It should have been an easy job for Terry (Dennis Waterman) – a simple case of minding Alfie Cavallo (Dave King) as he collected the money from his string of coin-operated laundrettes.  But a bungled armed robbery, led by Stretch (Trevor Thomas), meant that Terry, Alfie and the unfortunate Mrs Mayhew (Hilary Mason) are taken hostage and a tense stand-off with the police begins.

Richard Marson’s recent book about Verity Lambert describes how she green-lit Minder after listening to a five minute pitch.  Her snap decision paid off as it remained one of ITV’s top-rated dramas for the next fifteen years.  During that time the tone of the series certainly changed, as it became a more comedic, family friendly series – which wasn’t to the liking of everyone (especially Dennis Waterman, who left after the seventh series mainly because he’d felt the show had lost its edge).

Gunfight at the O.K. Laundrette, the first episode (originally broadcast on the 29th of October 1979), retains more of the harder edge of the earlier series, but there’s still plenty of humour mixed in.  It does feel slightly odd though, mainly due to the library music used.  Stock music was often used in Waterman’s (and Euston Films’) previous series, The Sweeney, but it just feels out of place in the early episodes.

The immediate aftermath of the bungled robbery (the shotgun accidentally goes off, wounding Alfie) is probably the weakest part of the episode.  In story terms, it’s important that the police know what’s happened, but the timetable is too contrived.  A shot goes off, a police-car appears from nowhere, an officer sees the hostages being moved to the back room and then calls for reinforcements.  All this seems to take place in a matter of seconds!

Minder was originally planned to be a vehicle for Dennis Waterman and he’s certainly central to this story.  George Cole is much more peripheral, although he’s still highly entertaining.  I love the moment when he breaches the police barrier by the launderette, breezily telling a policeman that he’s with the serious crime squad.  His ability to make money is also readily apparent – he’s able to sell a photo of Terry’s fiance (in fact a girl he’s only spoken to twice) to the newspapers for a tidy sum.

Terry, Alfie and Mrs Mayhew are moved into the back room by Stretch and his two accomplices, Winston (William Vanderpuye) and Cosmo (Leroi Samuels).  Both of them are little more than kids and it’s obvious that they’re in way over their heads.  Stretch is the dangerous one – as it seems likely that he’ll use the gun, Terry slowly begins to chip away at him.

He tells him that attempted armed robbery will get him seven years, but he’ll probably be out within five.  When Stretch asks him how he knows so much, Terry wryly tells him that he used to keep bad company whilst Alfie chips in that he was bad company.  Both Terry and Alfie are old lags, but they’ve done their time and have no wish to go back.

But whilst Terry is earning a (mostly) honest living, it’s one that he admits gives him little job satisfaction – since it consists of  throwing drunks out of strip clubs and providing people with a bit of muscle.  For someone who (as we’ll learn in more depth later on) could have been a contender, it’s something of a come-down.

Leon Griffiths (named after Leon Trotsky by his mother) had been contributing scripts to popular series since the early 1960’s.  The Four Just Men, The Adventures of Robin Hood, Ghost Squad, Out of the Unknown, The Return of the Saint and Hazel were just some of the shows that benefited from his scripting.

But Minder was the first time that he’d devised a show, rather than take on somebody else’s characters and situations.  Although in the end the number of episodes he wrote was fairly small compared to the total number made (15 out of 109) he still set the tone and template for all the writers who followed in his wake.

All the hallmarks of early Minder are contained within this one episode.  Grimy, seedy London (with Terry a regular around the strip-bars of Soho), Arthur’s subtle (and not so subtle) manipulation of Terry and a confrontational relationship with the police.  Terry might be straight now, but he knows that since he’s got a record, he’s a marked man and it’s his uneasy relationship with the law (as well as the conflict between him and Arthur) which would drive the series for a good many years.

Following George Cole’s recent death, I had a hankering to watch some episodes of Minder as a tribute.  In the end I plumped for the seventh series – which for me is one of Minder‘s strongest runs.

Although the earlier episodes are grittier, there’s something rather appealing about these six episodes (broadcast in early 1989).  Partly, it’s the quality guest stars – Minder had always attracted decent casts, but there seems to be even more familiar faces in these episodes (Roy Kinnear and Ronald Fraser in this one and the likes of Brian Blessed and Ian McShane later on).

Some people though, especially Dennis Waterman, had decided that Minder had become too comedic and had lost its edge (which was the reason he decided to leave at the end of this series).  I personally disagree, but although Minder carried on for several more years the departure of Waterman was the clear end of an era.

One notable aspect of It’s a Sorry Lorrie Morrie is the gentle highlighting of Waterman’s advancing years.  Terry has always famously been a bird magnet, but when he attempts to chat up a young woman in the launderette he gets short shrift – she tells him he reminds her of her father!  It’s got nothing to do with the plot, it’s just a nice character moment that acknowledges his advancing years.

The plot’s quite simple – Arthur buys a job-lot of electrical goods from Morrie (James Marcus).  Terry picks them up and drops them off at Arthur’s new car-site.  Of course, the goods are stolen and the police stake the van out – waiting for the criminals to return.  Terry’s prints are all over the cab, so he faces a lengthy stretch inside.

But the joy of Minder isn’t the plot, it’s the interactions of the characters.  George Cole’s on fine form as the temporarily world-weary Arthur, who’s persuaded by the eager young Justin (Mark Farmer) to make a deal with Morrie.  Justin is Arthur Daley’s number one fan – for reasons never quite explained – and he mistakenly thinks he’s doing Arthur a favour by introducing him to Morrie.

Ronald Fraser is perfectly cast as the booze-soddled Self-Inflicted Sid.  Sid is a pathetic character – someone who hangs around the fringes of the criminal fraternity, hoping to be accepted.  He looks pretty mean, thanks to a large scar down the side of his face, although Arthur tells Justin that Sid did the damage himself (with a razor) in the hope it would make him more acceptable to the criminals he wanted to emulate.

Although the tone of the episode is quite light, there’s a dark moment when Arthur asks Sid to torch the van under the noses of the watching police.  If the van is torched, then Terry’s fingerprints are destroyed and he’s off the hook.  Arthur has no compunction in manipulating Sid, especially since he knows that Sid will do anything he’s asked, but Terry does have a moment of conscience.  But the moment passes, and Sid sets off to do the deed.

Chisholm (Patrick Malahide) departed during the 1988 Christmas special, An Officer and a Car Salesman, so DS Rycott (Peter Childs) is now the senior officer tasked with making Arthur’s life a misery – although DS Jones (Mark Povey) has stepped out of Chisolm’s shadow and is quite keen to make Rycott’s life a mystery too.

Peter Childs’ performances during series seven are another reason why these episodes are so enjoyable.  Sadly. they would be his last appearances as Rycott, as he died in late 1989 at the age of just fifty.  Later series of Minder would feature various actors in the police roles (including a young Stephen Tompkinson) but none had the comic chops of Childs.

The best moment comes when Arthur and the others drive round to see how many police are staking out the van.  Arthur’s in the back of another van and he pops his head up to look out the back window – straight into Rycott’s unbelieving face!  It’s clearly signposted before it happens, but that makes the moment even better – between Cole’s shocked expression and Childs’ unbelieving stare, it’s comedy gold.  Luckily for Arthur, Rycott passes it off as an hallucination!

Another interesting touch is that although Morrie swindles Arthur out of five thousand pounds for a van-load of goods that he’s had to destroy, Morrie isn’t forced to pay the money back.  Arthur does make a little money (thanks to another of Justin’s schemes) but Morrie walks away.  This might be a hint that Terry’s days as a top-line minder are coming to an end.

Morrie has some imposing muscle (including a pre-Eastenders Steve McFadden) and although Terry throws a few punches, he’s persuaded to walk away.  Maybe it was felt it wouldn’t be realistic for Waterman to beat two much younger men, and this might have been another reason why Waterman decided to leave the series.

All this and Roy Kinnear’s last small screen appearance as well – It’s a Sorry Lorry Morrie is a cracking episode.

Mr Mukerjee (Saeed Jaffrey) is offered Terry’s assistance to help guard his newsagents shop following a series of attacks.  Initially it seems to be the work of kids, but it quickly becomes obvious that Mukerjee has been less than honest with either Arthur or Terry.

He’s offered his daughter’s hand in marriage to multiple families (collecting a hefty fee each time).  Unfortunately for him, Mr Aslam (Ahmed Khalil) was one of his victims and now he wants his money back.  And Mukerjee’s daughter, Indira (Shireen Anwar), doesn’t want to take part in an arranged marriage – she only has eyes for Kev (Mike Grady).

The Bengal Tiger is a fascinating time capsule of the period.  Partly because of Mukerjee’s newsagents shop, which is piled high with long vanished products.  For example, I spotted copies of the comic Misty on the shelves – this might have been a girls comic, but thanks to its spooky supernatural stories it was one I was happy to read back then!

The other thing that dates the story is, of course, the attitudes and opinions that we see expressed.  Mukerjee, although nicely played by Jaffrey, is something of a cliche.  He may, or may not, be an illegal immigrant (he’s been in the country for decades but can’t remember if he has official citizenship) and during this time he’s picked up certain English speech mannerisms which are intermingled with his strong Indian accent.  But although he’s a broad stereotype (reinforced by the fact he’s sold his daughter umpteen times) there’s a certain twinkle in Jaffrey’s performance which prevents him from being a totally unlikable character.

If Mukerjee still retains something of his ethnic roots, then his daughter Indira is the complete opposite.  She has a broad Cockney accent and has no interest in even contemplating an arranged marriage.  Shireen Anwar is delightful as the outspoken Indira and whilst it’s clear that she immediately captures Terry’s attention, she only has eyes for the gormless Kev.  Mike Grady has made a good career out of playing gormless characters (Citizen Smith, Last of the Summer Wine) and Kev is another addition to this list.  There doesn’t seem to be any obvious reason why the vivacious Indira should be attracted to him – so it must be love.

There’s some great banter between Arthur and Terry in this episode.  It doesn’t advance the plot at all, but it’s just lovely to see.  Early on, Terry tells Arthur that he’s thinking of jacking the job in – throwing drunks out of pubs and repossessing cars isn’t a fulfilling career for him.  He then mentions that he’s contemplating a career in computers, much to Arthur’s intense amusement.  Arthur tells him he can’t even work a pocket calculator, so how would he be able to deal with a computer?  After a moment, Terry reluctantly agrees, but remains convinced he could learn!

Later, Arthur drops off a number of frost-damaged freezers (yes, Terry wondered how freezers could be frost damaged as well!) to Terry’s flat in the early hours of the morning.  This is classic Arthur, as the notion that Terry may not be keen to take delivery of the freezers obviously never even crossed his mind.  And when Terry wonders why Arthur couldn’t store them at his house, he has plenty of decent excuses.  They wouldn’t go with the flock wallpaper for a start and what would happen when his friends from the Lodge came over for a drink?  It wouldn’t create the right impression, would it?

There’s some familiar faces on view.  Stanley Lebor, later to play Howard Hughes in Ever Decreasing Circles, here takes his more familiar 1970’s role as a heavy (his fight with Terry concludes the story).  Spencer Banks (probably best known from Timeslip) plays a young drunk who Terry throws out of a pub.  I knew his face was naggingly familiar, but it wasn’t until the credits that it clicked exactly who he was.  Roy Evans, a very recognisable face from this era in both films and television, has a small role as a customer in the newsagents.  He’s credited as “Elderly Man” which is interesting since he was only forty-eight at the time.  Clearly he had one of those lived-in faces.  And lastly, Graham Stark keeps on popping up to harangue Terry.  Stark gives a broad performance, but it’s a nice bit of comic relief (even if the story itself isn’t terribly serious anyway).

Thanks to Terry’s diplomacy, everything is sorted out in the end and Indira and Kev don’t have to elope.  Given the time that’s elapsed since the original broadcast (back in 1979) some of themes, especially the interracial marriage, would have seemed far more controversial back then than they do now.  Attitudes have certainly changed – for example, Kev is casually able to mention that he and Indira need to find a place of their own since they can’t stay with his mother (she doesn’t mind living next door to them, but she doesn’t want one in the house).

Another solid script from Leon Griffiths.

Arthur is convinced that Sharon Dobbs (Sheila White) is a singing sensation just waiting to be discovered.  He’s so enamoured of her, both personally and professionally, that he hands over six hundred pounds to Chris Lambert (Eric Deacon).  Lambert runs a local nightclub and tells Arthur he’ll use his record business contacts to invite some top people down to hear her sing.

But the evening ends in disaster for Sharon (a combination of the sparse audience’s disinterest and her own flat singing) and Arthur (when he realises that Chris has conned him).  Arthur demands that Terry goes round to give him a spanking and retrieve his money, but Terry refuses.  Those days, he says, are over – since it’s a certain way to ensure he goes back inside.  So Arthur fires Terry and seeks an alternative …..

Whilst Monday Night Fever has some gags, at heart it’s a very bleak tale.  And the bleakness mostly revolves around Arthur as it shows us just how out of touch and insignificant he is.  He blithely assumes he’ll be able to get Sharon engagements at all the top West End nightclubs – only to be told by Terry that they all shut down a decade or so earlier.  His portrayal as yesterday’s man is reinforced when he later tells Terry that he’s still a respected man around the manor.  In a few drinking clubs and car auctions maybe, says Terry, but nowhere else.

Arthur’s relationship with Sharon is the most intriguing part of the story.  He’s clearly attracted to her (although he reacts strongly to Terry’s label of her as the “singing scrubber”).  We see them kiss and after he’s thrown out of his house by ‘Er ‘Indoors, he even floats the possibility of them moving into a flat together.  But this, just like his promise to her that he’ll be able to use his contacts to get her a record deal, is nothing but a pipe dream.

There doesn’t seem to be anything malicious or exploitative in his relationship with her.  He does seem to genuinely believe she’s talented (although he’s in a minority there) and thanks to his deluded belief in his own importance once he’s told her that he’s a connected man in the business, he can’t back down.

This leads him to Chris Lambert, who cons the usually astute Arthur very easily.  Maybe this is because he’s outside of his comfort zone – if it was dodgy jeans or perfume then he’d drive a hard bargain, but Sharon’s clearly impairing his judgement.

Sheila White gives a nice performance as the seemingly innocent and naive Sharon.  She appears to have genuine affection for Arthur, but later we see her shacked up with a keyboard player who’s offered to show her some chromatic scales.  This suggests that like everyone else she’s used Arthur for her own ends.  Her singing had to tread a delicate path between being slightly off-key, but not so bad that Arthur’s interest in her would strain credibility.  And it works, just!

Arthur and Terry’s falling-out is another key part of the story.  It demonstrates that, despite Terry’s protests, he does have genuine affection for Arthur (his girlfriend Penny reminds him that he’s mentioned how he looks upon him as a father figure).  So when Arthur enlists the unstable Vic Piner (Anthony Heaton) to help him get his money back from Lambert, Terry can’t sit on the sidelines.  As Dave says, if things go wrong then Arthur will be in the frame for conspiracy to murder.

As might be expected, all is sorted out in the end and Arthur and Terry are reconciled (once Terry’s felled Vic with a single punch).  He may have lost the girl, some of his money and everything from his lockup but at least he’s got his minder back.

When Arthur’s friend Alex Brompton (David Daker) is hospitalised after a hit-and-run accident, Arthur asks Terry to mind Alex’s antique shop.  It’s fair to say that Terry doesn’t hit it off with Jim (Alun Lewis), the shop’s co-owner and Alex’s partner ….

Tony Hoare’s script is very much of its time.  After meeting Jim, Terry’s convinced that he’s an iron (iron hoof = poof).

Terry: Listen, if you think I’m spending time in the same pad as that, you’ve got another think coming.
Arthur: What are you talking about, what’s wrong with him?
Terry: Leave it out, can’t you see?
Arthur: See? What is there to see? A perfectly charming young man. I mean he may not be one of the chaps …
Terry: Arthur, the geezer is a raving iron.
Arthur: Don’t be ridiculous, an iron?
Terry: Do I have to scream it?
Arthur: How’d you know he’s a poofter? How can you tell?
Terry: I can tell, believe me! Go on have another look. Don’t make it too obvious, eh?

Terry’s a thoughtful lad in other ways though, best demonstrated when he visits his gran (Molly Veness) to wish her a happy birthday.  Arthur pops by later with chocolates and flowers with the result that his presents end up overshadowing Terry’s own efforts!  Terry’s suitably narked although Arthur is defensive (“I didn’t know you bought her flowers as well”).  It’s a nice comic moment, even if it seems a little unlikely – after all Arthur only came by to pick up Terry, surely he’s too much of a tightwad to splash out on gifts for Terry’s gran for no good reason?

Back at the antiques shop, Terry tells Arthur that he’s “got nothing against irons, I just don’t want to live with one”.  Arthur tells him not to worry and if Jim does try any funny business “tell him you’re sorry but you’re normal.  Say it’ll upset your mum or something like that”.  Given that Jim’s somewhat effete, Terry hardly needs to worry about having to fight him off – it’s more that Terry is worried about his reputation.  What happens when it becomes known on the manor that he’s living with an iron?

Arthur finds it difficult to believe that his friend Alex (who he calls a real “man’s man”) could be involved with Jim.  But it quickly becomes plain that he is, which makes sense of his earlier comment that Jim’s his partner (not just in the business sense then) and that he’s no longer living with his wife.

Ironically, although Terry is uncomfortable around Jim whilst Arthur’s there, when Terry and Jim are by themselves (and especially after Terry’s enjoyed Jim’s cooking) he appears to be much more relaxed – although this may just be his professional instinct kicking in (possibly Alex’s injuries weren’t accidental and they may be connected to the apparent threats made against the shop).

Although the comedy and attitudes are politically incorrect (to say the least) there’s some undeniably funny moments.  When Jim and Terry visit a gay bar (although Terry seems to be totally oblivious about this) Terry runs into an acquaintance, Chas (David Auker), who congratulates him on his new choice of partner.  Terry’s not impressed ….

Even better is the moment when Jim comes into Terry’s room and wakes him up to apologises for his off-hand attitude.  He promises that things will be different from now on and lays a friendly hand on Terry’s knee.  This, of course, is the moment when Arthur chooses to walks in (George Cole’s expression is priceless!).

Tony Hoare wrote some of Minder‘s best episodes, but Whose Wife Is It Anyway? doesn’t fall into this category.  If the story been made today then probably Arthur and Terry would have been called upon to confront their prejudices.  This doesn’t happen here, meaning that their opinions (that gays are unnatural as well as predatory – always on the lookout to convert straight men) remain unchallenged.

Alun Lewis chose to play Jim in a low-key manner, rather than as a raving queen, which given some of the material was probably the right move – although this does mean that he ends up as a somewhat pallid character who never really engages.  The mystery part of the story feels rather tagged on as well.

But there’s a decent roof-top punch-up towards the end, featuring a heavy who’s concerned about the way that Terry’s grabbing his hair (“Please, I’ve only recently had a transplant. Would you mind not pulling it so hard?”).  An interesting time-capsule of the period then, but not one of the series’ best efforts.

Terry’s latest minding job is an unusual one – a nine-year old boy called Peter (Warren O’Neill) who might possibly be his son ….

Given that Terry’s something of a bird magnet, it would be surprising if he didn’t have a few children dotted around that he knows nothing about.  Could Peter be one of them?  When his mother, Beryl (Sharon Duce), leaves him in Terry’s care, he’s certainly left with that impression.

Even this early in the story, the viewer might have a few questions – firstly why has Sharon come back into Terry’s life after so many years? It’s also very strange that she dumps her son on Terry’s doorstep and then disappears (although she does keep a watching brief, hidden around the corner).

Arthur’s not happy.  Peter’s a distraction who could blunt Terry’s effectiveness and this concerns Arthur greatly.  As the series progressed over the years, the rough edges of the characters were gradually smoothed down, but this is very much the early, selfish Arthur – a man who only thinks of himself and is quite happy to manipulate others to achieve his ends, no matter what the consequences might be.

Early on, he tells Terry that it’s unnatural for him to imagine he could be a father. “I’m referring to your erratic lifestyle, your total lack of ambition, your cavalier attitude to matters domestic. It don’t exactly make you odds on favourite for the fatherhood stakes”. Arthur’s advice about Peter is stark (“dump him”). Not in the river, he qualifies, but down at the social.

Tony Hoare’s script offers a change of pace for the series as we see Terry slowly adjusting to the possibility of being a father (although Peter’s under the impression that Terry’s his uncle).  As the episode progresses it’s plain that he’s doing all he can to entertain the boy – games of football and trips on the river – but the negative aspects of Terry’s personality surface from time to time.

Peter’s a lad with attitude, best demonstrated when he gets into a mild fracas with a couple of older youths (Terry’s been forced to take him along to his bouncer’s job at the local pub).  Terry attempts to draw a line under events with his usual diplomatic skill.  “Shut your mouth, sonny or I’ll squeeze all your pimples. Now on your bike, both of you!”  The lads don’t take the hint though and when one of them wonders if Peter will grow up to be as big a pillock as his uncle, Terry responds in the only way he knows how – violence.

We’ve seen Terry hand out similar punishments on numerous previous occasions, but due to Peter’s presence this feels somewhat different.  The way that Peter looks at him afterwards is a telling moment – suggesting that Terry’s world of violence disturbs him. It’s an interesting touch that as Terry and Peter look at each other, the ambient sound fades away. This helps to make the moment seem a little more claustrophobic (the fact that Terry is unable to hold Peter’s gaze is notable too).

Giving Terry a son (even if he didn’t appear in every episode) would certainly have changed the dynamic of the series.  If they’d been thinking ahead, making him a teenager would have meant he could eventually have taken over from Terry (as it was, the family tradition was maintained from the Daley side, with young Ray).  But since Minder was never a series with continuing threads, it’s no real surprise when Beryl’s husband, Ronnie (Dicken Ashworth), turns up, with Beryl not too far behind, both intent on reclaiming their boy.

If Ashworth’s size wasn’t enough to create a sinister impression, there’s also a sprinkling of stock music which helps to hammer this point home. Whenever Ronnie appears he’s accompanied by ominous-sounding music which tells us he’s a man who’s no stranger to violence. We’re never in any doubt that Terry will be able to deal with him (they have a cracking fight though) but Beryl and Peter’s fate is less certain.

The ending didn’t please everybody (one correspondent to the TV Times complained that it was “a poor man’s Kramer vs Kramer with slow motion and sentimental music”).  I’ve never minded it too much, although it’s easy to see why it wasn’t to everyone’s taste.

Beryl’s manipulation of Terry (raising his hopes for a while that Peter was his child) does seem somewhat cruel, although since Ronnie is a man who’s been violent to both his wife and son on numerous occassions, it’s not surprising that she’s acting a little erratically. But if Peter’s speaking the truth when he tells Terry this is the first time he’s left Warrington, how has Beryl coped on all the previous occassions when Ronnie became agressive?

Apart from a few quibbles about the script and the oversentimental ending, Not A Bad Lad, Dad engages, thanks to the partnership of Dennis Waterman and Warren O’Neill.