Book review – Reaching a Verdict – Reviewing The Bill: 1990 to 1992 by Edward Kellett

In his introduction, Edward Kellett states that this era of The Bill is his favourite era of the show – which is something I can concur with. By this point, the series (reformatted into a twice-weekly half hour show in 1988) was slowly beginning to develop – instead of purely stand-alone stories, there were sprinklings of two-parters and (later in 1990) the six-episode hunt for the Canley Fields serial killer, which was spread over several months.

With over 300 episodes broadcast during 1990 – 1992, there’s a great deal of ground to cover. Kellett divides the book into three sections (for 1990, 1991 and 1992) and then forensically examines that year’s output in a number of ways. He might look at a number of episodes penned by a certain writer (J.C. Wilsher or Christopher Russell, for example) and then discuss how a particular character was served by that year’s scripts.

As with the previous volume, Kellett’s pin-sharp character studies are a delight. Here he waxes lyrical about the odd-couple relationship between Brownlow and Conway.

How best to define the decade-long feud between Sun Hill’s Lemmon and Matthau is tricky. At times it resembles an overlong car journey, harassed father trying to quell the endless whining in the back. But it’s also a masochistic relationship, in which Conway endures any amount of pain in return for the rare moments of pleasure when Brownlow falls on his face.

Also included are liberal dollops of quotes from the scripts, which serve as a reminder about just how good the series was during this era. As a year-round programme, by this point it’s possible that The Bill began to be taken for granted – as a familiar, comfortable presence always in the background. If so, then Kellett’s book should redress the balance somewhat – showing that (even in its pre-watershed form) it could still carry off stories of considerable impact.

Inspired by Reaching a Verdict I’ve already dipped into some of the key episodes covered in this book – which is testament to the quality of Edward Kellett’s writing. For any fans of The Bill, this is an essential purchase.

Reaching A Verdict: Reviewing The Bill can be ordered directly from Devonfire Books via this link.

Spy Trap (1972 – 1975)

Created by Robert Barr, Spy Trap ran for three series and 61 episodes between 1972 and 1975. When comparing it to similar programmes in the same genre, it’s fair to say that it’s more like The Sandbaggers than Callan (Spy Trap mostly revolves around men and women talking, rather than gunplay and murder).

One of Barr’s notable earlier series was Spy-Catcher (1959 – 1961). Based on the memoirs of Lieutenant-Colonel Oreste Pinto, a WW2 MI5 interrogator, each episode saw Pinto (Bernard Archard) test the story of refugees and others who may be friends or may be foes.

Spy Trap has a similar feel – with Commander Ryan (Paul Daneman) cast in the Pinto role. Ryan’s job in most of the episodes (or at least the ones which still exist) is to relentlessly probe and question. When circumstances dictate, Ryan can be affable and friendly, but he can change at the drop of a hat.

Some episodes operate rather like a whodunnit – with multiple suspects – others such as The Cornet and The Beast, The Melioidosis Report and The Merrin Memoirs are more basic in their setup, with Ryan facing off against a single opponent. This is no criticism though, as these examples (all from the third and final series) show the series at its best.

The first series ran for thirty six 25 minute episodes and was scheduled in an unusual way. The first four stories all ran for four episodes and were stripped across the same week – Monday to Thursday. From then on, two-parters were more common (although there was another four-parter as well as a six episode story) with the remainder of series one airing on Wednesdays and Thursdays.

Spy Trap hasn’t fared too well in terms of surviving episodes, with only 14 left in the archives – the first four from series one and all of the third and final series. Although with my glass half full hat on (if you excuse the image) it could have been worse – at least we have an example of the original format plus a complete run from later on.

The debut story, Checkpoint, was written by Barr and aired between the 13th and the 16th of March 1972. Whilst Ryan would be ever-present in every story, Checkpoint is the only opportunity to see some of the other series one and two regulars – Commander Anderson (Julian Glover), Lieutenant Saunders (Prentis Hancock) and Trent (Kevin Stoney) – in action.

The basic plot of Checkpoint is a simple one – an agent called Brady (Norman Rodway) engineered a daring escape from behind the Iron Curtain, bringing three people with him. The respected scientist Dr. Richter (Gerard Heinz) is seen as a notable prize (if, of course, he can be trusted) but there are question marks over the other two – Peter (Paul Aston) and Magda Rajik (Janet Key). And since Ryan isn’t too happy with Brady’s story he’s quite prepared to carry on digging until he’s satisfied.

The tension between Ryan (always a desk-man) and Brady (a slightly flaky and burnt out field officer) is nicely teased out and Janet Key also impresses (and receives a good chunk of screentime) as Magda.

Ryan eventually finds out the truth of the matter, although that’s not the most important part of the story – Checkpoint is all about the journey, rather than the destination.

Reviewing this first story, Graham Clarke in The Stage and Television Today, confessed that he found himself a little underwhelmed by the denouement but then said that “the play was well-written and directed with an uncluttered economy of effort: it was also very well acted and the quality is likely to be sustained by its excellent and competent leading players.” He closed by commentating on his disappointment that Julian Glover was given little to do (and was hopeful he would have better in the future stories). Fingers crossed that one day further examples of series one turn up to see if this did happen ….

We then jump to the beginning of series three and Look for the Ugly. By this point the core team comprises Ryan, Major Sullivan (Tom Adams) and Carson (Michael Gwynn). With Barr no longer contributing scripts, a varied selection of writers were used – all of whom bring their own stamp to the series. Amongst them were John Kershaw, P.J. Hammond, Ray Jenkins, John Wiles and Bill Craig.

Jenkins and Craig had also worked on Callan, so it’s possibly not surprising that – my earlier comments notwithstanding – it’s possible to see occasional echoes of the ABC/Thames series. For example, Craig’s script (To Kill A Unicorn) finds Ryan and Sullivan operating undercover in East Berlin. This is a far cry from Ryan’s comfort zone and he’s forced at times to play second fiddle to Sullivan – a man with (secret) orders to kill if necessary.

The rotating crop of writers used during this third series, ensures that Spy Trap never got into a rut. Although some episodes are more engaging than others, there’s always something of interest – especially guest performers. Such as Peter Miles in Look for the Ugly, Michael Aldridge in The Cornet and the Beast as well as James Bree (a typically idiosyncratic turn) and Diane Keen in Distant Relations.

Spy Trap may be a forgotten series but it’s one that’s aged well (provided you appreciate dialogue-heavy VT studio drama – and if you don’t, why are you on this blog?!) At present, all the existing episodes can be viewed here.

Thirty Minute Theatre – Emergency-Ward 9 by Dennis Potter

Broadcast on the 11th of April 1966 as part of the Thirty Minute Theatre strand, Emergency-Ward 9 was Dennis Potter’s only 30 minute television play. Thirty Minute Theatre, which ran between 1965 and 1973, clocked up nearly 300 episodes and a quick perusal of the credits will throw up many familiar directors and writers (the likes of John Mortimer, Fay Weldon, Tom Stoppard, Willis Hall, P.J. Hammond and Andrew Davies were just a few of the notables who provided scripts for the series).

The title Emergency-Ward 9 is an obvious tip of the hat to ITV’s long-running medical soap opera. Potter, in his previous life as the television critic of the Daily Herald, had encountered the series on a number of occasions. The examples below show that he had a certain condescending affection for it, but his view of hospital life (presumably informed by his own lengthy hospital stays) was a far darker one.

The play opens with a recalcitrant elderly man, Flanders (Terence de Marney), receiving some nursing attention with ill grace. His neighbour in the next bed, Padstow (Tenniel Evans), is a totally different type of patient – happy to assist the nurses, he also sympathises that they have to deal with people as difficult as Flanders. As the play continues, Padstow’s personality is delineated a little more (we discover he’s a schoolteacher during the day and a lay preacher on Sundays, which maybe helps to explain his priggish attitude).

At first, Flanders’ irascible bad temper acts as an entertaining counterpoint to Padstow’s more restrained personality. But soon, the mood changes as Flanders begins to hurl a barrage of racist insults at the only black patient in the ward – Mr Adzola (Dan Jackson).

This was the era of Till Death Us Do Part of course, so the attitude of Flanders wouldn’t have been an isolated one. Flanders is an old, bitter man who becomes increasingly pitiable as the play progresses. Indeed, despite his attitudes, by the end it’s hard not to feel some sympathy for him.

Padstow wastes no time in expressing his revulsion to Flanders for his comments, but when Padstow later goes across to Adzola (to apologise for Flanders’ behaviour) he’s rather taken aback to learn that Adzola holds Flanders (not to mention the rest of his class) in extreme contempt. Potter’s refusal to paint Flanders and Adzola as simply villain and victim means that we close with a feeling of unrelieved tension – the individual viewer, with their own opinions and prejudices, will need to decide for themselves where their sympathies lie.

Broadcast live, Emergency-Ward 9 is fluidly directed by Gareth Davies. I didn’t spot many fluffs or production mishaps (although maybe they were later edited out of the telerecording). Given its hospital setting, it’s hard not to see echoes of The Singing Detective in it – so it’s a shame that it didn’t resurface during BBC4’s recent reruns of Potter’s 1986 serial (possibly the language might have been a stumbling block).

Out of the 285 plays produced for Thirty Minute Theatre, only 45 are known to exist. Given the talents involved, both in front of and behind the screen, that’s a depressingly low total. But there’s always hope that examples might still be out there somewhere – after all, Emergency-Ward 9 was only recovered in 2011 after a film collector saw it listed for sale and decided to take a punt.

Dixon of Dock Green

Good evening all.

Talking Pictures TV have recently started a re-run of the surviving episodes of Dixon of Dock Green. Sadly, even at the rate of one a week that won’t take them that long (432 episodes were broadcast during 1955 and 1976, only 32 still exist).

Given that so much is missing, it’s hard to get a feel for how the series developed during the 1950’s, 1960’s and 1970’s. Five consecutive episodes from the second series which aired in 1956 (Postman’s Knock, The Rotten Apple, The Roaring Boy, Pound of Flesh, Father In Law) are the earliest survivors and then we jump to 1960 (The Hot Seat) with another five B&W episodes remaining between 1963 and 1967 before arriving at the first colour episode still in the archives (Wasteland).

Although more colour episodes than black and white ones do survive, the picture is grim for the early 1970’s. Only three episodes from series 17-19 (1970 – 1972) are still around, and it’s clearly no coincidence that they were all-film productions (money could be saved by wiping and reusing videotapes, but that couldn’t happen with film – hence the reason why they fell through the wiping net).

Indeed, it’s not until the final two series (21 and 22, 1975 – 76) that things begin to pick up. A good chunk of series 21 still exists, and all of series 22 has been retained.

So what are the earliest (1956) episodes like? The telerecordings are a little crude (but then you need to remember that this was still a developing art – only three years earlier the process was deemed to be so unsatisfactory that the final four episodes of The Quatermass Experiment weren’t telerecorded at all).

If you can overlook the slightly murky picture quality, there’s still plenty of interest – for example a young Paul Eddington guesting in The Rotten Apple (11th August 1956) with an equally young Kenneth Cope appearing in the next episode –  The Roaring Boy (18th August 1956). Eddington is that rarest of things in the Dixon universe (a rotten copper) while Cope plays a gun-toting tearaway who holds George hostage. Cope has more than a hint of Dirk Bogarde about him, so it’s hard not to be reminded about how things went for PC Dixon in The Blue Lamp. Luckily for Dixon this time, he’s an indispensable part of the television series, so was able to walk away unscathed.

TPTV have said that all surviving episodes will air. I’ll keep an eye out to see if Molenzicht is one of them (it was left off the DVD release for unspecified rights reasons). I only have a rather washed-out colour copy in my collection, so it would be nice to see a better quality version (although if truth be told, it’s a bit of a dull tale that not even Maurice Roëves can lift).

Elsewhere on this blog are reviews of all the other colour episodes, written when the DVDs came out. My feelings at the time (which I’m happy to still stand by) is that they show the series was far stronger than its low reputation would have you believe.

The arrival of The Sweeney was seen by many as the final nail in Dixon’s coffin. And yet the tv schedules were surely big enough for the both of them. Not least because they were serving very different audiences – Dixon was an early evening programme, The Sweeney was firmly post-watershed.

And it’s always struck me as rather ironic that Ian Kennedy Martin (creator of The Sweeney) would later devise Juliet Bravo (a series that, like Dixon of Dock Green, eschewed car chases and shooters – instead concentrating on low key, character-driven drama). Juliet Bravo ran for six series, which suggests that the audience for the type of policing George Dixon served up for over twenty years was still there well into the 1980’s.

Book review: Drama in the Lab – The R.3 Story by Michael Seely

As Michael Seely states in his introduction, R.3 is a series that few people are likely to remember today. This is easily explained by the fact that it’s completely absent from the archives – none of its 26 episodes survive (all that’s left are a handful of telesnaps taken by John Cura, a few brief clips and the camera scripts).

Broadcast during 1964 and 1965, R.3 starred John Robinson as Sir Michael Gerrard, who headed up the Ministry of Research Centre No. 3 (otherwise known as R.3). This was a scientific research facility that attempted to produce results for the greater good, although things didn’t always go to plan ….

R.3’s scientific setting has led some to label it as a forerunner to Doomwatch, but Seely shows how that wasn’t really the case. Indeed, the scientists of R.3 weren’t averse to attempting risky experiments that the Doomwatch team would have had no hesitation in closing down!

Created by N.J. Crisp and Dr Stephen J.L. Black, chapter one of Drama in the Lab concentrates on the development of the programme. Gerard Glaister, later to work closely with Crisp (The Expert, The Brothers, Oil Strike North) was called upon to comment upon the revised series pitch and proffered some incisive opinions. It always interests me to learn how much actors and writers were paid, and there’s a good deal of information of that type provided (Elizabeth Sellars, who played Dr May Howard, was seen as something of a casting coup and therefore received considerably more money than John Robinson).

Robinson, of course, will always be remembered as the second television incarnation of Professor Quatermass. Given that role, possibly there was a little typecasting in play when he was offered the role of Sir Michael Gerrard (who by all accounts, could also be a little curt and abrasive). I’ve always found his Quatermass performance to be rather one note, so it’s interesting to ponder whether he was able to find a little more depth in Gerrard.

Elisabeth Sellars didn’t return for the second series, but there was a notable newcomer – Oliver Reed as Dr Richard Franklin. As with Robinson, we can only imagine what sort of impression the young Reed (who at this point was already beginning to gain a following via his work with Hammer) would have made in the series. But it’s easy to imagine it would have been a positive one.

Drama in the Lab is organized in an orderly fashion – it begins with an introduction for the first series (featuring a plethora of excerpts culled from the production paperwork – all of which I find fascinating). This is followed by chapters on each episode (which contain a detailed story synopsis, production notes and an analysis of the story). Series two follows the same format.

As I mentioned when reviewing Taste and Decency – The Swizzlewick Story, it’s such a pleasure to be able to gain an understanding of how a television series of this era was produced, not least to be able to eavesdrop on the various disputes and issues that occurred (William Emms, for example, did not enjoy his time on the series).

We know all about the production of Doctor Who of course, but every other series of the same vintage will have similar stories to tell – it’s just that someone like Michael Seely will have to spend a fair amount of time digging through the paperwork in order to produce a coherent story. That’s only going to happen for a handful of series, of course, but I’m glad that Seely has made the effort with R.3.

Drama in the Lab – The R.3 Story is another very worthwhile publication from Saturday Morning Press which shines a rewarding light on a long-lost and long-forgotten programme. The only disappointment is the knowledge that the series has gone for good (I suppose there’s always the chance a dusty film can or two is out there somewhere, but I’m not going to hold my breath). But even if R.3 is no more, this book offers a comprehensive look behind the scenes and I’m sure it will be appreciated by anyone with an interest in the production of British television during the 1960’s.

Drama in the Lab – The R.3 Story can be ordered from Saturday Morning Press via this link.

The Saint – The Russian Prisoner

Simon has just arrived in Geneva, but – as always – his leisure time turns out to be very brief.  Karel Jorovitch (Joseph Fürst) is a brilliant Russian scientist keen to defect and be reunited with his daughter. Jorovitch and Simon briefly meet and after Jorovitch later disappears, Simon is approached by Irma Jorovitch (Penelope Horner). She tells him that her father has been abducted by the Russians and is likely to be executed very soon …

Joseph Fürst, an impressive actor who seems fated to always be remembered for his hammy turn in Doctor Who (nothing in the world can make me forget it) impresses as the twitchy Jorovitch. After featuring so heavily in the first act, it’s slightly surprising that he then disappears from the story, but the reason for this is made clear at the end.

A stand out turn comes from Yootha Joyce as Milanov, the senior KGB operative charged with ensuring Jorovitch doesn’t step out of line. Joyce will always be best remembered for her 1970’s comedy work, but her cv during the 1960’s showed that she was equally adept at drama. Possibly owing a debt to Rosa Klebb, Milanov might be something of a cliché figure (the implacable KGB operative who’s a stranger to pity and compassion) but Joyce was too good a performer to let Milanov simply exist as a cardboard villain.

Sadly for her, Milanov has to rely on some inept muscle – namely Krill (Godfrey Quigley) and Pytor (Anthony Booth). Simon is able to run rings around them time and time again – most entertainingly during a fight in his hotel room (where prop furniture shatters with reckless abandon).

Guy Deghy as the always apoplectic Inspector Oscar Kleinhaus, Robert Crewdson as Mikhail Zhukov (who sports a strange beard) and Sandor Elès as the phlegmatic hotel receptionist Andre fill out the minor roles.

The major guest role goes to Penelope Horner as Irma. The second of her three Saint appearances, Horner gives a winningly winsome performance as Irma – although there always seems to be something unfathomable about her.

All is revealed at the conclusion of the episode when  – spoiler alert – she turns out be yet another Russian agent and not Jorovitch’s daughter after all (Jorovitch has actually sought and received asylum – so the Russians decide to spin Simon a tall tale and hope that he’ll do their dirty work for them).

This brings the story to a neat conclusion, although it doesn’t quite satisfy me (why did Irma turn up in Geneva long before Jorovitch defected?). But minor quibbles apart, this is entertaining fare with Roger Moore in fine quipping form and the stock footage integrating very well with the studio material. Four halos out of five.

Back to Christmas 1983 (30th December 1983)

We’re finishing off the fortnight with something of a whimper rather than a bang. But on the BBC there’s still a good afternoon film – Hitchcock’s Notorious and during the evening there’s Jasper Carrott’s review of the year in Carrott’s Lib.

Over on ITV we’re about midway through the first series of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet. Today’s episode – Private Lives – is a S1 highlight. Dennis and Dagmar are becoming an item – but he’s keen to keep it a secret from the lads. As you might expect this turns out to be impossible, even in a city as large as Hamburg.

Over on C4 there’s another chance for Max Boyce to meet the Dallas Cowboys.

And that’s it for my fortnight in 1983. Thanks to anyone who’s managed to stay the course with me. All being well, next year it’ll be December 1984 …

Back to Christmas 1983 (29th December 1983)

The Radio 1 DJ’s are still in a festive mood as they introduce some of this year’s best sellers in today’s TOTP. Highlights include JoBoxers with (what else?) Boxer Beat, The Cure (resisting the temptation to get into a party mood) who give us The Lovecats and a very smart-looking Belle Starrs performing Sign of the Times. Throughout the show – as you’d expect from a Michael Hurll production – balloons are in plentiful supply.

Over on ITV there’s StingrayA Christmas to Remember which is worth it for the skating scene alone (it still impresses me nearly 50 years on).

Highlight of the day is The Sooty Story – The First Thirty Years. I adore the behind the scenes footage and it’s so lovely to see Harry and Sooty back together.

Later on ITV there’s Shelley. We’ve reached series six, which saw Shelley living apart from Fran. Although some regard the Fran years as the best, I’ve a lot of time for the post Fran era – not least because it allowed Shelley the chance to interact with a wider group of characters (a lot of series four felt like it just revolved around Shelley and Fran sitting at the kitchen table, eyeing ever-growing piles of bills).

Today’s episode finds a curmudgeonly Shelley reluctantly joining a party next door (Rebecca Saire, Richard Austin, Yolanda Palfrey and Marsha Fitzalan play some of the bright young things guaranteed to make Shelley feel his age). Along with the series closer, which posed the question as to whether Shelley and Fran would ever get back together (spoiler – they don’t) it’s the strongest episode from this run. The series would then take a break before returning in 1988.

Back to Christmas 1983 (28th December 1983)

Ah, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without The Great Escape. Although this was its first festive outing on the BBC since 1971, The Great Escape would also return during Christmas 1985 and 1987, so you can see why it’s associated with tinsel and holly for so many people.

The film was adapted from the book of the same name by Paul Brickhill. Brickhill knew what he was talking about (he was an inmate of Stalag Luft III and assisted in the escape attempt, although his claustrophobia ensured he wasn’t able to take part in the Great Escape itself). The movie, as you’d expect, diverts somewhat from Brickhill’s book (and that didn’t tell the whole story anyway) but there’s no point in spending too much time in historical nit-picking. Whatever the truth is, it’s still a memorable movie.

You  get the feeling that BBC1 and BBC2 have already spent most of their original programming money, so today there’s only thin pickings. I would have watched The Case of the Frightened Lady, adapted by Victor Pemberton, but I can’t track it down (unless anyone knows differently?) so sadly it’s off the list.

I’ll be able to carry on with Chessgame on ITV and then an early night I think.

Back to Christmas 1983 (27th December 1983)

Post Christmas things quieten down a little, but there’s still several programmes of interest. Pride of place on BBC1 is Last of the Summer WineGetting Sam Home.

This was the first in a series of extended all film, no laugh track Christmas sitcom specials (the likes of Only Fools and Horses and Just Good Friends would follow in LOTWS‘s footsteps). The humour is blacker than usual – the trio agree to take the ailing Sam (Peter Russell) on a final jaunt to his mistress, Lily Bless Her (Lynda Baron). The problem is that Sam enjoys himself just a little too much and dies. Which leaves Compo, Clegg and Foggy with a substantial problem – how to get Sam’s body back home to his wife in double quick time ….

Getting Sam Home was published as a novel in 1974. Clarke’s 1983 adaptation of his 1974 book seems to stick pretty close the original (apart from, obviously, replacing Blamire with Foggy). This helps to explain why tonally it has more in common with the bleaker early years of the series than the broader slapstick antics of the 1980’s and beyond. It won’t be to everyone’s taste (there are a couple of remarkably sniffy reviews on IMDb) but I’ve always loved it even though it’s sad to see an ailing John Comer (who, suffering from throat cancer, had to be dubbed by Tony Melody). Comer passed away, aged just 59, in early 1984.

Top top – the BBC4 broadcast on the 24th of December has been remastered, so that should be the version to watch.

Over on BBC2 there’s The Two Gentlemen of Verona. It’s hardly top tier Shakespeare, but this is an enjoyable production peopled with plenty of familiar faces.

ITV’s afternoon treat is The Wind in the Willows. Adapted by Rosemary Anne Sisson, this Cosgrove/Hall production features the vocal talents of David Jason, Ian Carmichael, Richard Pearson and Michael Hordern in the main roles.

The Morecambe & Wise Christmas Show (1982)

For the seasoned M&W watcher, the 1982 Christmas special contains an awful lot of recycled material. Quite why Eric & Ernie revisited so many of their old routines during their last few years together is a little bit of a mystery. Several possibilities have been advanced – maybe Eddie Braben was running out of ideas or it might have been that Morecambe & Wise (especially following Eric’s second heart attack) were less confident with fresh material and so preferred to work with scripts that they knew should guarantee them laughs.

The show opens with a bombshell – Eric announces that they are retiring. Given that they were approaching the end of their career, there’s something slightly uncomfortable about this. Although at this point it does seem more like a gag rather than a coded statement – it was during 1983 that Eric began to have serious doubts about continuing and began to look forward to a peaceful retirement as a writer.

During the show, Eric phones up a number of potential guests – Denis Healey, Glenda Jackson, Andre Previn, Jimmy Young, Diana Dors – all of whom he manages to insult (causing them to slam down the phone and shake their heads). This was another old BBC favourite of course, although back in the BBC days they did manage to wangle some very big names (like Laurence Olivier). Today’s crop are perfectly fine, but (due to the fact that many already had an association with Eric & Ernie) their brief appearances don’t quite have the same impact.

Today’s sole musical guests are Wall Street Crash. They may be forgotten today (despite a lengthy career – albeit with numerous personnel changes – between 1980 and 2007) but their style of music chimed exactly with Eric and Ernie, who joins them in white top hats and tails for an entertaining musical item. This, like the rest of the show, features some familiar material (such as the reveal that Eric’s piano prowess is due to him having an impossible number of fingers on each hand).

A video shop sketch (with Valerie Minifie once again acting as a mostly silent stooge) is followed by a fairly lengthy piece (just over seven minutes) featuring Richard Vernon interviewing a pair of explorers – Eric & Ernie of course. Like Tommy Cooper, Eric seemed to adore props and gadgets and several are wheeled out here for a laugh. Vernon’s a good straight man, but possibly the problem is that he’s a little too straight, meaning that the sketch never really catches fire.

The best sketch of the evening takes place inside a lingerie store, where Little Ern (attempting to buy a bra for his sister) has to overcome his embarrassment with the lady behind the counter (played by Patricia Brake). Eric, of course, offers him his usual wholehearted support ….

A familiar sketch from the BBC era (show 4.3) it sticks very closely to the original. The one change is that Brake is made up to look dowdier than Ann Hamilton was, which means that Eric’s parting insult comes across as quite cruel.

The star guest power of today’s show doesn’t seem quite as great as, say, the 1981 special. Robert Hardy is wheeled on for another appearance – his front curtain banter with Eric & Ernie has all been road-tested before (the banana part with Sir John Mills, for example).

When you have every existing show to hand, this sort of thing can be a problem, but back in 1982 (when they were reusing gags from the previous decade that may not have been seen since their original broadcasts) it mattered less. After all, one of their most famous routines – with Andre Previn in 1971 – was a rehash of a sketch from their 1960’s days at ATV.

I enjoyed the Chattanooga Choo Choo skit, with M&W playing multiple characters. This leads into the play – set in the Yukon during the goldrush. The introductory text places us firmly in the early 1980’s (mentioning both British Leyland and Freddie Laker). Rula Lenska vamps it up very agreeably – a pity that she didn’t get a front curtain introduction before the play, but since this special only runs for fifty minutes (unlike some of the BBC specials which lasted over an hour) time was obviously a little tight.

So there we are. Taken in isolation, this is a perfectly enjoyable fifty minutes, although for me it’s impossible not to keep mentally referring to the original performances and comparing and contrasting. Mind you, if musicians can perform sets of their greatest hits, there should be no reason why comedians can’t do so as well …

Back to Christmas 1983 (26th December 1983)

Things kick off today with that hardy Christmas perennial The Good Life (Silly But It’s Fun). Later there’s The Paul Daniels Magic Show in which Paul gets out his magic kettle (not the most thrilling of illusions it has to be said). Still, there’s some good specialty acts as well as the chance to see the largest Christmas Pudding ever (that should be worth the price of admission alone).

Kenny Everett is joined by The Police (as well as Frank Thornton, Sheila Steafel, Willie Rushton, Lennie Bennett, Lionel Blair, Billy Connolly and Fern Britton). Expect to see naughty bits.

There’s another chance to see The Treasure of Abbot Thomas, a Ghost Story for Christmas from 1974 starring Michael Bryant, Paul Lavers, Frank Mills and Sheila Dunn.

Give Us A Clue, Coronation Street and The Spy Who Loved Me on ITV are followed by Eric and Ernie’s Christmas Show. In retrospect, this is a melancholy watch as (apart from Night Train To Murder, broadcast after Eric’s death) this was their last hurrah.

I’ve gone through the whole card this December  – all their Xmas specials from 1969 to 1983. I haven’t changed my opinion about the likes of 1972 (a very disappointing effort) although these days I hold the Thames era in a little more esteem. Yes, the recycled material is never quite as good the second time around, but the magic’s still there (albeit flickering faintly at times).

I may catch Minder’s Christmas Bonus although it’s fairly disposable – new linking scenes in the Winchester which wrap around recycled clips from previous stories.

The Morecambe & Wise Christmas Show (1981)

The opening credits introduces us to the guest stars. This is a nice touch and something that hasn’t been done since the early 1970’s BBC specials.

Little Ern is told by Eric that he’s been made the next Lord Mayor of Peterborough. And to prove it he’s given an impressive chain of office (“Fidelity, Integrity, Diligence, Obedience”). Hmm, I wonder what the initials of those words spell out?

This is another example of a very familiar Eric and Ernie trope – Eric conning the gullible Ern into believing that he’s about to receive an honour. It works because (as always) their interaction is spot on (the business with the top hat, for example). The reveal of the statue is also a nice touch.

Throughout the show we frequently cut to a snooker match between Steve Davis and Eric (Ernie has a passive role as the referee). Steve can’t pot a ball and Eric can’t miss (thanks to slick editing). Having won his first World title earlier in the year, Steve was a good sport to play along and it looks like he brought the actual World Championship trophy for Eric to briefly handle.

Next we cross to the flat, where Ernie is preparing to meet not only Robert Hardy but also Sir Ralph Richardson. In story terms, Hardy’s presence seems superfluous (Sir Ralph is the one that Ern wants to nab for his latest and greatest play) but maybe there  were concerns that Sir Ralph wouldn’t be able to handle all the byplay, so possibly Hardy was brought in to help shoulder the load.

And it’s true that Richardson does seem to be a little disconnected (although that seemed to be his public persona at the best of times). He warms up as time goes on though and genuinely seems to enjoying interacting with Eric and Ernie. In years gone by, this sort of preamble with a guest would occur before they appeared in the play but that’s pretty much your lot today for Sir Ralph (other stars later pop up in a totally different play).

Suzanne Danielle arrives to provide a touch of glam for the big song and dance number which is followed by a Health Food shop sketch that’s fairly inconsequential (although it does later provide the tag for the play).

Alvin Stardust has to withstand a fair bit of front curtain banter from Eric (which he takes in good heart) and then has to perform a song with the boys doing their best to upstage him. This is another very familiar M&W trope – although it’s interesting that in earlier days the musical guest would then be given the chance to sing another song without interference (poor Alvin doesn’t get this opportunity though).

Tonight’s play is another Shakespeare remake – Julius Caesar. Ian Ogilvy and Susannah York are dragged out in front of the curtain for some pre-play banter. Susannah seems a little nervous – she begins by calling Ernie the wrong name (Eric being Eric, of course, can’t let a slip of the tongue like that pass without comment).

Given the period, it’s not surprising that the play rehashes some moments from the earlier Cleopatra (with Glenda Jackson). What interests me more is just how basic the set is – an intentional choice or evidence that Thames couldn’t afford the same budgets that the BBC did?

We conclude the show with the whole guest ensemble (including Sir Ralph) dressed in overcoats, scarfs and flat caps – exiting the stage in the time honoured fashion. A joyous way to end a strong festive special.

Back to Christmas 1983 (25th December 1983)

Merry Christmas Everybody!

It’s 2.00 pm on Christmas Day so that means it’s time for the Top of the Pops Christmas Special. Mike Smith is one of those on presenting duties so I wouldn’t expect to see this one turn up on BBC4 anytime soon.

It’s a fair so-so sort of show, although Bucks Fizz did catch my eye (both Cheryl and Jay both looking rather fine) plus there’s also Heaven 17 with Temptation.

It’s the end of an era for Blankety Blank as Terry Wogan presents his final show. Appearing today – Roy Kinnear, Beryl Reid, Patrick Moore, Sabina Franklyn, Freddie Starr and Ruth Madoc. It’s slightly less elaborate than some of the previous Xmas shows (which featured two separate panels of celebs – not to mention various japes and special guests). In retrospect though, this show is a memorable once since it featured the appearance of Tom Moore (later to raise over 30 million for the NHS).

BBC1’s afternoon film is the Disney version of Treasure Island. Featuring Robert Newton as Long John Silver (impossible now to watch his performance and not think of Tony Hancock) who is backed up by an impressive roster of British character actors (the likes of John Laurie, Geoffrey Keen and Patrick Troughton). This means that the very American Bobby Driscoll (as Jim Lad) sticks out like a sore thumb, but that apart it’s very agreeable. Alas, there was no happy ending for Driscoll, who died of drug abuse aged just 31. Sorry to bring the mood down a little.

BBC1 wins the evening with The Two Ronnies and a feature length All Creatures Great & Small. Shot on film, All Creatures picks up the story post WW2 with a demobbed James returning home. Another one-off would surface a few years later before the series proper returned in 1988.

Only Fools & Horses has yet to assume pride of place on Christmas Day (today’s episode only runs for the normal 30 minutes and doesn’t air until 9.35). But it’s worth waiting for – as Del and Rodney’s estranged father Reg Trotter (Peter Woodthorpe) returns to detonate some bombshells …

Thicker Than Water has a very small cast (apart from the regulars, only Woodthorpe and Michèle Winstanley as Karen the barmaid are credited). Woodthorpe is typically solid and it’s the last chance to see Lennard Pearce as Grandad (Pearce would die very early on during production of the next series – which meant that the character of Grandad was swiftly replaced with that of Uncle Albert).

Once again, time is limited for ITV and C4 picks (plus there’s not much that I can source) but I’ll be tuning in for The Revenge of the Pink Panther.

Back to Christmas 1983 (24th December 1983)

BBC1 offers us another opportunity to see the final episode of Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em (originally broadcast five years earlier on Christmas Day). Dick Bentley (his last television credit), Frederick Jaeger, Tenniel Evans and Christopher Biggins are amongst those guesting.

A devoted Limahl fan has ensured that today’s edition of Pop Quiz is available to view. The former lead singer of Kajagoogoo (he was unceremoniously fired in mid 1983) teams up with Midge Ure and Roger Taylor (of Queen) to take on Mari Wilson, Leee John and Dave Edmunds.

At one point, Mike Read gets his guitar out, but thankfully the professionals do most of the singing …

Over on BBC2, the Bardathon continues with The Comedy of Errors. Plenty of familiar faces – Charles Gray, Cyril Cusack, Michael Kitchen, Frank Williams, Ingrid Pitt, Noel Johnson, Wendy Hillier – appear, most notably Roger Daltrey who gives us his Dromio (and very good he is too).

Val Doonican welcomes Howard Keel and The Nolans to his Christmas Eve show. It would have been nice to see this one on BBC4 rather than the oft-repeated example they’ve dug out again this year.

After Val’s faded away, there’s Bergerac and The Ice Maiden, which features the debut of Liza Goddard as Phillipa Vale (someone who would haunt Jim for a number of years to come).

Next it’s off to the City Varieties, Leeds and your own, your very own, Leonard Sachs with a festive Good Old Days. It was nearly the end of the road for the series, but there was still time for the likes of Bernard Cribbins, Barry Cryer and Danny La Rue to entertain us (not to mention, of course, a chorus of Down at the Old Bull and Bush).

That’s a pretty packed BBC schedule, so I won’t have too much time to spend with ITV and C4 today. But I might just have time to squeeze in the Christmas Eve special of Punchlines.

The Morecambe & Wise Christmas Show (1980)

This December I’ve been tackling all of the Morecambe & Wise Christmas Shows (from 1969 to 1983).  My thoughts on the 1969 – 1979 shows can already been found elsewhere on the blog (having revisited the words what I’ve previously wrote, my opinions haven’t changed that much – I still find the 1972 and 1975 specials to be something of a slog, for example).

Following the low-key 1979 special, 1980 saw the boys back in harness. After a decent opening crosstalk (notable for the way Ern exits locked inside a life-sized wallet) we jump straight into a park-bench sketch with Eric, Ernie and Peter Vaughan. Vaughan plays to type as a menacing individual who intimidates the unfortunate Eric (Ern’s on hand to spur Eric on – which only serves to inflame Peter Vaughan all the more). Whether intentionally or not, this reminds me of a Hancock/Sid James scene. The sketch ends with the appearance of Mick McManus (a celeb who you have to be a certain age to recognise). I’m sure most of the readers of this blog will know exactly who he is ….

Next, Eric and Ernie invite Jill Gascoine round for Christmas dinner. This was a virtual word for word remake of an old BBC sketch with Ann Hamilton. It doesn’t work quite as well this time round (at one point Eric fluffs a line about the number of bottles of ginger wine Ern drinks at Christmas). The gag about Ann buying Eric an identical tie every Christmas worked because of her long association with the boys, so it’s a pity they repeated this with Jill as she didn’t have the same history (meaning that the moment doesn’t make any sense).

There then follows a musical number with Eric, Ernie and Jill dressed (of course) in police uniforms.

If you’ve got the original Network DVD of series one of the Thames M&W shows (with the second disc containing the first four specials) then it’s worth holding onto, as the more recent release (Morecambe & Wise at Thames) snipped out a four minute chunk which featured Eric dressed as Rolf Harris. On the one hand I can see why they did this, but it’s still an irritation. As someone who watches 1970’s/1980’s television on a regular basis, I frequently encounter people who are now persona non grata (I’d prefer to be the one to decide whether I watch them or forward on).

Glenda Jackson pops by for a quick sketch and Peter Cushing (more about him anon) is another familiar face who enlivens proceedings. Today’s biggest star guest though, is undoubtedly Alec Guinness. It’s a pity he doesn’t have more to do (although his sketch is still a good one). He does turn up at the end, but we’re cruelly denied the opportunity to see him sing Bring Me Sunshine with Eric and Ernie.

Hannah Gordon and Peter Barkworth are today’s front curtain banter guests. Hannah Gordon had previously crossed swords with M&W on the BBC but it was all new to Barkworth – and it’s a joy to witness his nervous apprehension as he desperately trys to wriggle out of his commitments. Off hand, I don’t think Peter Barkworth tackled comedy that often, which makes his appearance here more noteworthy.

The play (little Ern’s rewrite of Hamlet) is typical enough fare and (thankfully) unlike some of the later BBC Christmas show plays doesn’t outstay its welcome – it’s around the ten minute mark.

Throughout the show, there are numerous quickie sketches featuring Eric & Ernie as a pair of carol singers attempting to extract a few pennies from Number 10. The payoff – after the credits have rolled – is that (through sheer force of will) the unseen person inside Number 10 who has forced the boys to put their own money in the collection box is none other than Peter Cushing! After all these years he’s finally been paid ….

Back to Christmas 1983 (23rd December 1983)

BBC2 offers more treats than BBC1 today – first there’s M*A*S*H (The Birthday Girls) which is followed by The Everly Brothers Reunion Concert and rounded off with The Marx Brothers in Monkey Business.

There’s another chance to see Pop Goes Christmas on ITV. Originally broadcast in 1982, it features some very 1982ish acts (Musical Youth, Toto Coleo) as well as others who have stood the test of time (Dexys Midnight Runners, David Essex). It seems to have disappeared from YouTube which is a shame as it’s great (if occasionally perplexing) fun. Many acts get to perform two songs – one of their own as well as a classic Christmas tune (Dexys’ interpretation of Merry Christmas Everybody is certainly different). Worth tracking down if you can do so.

“And you have won a prize!” It’s the Max Bygraves era of Family Fortunes. At the time, and especially following Bob’s effortless command of the show, Max’s presentation seemed a lot more slapdash. But I’ve grown to find it appealing over the years (possibly as I nudge closer to Max’s age). Today there’s two teams of celebs battling it out – Agony Aunts vs TV-AM Presenters.

That’s My Boy is calling me, but I think I’ll be strong enough to resist. More intriguing is Pride of our Alley, a Gracie Frields biopic written by Alan Plater and directed by Michael Ferguson. Polly Hemmingway plays Gracie, with the likes of Barry Jackson, George Pravda and Michael Angelis also appearing.

If I had time I’d watch The Party (Peter Sellers) but I’m pretty booked up today, so I’ll put that on the virtual VHS and maybe dig it out on a quieter day. I will catch An Audience With Kenneth Williams though.

Back to Christmas 1983 (22nd December 1983)

After yesterday’s disappointing offerings, there’s richer pickings available today. We begin with the final episode of Angels – Vicky Smith (Pauline Quirke) is just one of the regulars facing difficult decisions. Is this the end of an era at Heath Green? As the series didn’t return, I’d say yes ….

The always phlegmatic John Peel and David (“Kid”) Jensen are your Top of the Pops hosts today. We kick off with Slade and (what else?) Merry Christmas Everybody (“It’s Christmas!”). Other treats include George Cole and Dennis Waterman performing What Are We Gonna Get ’Er Indoors? Most of it is spoken word, which is probably just as well as Cole’s brief attempts at solo singing are memorable for all the wrong reasons. The Flying Pickets close the show with the Christmas No 1 – Only You.

Originally broadcast on the 11th of December, there’s another chance to see this year’s Sports Review of the Year. Most of it is available on YT (the same channel has other editions of a similar vintage in addition to oodles of other interesting material). This is the imperial era of the programme, with a besuited Des Lynam effortlessly in charge. As everybody knows, it was never the same after they changed the name to Sports Personality of the Year.

Just prior to the Christmas Day episode, today’s offering of Only Fools and Horses (3.7 – Who’s A Pretty Boy?) sees the debut of both Denzil (Paul Barber) and Mike (Kenneth MacDonald). Also appearing is Eva Mottley as Denzil’s wife Corinne (sadly Eva Mottley would die shortly afterwards, with the character not recast but now just existing off-screen). A bearded David Jackson is on good form as the intimidating
Brendan O’Shaughnessy.

It’s just as well that the BBC have come up trumps today as ITV and C4 aren’t offering me too much …

 

Back to Christmas 1983 (21st December 1983)

Apart from Jackanory (Peter Pan), it’s a very thin day on BBC1 and BBC2. Even if I had access to everything, there’s little that’s catching my eye (maybe the Championship Darts on BBC2 might have appealed).

Thankfully there’s Coronation Street on ITV (with furore promised at the pigeon race).

That apart there’s only Chessgame with Terence Stamp to enjoy. It’s a slow-moving spy story (this one adapted by John Brason from the novel by Anthony Price). Good stuff if you’re in the right mood (like all the Network titles, the prices are slowly creeping up as the stock decreases, so if you fancy watching it then it’s probably best to pick it up sooner rather than later).

Back To Christmas 1983 (20th December 1983)

We’re nearly at the end of Angels (today’s episode is the penultimate one). I’ve waxed lyrical elsewhere on the blog about my love for the original incarnation of Angels, but I’ve found the series’ restructure (into the twice-weekly half hour “soap” format) harder to get into. Still, I think I’ll dip into these final two episodes and maybe 2024 will be the year I begin tackle the whole run (all 220 episodes) in earnest.

I’ll follow that with the second episode of No Place Like Home. It’s a very trad sitcom, but the cast are so good – headed by William Gaunt as the long-suffering Arthur Crabtree – that I find it slips by very easily.

One of the best of Network’s (RIP) final DVD releases was the Michael Aspel era of Give Us A Clue. That’ll certainly be pressed into service today as Angela Rippon, Sylvia Sims and Victoria Wood join Una and Leslie Crowther, Stu (“I could crush a grape”) Francis and Gerald Harper pitch up to assist Lionel.

Unfortunately, I can’t source the complete Des O’Connor Show, but the interview with Ken Dodd is available.