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An Adventure into the World of Used VHS

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For quite a while, I've spent time perusing Ebay for used VHS tapes. Now, when I say used VHS, I mean ones which were bought blank originally and then used to record stuff off the telly. After all, it's a great way to discover hidden treasures which aren't available either commercially, on YouTube or through the black market of rare TV.

Sure, I can always head down to the BFI Archive, but that costs time and money. Two commodities that, ideally, I'd like to preserve to help hold onto my sanity.

The problem with Ebay, though, is that I'm never 100% tempted by anything I see; the seller's descriptions are always vague e.g. "GOT FILM, SPORTS, FILM" and when I ask them how old the tapes are, I just get "DON'T KNOW BUT THEY'RE OLD - YOU INTERESTED, MATE?"

I'm not your mate, sonny jim!

Anyway, a while back I saw a listing for some used VHS which were quite obviously from 1988ish as they featured a sponsorship message for the 1988 Olympics on the cover. Yes, that's right, I'm a perceptive old sod! So, I spoke to the seller to see what was on them and explained about my obsession with retro TV.

And then he told me that he had about 50 tapes in total and they covered the mid 80s up to the early 00s. Best of all, I could have them all for a piddling £25, so I bit his hand off and here they are:


Surely there had to be a whole myriad of forgotten gems packed into this seemingly humble Happy Shopper box. I mean, 150+ hours of footage? If that doesn't spell opportunity then I don't know what does.

Turns out that 99.9% of this box, when it comes to spelling opportunity, is crippled by dyslexia.

It didn't take too long to scan through the tapes, but believe me it was still a gruelling task. Many simply contained one film or were nothing but back to back South Park episodes from Channel 4. There were a few tantalising moments where I saw the 4Later logo appear, but this was purely reserved for episodes of some US show called Homicide.

I was a little dispirited, but I guess I have to appreciate that not everyone shares exactly the same tastes as myself. That's why they were recording what they loved and not concerning themselves with what some TV anorak would consider acceptable in 20 - 30 year's time.

However, it's not an experience that I felt was completely galling. The anticipation of what lay within was exciting and, you know, it could have turned something amazing up. Maybe, next time, it will.

One interesting little show which did turn up was an episode of This Week from 1987 with Jonathan Dimbleby entitled 'Drugs in Prison' which doesn't appear to be on YouTube. I'll upload that at some point along with some choice ad breaks which caught my eye.

And if you've got any old VHS lying about, just get in touch. I'll even do you a DVD copy.

5 Lesser Known British Sitcoms Starring Sitcom Greats

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Through a combination of natural talent and mental fortitude, a number of British sitcom actors manage to carve out the most wondrous careers. Some actors, meanwhile, have an additional spark, that mercurial comic talent which sees them defined as sitcom greats.

And this magisterial touch combines with equally stratospheric scripts and supporting characters to produce shows with legacies which joyfully traverse the decades. These are the shows from which we remember these sitcom greats.

I think, though, that it's a bit reductive to purely concentrate on the big hitters of a sitcom actor's CV. Sure, there should always be time taken to celebrate the marvels of comic genius they conjured up on screen, but what's necessary in a retrospective is a more holistic view of their career.

That's why I've decided to investigate 5 lesser known gems and downright curios of some of Britain's sitcom greats.

1. Reg Varney in Down the Gate

Extracted deep from within the depths of a cockney diamond geezer mine in Canning Town, Reg Varney epitomised the cheeky chappie character years before David Jason strolled into town as Del Boy.

And, as perennial bachelor boy Stan Butler, Varney endeared himself to the majority of the British viewing public in On the Buses. It was a sitcom which managed to rack up 76 episodes and made his name, but what would Varney's next step be?

Well, the answer came in Down the Gate which aired between 1975 - 76 on ITV.


Swapping London bus garages for the hustle and bustle of London's Billingsgate fish market, Down the Gate is the type of right cockney knees up sitcom which is perfect for Varney's barrow boy charms. It's also packed full of your archetypal 70s sitcom dolly birds, so it doesn't take long to get to grips with the show's format.

Essentially, Down the Gate sees Varney playing Stan Butler projected through a prism of fishmongering, so, yeah, it doesn't really push him in any new or weird directions. In fact, the whole thing is pervaded by a derivative nature, especially when viewed through modern eyeholes.

However, I don't want to come across as some curmudgeonly sitcom snob, so I'll happily sing the praises of Reg Varney's presence. There's always a measured brilliance to his performance and, in Down the Gate, his Bow Bells charm manifests itself as being insanely likeable. It's difficult, therefore, to explain Down the Gate away as 'just another sitcom'.

2. Prunella Scales in Mr Big

Forever known as the nagging yet sensible half of the Fawltys, Prunella Scale certainly made her mark in the sitcom world with Fawlty Towers. However, people seem to forget about her lead role as Dolly in BBC sitcom Mr Big. 


Starting off as a one-off Comedy Playhouse episode in 1974, Mr Big went on to secure two series of its own in 1977. Mr Big centred around the illicit activities of Eddie (Peter Jones) who sees himself as somewhat of a criminal mastermind.

Unfortunately, he's somewhat lacking when it comes to building a crew of seasoned criminal acolytes to help put his nefarious crimes into action. Instead, he has to muddle through with his immediate family: Dolly (Prunella Scales), Ginger (Ian Lavender) and Norma (Carol Hawkins). And, naturally, they're a right bunch of amateurs when it comes to swindling bookies, their neighbours and even sheiks.

Although the pilot aired before series 1 of Fawlty Towers, the full series of Mr Big aired in between the first two series of Fawlty Towers. Due to the bulldozing longevity of that sitcom's presence, it's no surprise that Prunella Scales' other ventures of the era were forgotten. However, by taking on the role of a ne'er do well with a penchant for shoplifting, it's an interesting departure for Scales.

Mr Big was never repeated and the lack of commercial releases have rendered it as rare as hen's teeth.

3. Robert Lindsay in Seconds Out

Robert Lindsay's glittering career has taken in several different genres, but perhaps two of his best known roles saw him popping up in the sitcoms Citizen Smith and My Family. And, despite all the Olivier awards, even a Tony award, he's probably most synonymous with these comedy roles than anything else.

What's forgotten, though, is his lead role as Pete Dodds in early 80s BBC sitcom Seconds Out.


Managed by Tom Sprake (the ever brilliant Lee Montague), Pete Dodds is an amateur boxer with plenty of talent, but more concerned with larking around in the ring. To get Dodds focused on the crucial aggression needed to come up trumps in the ring, Sprake hooks Dodds up with a new trainer, Dave Locket (Ken Jones).

In true sitcom fashion, Dodds and Locket's mutual hatred pays dividends when it comes to attaining the necessary frisson of aggression not just for laughs, but also for Dodds' success in between the ropes.


Seconds Out is an interesting role for Robert Lindsay which dismisses any preconceptions of his range borne from the strong focus on Wolfie Smith and Ben Harper; it's a testament to Lindsay's talents that he manages to seamlessly integrate himself within the testosterone fuelled world of boxing.

And when it's all backed up by fantastic supporting actors, you start to realise that something special lies at the show's heart.

Never released commercially, Seconds Out has, rather unfairly, been forgotten amidst Lindsay's myriad glory. Nonetheless, it's a fantastic footnote to Lindsay's career, so I don't think it's a case of hyperbole when I claim it's an absolute travesty that the world's been deprived of a commercial release.

4. Patricia Routledge in Marjorie and Men

The antics of Hyacinth Bucket haven't just tickled my funny bone over the years, they've tickled the entire globe's funny bone. Yes, that's right, Keeping Up Appearances is the UK's most successful sitcom export ever. Bigger than The Office and bigger than Fawlty Towers.

One of the reasons it's been able to muscle it's way into pole position is thanks to Patricia Routledge's performance which perfectly encapsulates the social heirarchy and aspirations of Britain.

It wasn't Routledge's first lead sitcom role though. The catalyst for her future success had been sparked a few years previous in 1985 with the ITV sitcom Marjorie and Men.


It's a series which sees divorcee Marjorie Belton (Patricia Routledge) having to suffer the ignominy of moving in with her mother (Patricia Hayes). Little is known about this oddity of a sitcom, but episodes appear to focus on Marjorie's desperate attempts to snare herself a new man.

As a sitcom there are, naturally, plenty of misfortunes awaiting Marjorie and these generally take the form of her mother or disastrous dates. It's certainly not re-inventing the genre, but it's hitting all the right beats for lighthearted sitcom frivolity.


And Timothy West and James Cossins pop up, so with a formidable cast in place it's surely worth a watch.

5. Chris Barrie in A Prince Among Men

By the late 1990s, Chris Barrie's stock in the sitcom world had shot up with some ferocity following the wildly popular Red Dwarf and The Brittas Empire. They were both vastly different roles and demonstrated Barrie's keen knack for inhabiting a character and bringing them to life with admirable vigour.

Following up these iconic shows would be a tough ask, but could Barrie pull it off with A Prince Among Men?


Gary Prince is a much loved ex-England footballer who's managed to continue his success off the pitch by transforming himself into a successful businessman. He's got a natural thirst for success, but this is sometimes at the expense of his dysfunctional marriage to Lisel Prince (Francesca Hunt).

Despite Barrie's fine pedigree, however, he was powerless to stop A Prince Among Men being a disaster; even Barrie himself has admitted that A Prince Among Men was a low point in his career. And it's not hard to see why.

Barrie's natural confidence gives Gary Prince an assured foundation, but the scripts only ever manage to eke out an underwhelming narrative; this leads to the character being robbed of any warmth. The problem is that he's an irritating chump, but without the depth and pathos of Rimmer or the whirlwind like chaos coursing through Gordon Brittas' veins.

Inexplicably, a second series of A Prince Among Men was commissioned, but this did little to muster any support for the show. It was Barrie's last original sitcom role and, since then, he's only returned to Red Dwarf.

So, what other forgotten sitcoms can you remember which star some of the biggest names in British comedy? Let me know in the comments below!

Believe Nothing

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Genre: Comedy
Channel:ITV

Transmission:14/07/2002 -18/08/2002


 
There's something quite engaging about genius; the ability to think and perform in a way that mere mortals can only dream of is incredibly entertaining. And Rik Mayall was an absolute genius of comedy, so it's no surprise that he swaggered across our screens for 30+ years.

What happens, though, when you get Rik Mayall cast in the role of a fictional genius? Will these two clashing concepts of intellectual weight cancel each other out? There's only one way to find out and that's by taking a ganders at Believe Nothing.

A Nasty Little Misprint

Quadruple Professor Adonis Cnut (Rik Mayall) is the resident genius at Oxford University with a penchant for moral philosophy and a self-proclaimed national treasure. And, as Britain's cleverest man, Cnut doesn't have the time for such piffling tasks as preparing supper, so, in his employment is the subservient and adoring Brian Albumen (Michael Maloney).


Whilst Cnut's incredible intellect may seem to dominate the machinations of his mind, it comes to him with such ridiculous ease that he's still got time to allocate energies towards the pursuit of the fairer sex. And, in particular, he's focused his attentions on the beautiful Dr. Hannah Awkward (Emily Bruni) who is a professor in pedantics; sadly, for Cnut, she's more in lust with correcting people than pulling down Cnut's trousers.


The first episode of Believe Nothing sees Cnut joining a shady cabal of world dignitaries known as The Council for International Progress. It's headed by an enigmatic chairman (Don Warrington) and counts Mao Tse Tung and Henry Kissenger amongst its elite.

And this secret council are keen to incorporate Cnut's genius to help them remain snug and secure in their control room from where they maintain a firm grip on mankind. With the help of Albumen and Dr. Awkward, Cnut is set a series of seemingly inexorable and dangerous tasks which he views as nice workouts for his grey matter. And it also opens up some opportunities to bed Dr. Awkward.

A Blueprint for Genius

Believe Nothing was a Maurice Gran and Laurence Marksproject, so it's no surprise they drafted in Rik Mayall for the lead role. The trio had previously tasted phenomenal success with The New Statesman, so it was clearly a case of if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Directing the series was John Stroud who had previously worked on comedy shows such as Harry Enfield and Chums, Game On and KYTV.

Believe Nothing was ITV's latest attempt to reclaim the title of 'spiritual home for British sitcom' following the BBC's dominance over the previous 20 years. With The Office redefining the genre a year previously, ITV were in dire need of a hit and that's why they were keen to bring in a successful team of big names.


Unfortunately for ITV, they made the bizarrely inexplicable decision to deny Believe Nothing a primetime slot. Instead, they shunted it into the schedules at 10pm on a Sunday which is particularly unfriendly territory for a bright and bouncy sitcom.

Six episodes of Believe Nothing aired over the summer of 2002 and eventually found their way onto DVD.

Cnut or Not?

Perhaps due to the fact that I was 19 during the summer of 2002, and far too busy getting drunk, Believe Nothing didn't even make the slightest dent on my consciousness at the time. And, believe me, I'm a huge Rik Mayall fan, so quite how it eluded even the drunken fog of my formative years is a mystery.

Eventually, earlier this week in fact, I managed to catch up with Believe Nothing.

And Rik Mayall is as splendidly fantastic as ever. There's a rich, manic pedigree strutting through his veins and his heightened confidence coupled with an engaging bluster means he always fills the screen. In fact, his untimely departure from our mortal plain has left a gaping hole in the British TV landscape which we lament almost daily.


Cnut is arrogant, sure, but he's nowhere near as odious as Alan B'Stard and not a monumental tosser like Richard Richard. Like the latter two characters, though, despite all their flaws, you intrinsically want them to succeed and get their less than salubrious hands on all that glitters. It says a lot about us as a nation that we respect a dash of arrogance, but there's something which is so attractive about living through their devil may care morals.

Albumen could easily be written off as a cut price Baldrick and, yeah, he certainly has similarities such as a willingness to accept beatings, but Albumen is much less deadpan. There are also some intriguingly surreal flights of fancy within Albumen and his backstory, so he's just about original enough to pass muster.

Emily Bruni, of course, manages to conjure up a stately vision of pedantics and complete indifference to Cnut's advances, so she wrings out plenty of comedic worth in her performance. Sadly, Dr Awkward feels pushed to sidelines of the narrative, and this is a shame as the writers could have made more of a big deal about her. She's an arresting counter blow to Cnut's ego, so she's got the potential to be a much bigger part of the plots.


One of the the main thrusting points of Believe Nothing is that there's a satire present about the way our day to day lives are ran and manipulated by unseen forces. It turns the focus on conspiracy theories of shady forces, but unfortunately it never quite captures the zeitgeist in the way The New Statesman did. Whereas that found itself camping in Downing Street, Believe Nothing is merely skimming through an X-Files DVD.

Nonetheless, the plots of Believe Nothing still work without a strong concept acting as a foundation. Clearly written for the frantic, shouting exuberance of Rik Mayall, the episodes zip by energetically and are plotted out with an elan which belies the presence of some skilled veterans formulating the scripts.


And Gran and Marks also deliver on the gag count too with the episodes of Believe Nothing being garnished with a fine collection of hilarious one liners and exquisite visual gags. With such gifted comic actors on hand, it's no surprise to discover yourself laughing out loud and applauding the style in which the narrative unfolds.

Believe This?

Believe Nothing captures everything that's necessary in a good old fashioned sitcom and, as expected when so many great names come together, it makes for a stunning spectacle. But, unfortunately, it appears that events and trends were conspiring against it.

There was a mixed reaction from critics at the time; Bruce Dessau loved it whereas Charlie Catchpole of The Daily Express turned his nose up at what he considered to be a waste of Rik Mayall's inherent comic genius. And the scheduling didn't help either.

Airing at 10pm on a Sunday, you're never going to be guaranteed a huge audience. And why such a late time slot? Sure, there's a few risque entendres and a smattering of violence, but it's hardly Bottom. There's also the small matter of The Office momentarily turning people against the traditional sitcom format.


All of a sudden there was an interest (primarily led by critics) for an exploration of a more naturalistic take on the sitcom genre. It was certainly a genre which needed new life breathing into it, but not moribund enough to be the fall guy.

Nearly 15 years on, though, it's clear to see that there's room for sitcoms such as Peep Show and Miranda to jostle for our funny bones, so it's easier to appraise Believe Nothing purely on its merits. And, yes, there's genius at play in Believe Nothing.

In fact, as Believe Nothing collides with Rik Mayall, we're left with genius squared.

Archive Tape Digging: Drugs in Prison

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A few weeks backs I reported on the exhilarating and exciting collection of 50 old, used VHS tapes which were surely packed full of rare gems of British TV. Truth was, there was barely anything worth getting excited about, but in amongst all the dross and endless South Park episodes there was something interesting.

Tagged on to the end of a tape containing nothing but the Elvis film Blue Hawaii was an episode of the political series This Week. Fronted by a magnificently coiffured and suited Jonathan Dimbleby, it was an episode from 1987 entitled 'Drugs in Prison' and was imbued with that sense of gritty brutality the 80s excelled in.


Concentrating on the inner workings of the drug trade at Bedford Prison, Trevor Phillips investigates the types of drugs cluttering up the inmates' lives, how these drugs manage to get past security and the long term effects of drugs in these grimy, dilapidated prisons.

In Bedford Prison, at least, it appears the powers that be are confident there's a rather limited choice of drugs on offer. Cannabis is the main culprit and doesn't sound too harmful, but come on, it's a prison. The last thing it needs is a bunch of criminals building up a powerful and lucrative drug network to stretch the prison's resources.


And Bedford Prison is certainly hamstrung when it comes to tackling old Mary Jane. It costs £1500 per visit to draft in the highly trained noses of sniffer dogs and Bedford Prison can only afford two visits per year. Neither does it help that prison staff are keen to run a nice little sideline in drug supply.

What with this being a snapshot of 1980s prison life, heroin and AIDS, naturally, rear their ugly heads.

Although heroin is, apparently, not part of the Bedford prisoner's drug diet, it is infiltrating the larger city prisons. And, as one prisoner reveals, a hypodermic needle can be readily passed round for a year before being branded useless. One of the fracturing side effects of this behaviour is an increased risk of contracting HIV.


Overall, it presents a bleak view of how the government tackled the growing epidemic of drug usage in prison during the 1980s. There's little help on offer and the professionals interviewed struggle to give any coherent sense of headway being made or even possible. And, sadly, although progress has been made in 2016, the devastating effects of drugs in prison are still very real.

Archive Tape Digging: Selected Ad Breaks Vol.1

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In this latest delve into dusty, old forgotten VHS tape recordings I've recovered, I'm going to be presenting a series of ad breaks which may titillate those who yearn for retro chocolate bars, a young Ralph Ineson and James Nesbitt going all Star Trek and, uh, the wonders of Coloroll.

1. ITV Thames Adverts 01/04/1986




1. Busman's Holiday
2. Smith's Crisps
3. British Gas
4. Guinness World Records Exhibition at the Trocadero
5. Harpic Jet
6. 54321 chocolate bar
7. Cherry Coca Cola
8. Levington Compost
9. What's My Line

2. Channel 4 Adverts 15/10/1987


Ad Break 1:

1. Lenor
2. Coloroll
3. London Evening News
4. Five Star - Woolworths promotion
5. Benetton

Ad Break 2:

6. Phileas Fogg crisps
7. Simple skin products
8. Norwich Union
9. Coloroll
10. Maltesers

3. Channel 4 Adverts 15/05/1993


1. Chris Evans Channel 4 Ident
2. Batman
3. Trans World Sport
4. Imperial Leather - featuring Paul Merton
5. Golden Wonder Zig and Zag promotion
6. Dream Phone
7. EuroDisney
8. Pizza Hut Star Trek promotion - featuring a young Ralph Ineson and James Nesbitt
9. Polly Pocket
10. Ring Pops
11. The American Football Big Match

Andy Crane, Children’s BBC and Me…

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Today's blog comes from Heather Lewis a writer so amazing that, even as you read this blog, her words are being etched into stone for TV archaeologists to discover in the future!

Welcome Curious British Telly fans to my first blog post here and I’m going to start with a confession to you…I am a fan of Andy Crane! Half of you reading this now think I’ve totally lost the plot and the other half may need a little prompting, his name sounds familiar, right? If not, then please let me help you out a little bit…


I’ll rewind back to 1989, it’s mid-morning and before introducing the pre-school show ‘Playbus’, Andy Crane is reading out birthday cards for (other people’s) lucky kids. I always kept my fingers and toes crossed that Andy would hold up a card with my photo on, even though it wasn’t my birthday! He reads out the birthday wishes with a huge amount of excitement, which always left me wondering if Andy was celebrating his own birthday too.

We move on to later that day, and by 1989 Andy’s afternoon Children’s BBC slot is immensely popular, the short in-vision links he presents often being more entertaining than some of the children’s shows themselves. Late in 1988 Andy was joined by a six year old showbiz duck named Edd and a butler called Wilson (remaining out of vision all bar his gloved hands).


The final link in their ‘Broom Cupboard’ every weekday at 5:30pm (before Neighbours) was watched by over 15 million people and had now become a 3 minute comedy show in itself.

Creating glorious chaos, Andy, Edd and Wilson danced, played instruments, attempted to cook, skateboarded and grew a tomato plant (called ‘Brian’). Dressed in his own jeans and sweatshirts Andy played the role of our daft teenage brother to perfection, making us laugh by unexpectedly breaking in to song, playing air guitar and getting into technical muddles with the control panel buttons.

Hairspray jokes aside, Andy deserves to be remembered and celebrated for having the huge task of taking over the Broom Cupboard ‘swivelly’ chair from Phillip Schofield, Children’s BBC’s first and incredibly popular presenter back in 1987.


In the spring of 1988, Andy’s own popularity was confirmed when stamped addressed envelopes arrived at the BBC in their thousands, requesting his ‘Willy Fog song sheet’. National Willy Fog Day, invented by Andy, is still being celebrated every year by a few of us big kids! It’s on April the 28th, if you’re curious…

So thank you, Andy Crane, for giving us two and a half years of fun on Children’s BBC and for being part of our childhood memories. From me… thanks for being my television big brother! Whizzing back to the present day, I often listen to Andy’s excellent broadcasting on BBC Radio Manchester. Every so often though, a little part of me wants Andy to start singing and lead his listeners into the chorus of ’80 Days Around the World’ just one more time… all together now…

Further nuggets of nostalgia can be uncovered over at Heather's blog Broom Cupboard and Me

Bloomers

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Genre: Comedy
Channel:BBC2

Transmission:27/09/1979 -25/10/1979


The world of horticulture is one that has remained somewhat untouched by the mischievous hand of British comedy. Sure, Monty Python's Flying Circus touched upon Dennis Moore's obsession with lupins and there was the delicate world of Gumby flower arranging, but that appeared to be it.

However, after a little digging (and hoeing), I was delighted to discover a rare shoot of comedy with its roots firmly entrenched in the soil of British sitcom. And the fact that it was Richard Beckinsale's final sitcom meant I had no choice but to check out Bloomers.

Flowers in Bloom

Stan Partridge (Richard Beckinsale) is a down on his luck actor - despite being "the 2nd most promising new act of 1966" - who lives with the emotionally unstable, and seemingly addicted to therapy, Lena Peartree (Anna Calder Marshall) in a messy, cramped flat drenched in domestic unrest.


After discovering that his rubber plant is dead - apparently murdered by Lena - Stan pays a visit to a garden shop to pick up a replacement. Run by Dingley Paisley (David Swift) and the unhinged plant sympathiser George (Paul Curran) it appears to offer a lucrative opportunity for Stan to escape the constant disappointment of failed auditions.

Keen to become a useful member of the community, Stan takes up Dingley's offer to become a partner in 'Bloomers'. Naturally, with no capital rattling round in his bank account, Stan will have to work off his investment in the firm, but perhaps it could be the making of him and secure some stability in his relationship with Lena.


Horticultural matters, naturally, are all about freedom and the open air, but Stan will soon learn that the claustrophobic nature of man's weaknesses and imperfections will stretch his relationship with Lena and Dingley to breaking point.

Planting the Seeds

Written by esteemed playwright and master of absurdist theatre James Saunders, Bloomers was a five episode sitcom which aired on BBC2 in 1979. Now, you may consider it strange that only five episodes were made, but it was meant to be your standard six episode series. Tragically, on the day of rehearsals for the sixth episode, it was discovered that Richard Beckinsale had died from a heart attack.


Although this acted as a glumly premature punctuation to the series, the five episodes recorded were broadcast later on in the year and acted as a tribute to Beckinsale. Bloomers may have had a sad and mournful end, but where did the show's genesis lie? Well, after spotting John Challis popping up in one episode, I tweeted him to ask what he remembered about the show and he graciously delivered this amazing nugget of sitcom trivia:

"I remember the writer James Saunders was a customer at my garden centre and he wrote a script about my experiences. I gave the script to my agent who gave it to John Howard Davies at the BBC who was looking for a vehicle for Richard Beckinsale. So Bloomers was written with me in mind but I wasn't famous enough, but Richard Beckinsale was wonderful and I got an episode out of it!"

Only one repeat of the series - consisting of four episodes - was ever aired and this came on BBC1 in August 1980. The scarcity of actual broadcasts, coupled with no commercial releases, has left Bloomers as a rarity of British TV comedy, but, thankfully recordings - seemingly from Australian TV - have surfaced on YouTube.

Blooming Marvelous?

Richard Beckinsale's best known roles - as Lennie Godber and Alan Moore - always painted him as a somewhat doe eyed dreamerwho approached the world like a lamb to the slaughter. However, Bloomers finds him playing a much more confident and able character in the form of Stan Partridge. The allure of women is clearly something that doesn't threaten him, but does run the risk of tampering with the stability of his life.


And this is why it's really interesting to see Beckinsale inhabiting such a character. It almost feels like a brave new start for the actor. Tossing off the shackles of being seen as the go to choice for wet behind the ears characters, Bloomers still finds him as an actor packed full of instantly amiable charm, but it's a more mature role and backed up the claims that he would go on to great things during the 1980s.

Positioned somewhat clumsily as a mentor who seems to have little influence over Stan, David Swift brings his rich vowels and fine pedigree as a British actor to Bloomers. Again, Swift is a highly likeable actor and his presence on our screens for 40 years is hearty evidence of how he mastered the medium. There's a charming chemistry between Stan and Dingley, but I did feel that perhaps there's not quite enough discord to engender a double act for the the ages.


Also failing to create an engaging relationship is Lena, Stan's complex and neurotic girlfriend. Whilst Anna Calder-Marshall takes on the guise of Lena with a confident measure of the character's flaws, her relationship with Stan is an odd one. Prone to wild arguments, they seem like a couple on the edge of a severe breakdown. Now, whilst this setup can often pay comedy dividends, there's virtually no glimpses of happiness, or hints that they've ever been happy, and their relationship left me feeling a bit cold.


All these relationships take place against a backdrop of horticultural influenced shenanigans penned by James Saunders. And, if one thing stands out, it's the magnificent dialogue on offer. Coming from a background in absurdist theatre, Saunders ensures that there's no cut and paste dialogue from a million other sitcoms of the time. The dialogue is intelligent, peppered with philosophical musings and has a snappy rhythm which marks it out as ahead of its time.

The actual plots, though, are a bit of a hotchpotch of the sublime and the mediocre. The third episode - which sees Stan and Dingley trying to obtain Christmas trees in June - is a fantastic piece of sitcom farce and acts as an entertaining watch which demonstrates what Bloomers was capable of. Other episodes, however, struggle to match this and, whilst perfectly innocuous, they struggle to raise any sense of tension and merely amble along with a cheery smile.


And the humour on show befalls a similar fate. Obviously, anything in Beckinsale's career is going to struggle against the might of Rising Damp and Porridge, but the humour in Bloomers is a mixed bag. There are the broad strokes of basic sitcom humour to guarantee some base laughs - although the character of George feels far too broad and caricatured - and this is mixed in with the more cerebral heady gags. It's an intriguing cocktail of humour, but not always one which goes down smoothly.

Hanging out the Bloomers

Bloomers is an intriguing sitcom and not simply because it featured the swansong of one of Britain's beloved actors. James Saunders appears to be brewing something very special with it. Sure, the emotional stakes are hardly raised and there's little resolution to the characters' plights, but there's something interesting going on. A curious concoction of clever, engaging dialogue with fantastic performances left me thinking that it was teetering on the edge of blooming into something bigger.

And, remember, it's only the first series. It's difficult for any television show to hit the ground running and, in particular, comedy finds this incredibly difficult due to the subjective nature of humour. A second series may have brought new conditions to up Bloomer's game, but this was never to be. As it is, the five episodes we're left with remain a brave and genial take on the sitcom genre. It may not define Richard Beckinsale's career, but it certainly doesn't detract from his talents either.

5 Sketches That Prove Hale and Pace Were Funny

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Back in the late 80s, the promise, for me, of watching an episode of Hale and Pace was one that was charged with a certain frisson. After all, to a pre-pubescent squirt, Hale and Pace was packed full of the type of smut and silliness which defined not only our own age bracket, but plenty of adults who should have known better.

Therefore, it came as quite a surprise, in my later years, to discover that Hale and Pace was looked down upon as cheap, tacky nonsense. In fact, one particular comment on a forum which caught my eye stated that it was "Lazy, poorly-written, poorly-timed, poorly-constructed shite that builds toward a punchline that's straight out of Smut comic".

Harsh words indeed, but was it that terrible? Well, as with all sketch shows, they're a bit hit and miss, but surely you'd have to be carrying out some right terrible shenanigans with the television commissioners to rack up 10 series of non-stop, grubby bilge, right? The answer, in regards to whether they were awful (their backstage antics remain a mystery) is, in fact a resounding "NO!".

And here's 5 sketches that prove Hale and Pace were funny.

1. The Man Who Can't Take Anything Seriously

 

Perhaps I can relate to this sketch a little too much and perhaps it explains why my constant lack of maturity rubs people up the wrong way.

However, when this outlook on life is shone through the prism of a sketch show it becomes a fantastic example of why we need to stop being a bunch of old stiffs. And, in technical terms, it ratchets up the absurdity of the situation with increasingly exaggerated scenarios for Gareth Pale to keep the laughs coming one after the other.

2. Yorkshire Airlines

 

Hale and Pace frequently tackled the comedic potential of them Northerners of our fair British Isles, but it was perhaps best done in the Yorkshire Airlines sketch.

Acting more as a celebration of the indigenous flat cap wearing folk of Yorkshire than a series of catty barbs, it's a sketch which is peppered with fantastic touches. From the aggressively matter of fact air hostesses, through to Captain Boycott and the sophisticated 'Alan Bennett' class, the broad (yet hilarious) comic gems rain down before being crowned with a punchline which punctures regional pride and stubbornness.

3. Billy and Johnny Go Shopping in Soho

 

Along with 'The Management', Billy and Johnny were the best known recurring characters in Hale and Pace. Sure, it's a pretty straightforward excuse for easy juxtaposition, but, come on, it's bloody funny at times and what kind of a planet would it be without mindless japes?

Anyway, one of my favourite Billy and Johnny sketches sees their saccharine sweetness being contrasted with the seedy joys of Soho. It's packed full of smut, so certainly won't win round any critics of Hale and Pace, but it's the most innocent and rib tickling smut you can imagine. And whoever thought they'd live to see the day where Ainsley Harriot was larking about with a blow up doll?

4. Builders

 

Visual comedy is a difficult niche to pull off successfully, but when it's done right it can be a glorious celebration of the base mechanics behind comedy. And Hale and Pace pulled this off with some aplomb when tackling that national institution known as the Great British Builder.

Okay, it's just a series of visual gags rather than a condensed three act narrative of comedic elan, but they're charming little slices of glee which hint at some seriously creative writing. Again, it's a little mocking towards the building trade, but it's executed with such silliness that I doubt any brickies are going to be openly weeping.

5. Corridor Embarrassment

 

Awkward social encounters are an integral part of Britishness and the medium of sketch comedy is a perfect opportunity to underline this particular quirk.

And this Hale and Pace sketch captures the very essence of British awkwardness which everyone has experienced at least a couple of dozen hundred times. It even manages to capture the awkward 'time standing still' sensation despite being just over a minute long, but it's true beauty comes from an engaging nature forged in the relatibility of its core subject.

So, yeah, in conclusion, Gareth Hale and Norman Pace were a right funny pair of chaps, so let's celebrate them a bit more, okay?

Chips' Comic

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Today's blog is a special guest blog from ScampySpiro who can usually be found writing over at The Spirochaete Trail

Genre: Children's
Channel:Channel 4

Transmission:1983


Channel 4 never garnered much of a reputation as a hub for quality children’s programming, although its early years did see it taking some novel, if largely forgotten stabs at the market.

Pob’s Programme,a show featuring a monkey puppet purported to literally inhabit the internal space of your television set, still evokes fond memories in a sizable number of people, but those who remember the channel’s very first attempt at a children’s production, Chips’ Comic, which initially aired in 1983 and boasted a central gimmick several stages more ambitious, are an altogether rarer breed.

Conceived by David Wood and Maureen Harter of Verronmead, and centring upon the efforts of an unusual trio of comic book editors to assemble a weekly comic under the guidance of their equally unusual computer, Chips, the big hook of the series was that, after each show had aired, you could actually go out and buy physical copies of the comic they were making at your local newsagents (in actuality, the comic was published by IPC Magazines).


Chips’ Comic has long been a curiosity of mine, largely because there were a number of years in which the only evidence I had of its existence were my own very fuzzy memories and an audio cassette featuring songs from the series which had survived at the back of my family’s music collection.  Beyond that, the whole thing appeared to have vanished into total obscurity, the trio of Inky, Elsa and Rover failing to ring any bells whenever I raised the subject with anybody else.

Thankfully, my family was very pre-record happy back in the 1980s, so I did eventually flush out a single episode of Chips’ Comic which we'd managed to preserve on tape.  As for the titular comic itself, no such luck.  Typing the name into eBay usually means having to sort through pages and pages of listings for Whizzer and Chips, typically to come up empty-handed.

I suspect that my family did buy the comic at one time or another, which is how we wound up with a copy of that cassette in our collection (my research indicates that it was only ever made available as a comic book freebie), but evidently it didn’t leave much of a dent in my long-term memory.

 
Fortunately, I did manage to pick up the next best thing – namely, the 1984 Chips’ Comic annual published by Fleetway - so I do have something to discuss on that front.

The two human members of the Chips’ Comic editing team, Inky (Gordon Griffin) and Elsa (Elsa O’Toole), would spend each episode at the office reviewing various pages for the upcoming comic while the third member, a mute mongrel named Rover (Andrew Secombe, who later went on to voice Watto in the Star Wars prequels, dressed here in a costume that, frankly, appears to have been stitched together from bits of mouldy, discarded throw rugs) would venture out into the wider world to conduct investigative journalism upon the hidden curiosities of the modern world.

If you’ve ever wondered how post offices function or what ultimately becomes of your dirty washing-up water then Rover’s your dog.  Did I mention that he rides about on a motorcycle called the Rovermobile?  Beyond his muteness, Rover doesn’t actually behave very much like a dog, leading me to suspect that he was made one purely to exploit the pun opportunities offered by the name (because he roves, get it?).

As little as I care for his utterly grotesque costume, it has to be said that Andrew’s mugging and assorted pantomime mannerisms really do make up a huge chunk of this series’ life and soul.  There’s a definite charm to his performance as Rover which certainly enlivens any scene in which he features.


Finally, there’s Chips, an enormous yellow computer with various buttons, wires and levers who, much like Rover, cannot talk and communicates instead via bleeps and bloops and primitive, Pac-Man-esque computer graphics (fun fact: the designs for the series’ computer-rendered idents were contributed by children’s illustrator Jan Pienkowski, most famous for his work in the Meg and Mog books).

The format of the show was structured around the various different pages of the comic in the works, with Inky, Elsa and Rover running through each one while providing educational features and games for the viewer to play along with.


The single episode which I have to hand opens with Elsa in a mildly annoyed state because she appears to have misplaced the puzzle page that she was working on.  As Inky and Rover assist her in her search, the former remarks that it’s “like looking for buried treasure, only buried treasure is usually hidden underground”, thus setting out the theme of this particular edition of Chips’ Comic– ie: the hidden world beneath our feet.

This takes us into the first of our pages, the Poem Page, for which Elsa reels off a list of the wonders lurking beneath the Earth’s surface:

What’s to be found underground?  Rabbit, worm, badger, mole.
What’s to be found underground? Earth, roots, gold and cole.
What’s to be found underground?  Telephone wires, tube trains,
Cellar, car park, gas pipe, drains.

Mainly, the Poem Page appeared to be an opportunity for schools from around the UK to submit artwork illustrations for whatever’s listed off – here, Inky informs us that Stockbridge Infant School in Edinburgh have done the honours.


This is then followed by the Animal Page, which looks more closely at one of those aforementioned earth-dwelling creatures, the badger.  Some stock footage of badgers plays, while Elsa reads out a few badger-related factoids (namely, that they’re partial to worms and berries and like to line their setts with dry grass and ferns). 

Afterwards, as Elsa and Inky still struggle to figure out the location of that misplaced Puzzle Page, Rover is asked to put the kettle on and, while watching the surplus water disappear down the sink, gets the inspiration for his next Rover’s Report.  He then disappears from the office in order to solve the absorbing mystery of what becomes of dirty water once it’s been banished down the plughole. 

With Rover gone, Inky and Elsa turn their attentions to the Story Page, although frankly there isn’t much of one.  We get a basic animation sequence in which an earthworm is spooked into staying underground by a robin hovering about above the surface.


The robin then encounters a centipede, which Elsa describes (incorrectly!) as “an insect with lots of legs” (hopefully I won’t come across as too much as a smart alec for pointing out that centipedes are myriapods, not insects, or for suggesting that the fact that they have so many legs really should have been Elsa’s first clue), a grasshopper and then finally a mouse, which frightens the murophobic robin away.

Not a lot of plot there, but it’s essentially just an elaborate set-up for a game which Inky and Elsa then proceed to play, in which viewers are encouraged to identify each of the aforementioned creatures by their footprints (or lack of, in the worm's case).


Rover then checks back in for his Rover’s Report.  This comes with its own intro sequence, boasting both a glorious theme song (performed by Martin Jay) and some wonderfully ropey green-screening.

Rover has tracked the dirty water on its magical journey through the sewers and all the way to the sewage farms and treatment plants (I’m sure he’ll smell divine when he gets back to the office) and can now explain (all by way of Andrew’s brilliant pantomime performance, of course) how sand and grit is separated from the water and powders are added to make it fit for human (or canine) consumption once again.


Inky then moves onto the Do-It-Yourself Page, where he shows you how to draw a diagram of the various pipes and wires connected to your house from underground.  Shortly after, Rover returns with a version of his Rover’s Report now set out in a full-page comic strip form, which Elsa then explains to the viewer all over again.  One criticism that I have of Chips’ Comic from watching this one episode is that it does move at a rather slow pace at times, and this particular sequence definitely feels a bit repetitive, so it’s a relief to move on to a song, “Underground”, which is easily one of the episode’s high points.


The songs of Chips’ Comic, which were produced and arranged by Peter Hope and Juliet Lawson, were exceedingly catchy and charming - there’s a reason why we hung on to that audio cassette for so long, I’m sure – and one of the key reasons why I believe that this series deserves a much higher profile than it can presently claim.  “Underground” has Inky and Elsa describing various professions which involve working beneath the Earth’s surface – namely, coal miner, tube train driver and water worker – while Rover attempts to make himself useful in the background.

Elsa has, finally, remembered where she put the Puzzle Page (twist: it was inside the damned computer all along), so we end the episode with a segment in which Inky and Rover get to test their knowledge about which plant foods are grown above ground and which are grown underground.  They both do very well at this (potato and carrot = underground, tomato and strawberry = above ground), until Elsa throws a wildcard at them in the form of a peanut (or monkey nuts, as Inky calls them).


Inky reasons that a peanut would probably grow above ground, on a tree, recalling the nursery rhyme, “I had a little nut tree”, but Rover disagrees.  Inky actually does have the right idea, as nuts do indeed grow on trees - the problem is that pea”nuts” aren’t actually nuts, but legumes, so Rover wins this round.  With that, the latest issue of Chips’ Comic is finally ready for publication.  Inky, Elsa and Rover then bid the viewer farewell and the episode ends.

As to the comic itself, my only current form of reference is, as noted, that 1984 annual published by Fleetway, which I assume gives a fair representation of what the comic was like to read.  Based on the annual, I can certainly see why the comic would have failed to leave such a lasting impression – the overwhelming majority of content is awfully nondescript.


There’s surprisingly little in there about Inky, Elsa and Rover, with most of the pages being taken up by kitschy stories about royals and guinea pigs – basically, the kind of filler material which could be readily slipped into the back pages of just about comic.  That’s perfectly cute and all, but what, precisely, makes it a Chips’ Comiccomic?

The few pages that do focus upon the Chips’ Comic characters include an origin story for Rover (apparently he just showed up on Inky and Elsa’s doorstep and they didn’t have the heart to turn him away so they gave him the Rovermobile instead – I assume that this was based upon events from the very first episode?), a feature titled “Elsa’s Parcel” describing the journey taken by a package in transit, and a board game based upon Rover’s visit to the supermarket.  These are nice, and I regret that the annual doesn’t feature more of their ilk.

Although undeniably ambitious, the gimmick of having a TV series so closely entwined with the publication of a tie-in comic was not without its challenges.  Chips’ Comic ran into one such problem when it came to airing repeats of the series, when the comic was no longer in publication and the original context was removed.  The solution, as described by David Wood in a comment left upon the website Child of the 1980s, was to make content relating to the entire series available in a book that the viewer could send away for.

And that’s Chips’ Comic, Channel 4’s first attempt at cracking the children’s entertainment market.  Despite its slow pacing and occasional repetitiveness, it’s a bright and inventive series that’s definitely not without its charm and, if nothing else, I recommend that you try tracking down a copy of that audio cassette to hear “Underground” and other such delights.  Not that copies are particularly easy to come by – locating one might take patience, luck and something of a deep pocket (the last seller I saw who had one listed on eBay was asking for £25), but what a precious little trove of buried sonic treasures it is.

The Crystal Cube

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Genre: Comedy
Channel:BBC1

Transmission:07/07/1983


Science is a wondrous branch of learning that allows mankind to not only make great leaps forward, but also understand how it's dragged itself to this juncture as well. Problem is, though, that science can be a complicated old affair. For example, just look at this:



What does it even mean?! Well, it's actually an equation which explains why cats always land on their feet (probably), but the average man on the street would struggle to get past the first symbol without gnashing their teeth in frustration.

However, the magic of television means that education can be reduced down to its basics and explained in digestible chunks, so there's still hope for us intellectually challenged herberts to join in with the grand old science party. 

This is fantastic news, but what's even better is when this genre of television gets flipped turned upside down by two future GREATS of British comedy.And, to understand just what this looks like, we need to look through The Crystal Cube.

The Wonder of Science

The Crystal Cube is a spoof of popular science shows such as Tomorrow's World which promise to bring the world of science to a wider audience. Presented by Jackie Meld (Emma Thompson), the series would look at scientific issues of the day.


For example, the pilot episode of The Crystal Cube takes genetics as its focal point with help from guest scientists Dr Adrian Cowlacey (Stephen Fry) from St Thomas' Hospital and Max Belhaven (Hugh Laurie) from the Bastard Institute, California.


In order to give the viewers a taste of just what genetic engineering could manage, Cowlacey and Belhaven have procured the first genetically engineered human Gamma 0001 (Arthur Bostrum) or, as the guys down the lab called him, Gareth. And, to highlight the benefits of meddling with genetics, Gareth is pitted against a 'normal' human in the form of Mike Liam (Paul Shearer) in a series of mundane tasks.


And it's not just the scientific bods who will be opining about the scientific matters of the day. The Very Reverend Previous Lockhort (John Savident) brings the voice of religion to the show whilst Martin Bealey (Robbie Coltrane) provides a vehemently paranoid anti-communist agenda.

Understanding the Numbers

Following Fry and Laurie's introduction to the viewing public in ITV's 1983 sketch show Alfresco, a certain buzz had begun to surround this pair of ex-Cambridge chaps. And the BBC were willing to take a punt on the power of their rapidly burgeoning double act, so, after a meeting with Jim Moir - head of light entertainment - Fry and Laurie were offered a pilot episode.


Their first full length piece of writing together, Fry and Laurie felt that there was a rich seam of comedy to mine in the world of somewhat serious science programmes and were enthused that nothing of the sort had previously been attempted. They were also lucky in that they had a fantastic pool of friends made up from Footlights alumni and Alfresco co-starsto complete the cast.

Directing The Crystal Cube was John Kilby who had previously directed It Ain't Half Hot, Mum and Are You Being Served, so it's not ludicrous to suggest that he had a decent insight into what makes for a bit of funny on camera. Later on, Kilby would direct Hi-de-Hi, Smith & Jones and KYTV.


Despite all this up and coming talent being on board, The Crystal Cube never managed to shuffle past the pilot stage. Hugh Laurie claims that the BBC hated it and, indeed, there were rumblings that the mere concept of the show had led to widespread headshaking in the Beeb's upper echelons. Nonetheless, a few years later, Fry and Laurie were offered another chance at a pilot for a little show called A Bit of Fry and Laurie.

Tomorrow's World?

I love Fry and Laurie, absolutely love those guys. With their mixture of intellectual smarts and outrageous silliness, they're the perfect distillation of a particularly ancient strand of British comedy known as Oxbridge. And that's why, along with the presence of the outstanding supporting cast, I just had to poke my nose into The Crystal Cube.

Although The Crystal Cube hasn't been aired in over 30 years, it's readily available online through YouTube or even the occasional torrent sharing site, so there's no need to carry out an armed assault on the BBC's archives to get a taste of the show.


With Fry and Laurie creating the show and being the centre of attention, it would be foolish to start anywhere else but with them. And, crikey, it's almost as if they've been peddling their comedy wares on TV for years. Absolutely everything that would define them in A Bit of Fry and Laurie is nearly fully formed in The Crystal Cube.

Therefore, you know what to expect, so, as you can imagine, they manage to pierce through the show's po-faced scientific foundation with arch nonsense of the highest order. Opening up The Crystal Cube with a sketch that sees the bible being constantly mispronounced as "the bibble" and love being pronounced "loave", it also manages to bundle in a kiss between Fry and Laurie which leaves poor Laurie plucking beard hairs from his mouth.

And their surreal, somewhat anarchic writing style allows them free rein to deliver some healthy doses of physical violence, write a line for Reverend Previous Lockhort which leaves him claiming that he'll "leave ethics to the experts" and, finally, a farcical end to the show where Gareth goes on the rampage and attempts to kidnap Jackie Meld.


The scripts, of course, whilst packed full of these comedic gems are also given a boost by the exciting talent gibber gabbering the dialogue out. Everyone involved would go on to star in solid gold British TV institutions such as Blackadder, Cracker, The Fast Show and The Young Ones, so, yeah, there's a legacy and three quarters attached to the actors on board.

Surely, then, it must be one of the finest comedy shows ever? Well, no, not quite. Although I don't hate and loathe it like the BBC did, it's far from perfect despite the moments of comic joy and superlative performances. In amongst the genuine belly laughs, there are long stretches of comedic desolation such as the far too long sketch looking at Wode (the organist at the christening of genetics).

And there's also the matter of bringing the non-scientific viewpoints into the heart ofThe Crystal Cube. Okay, it's a great excuse for a little bit of whimsy and, yeah, it's great to see Coltrane and Savident flexing their comedy muscles, but it feels too jarring with the overriding science theme. As a result, I found myself, at times, wondering whether I was watching a spoof of science shows or a spoof of debate shows.

Although the show certainly needs a bit more variety, I think this could have been realised by employing a few more relevant sketches. The Wode one has good intentions, but has more of a historical feel than anything related to science and, therefore, has that air of being crowbarred in. However, it contains a couple of childishly gleeful smut based jokes, so can't be entirely discounted.

So, yeah, there's plenty of beginners mistakes littered throughout, but it's far from being a televisual landfill site. Indeed, there are some fantastically funny moments, but the BBC obviously felt this was one folly too far, so we'll never learn whether Jackie Meld survived the firm grip of Gareth's arms.

Final Thoughts

With hindsight, which is a valuable commodity in television, The Crystal Cube presents itself as a smorgasbord of comedic talent chomping at the bit and ready to dominate the comedy landscape.
Way back in 1983, of course, the viewing public no doubt thought "Yeah, a few funny bits, but a bit boring, weren't it, Mavis? When's Hi-de-Hi on?".

Given time, though, Fry, Laurie et al would slowly climb the ladder to success and hit a number of incredibly remarkable highs. And, when this happened, the public were simply unable to ignore their brilliance and, instead, held them close to their hearts and transformed them into legends.

Tales from the Poop Deck

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Genre: Children's
Channel:ITV

Transmission:07/04/1992 - 12/05/1992


Life on the Seven Seas must have been a captivating and intriguing affair in those crazy days of maritime high jinks so readily linked with the 18th Century. After all, those dashing Royal Navy chaps looked pretty cool wielding their cutlasses like phallic representations of war and pirates were fiendish rebels who liked getting smashed on rum and bellowing out bawdy sea shanties.

Naturally, with these marauding gangs cluttering up the oceans, it's inevitable that they'd rub eyeballs with each other and, no doubt, try and impale their opposite number on a less than clean blade; worryingly, many of these chaps would fail to get a tetanus shot before embarking on their seafaring adventures. And all this rather negative bunkum meant that it was rare to find them arm in arm down the local tavern.

What if this lack of harmony, though, was suddenly reflected through a prism of love? It would certainly make for some compelling viewing as differences were thrown aside as rapidly as the involved parties' pantaloons. And, let's derail all sense of normality by flinging an ex Bond villain hot on their trail. Done that, have you? Great, that means you're beginning to get to grips with Tales from the Poop Deck.

In the Navy!

Shored up in Kingston, Jamaica, the Royal Navy ship, HMS Intrepid, is preparing to raise anchor and head back to Britain packed full of taxes for the motherland to feast upon. However, Captain Henry Stallion is a little perturbed by reports that pirates are operating in the area. With the help of professional silly sod Petty Officer Coleridge (Paul Shearer) and the intelligent, but conniving Lieutenant Parkinson (Colin McFarlane), Stallion hopes for a smooth passage across the Atlantic.


Meanwhile, over at pirate ship the Sea Cow, despite rumours that they've retired from piracy and gone into landscape gardening, Connie Blackheart (Helen Atkinson Wood) and her crew (the most feared and bloodthirsty gang of cutthroats in the Caribbean) are planning a raid on HMS Intrepid's glittering contents.

And it's a raid which will not only see Blackheart capturing a chest of gold and Coleridge, but one which will spark a romance between Stallion and Blackheart. It's a dangerous proposition, but then the course of love never did run smooth. Making matters worse, Stallion is forced to inform his easily irritated uncle Dennis aka Admiral De'Ath (Charles Gray) that their haul has been hijacked.


Whilst De'Ath's rage is a fearsome beast, both the crews of the Intrepid and Sea Cow also need to battle sea beasts from deep within the ocean's belly, explore the mind bending effects of Treasure Island on Ben Gunge (Chris Langham), contend with marauding cowboys and question the ethics behind the slave trade. It's a right load of shenanigans, but in the name of treasure and love, those seafaring chaps will do their utmost to succeed.

Setting Sail

Tales from the Poop Deck was a six episode series which aired on ITV as part of the CITV strand in Spring 1992. The series was shown a few weeks later on Channel 4 in a slightly later 6.30pm slot, but this would prove to be the final outing for the show.

The writers, Lenny Barker and Vicky Stepney, had previously written on Smith and Jones so it comes as no surprise that they were able to gather together Griff Rhys Jones and Mel Smith to contribute towards Tales from the Poop Deck. 

Chris Langham, who also appears in some small roles throughout the series, received his first TV production credit on Tales from the Poop Deck. 

Buried Treasure?

Tales from the Poop Deck isn't a show which showed up on my televisual radar back in 1992, but I stumbled across the opening credits on YouTube recently and had my interest piqued. Here was a sitcom for the kids and, crikey, it didn't half have an outstanding cast attached to it. The writers didn't appear to have much history, but, what the hell, it sounded like it was worth my time.


I duly located myself a copy, uncorked a bottle of rum and prepared to have my timbers well and truly shivered.

The cast, obviously, is the most eyecatching aspect of Tales from the Poop Deck's initial premise, so lets cock our eye towards the cast list. It's a remarkable set of actors and I can only assume that there were supernatural forces at play to ensure such a window came up in all their schedules.

Not only have you got Helen Atkinson Wood (forever known as Mrs Miggins from Blackadder), but you've got Dudley Sutton who was, at the time, riding high as Tinker Dill in Lovejoy, Paul Shearer (The Fast Show), Griff Rhys Jones as the narrator, his erstwhile colleague Mel Smith in a quick cameo role, Colin McFarlane (The Fast Show) Chris Langham, Norman 'Desmond' Beaton and, yes, Charles Gray aka Bond supervillain Blofeld.


It would make for an amazing lineup in an adult sitcom, but for a children's sitcom it's stratospheric in terms of its reach. And the acting is undeniably excellent with everyone putting in a tremendous effort, perhaps most impressive is Charles Gray whose face is jam packed full of explosive power meaning that a mere lip curl becomes a scene changer.

So, the writers, Lenny Barker and Vicki Stepney, were spoiled with a haul of fantastic actors, but how would their writing fare?

Well, it's not the most rollicking of yarns. Sure, we get to see the treasure going backwards and forwards nicely with a couple of nice diversions thrown in such as the cowboy bounty hunters, but it's difficult to get invested in it as the action gets monotonous with endless ship scenes and characters constantly getting captured by their opposite numbers. It brings a numbing tediousness to the show and, after two episodes, I found myself wondering whether I should abandon the whole thing.


I persevered, though, and in episode 3 things seem to perk up as the various parties adventure through Treasure Island, get double crossed by cowboys and De'Ath demands that his errant staff are hunted down and made to pay for their betrayal of the Navy. It genuinely felt like a turning point, but things fail to reach these swashbuckling highs again and, instead, we're force fed further prisoner scenes and less than dynamic fight scenes.


In defence of the plots, however, I have to give the writers some real kudos for their efforts in episode five with regards to Lieutenant Parkinson's plot strand. Painted as a deceptive agent working purely for himself, he completely sidesteps this path by revealing that he's been striving to capture the treasure and put it to good use. You see, the treasure is made up of the proceeds from the Antigua slave trade and Parkinson wants this money, instead, to be used to help slaves in the Southern USA escape to the less oppressive North.

It's a wonderfully altruistic twist and one which started to reshape my opinion on Tales from the Poop Deck's narrative. Also, we finally see the chemistry between Stallion and Blackheart take flight and their genuine love for each other promises a happy future together on the high seas. It would have made for a fantastic episode to go out on, but the writers had other ideas...


Unfortunately, episode six acts as a needless epilogue which finds Stallion and Blackheart tying the knot back in Britain. Okay, it's a sweet touch, but the writers take this notion and twist it into an excuse to reveal Stallion as being nothing more than a massive tosser. It feels like a lousy move by the writers after we've invested time in Stallion and Blackheart, plus it seems to condemn any sort of acceptance of love across barriers.


So, yeah, I wasn't very keen on the narrative despite its ability to occasionally sparkle. What's even worse is the comedy on offer. Now, with the cast in place on Tales from the Poop Deck, you'd expect the scripts to be packed full of amazing dialogue to tumble out of their gobs, but there's barely a titter. I found myself desperately willing each line of dialogue to deliver a fantastic punchline, but what I found, well, they weren't even trying to be gags. And, I know that comedy is incredibly hard to write, but a comedy which fails to find the funny soon becomes a struggle.


Not that there's nothing mirthful about Tales from the Poop Deck. Paul Shearer's bumbling twit Coleridge and Chris Langham's barmy Ben Gunge provide light relief, but neither of these characters are supposed to be the heart of the show. Sadly, the two main leads - Stallion and Blackheart - fail to deliver much funny and Charles Gray's interminable rage begins to be feel tired very quickly.

And, as the end credits rolled on episode six, I found myself with timbers which had resolutely not been shivered, not even slightly trembled by Tales from the Poop Deck. Still, that rum tasted good.

Walk the Plank

Tales from the Poop Deck is packed full of potential, but it's glittering cast is sorely let down by a script which is below par and lacks any real sass. Sure, there are glimmers of excitement scattered throughout, but they're too scarce and, unfortunately, Tales from the Poop Deck is a comedy which simply isn't funny. It's a failure where perhaps it could have breathed the same air as Maid Marian and Her Merry Men, but, on this occasion, it's scrabbling round on the floor for breath.

Brian Hall - Much More Than a Chef

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It's always difficult for an actor to step out from the shadows of a universally successful TV show and have their career appreciated as a whole rather than condensed down to one specific role. It's understandable, of course, as memory space is a valuable commodity for us humans, so we only store the essential, memorable details.

However, it's a real shame to define an actor by that one standout role they landed. Everything that came before and after this career highpoint is just as valid when analysing their worth as an actor. And, sometimes, you'll find some hidden gems in amongst their acting CV.

Brian Hall, best known by everyone as Terry the chef from Fawlty Towers, is a great example of this blinkered overview of an actor's career, so I decided it was high time I paid tribute to his undeniable talent and maybe reactivated a few dusty synapses up in your old brainbox.

The Beginnings of Hall

Born in Brighton during 1937, Hall started acting in his teens in a number of amateur stage productions, but there was no sign he was destined to find success as an actor. As a result, he soon found himself far from treading the boards in Macbeth and, instead, was pootling round London as a taxi driver.

However, fortune was on Hall's side and he was soon convinced by agent Richard Ireson that it was time to give the old acting game a serious go. Roles quickly followed in several productions performed at The Royal Court, London and the National Theatre before the world of television came calling.


His first prominent role was in the Z-Cars spinoff Softly Softly: Taskforce (confusingly, this itself was a spinoff from Softly Softly which was the true spinoff of Z-Cars) as PC Drake in 16 episodes between 1971 - 72. Very much a character actor, and having been raised in the East End, Hall was a go to choice for Cockney characters and proceeded to appear in shows such as The Sweeney, New Scotland Yard and Out (where he played a taxi driver).

By the late 1970s, though, Hall had still not put his stamp on a particular role that he could call his own, but this was soon to change following a phonecall from Douglas Argent, a BBC producer.

Cooking up Fawlty Towers

The first series of Fawlty Towers had aired in 1975 andthe only sight of an in house chef was in the episode 'Gourmet Night' where the Greek alcoholic homosexual (perhaps the best type of Greek) had contributed to Basil Fawlty's disastrous attempts to better himself.


For the second series in 1979, however, John Cleese was looking for a more regular resident chef. And, much to Hall's delight, the character known as Terry would be appearing in all six episodes. Although far removed from the ne'er do wells and heavy handed characters he'd previously played, the generally cheerful Terry was still described to Hall by Cleese as being in a position where "The police are after him".

Terry became an integral part of Fawlty Towers and his laid back geezer charms ensured that he became an essential part of the show's legacy. Cleese and Connie Booth curtailed Fawlty Towers after the second series, so Hall had to hang up his chef's hat and look out for other roles. Luckily, there were further highlights to come.

Further Work

Hall was soon back in the role of an East End criminal when, in 1980, he appeared as the lively prisoner Terry Stokes in 1980 British drama film McVicar which starred Roger Daltry in the titular role. It was in 1981, though, that he dug down deep into his thespian smarts and gave his finest performance as Eddie Green in BBC1 children's drama Break in the Sun.


Playing the abusive stepfather of Patsy Bligh, Break in the Sun found Brian tapping deep down into the frustrations of a man still struggling to come to terms with his own violent childhood. You start off wanting to knock Eddie out, but by the end of the serial you want to spend more time with the fellow and this is all thanks to Hall's multilayered performance. It's a wonderfully written role - originally from the pen of Bernard Ashley - and the journey to redemption that Eddie goes on fits Hall's talents like a glove.

The one off character roles continued, but Hall was now able to secure roles in much more popular shows than previously and he was spotted in Terry and June, Minder and Bergerac. A more permanent role was to follow in the Jim Davidson vehicle Up the Elephant and Round the Castle where Hall would play chirpy barman Brian in 13 episodes.


Hall's final recurring role was as Mr Webb in the BBC1 children's shows Alfonso Bonzo and its followup Billy Webb's Amazing Story where his amiable charms were again deployed to craft a likeable, everyman character. After this a handful of small roles followed in The Upper Hand, Birds of a Feather and Law and Disorder before tragedy struck.

Hall was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 1994 and thought he had beaten the disease until 1996 when it reappeared and began to spread. Determined to battle the cancer, Hall remarked that "One thing's for sure. To me, cancer is a bully - and I hate bullies. The only rows and upsets I've had in life have been about bullying, and this old boy cancer will get as much change out of me as all the other bullies did - nothing! So here I am, at the sharp end of HMS Defiant, having a row with him with all the skill and experience of the Royal Marsden helping me.

Sadly, Hall lost his battle with cancer in 1997, but, as we've seen, there's plenty to remember him by. And, as a footnote to this article, here's a Toby Bitter advert I managed to find which features him at his best.

8 Little Celebrated Classic Doctor Who Characters

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Not many people know this, but the original Doctor Who theme tune had lyrics which went "Doctor Who! Doctor Who! He's a right galactic sod! He'll steal your fudge, he'll bite your mum's head and he'll make you pay his rent! Doctor Who! Doctor Who! He's coming for you!", but Sydney Newman immediately sacked the composer and it was, sadly, left an instrumental.

Anyway, what many people also don't know is that the classic series of Doctor Who (1963 - 89) had a whole host of amazing characters who seem to go unheralded despite their obvious charms. Sure, it'd probably be more fun to pore over just what makes Sabalom Glitz such a cheeky chappy, but he's had his moment in the twin suns of Tatooine.

Therefore, I'm going to crack on by taking a look at what I consider to be the less celebrated classic Doctor Who characters.

1. John the Cafe Owner - Remembrance of the Daleks


John (Joseph Marcell) pops up in one of the most action packed and enjoyable serials from Sylvester McCoy's tenure as the Doctor. With his laid back Caribbean charms serving up the perfect cup of tea, John also manages to, after the Doctor suffers a late night philosophical crisis on the ripple effect of our decisions, serve the Doctor up the life advice of "Best thing is just to get on with it!".

2. Roboman in River - The Dalek Invasion of Earth


It took until the second Dalek serial for us to finally catch a glimpse of Earth's first victim of the Dalek's wicked cruelty. And it was delivered in a particularly stark and bleak opening scene where we see a converted Roboman (Peter Diamond) committing suicide by stumbling into the River Thames. It was a death which prove to be the first of many Earthlings at the hands (or plungers) of the Daleks.

3. Munro - Terror of the Zygons


Despite thinking the extent of his problems on the Prince Charlie oil rig was a lack of haggis, Munro (Hugh Martin) hadn't contemplated the destructive capability of the Zygons' Skarasen. And despite, somewhat inexplicably, managing to survive the oil rig being torn down, Munro washes ashore slightly mad, but alive. As an added bonus he then collapses into the strong arms of that dashing Harry Sullivan. Things are finally looking up for Munro, but then, seconds later, he gets shot dead by The Caber. Munro, therefore, is, despite his short screen time, one of the unluckiest characters ever to feature in the series.

4. Stallslady - The Greatest Show in the Galaxy



The stallslady (Peggy Mount) is an intergalactic fruit and veg seller on the planet Segonax - just check out her succulent Plaup from Vulpana. Regardless of the fact that the Psychic Circus appears to be the only source of custom for her, the stallslady resolutely hates any of those "vagabonds" involved with the circus. Instead, she seems to spend her time peeling less than extraterrestrial swedes and dressing up in the sort of hat that even Elton John would balk at.

5. Gulliver - The Mind Robber


Seeing as it was 1968, the Doctor Who team decided to take a bit of a dip into psychedelia with The Mind Robberwhich takes in all manner of mythologies, fairy tales and Syd Barret fuelled whimsy. In particular, one section features Jamie bumping into fictional character Gulliver (Bernard Horsfall) who is not only bemused to hear Jamie's ramblings about the White Robots chasing Jamie, but is also unable to see them. And, whilst all this madness unfolds around him, Gulliver is more than content to merely mutter lines from Gulliver's Travels. Surrealism at its best.

6. Griffiths - Attack of the Cybermen


Griffiths (Brian Glover) actually manages to nearly make it through Attack of the Cybermen unscathed, but sadly comes a cropper when a Cyberman shoots him right in his shiny bonce. Nonetheless, up to this point, Griffiths has been an entertaining character, but one who is deeply complex and insecure. Whilst his straight talking Yorkshire smarts allow him to fearlessly mock the Cybermen's ridiculous speech patterns (resulting in a nasty head crushing), Griffiths is very sensitive to any reference to his baldness, particularly when given the nickname of "Toupee".

7. Clements - Pyramids of Mars


It's a tough life being a poacher, constantly looking over your shoulder as you haul up some dead pheasants into a grotty sack in order to avoid a rollicking from aggrieved landowners. The last thing that a poacher needs, then, is to chuck in the god like powers of the Pharaohs. And, for poor old Ernie Clements (George Tovey), this is going to become a reality as he's trapped in woodland with a pair of robotic mummys on his tracks - has there ever been a clearer example of the hunter becoming the hunted? But what elevates Clements into a level of interest is the rather disturbing chest crushing end that he encounters.

8. Living Rocks - The Five Doctors


Sure, we know that one of these stony guys is Borusa, but who are those other chaps forever entombed in rock? It's an intriguing mystery and one that could uncover a little more truth behind the Gallifrey legends and the merits of immortality. What really makes the living rocks standout, though, are those chilling, creepy faces. Those haunted faces with their eerily twitching eyes calling out for help have been imprinted on the inside of my eyelids ever since I saw The Five Doctors. Naturally, I never sleep. Or blink (And, yes, these are much more scary than any weeping angels).

So, who are your favourite characters who never seem to get the credit they deserve? Let me know in the comments below!

Bill the Minder

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Genre: Children's
Channel:ITV

Transmission:17/02/1986 - 07/03/1986



As a child, enthused by the antics of Data in The Goonies, I became briefly obsessed with the exciting world of inventions. Much like Data, though, my inventions were useless, really useless. The only one that I can remember clearly was my grand invention which would open the drawer next to my bed AND my wardrobe door at the same time.

Why I needed to open both of these at the same time, I couldn't tell you, but it was something that felt aspirational and achievable. And, with a piece of string tied to both of them, I was able to reach my goal in a very low tech fashion. I quickly realised, however, that it wasn't going to advance mankind's progress or even my own, so snapped the string and decided to leave all that inventing lark to someone else.

And, in particular, there was one little inventive guy in the form of Bill the Minder who would put me to shame with a quite literal childlike ease.

The Wandering Minder

Bill's a teenage chap for whom family is an important cornerstone of his life. And, one day, when visiting his Uncle Crispin, he finds Crispin in a bit of a malaise with his chief issues stemming from a mixture of depression and the subsequent obesity.


Not wanting his Uncle to suffer, Bill decides to build a contraption which will allow Crispin to lose a bit of weight and regain his spark for picking mushrooms. Also, to mark himself out as a real standup guy, Bill offers to take charge of his cousins Boadicea and Chad to lighten the load on his Aunt and Uncle.

It's with Boadicea and Chad that Bill will wander the surrounding countryside and encounter a number of curious characters such as an unhappy king desperate to get back to his kingdom, a Sicilian cleaning lady who can't stand her employees and a respectable gent who owns a belching green toed button crane of Barraboo.

Together, this melange of wandering folk will pool their resources and skills together to help each other out. And, if this doesn't do the trick, they can always fall back on one of Bill's inventions.

Behind the Inventions

Based upon the 1912 W. Heath Robinson book of the same name, Bill the Minder was a 15 episode series produced by Central Television and animated by Bevanfield Films who also animated shows such as What-a-Mess, Murun Buchstansangur and Just So Stories throughout the 1980s and 90s.

Episodes of Bill the Minder ran to just under 5 minutes each and were broadcast on ITV over the course of three weeks (with episodes airing Monday - Friday) in early 1986. A VHS of the series was released in 1987 by iconic 80s VHS publishing house Channel 5, but has never made the great leap to DVD.


Narrating the episodes was a young Peter Chelsom who has gone on to carve out a successful directing career over in the glittering hills of Hollywood. Adapting the original W. Heath Robinson tales was Timothy Forder who contributed heavily to most of Bevanfield Films' output in various capacities.

Checking the Bill

I can't recall ever watching Bill the Minder, but when I stumbled across the title, small beads of sweat started to rapidly congregate on my twitching temples. As my heart rate quickened to that of an Olympic athlete, I began to hope that I'd found a crossover spin-off of The Bill and Minder.

Just imagine how amazing that TV show would be! Arthur Daley and Burnside running a nice line in knocked off police radios, Tosh drunkenly stripping in The Winchester Club and Terry McCann battling Jim Carver for the romantic affections of June Ackland!

Sadly, this dream TV show would have to remain a wild fantasy (for now) as Bill the Minder turned out to be a very different, but not unwelcome proposition. It was, in fact, a mid 1980s children's TV show, so still more than capable of wrestling my attention to the floor in a particularly nasty boston crab.


So, it's an animation, is it? Well, better start there then, so what do we have in Bill the Minder? Well, uh, the backgrounds crafted are very nice and detailed. Unfortunately, the actual characters are crudely drawn and feel too generic, so they're difficult to invest in and children don't half need a bit of aesthetic cuteness as a bargaining chip to get on board with cartoons.

To make matters worse, Bill and his cousins are virtually faceless due to the lack of personality imbued in their little faces. Again, this makes the characters a bit of a struggle to engage with and it's particularly alarming when this fact is applied to the titular hero of the piece.

Maybe, though, Bill's personality will shine through and render my previous grousing utterly redundant.

It'd be nice if that was the case, but, instead, Bill's vacuous design spreads further down into the soul of his character. Sure, he's a nice enough kid, but who is he, what are his loves, where's he going? He's a vague outline of a character with some random inventor flourishes dotted around him and, half the time, he gets shunted to the narrative sidelines by the adult characters.


Okay, he does knock up plenty of inventions (albeit all variations on a fishing rod, cogs and pulley systems) which help the adults, but this all seems rather shoehorned in to give the children watching something to relate to. Admittedly, Bill's eagerness to help all comers does have some merit as it helps to underline the stories main thrust of helping your fellow man, but the 'minding' angle seems lost in amongst his anonymous cousins.

Although, the more I think about it, Bill's propensity for helping people is sometimes a little bit bloody minded. Take, for example, the doctor who's down on his luck due to all the townsfolk being too healthy, Bill's answer appears to be germ warfare to improve business down at the doc's practice. And Bill gets that poor cleaning woman sacked, so I'm not sure what we learn from this short of: don't be a dick.

Still, they're mildly diverting tales, but at their short length, they really shouldn't be anything less than amiable little narratives. They're hardly startling demonstrations of storytelling skill, but there's enough curious characters and gentle romps to titillate the attentions of the under 5s, but, for some reason Bill the Minder aired in a 16:10 slot which feels like a terrible mismatch if ever there was one.

Time for a Petition?

Will I be setting up a petition for MPs to debate the merits of a DVD release for Bill the Minder? Of course I bloody won't! It's not a show which particularly offends me (and Christ knows The Blunders did)but Bill the Minder fails to excite me in a way which generates even an ounce of interest, simply tonnes of apathy.

It's all up on YouTube, though, if you watched it as a kid it may be worth returning to. Otherwise, maybe you could try inventing something better, but please don't ask me and my string based limitations to get involved.

Bellamy's Bugle

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Genre: Children's
Channel:ITV

Transmission:1986 -1988



Look out the window and survey the wondrous scene before you! There's animals, there's plants and, wouldn't you just know it, there's an atmosphere out there! And how does it all work? Well, uh, I'm not entirely sure, although I can differentiate between a raven and crow - it's all in the greasiness of their feathers.

Anyway, yes, this marvelous world around us is a bit of an enigmatic mystery even for us grown ups, but what about the younger, less experienced folk who are standing on tiptoes and craning their neck to look out the window? Naturally, it's going to a struggle for them to get their tiny heads round it all, but thankfully, for them, there's a great clarion call to learning coming courtesy of Bellamy's Bugle.

Understanding the World

From the comfort of his beloved County Durham home, David Bellamy is on a mission to explain all the wonders of the natural world around us. With a wealth of knowledge at his inquisitive fingertips and a whole host of expert contacts in various fields of interest, Bellamy aims to uncover the facts lurking beneath nature's underbelly.


And, quite often, he'll be joined by a selection of schoolchildren and viewers who have written in to request that their curiosity is quenched. Helping Bellamy to introduce and conclude the show with a little helping of friendly banter is Smart Alice (Kate Lee), a supercomputer with plenty of sass. Together, our curious hosts will explore subjects such as Halley's comet, slugs, gannets, electricity, sewers and even the road to Jericho.

Behind the Beard

Bellamy's Bugle was David Bellamy's first children's TV show of his own and aired between 1986 - 1988 on ITV over the course of five series. In total, 84 episodes were produced by Yorkshire Television and each episode ran to 10 minutes.



Directing the series was David Wright and, both inspired by the novel Swallows and Amazons, it was decided that Bellamy would take his inspiration from the character of the kindly Uncle Jim from the aforementioned novel. Although, truth be told, his 'character' doesn't seem a million miles away from Bellamy's real life avuncular personality!

Looking back, Kate Lee recalls her initial entry into the show:

"I was an actress and voice-over in the Manchester/Leeds scene in those days, so was often asked to do narrations for Yorkshire TV.

I’d also started a children’s TV series produced there (Puddle Lane with Neil Innes). Part of that programme required me to narrate a story. It’s the old story of the more you work the more you get noticed… I was recommended by the producer of Puddle Lane I think."


And Kate recalls David Wright wanting her to bring something a little different to Bellamy's Bugle to keep the show fresh and asking questions:

"The director wanted a fresh personality rather than an ‘intellectual or boring know-all’ approach. The scripts were fun and we soon developed a quirky, friendly relationship (David Bellamy and Alice).

And don’t forget – it was quite rare to have the all-knowing character to be a girl in those days! The whole team were keen to promote my character too – I have a photo and write up of me as Smart Alice on the TV page in The Times newspaper. Very posh!"


Blowing the Bugle

I can't specifically remember watching Bellamy's Bugle during the 1980s, but it always seemed as though David Bellamy was on my TV set during that period so it's likely I caught Bellamy's Bugle. Any particular memories, though, are limited to the wonder of Bellamy's beard, but, thankfully, a number of episodes have found their way on to YouTube.


Although the episodes are only 10 minutes long they manage to cram in plenty of content and changes in tone to split the various sections up. Especially charming are the witty exchanges between Smart Alice and Bellamy which bookend the show and endow the show with a sprightly spring in its step. Kate Lee, however, recalls that the apparent magic wasn't quite as spontaneous thanks to the recording methods:

"It’s a bit clinical. I sat in a studio on my own. A large screen on the wall in front of me showed the film. The soundtrack of David would be played in when we were in conversation but I only spoke my lines when the red light came on. The director, producer and engineer were in the control room – I couldn’t see them so all communication was talk-back.

I do remember the main problem I had. The studio was above the canteen and at bang on 11.30 the smell of chips would waft up to the studio and my tummy would rumble like an avalanche! This is a nightmare for a sound engineer so we had to stop and feed me biscuits to help it calm down."

Just as Kate's appetite was sated with the welcoming taste of biscuits, Bellamy gleefully quenches his viewers' thirst for knowledge with his wit and passion in Bellamy's Bugle. The dedication for the subjects belies the fact that this is a very personal project and his ability to engage with younger viewers is almost otherworldly. In fact, he genuinely appears to have cartoon DNA running through his veins as he leaps about with all the animation and gesticulation of a Looney Tunes character.



Although Kate Lee only managed to meet Bellamy once, she recalls that this enthusiasm wasn't simply turned on for the cameras:

"From my memory of that brief meeting – he was a hoot.  Yes, very enthusiastic. Fun. Exactly as you’d imagine. He’d thought it was time he should meet his Alice!  I’d always (long before our programme) been a huge fan of Bellamy. I suppose his equivalent now in popularity is Prof Brian Cox. Very different personality, of course, but that ability to engage young people (and old people!)  into science and nature – on a high level but populist as well – that’s rare and special.
 

I remember hearing David on the radio years later in the 1990s talking about how worrying (and sad) it was that bright young people were no longer interested in going into science / engineering / naturalist vocations – that they were more interested going into the city to make money. That’s why people like Prof Cox are important – they have such an influence over young people to make career decisions, which benefit us all."

And, this sums up why Bellamy's Bugle is such a success. Rather than taking a stuffy, studious approach to education which would have viewers switching over to BBC, Bellamy takes an alternate approach packed full of infectious and exciting charm. Combined with the relatively brief episode lengths, it's difficult not to become fully engrossed, I even found myself bathing in the wonderful knowledge that there are thousands of different types of daffodils!


Naturally, with over 80 episodes, Bellamy's Bugle had a fair crack of the whip, but times they were a changing and Bellamy's Bugle came to an end after series 5. Kate Lee discusses this lack of recommissioning and the changes in TV at the time:

"Probably couldn’t afford my fee any longer! You’re right 5 series was pretty good. Interestingly it was pitched at the young teenagers , which was also quite unusual

At that time (late 1980s) there were massive reorganisations in all TV companies. They were changing form being ‘creative’ led to accountancy led. So many innovative programmes were scrutinised – and axed.  To give you an idea – pre then if you visited Yorkshire TV in Leeds you would see actors in costumes everywhere, arty types / writers / programme makers hanging round the canteen, reception/bar/corridors. It was like one big creative home.

On my later visits by 1990 this had all disappeared. The place was like a massive office block with no atmosphere. This happened to all the TV companies, not just Yorkshire. End of an era. It hasn’t recovered, probably worse. TV is dominated by ‘Execs’ and accountants, rather than the creatives, writers and programme makers.


For our final programme the team had had a jumper knitted for me with ‘I WAS SMART ALICE’ on the front. I still have it as a fond memory."

Thankfully, Bellamy's Bugle acts as a fine legacy to this more creative era and, hopefully, more episodes will pop up online in the future as it's more than worth a watch.

Kate Lee left the world of acting in the mid 1990s and now runs her own training businesses for communication amongst business and broadcasters www.katelee.co.uk

5 of The Best Lovejoy Guest Stars

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I've always been more than partial to a bit of that roguish antiques dealer Lovejoy and his charming antics in the more picturesque corners of East Anglia. It's an obsession which first manifested itself in the early 90s when Sunday evenings simply weren't complete without a helping of Lovejoy, Tinker Dill and Eric Catchpole.


However, my passion for that leather jacketed rascal didn't end with the end of the series. Several years later I found myself unemployed and with very little to do, but, thankfully, BBC1 was showing mid-afternoon repeats of Lovejoy, so, with a bottle of ale purchased with my precious dole money, I used to while away the long, lonely afternoons dreaming of being an antiques dealer with edge.

Fast forward a few more years and I was unemployed again (believe me, I do work occasionally), but this time had a rather hearty redundancy payout. Again, I retreated to the sanctity of watching Lovejoy, but now I had the opportunity to take my interest a little further.

And that's why I filled the car up with petrol and headed down to The Half Moon Pub, Belchamp St Paul which was an actual Lovejoy filming location; whilst there I glugged down a pint of ale and truly felt at one with my Lovejoyness. Crazy days.

Tinker Dill outside The Half Moon Pub

Anyway, I'm digressing a bit and revealing far too much about the minutiae of my retro TV obsessions, so, instead, let's take a look at the show itself. And one thing that it managed to pride itself on - thanks to Ian McShane's contacts and the show's prestige with the viewing public - was it's array of guest stars, so let's take a look at 5 of the best.

1. Joanna Lumley as Victoria Cavero


Appearing in the first three episodes of series three, Victoria Cavero glided into Lovejoy's life as one of Lady Jane Felsham's friends and, for a brief moment, made him the happiest man in East Anglia.

After dealing with a troublesome South American ring of Victoria's, Lovejoy sweeps her off on a romantic sailing weekend where Victoria manages to tease out Lovejoy's elusive christian name - it's Horatio, but, of course, he's joking.

Sadly, Victoria turns down Lovejoy's marriage proposal before leaving for South America, but you get the impression that she was Lovejoy's one true love, easily trumping Lady Jane and Charlotte Cavendish in romantic value down at the sales rooms. And this is in no small part to Lumley's elegant charisma which appears to have been rampantly charming all and sundry for decades.

2. Julian Glover as Frank Whymark


Although his screen time is fairly limited in series six's 'Double Edged Sword' it's always a delight to see Julian Glover lighting up the screen and Frank Whymark continues his fine acting legacy. Shot through with a dose of Cockney villainy, Frank Whymark is a man whose tempestuous patience is being tested following the theft of his 18th Century samurai sword.

Not wanting to get the police involved, Frank enlists the services of Lovejoy to bring back the sword. And even gives Lovejoy the nod to use bullets if necessary. It's a quintessentially menacing performance by Glover, but he also manages to tap into a vein of humanity when parental strife comes trotting into town in the form of his rebellious daughter Joanna (Julia Sawalha).

3. Warren Clarke as Brian Nun


Warren Clarke provided an interesting insight into the complexities of a humble refuse collection man in the series two episode 'Bin Diving' as Brian Nun. Despite being firm mates with Lovejoy, Brian is much more than just a roguish ne'er do well and has a cultured palate which delights visitors to his kitchen.

Naturally, any friend of Lovejoy will always be a little rough round the edges and Brian Nun certainly takes great exception to Eric's 'bin diving' enterprise to turn up discarded treasures. As a custodian of the nation's rubbish, Brian believes he has first dibs on anything being chucked out. Something Eric discovers the hard way.

It's a tough character to pull off, but Warren Clarke always had that peculiar brand of gruff charisma which allowed him to transcend cliched, burly louts and inject a captivating sense of intelligence to bubble away beneath his hangdog expression. A special mix indeed and one which could have easily allowed Brian Nun to make repeat appearances.

4. Ken Campbell as Ted Goat


With a manic twinkle in his wide eyes almost as wild as his eyebrows, Ken Campbell never failed to make an impact when he bounded on to the nation's screens and in the series 4 episode 'Lovejoy Loses It' he summoned up all his comedic physicality to fantastic effect.

Paired with an outrageously sinister set of buck teeth which underline his crooked nature, Ted Goat is an unscrupulous gent who eagerly scans the obituary columns to get his grubby incisors into grieving relatives who don't know what to do with the deceased's antiques.

However, it's when he's trying to make a few quid out of a Georgian wine cooler at the expense of Lovejoy and Charlie Gilbert that his slimy, duplicitous nature comes to the fore. A despicable character, then, but one who's packed with enough immense fun to spend your Sunday evenings cringing to.

5. Brian Blessed as Harry Catapodis


Charm personified - on the surface at least - Harry Catapodis makes his presence felt in the last two episodes of series 2 to cause mutterings of consternation amongst Lovejoy and his peers. Happy to wax lyrical about Lovejoy and describe him as "One of the best antique dealers in the whole of Europe", Catapodis also does a nice line in deception.

This deception comes in the form of flogging forgeries such as Emperor Hirohito's ceremonial tea bowl, so, with these fakes netting humungous profits for Catapodis, Lovejoy decides that it's time to stitch Catapodis up like an antique kipper.

Blessed brings Catapodis to life with his usual boisterousness, but there's a refined brilliance to his performance here which helps to personify the dubious machinations of his mind. And, yes, his booming voice is in full throe, so there's a delightful glimpse of one of the inimitable wonders of British TV.

So, who were your favourite Lovejoy guest stars?

Oh and, as an added bonus, here's me poncing around outside The Halfmoon Pub in the desperate hope that Tinker Dill will come stumbling out and recruit me on a mission to retrieve an Edwardian goblet. Or something.


Jack of Hearts

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Genre: Drama
Channel:BBC1

Transmission: 04/09/1999 - 08/09/1999



Morrissey once sang "I am human and I need to be loved, Just like everybody else does" and it's a lyric which perfectly encapsulates our need for acceptance. We've evolved to work with our fellow man to help structure society whether it be in the family unit or at work, so it's in our best interests to integrate as seamlessly as possible.

However, us humans are a funny old bunch and don't half love putting obstacles in the way, prone as we are to being stubborn, arrogant and, sometimes, scared sods. And that's why it's so difficult to initiate a seamless integration into whichever particular congregation we deem necessary to join.

In particular, the family unit bobs along atop a fiendishly choppy set of waters, so boarding this ship requires navigating it to calmer waters. Tough work indeed, but when it's combined to the constant demands of a new employer then you run the risk of being swept out to sea along with the flotsam of countless lost souls.

And, now that I've dilly dallied around with enough maritime metaphors (which aren't even applicable to this article at all), let's take a look at these trials and tribulations being played out in Jack of Hearts.

Jacking Up

Jack Denby (Keith Allen) is a man with a problem. Sure, he's got a cracking fiancée in the shape of Suzanne Price (Anna Mountford) and the happy families game is ticking along nicely with her daughter Katie (Miranda Llewellyn-Jenkins) who Jack is positively potty about.


And, yeah, he absolutely loves his job as a probation officer in London. After all, it's his patch and his people, so engaging with this landscape is second nature to him. And he's good at his job, with current felons keen for his help and ex-felons happy to knock him up a mean cappuccino.

The spanner in the works, though, is that Suzanne has accepted a job teaching media studies back in her beloved, native Cardiff. And Jack doesn't want to leave London, no matter how hard Suzanne tries to cajole him. However, after seeing one of his clients murdered at close range, Jack begins to wonder if he truly wants to stay in London.


Jack's boss, Ron (Paul Moriarty), tips him off about a senior probation officer job in Cardiff and advises Jack that it's a move he should make if he wants to prove how important Suzanne is. Jack doesn't get the job - instead it's handed to current employee Caroline (Caroline Berry) - but Jack is offered a standard probation officer position nonetheless.

So, Jack finds himself in Cardiff and things are surely looking up, but, oh dear, there's more spanners flying towards his intricate machinery.

Whilst Suzanne's mother, Jean (Ruth Madoc), is more than a bit keen on Jack, it's Suzanne's father, Peter (Andrew Sachs), who takes a very dim view towards Jack's intentions for Suzanne and Katie. Further trouble is waiting in the wings in the form of Joe (Steve Toussaint), Suzanne's handsome ex who just happens to be working in the same department as Suzanne.


Jack's homelife is a complex beast, but maybe his new job will present him with an opportunity to feel alive and unrestricted. Sadly, no, as he faces a particularly competitive and domineering force in the shape of Caroline, a lass who most certainly doesn't want his rough and ready ways cluttering up her corridors, despite his undeniable results.

Settling in Cardiff is going to push Jack to his limits, but can he knuckle down, weather the storm and come up smelling of daffodills?

A Jack of All Trades

Jack of Hearts was a six episode series which aired through August/September in 1999 on BBC1 and saw episodes being transmited on Wednesday evenings at 9.30pm. Episodes were also aired on Thursday/Saturday evenings on digital channel BBC Choice over the same time period.


Writing Jack of Hearts was the newcomer Sian Orrells who had previously written episodes of Eastenders, A Touch of Frost and Wycliffe. Directing Jack of Hearts was Timothy Lyn who was perhaps best known for playing a Pelamot named Boris in Look and Read classic serial Through the Dragon's Eye.

The theme tune was provided by the lung busting talents of Bonnie Tyler in a song which was specially written for the series.

Jack the Lad

Jack of Hearts aired shortly after I'd finished my GCSEs and, on an extended summer holiday, I found myself somewhat rudderless in a turbulent sea fuelled by formative experiences with alcohol, lusting after girls who considered me the equal of amoebic dysentery and desperately trying to get a hideously paid job which equated to child slavery.

And whilst I was busy with all that exciting rhubarb I completely missed Jack of Hearts.

However, despite the relative scarcity of any mention of the show (let alone footage online), my lack of dedication to British television during those halcyon, youthful days would not leave me punished for all eternity. And, thanks to a wonderful friend of the blog, the complete series turned up on VHS in amongst a box of home recorded goodness.


What piqued my interest, in particular, was the presence of Keith Allen. After all, one of my favourite children's TV shows of all time - Jackson Pace: The Great Years - stars the great man, so anything that taps into the visceral thrills of that masterpiece is more than deserving of my evenings. And weekends.

It's tempting to pigeonhole Allen as a comedic actor, but his CV belies a man with a terrific flair for drama. In Jack of Hearts, Allen gives Denby a rough and ready outline, but one which hides, beneath the shabby surface, the steely intelligence of a man who knows the importance of listening and never backing down.

Andrew Sachs, as well, is another actor who falls foul, too often, of being singled out for one role, but, as Peter in Jack of Hearts, Sachs delivers another generous helping of the understated brilliance he can bring to a character. And, the manner in which he bloody mindedly confuses arrogance and fear for patriarchal care in Jack of Hearts is played with real elegance.


In amongst the grown ups, and showing no fear, is the talented Miranda Llewellyn-Jenkins who pulls off that rare feat of being a child actor who isn't a monosyllabic little squirt and manages to generate an engaging chemistry with Allen. Sadly, her acting career was as short as her height in Jack of Hearts, so we were robbed of a future great.

Going back to the grown ups, we find Anna Mountford and Ruth Madoc's characters struggling for a strong focus throughout their narratives. Despite their first rate acting, they find themselves pushed to the sidelines by their respective other halves' pursuits and this acts as an early indicator that the writing may still be begging for another edit.


Jean, in particular, appears to have been drafted in for little more than her fondness for Jack to be in stark contrast to Peter's out of control fears. And, Suzanne, despite being set up as a strong, independent woman more than confident to leave Jack languishing in London, is criminally underused in Jack of Hearts.

Yeah, okay, she tiptoes around reigniting her relationship with Joe, which would placate Peter's errant worries, but sadly the affair fizzles out when it could have been a much more explosive plot strand. Following this, Suzanne appears reduced to rolling her eyes at Jack - to be fair he does turn up to their wedding late and covered in blood, the swine - and acting as a plot device for Jack and Peter's warring emotions.


And their feud is probably the most interesting aspect of Jack of Hearts. Peter is the epitome of a stubborn man hellbent on taking control of his daughter's life, but is frustrated at every turn as she exerts her own adult judgement. It's a fascinating conflict and one which is first intimated at during their first meeting where Jack's offer of a handshake never manages to quite make contact.

It's a nice piece of writing which helps to lay a foundation of frustration into Jack's already fractious life. And, in fact, there are plenty of these little cues sprinkled through the script - such as Suzanne's look of irritation at Katie calling Jack "Dad" - which speak volumes about where the characters are at.


And the central themes of Jack of Hearts - lack of trust, protecting loved ones, fear of loneliness - are all laced through the narrative with a fantastic subtlety. Also, to play into the audiences' hopes and fears, Jack has to contend with a disapproving parent and a handsome, successful ex. And we've all experienced at least one (probably both) of those scenarios.

These recurring motifs are great at adding some intrigue to Jack's home life, but it's in his work life that Jack's journey sags and feels bolted on. Sure, his work with those on the wrong side of the law helps to reinforce the series' themes, but there's very little pizazz or sublime storytelling attached to them despite gun wielding lunatics, murdered prostitutes and aggressive rapists stomping round the back roads of Cardiff.


And the nature of this criminal content always feels as though it's struggling to hit the right emotional receptors due to the confusing direction. Cardiff, itself, is portrayed as a serene and peaceful place where even red light districts look like the perfect setting for kids to play and there's a soft warmth to almost every shot. British TV seemed to excel in bottling up an uncomfortably real brand of grit through the 70s and 80s, but here it's lost to slick camera angles and plenty of well lit scenes.


And, in an era where shows over the pond such as The Sopranos and The X-Files were ushering in a golden age of television, Jack of Hearts lacks the cinematic sheen of these transatlantic rivals; it's fair to say that British TV is still light years away from the glorious cinematography of Sherlock.

Sian Orrell does, however, manage to conclude the series neatly by finally getting Jack and Peter to complete their failed handshake to draw a line under the series' most absorbing conflict and finally allow Jack to listen to that Morrissey lyric with a smile on his face.

Final Thoughts

Jack of Hearts is a mildy diverting watch and I certainly didn't struggle to get through the episodes as there was just enough in Jack's main narrative to keep me satisfied as I picked at the side plate of fine performances.

The show is far from perfect, though, and it's lack of legacy fails to surprise me as Jack's life of a probation officer doesn't serve up enough startlingly brilliant plots and, instead, the series spends most of its time plodding along in second gear.

The Trials of Oz

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Genre: Drama
Channel:BBC1

Transmission:09/11/1991


 
What you consider obscene is a highly subjective matter. Personally, I have no qualms about public nudity, but I know countless souls whose jaws would tunnel deep into the ground if they saw me strutting down the high street wearing nothing but my wristwatch.

And, you know, apart from that one time, I tend not to stroll round the town centre with my undercarriage and nipples on display, so please don't hang round where I live expecting that horrorshow. You need to book well in advance.

Anyway, obscenity is such a personal opinion that it can really irk certain quarters of society. Anything that challenges their morals can be seen as a real affront to their way of life and the imagined bonds which hold it together.

Thankfully, in this day and age, so many taboos have been broken, so many boundaries crossed that - Daily Mail readers aside - there's little that causes such apoplectic outrage that even The Establishment fear it will rip the moral fabric of society to shreds.

Rewind a few year though, back to the early 70s, and the concerns of The Establishment towards the subversive underground press were heightened to the point that we got The Trials of Oz.

A Question of Taste

Based on the events of Britain's longest ever obscenity trial (clocking up 27 days in 1971), The Trials of Oz follows the judicial fortunes of Oz magazine editors Richard Neville (Hugh Grant), Jim Anderson (Peter O'Brien) and Felix Dennis (Kevin Allen) as they face the following charges:

1. Sending indecent material through the post
2. Contravening the Obscene Publications Act
3. Conspiracy to corrupt public morals


In particular, the charges relate to issue 28 of Oz, known as the 'schoolkids issue'; having handed editorial control of issue 28 over to a bunch of secondary school children (including Charles Shaar Murray), there has been a right old outcry over the content - in particular an erotic Rupert the Bear cartoon.

Overseeing the court proceedings is Judge Michael Argyle (Leslie Phillips), whilst leading the prosecution is Brian Leary (Nigel Hawthorne) and defending Anderson and Dennis is John Mortimer (Simon Callow). Confident in his own beliefs and sense of righteousness, Neville dispenses with the need for legal professionalism and defends himself.


A number of celebrity witnesses are called to the stand to provide insights into the subtext behind Oz's seemingly shocking content and these include John Peel (Nigel Planer), George Melly (Alfred Molina) and Marty Feldman (Lee Cornes), but will this be enough to get the Oz editors off the hook?

Prepping the Case

The Trials of Oz was a 90 minute play which aired on BBC2 on 9th November 1991 as part of a 20 year retrospective on the original trial. Scripted by Geoffrey Robertson (a member of the original defence team), The Trials of Oz prides itself on the accuracy of its scripts and claims that 'All dialogue guaranteed verbatim', coming, as it does, from the original court transcripts.

The play was followed by a 50 minute panel discussion - Oz: 20 Years On - hosted by Jonathan Dimbleby and which featured the trio of Oz editors debating the trial's legacy with guests which included alongside Geoffrey Robertson, Germaine Greer and Ivan Lawrence. It was most notable, perhaps, for Germaine Greer getting Dimbleby to utter the word "cunt".


The Trials of Oz was never repeated, but a crude copy has found it's way (bizarrely) onto Chinese video streaming site YouKu. Thankfully, I was donated a higher quality copy (along with Oz: 20 Years On) by a charitable fan of Curious British Telly, so I could, at least, furnish you with some nice viddy snaps!

The Oz Issue

Always a firm advocate of free speech, I was intrigued by the possibilities that The Trials of Oz would hurl my way in the name of moral expression. And there was the added bonus of a young Hugh Grant strutting his stuff on TV a few years before his floppy fringe would come to dominate the headlines.

Let's start with Hugh Grant as Richard Neville. Well, what can I say, it's a phenomenal performance from Grant, all articulate bohemian charm and more handsome than ever here. Imagine Marc Bolan's long lost Australian cousin and, yep, you're starting to get close to Grant's magnificent pouting charisma in The Trials of Oz.


Peter O'Brien, who looks supernaturally similar to James Anderson, also delivers a brand of intelligent acting which hints at Anderson's intellectual smarts bubbling away beneath his subversive visions. And Kevin Allen brings his trademark steely attitude to the production with a nice line of fearsome wrath lurking behind his bushy beard.


Of the legal beagles populating the court, it's perhaps Simon Callow as John Mortimer who's most interesting and not just because of this proto Four Weddings and a Funeral pairing with Hugh Grant. Inhabiting Mortimer, as if separated at birth, Callow captures the incredulous air surrounding the charges with aplomb and routinely juts out his jaw and rolls his eye at the prosecution's attacks on Oz.


Talking of which, Leslie Phillips and Nigel Hawthorne are fantastic as the villains of the piece. Portraying their distaste with a number of withering verbal attacks and sneering looks towards the Oz editors, Phillips and Hawthorne both sum up Argyle and Leary's fear that the moral foundations of Britain are being sledgehammered into history.


Alongside the main players in the courtroom, we also have the fleeting, yet memorable turns from the celebrity witnesses.

Nigel Planer, in particular, summons up a manifestation of John Peel with such startling accuracy that he reaches Michael Sheen levels of imitation. Bringing a slick, confident take on the already dapper and eloquent George Melly is the Hollywood savvy of Alfred Molina. And Lee Cornes comes up with the comedic goods, yet again, with his irreverent turn as Marty Feldman where, once more, the physical similarity is uncanny.


But what of the world that all these characters inhabit as the legal system considers their plight?

Well, a very short scene in Wandsworth prison aside, the action takes place in a courtroom. However, this is no ordinary courtroom - the public viewing gallery is filled not with real people, but cardboard cutouts and the walls are adorned with oversized pages from Oz. These stylistic flourishes may seem frivolous, but they're actually clever comments on the trial.


The cardboard cutouts represent the distrust The Establishment have for the general public's flimsy opinion, the only three dimensional and moral judges worthy of passing judgement must be those in a position of power such as Argyle. Meanwhile, the oversized pages of Oz indicate the overblown hype that is, quite literally, surrounding the trial.

And this takes us nicely onto the main narrative within The Trials of Oz.

It's remarkable that such verbally dexterous and riveting debate unfolded in a stuffy courtroom, but, being taken from the original court transcripts, The Trials of Oz's scripts are as honest and hard hitting as an issue of Oz. Sure, over the course of 27 days, the action no doubt sagged, but this is TV, so we're just getting the juicy drama.


Okay, even though the charges are clearly trumped up here to demonise the Oz editors, they still fail to come remotely close to shocking our 21st century sensibilities. However, as a snapshot of society in the early 1970s, it's fascinating. The prosecution's desire for a heavy dose of censorship and sanitisation of any 'undesirables' highlights their fear that Britain is evolving into something new and exciting.

It's this clashing of outlooks which also provides plenty of laugh out loud moments. Argyle and Leary are simply to bloody minded to accept anything which diverts from the 'admirable' moral values they've inherited from the Victorians, so, as they're brought down to earth with a bump by the defence, you can't help but crack a wry smile.

And, despite Neville, Anderson and Dennis being shorn of their lustrous locks, their Samson like strength refuses to be diminished and freedom of speech prevails.

Summing Up

The Trials of Oz is an amazing insight into the ever shifting landscape of public opinion, so helps to address some timeless questions on an individuals right to be subversive in order to analyse society. Coupled with some fantastic performances, The Trials of Oz acts as fine example of not just British TV, but the curious workings behind its society. 

5 Unforgettable Games from The Big Breakfast

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The Big Breakfast hurtled into our lives in September 1992 and immediately changed the landscape of British breakfast TV. No longer were we restricted to the sedate, sensible murmurings of BBC and ITV who served up gentle fare to ease us into the day.


Instead, The Big Breakfast delivered non-stop, anarchic fun and japes as they turned breakfast TV on its head with singalongs, silliness and (for the most part) fantastic chemistry between the hosts. Oh, and how could I forget, they also brought us some immensely fun and ridiculous games to get the nation's competitive pulse pacing.

And here's 5 unforgettable games from The Big Breakfast!

1. More Tea Vicar?

There's perhaps nothing more British than a vicar coming round for a cup of tea. Well, perhaps a vicar coming round for a cup of tea and his trousers falling down, but sadly we can't all live in a 1970s sitcom.


Anyway, The Big Breakfast leapt upon this Britishness by dreaming up More Tea Vicar?The game first emerged during the early days of the show with Chris Evans playing a vicar; Take That even joined in on one occasion. The game would later return to The Big Breakfast with Johnny Vaughan playing a vicar with a horrendous set of teeth and even more frightening relationship with Denise Van Outen as the cowering Sister Philomena


A ridiculously simple game, More Tea Vicar involved contestants watching a film and then having to guess how many cups were featured in it; as the contestants shouted out their answers, the vicar would respond with "More Tea!" of "Less Tea!" to guide them to almost certain glory.

And, yes, you could actually win a car.

2. One Lump or Two?


Keeping the tea theme going, another early foray into games for The Big Breakfast was One Lump or Two which cleverly disguised a swimming pool as a cup of tea to act as the main arena. Sounds barmy and, uh, yes, it kind of was.


You see, rather than some excuse to show off athletic prowess, One Lump or Two traded on the ridiculous. Guests of the show would hurl a couple of oversized sugarcubes into the 'tea cup' before a blindfolded guest was launched into the teacup on a rickety raft. Callers to the show then had to, very loudly, direct the floating guest to capture the sugarcubes.

And, yes, people could actually win a holiday.

3.Gaggin' for It


The Big Breakfast was always at it's best when their was a magical chemistry between the hosts; this was never truer than with Johnny Vaughan and Denise Van Outen as they conjured up saucy japes and plenty of will they / won't they intrigue.

And this was what made Gaggin' For It such magnificent fun.


Johnny Vaughan played the incredibly cheesy gameshow host Syndon Chump whose cheery facade hid a secret world of pain and trouble. In between delivering god awful gags (straight from his book Syndon Chump's World of Gags) Syndon was joined by his glamourous assistant (and all round Essex girl) Gemsy played by Denise Van Outen who delivered such gems as "We've got a girl who claims to be a model, but how she can call herself a model when she don't take her top off, I don't know"


Gagging For It was another simple guessing game where callers had to guess how many correct punchlines two teams of guests would correctly identify. The genius of Gagging For It, though, lay in the biting satire of daytime quiz shows, skewering Essex girls and the gleeful excuse to bombard viewers with double entendres.

And, yes, you could actually win a holiday abroad.

4. Egg on Your Face


Being an integral part of breakfast, eggs were just perfect for The Big Breakfast to base a game around. And, in particular, a ludicrously simple one as in Egg on your Face.


A video of a celebrity is shown with an egg superimposed over their face and the caller has to guess who it is. However, as at least 3/4 of said face would be visible at some point throughout the clip, it would tale a high level of ignorance to get it wrong. To make things a little tougher there was then a general knowledge question to truly weed out the wheat from the chaff.


And, yes, you could actually win a holiday to America. Or the booby prize of a Big Breakfast cereal bowl. Which I would kill for now.

5. Whose Washing Line is it Anyway?

You get the sense that due to all the in-house razzamatazz, the budget for The Big Breakfast was stretched in other areas and this was never more apparent than in Whose Washing Line is it Anyway?


Bearing absolutely no relation to Whose Line is it Anyway? here was a game which was less improvisational masterclass and more cheap, silly nonsense which, as you're probably beginning to realise, The Big Breakfast excelled in.

Various items were gradually hung up on a washing line (watch out for the literal red herring) and callers were given one chance to guess the celebrity they related too e.g a vinyl record and a London map was East 17. And that was it. Yes, no second round of taxing conundrums, just a simple guessing game. One which once featured Robbie Williams taking charge.

And, yes, you could actually win a pink CD system.

Seasiders

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Genre: Docusoap
Channel:Channel 4

Transmission:01/02/1996 - 07/03/1996



Today's offering comes from Heather Lewis who can usually be found getting up to all sorts of wordiness over at Broom Cupboard and Me


Hello-aaa! And welcome to the Seasiders

Firstly, I want to thank Curious British Telly for having me back, especially after my confessed admiration for the career of Andy Crane! As well as having a huge fondness for Children’s BBC, I also love delving into the nostalgic history of British holiday camps.

Recently I was at one… and spent a great deal of my week there taking photos of original windows and paintwork (yes, really) and entertaining my family by informing them of what competitions they could have entered, had they been at Pwllheli in 1975 (who’s up for a ‘Hairy Chest Competition’?)


Anyway, it is with this enthusiasm that I take you back to 1996 for a largely forgotten ‘fly on the wall’ series called Seasiders. Before the late 1990’s craze for docusoaps had really taken off, the six part programme, which aired on Channel 4, followed a year in the life of Haven Holiday’s Primrose Valley in Yorkshire.

Episode 1 sees the action start not at the holiday park, but in a hotel, where Pop Idol style auditions are being held. We observe a mixed jumble of applicants (in terms of talent) aiming to achieve a ‘Havenmate’ role. It’s pretty obvious these folk have different ideas of what would make a good holiday entertainer as we see everything from a jovial gentleman in a shirt and jazzy tie performing ‘La Bamba’ to a motherly (ok, old) lady reading the poem ‘The Lion and Albert’. That’s showbiz!


Auditions over, we get our first glimpse of our Primrose Valley staff. ‘Club Manager Dave’ doles out an amusing pep talk to his bar staff complete with talking about the fictitious ‘John the Welder’ (drinks 15 pints and staggers quietly back to his caravan) and ‘Little Spotty Johnny’ a young chap who has “sniffed the bar towel and thinks he’s doing the remake of Commando”. No doubt Dave uses this talk year after year and it’s amusing enough to have stuck in my head!

The successful Havenmates are nice enough (no sign of that man who sang ‘La Bamba’, sadly). They are a mix of youngsters who are hoping that fame lies just around the corner and those who just want to live in caravan for a few months. Notable amongst them is the youngest of the team, an 18 year old called Andy who we follow from his nervous first audition, performing magic with his Paul Daniels' Magic Set through to dressing up in 30c heat in a furry tiger suit to entertain a sweaty crowd of 7 year olds.


Unfortunately the endless nightly dancing to ‘Agadoo’ and the hordes of teenage girl admirers gets too much for poor Andy, who ends up catching the ‘Filey Flu’ and being rescued by his Mum and Dad. We miss having him on our screens for the final episode.

The true stars of Seasiders arrive in a minibus, in episode 2. The Stewart family have journeyed to Primrose Valley from Keighley in Yorkshire, no doubt an arduous trek of some 94.7 miles. We have mum Bev who won’t entertain the thought of going abroad, due to the fact it’s got “’ot sun”. There are 4 children, a camera shy husband who we barely see, and a ‘Nan’ who seems to acquire a peely skin sunburn after about 5 minutes in the Filey sunshine.


For Haven and the Seasiders series the Stewart family are perfect as they religiously join in with all the organised jollity.

We get to see the twin boys singing in the talent competition (with full marks for effort, at least). The teenage daughter gains a crush on Havenmate Andy- cue lots of on screen blushing, and the youngest Stewart lad enters the junior talent show as Freddie Mercury, complete with a hairy stick on chest! The best moment is provided by ‘Nan’, who is chosen to assist with the wrestling. Taking her role seriously she scares the baddie into the corner of the ring and gives him a slap around the chops!


Seasiders boasts a celebrity appearance too, from Tom O’Connor of ‘Crosswits’ fame, there at Primrose Valley to perform in the cabaret. A likeable chap, we see Tom signing autographs for a cleaner and dishing out pearls of wisdom to the Havenmates about how to deal with ‘ecklers whilst on stage.

The talent show is a highlight as we see the resident band (called ‘Hands Off!’) confess that it is a weekly competition between them to keep the straightest face when backing the young singing acts. You can see what they mean as a rendition of ‘wind beneath my wings’ by one lady would doubtless have the bass player (a Terry Nutkins lookalike) snorting with supressed laughter.

The final episode shows the season coming to a close and we miss the presence of the Stewart family, although we do have ‘bar manager Dave’ to enjoy. The final scene is of some of the Havenmates performing to the song ‘Fame’ with the word ‘remember’ repeated several times. But, of course, this is Curious British Telly and very few people have remembered this show, unlike myself (who still has the entire series recorded on VHS)!


And finally, a bit of holiday camp history trivia for you all… back in 1995, when Seasiders was being recorded, there stood some crumbling buildings just outside of the holiday park. Nature had taken over this patch of derelict land and brambles and grass almost obscured a large empty swimming pool with two beautifully distinctive, but broken, tiered fountains.

Peering through the fencing and looking at this wasteland, you could almost hear ghostly music and laughter coming from the ruins of the famous Butlins Filey camp which closed, much to the sadness of many back in 1983. Unfortunately, we don’t get to see any of this in the Seasiders series and a look back at Butlins promotional films is probably a blog post in itself that I’ll save for another time! Until then I’ll bid you “Goodnight, Campers”!
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