just couldn’t ignore bullshit and I often wondered how he managed to keep it zipped in difficult grade sessions. I have lost count of the many nights out, adventures and holidays we had together, every one of them filled with raucous laughter and often some outrageous behaviour. To me, Luddy is simply unforgettable.
James Razzall (‘Razz’)
President, advertising North America at Framestore
To know Luds was to love him. Half colour grading genius, half Tasmanian devil, he ploughed his way through life in the most unique way. Our industry is driven by personalities and Dave truly was one of a kind.
When I joined Framestore many years ago Luddy was already the self-crowned king of telecine. He sat in his suite holding court while plotting pranks and selecting his next targets. The tales of his antics spread throughout Soho and beyond, almost all too outrageous to publish.
Gone way too soon and leaving a huge hole behind, I am sure he's looking down and having a giggle about his final wind up on all of us 'numpties'.
Steffan Perry (‘The Wizard’)
Senior colourist, Company 3
Luds was a highly driven and motivational colourist, loyal to his friends. He was immensely talented, selfless, humble, mischievous, compassionate, but was also a right nause bucket by his own admission.
I had the pleasure of working alongside Luds for over 15 years at Framestore. There was never a dull moment.
He was the driving force in expanding the department, securing the first 4k Spirit 2 for commercial use in the world and consistently preempting opportunities and pitfalls in the industry. He seemed to know everybody, and nobody forgot Luds.
Away from work, his life was a whirlwind of activity. A weekend for Luds could have looked something like this: Saturday, first coat of paint on spindles, waterskiing, collect piano, play cricket (score a century), Wembley Stadium to watch ‘The Boss’. Sunday, hire Luton van and pick up a wardrobe for a friend from Kent, plaster someone’s bathroom, 18 holes at twilight at Crew’s Hill golf course, second coat of paint on spindles.
He wouldn’t mention his weekend unless I pressed him, he would be more interested to find out how frustrated I was to wake up on Saturday morning to discover he had swapped my box of fresh Adidas with some fruit and my replaced the disk of ISS Pro Evolution with a note telling me to “Stop playing games and go outside and live.”
Luds supported my growth as a colourist and gave me life advice like my dad would have. He always had my back and I will forever be grateful to have had him as my friend.
Darren O’Kelly
Co-founder, Untold Studios
What can I say about the incomparable Dave Ludlam, or Luddy, as he was to us.
When I joined The Mill in the early ‘00s, Luddy was already a legendary figure – even though by that time, he had moved down the road to Framestore. We eventually got him to return to us at The Mill, it only took 15 years! His return brought just the right mix of chaos and genius that only he could bring.
Luddy carved out an enviable career as one of London’s – and later LA’s – very best and brilliant colourists (though he insisted on calling himself a “TK op”). Some of his finest work was with long-time collaborators, the directing duo Dom&Nic.
He brought 100% commitment to everything he did, never forgetting the fundamentals of great creative work – think differently, be uncompromising, and exhaust every avenue. These principles not only guided his exceptional work in grading but also the famed pranks and practical jokes he played on his close circle of great friends.
There was never a dull moment with Luddy. Trips to IBC in Amsterdam – a relatively mundane tech convention – became unforgettable events with Luds in the thick of it. These trips famously became rebranded as ‘Amsterdamage’.
He had an uncompromising zest for life and was a passionate, fearless, and unforgettable presence. His loyalty, friendship, sharp wit and mischievous streak were truly one of a kind; he left an indelible mark (occasionally in ink) on everyone fortunate enough to cross his path. He has always been, and will continue to be, one of the most well-remembered and much loved characters in The Mill’s storied history.
In his own words: "Be nice when humanly possible. Always try to do something different. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking, ‘That’ll do’. Always go again and try to do better. Don’t let the bastards grind you down."
Thank you, Luddy. We’ll be recounting tales about you for decades to come.
Seamus O’Kane
Colourist, The PostArm
I knew about Dave ‘Luddy’ Ludlam a long time before I actually met him. The tales were legendary and the character depicted was always larger than life.
Loud, rumbustious even, a comic, quick and funny, a rugby fan, passionate and intense. Whatever the tale there was always a tag line: ‘...but a hell of a good colourist’. This is going back to an industry where our technology was based on film machinery and boxes full of electronics. One had to know a lot of stuff about a lot of things and colourists relied on sharing knowledge, tips and secrets. Soho was a network of characters who were both rivals and friends, and Dave fitted in this like a hand into a glove.
I can recall meeting him for the first time at the NAB conference in Las Vegas. ‘Whirlwind’ is probably the most suitable adjective. His energy and enthusiasm were certainly there, but it was also obvious that so were his knowledge and passion. These were his early days at The Mill, and later he used these qualities to forge his career at Framestore.
It took another 20 years for us to work together when Dave returned to The Mill London in September 2015 having firstly rejoined at The Mill LA.
I remember writing in my welcome email that this news needed no preamble and in fact I could almost have just written “Luddy’s coming home” and that would have been that. For the next few years we had a blast as an extraordinarily gifted team until covid wrought changes that still reverberate through our industry.
The news of Luddy passing seems to be another seismic event that leaves a hollow that shouldn’t be. I only know that I and so many others will delight in having known him.
Mick Vincent
Colourist, The Mill
I don't even know where to begin. Dave had the biggest heart and the kindest, most gentle soul. I have so many great memories working together. The days were always good when Dave was around.
I remember very clearly that whenever ‘Luddy’ came into the room, I always knew there would be smiles, giggles and laughter. He had such a disarming manner, that no one was ever offended. They were just put at ease. He will be sorely missed.
Phil Crowe (‘Phillis’)
Founder, Parliament
With deep sadness, we say goodbye to a man whose presence was larger than life and whose absence leaves a massive hole in our lives. Dave was a huge personality, one hell of a character, and without question, one of the most ridiculous yet extraordinary people I’ve ever had the privilege of calling a friend.
When I was told the devastating news, it hit me like I’d been run over. Honestly, that feels fitting for Dave – because every moment I spent with him in life felt exactly like that. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature, knocking you off your feet with his energy, humour, and sheer ability to make life bigger, messier, and infinitely more fun.
We all have a million micro-stories about him, many of mine beginning the same way: “When I gave him keys to my house…”
It was, without a doubt, the worst and best decision I’ve ever made. Dave had an uncanny ability to turn the simplest things into unforgettable moments – often chaotic, always hilarious. Despite his wildly unconventional ways, he remained proper at heart, grounded by a strong moral compass and old-fashioned values. He was always there when you needed him, ready to lend a hand.
I’ll miss his habit of doing things the hardest, most baffling way possible. I’d often find myself asking, “Dave, why would you do it that way? Surely the normal route is easier!” His answer was always the same: “Shut up, Philis,” followed by some explanation that somehow made perfect sense.
Dave’s life was a collection of stories that could fill a hundred lifetimes, from unbelievable chaos to moments of quiet generosity. He made life brighter, louder, and far more interesting. Rest easy, Dave. Wherever you are, we know you’re still doing things your way – probably the hard way – making everyone laugh while you’re at it, and causing an absolute nause.
Thatcher Peterson
Founder and executive Producer, Royal Muster
Luddy and I met 10 years ago while working together at The Mill Los Angeles. He eventually relocated back to London and we stayed in touch through the years. I was fortunate to reconnect and work with him again at Royal Muster.
Luddy was truly one of a kind and unforgettable. He was charismatic, spontaneous, hilarious, and, above all, caring. These qualities shined in everything he did.
With Luddy, you never knew what to expect. I’ll always remember the time, during an unsupervised session, when he casually stepped out, saying he’d be ‘right back’. After an hour of frantic phone calls trying to locate him, he returned with a batch of freshly baked cookies from home. While I was beyond frustrated at the time, Luddy nailed the session, and we enjoyed the cookies.
Luddy’s energy was infectious and joy was always in tow. I’ve seen him dressed up as a gorilla, a woman, Beethoven, an ’80s rocker, and even Napoleon. Whatever he did, he went all out. A trait that defined both his work and his personal life.
The people Luddy worked with often became his friends, and his friends were like family. He had the ability to put others before himself – an attribute I admired.
I feel incredibly lucky to have known him and to call him a friend. Luds gave my daughter her first taste of Marmite. I’ll miss his voice, his laugh, his trail of white cheddar popcorn and his sheperd’s pie. He became family to me, and I will always treasure the memories and the gift that was Luddy.
James Bamford (‘Bamf’)
Creative director, RASCAL
Luddy was more than a friend and colleague; he was the heartbeat of every room he entered. His infectious energy, boundless kindness, and unwavering spirit brought joy to everyone around him. Luds lived fully, and made every moment unforgettable. Mate, you will be missed so much. Luds you were a legend.
Gareth Brannan (‘Delwyn’)
Managing director, RASCAL
Everybody who knew Dave will have a story to tell. He was larger than life – the kind of person you might think was exaggerated in stories unless you’d actually met him. But the thing is, the stories are true. OK, maybe a few got a bit embellished over the years, probably by Dave himself – he loved a story – but that was all part of his charm. Dave threw himself into life, and the industry, with a passion that was unmatched.
Dave was full of mischief – always up to something, always bringing the fun. He was unpredictable in the best way, a true maverick who did things his own way and made life more exciting for everyone around him.
Some of the best memories and happiest times of my life were with him and his partner in crime, Barnsley. But when I think about Dave, what sticks with me the most isn’t the big stories, it’s the little things that showed who he really was – kind, clever, and endlessly generous.
Dave was an incredibly talented colourist who worked at the highest level for so many years. He worked with everyone worth knowing in the industry. But what made him stand out wasn’t just his talent – it was how much he genuinely cared about people.
From the moment I met Dave, he looked out for me. He helped me through tough decisions, both in my career and personal life. He always made time, whether it was for advice, a laugh, or just to listen.
That’s who Dave was. His kindness wasn’t reserved for a chosen few – it was for everyone. He spent so much of his time sharing what he knew and helping others, especially the juniors coming up in the industry. It didn’t matter if it was teaching them the ropes in color grading, or helping someone put up a shelf in their flat – Dave would be there. He was the guy you could call, and he’d show up, jumping in his van or on his bike, ready to help. He was always going somewhere, always doing something, always making someone’s day that little bit better.
Dave taught me – and loads of others – what this industry should really be about. He made it fun, plain and simple. There was never a dull moment when he was around. Somehow, he managed to stay at the top of his game without ever losing that down-to-earth, humble side of him.
That’s what I’ll always remember: Dave lived for the good times and made sure everyone around him had them too. The industry needs more people like Dave, but really, the world does too. Doers, helpers, and carers like him are rare. He was larger than life in every way, and he’s going to be massively missed by everyone lucky enough to have known him.
Dan Levy (‘Levy’)
Colourist, RASCAL
I first worked with Luddy years ago, when I was a lowly data lab technician. This was back at The Mill London, in a colour department already stacked with legends and pioneers, everyone down the chain champing at the bit for that coveted colourist role. Thus the news that someone we’d never heard of was coming from LA to add to the colour roster, understandably, resulted in not a little ire and fulmination from the put-upon assistants above me.
Enter Luddy. No sooner had he joined, all rage dissipated into admiration and love for this avuncular bearded figure, who was so open, ready to train, help, advise, and reassure — a rare thing from senior colleagues. His generosity and ineffable character transformed our department.
Years later, we began Rascal Colour together. His oft-muttered mantra of “Yeah, yeah, nah but…” usually prefixed some surprisingly sage morsel of wisdom, only to be instantly undone by a wheezy laugh followed by a wild and/or obscene anecdote from one of his countless escapades.
Like some gonzo journalist regaling all of us with his exploits, to be a character in any story made you proud and all of it was worth listening to, even if you could hardly believe a word. He was truly one of a kind, a friend to many and completely unabashed of who he was. Maybe this is best exemplified by one of the last times I saw him – leaving us on the curb outside the pub, hopping on his Triumph Bonneville bike and managing to make so much noise, peeling out of his space and down the road that even we all had to admit, it was pretty cool.
Jai Durban
Senior producer, colour, Rascal
Luddy was always more a friend than a colleague. I never viewed him like that. From the off you would never know that he’d worked on some of the best work of the last 30 years. He’d be asking you about your weekend, or taking a genuine interest in what you were saying. He never made you feel inferior and there was never a silly question.
He was a lovely man. That’s it. You only need to mention his name for people to start ringing off countless tales of both a humour that was unmatched by anyone working in post and both a caring soul who always did right by the people he valued. I will miss you mate, I can still hear that chuckle.
