The problem with having heroes of humour who are in their 80s is that you keep losing them. The great demolition raconteur Blaster Bates passed away in 2006 and was included in Radio 4's Last Word - although the earthy nature of his tales meant that he received precious little airtime when he was alive. Never mind, the album sales made up for that - and continue to do so with CD reissues.
This time last year, Humphrey Lyttelton died. Before his operation, he told Barry Cryer 'If all goes well, this year's drama is next year's anecdote', a brilliant, inspiring saying which will itself be quoted for many years to come. (Incidentally, I think the BBC's idea of having former I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue panellists Stephen Fry, Jack Dee and Rob Brydon taking it in turns to host the new shows is an inventive attempt at filling the gap left by Chairman Humph; it reduces the risk of regular listeners taking a dislike to one new permanent presenter but avoids having a long succession of hit-or-miss guest hosts, a practice which has sometimes affected the quality of Have I Got News For You. We will soon discover whether this experiment has worked).
In March, the death of the witty broadcaster Geoffrey Smith was marked by a feature on Gardener's Question Time.
And now Sir Clement Freud has gone.
I started regularly listening to Radio 4 when I was nine (any child who tunes in at an even younger age is probably like Stewie on Family Guy). Just A Minute was one of the first shows I heard and it seemed to feature people with unusual names that I had never heard before, such as Andree Melly - and Clement Freud. His style was quiet (although I suppose anyone would seem that way if featured on a show alongside Kenneth Williams and Derek Nimmo) but he seemed to score a lot of points.
I wondered who he was. My grandmother, who was an excellent cook, told me that he was a well-known chef. That was, of course, just the tip of the iceberg lettuce as he was also a journalist, racing expert, businessman...
As the 70s went on, I saw him on TV ads for dog food and I can remember hearing the radio news item about him being elected as the Liberal MP for Ely but it was only in more recent years that I really began to appreciate him. Although newer panellists have become worthy replacements for Williams, Nimmo and the superb Peter Jones, any edition of Just A Minute which didn't feature Freud with his tactics of time-consuming, thesaurus-like lists and last-minute challenges (the equivalent of photo-finishes in his beloved horseracing?) seemed lacklustre. Oh well, I suppose I shall have to get used to that...
He could actually tell a joke while staying within the rules of JAM and what I really liked was the fact that while he seemed to have such a dour disposition, you could sometimes hear his laughter on the programme.
Some years ago, I was speaking at a lunch for some retired businessmen and one told me that his company had once booked Clement Freud as the after dinner speaker at their annual dinner. A couple of senior managers both delivered speeches which drew a fantastic response from the large, well-oiled crowd and so everyone wondered how Freud, with his quiet demeanour, could possibly follow them. He rose to his feet and said 'Gentlemen, when I accepted the booking to speak here, I knew it would be a challenge so I took the precaution of going to a company which supplies brilliantly-written speeches for other people to deliver. They told me they couldn't help me as they had just sold the last two'. After that, he had them in the palm of his hand.
Do listen to the BBC Radio Collection version of Freud Ego, his brilliantly-titled autobiography. It has hilarious tales of schooldays overshadowed by his grandfather Sigmund's reputation, his training in kitchens, wartime service, novel ways of getting around rationing and licensing laws when he ran his restaurants and club, journalism, sporting challenges, election and, of course, broadcasting including Just A Minute and the priapic dog on those commercials! It's funny how the raunchiest tale and even the odd expletive seem almost innocuous when delivered in that laid-back style.
Sir Clement Freud actually died while writing a column so I'm moving away from this keyboard pretty sharpish. I need to go off and find some younger heroes because, as I said, the older ones have this infuriating habit of leaving just when you thought they could go on forever.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 889, 29 April 2009)
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Where does it come from?
I was too young to appreciate Beyond Our Ken, the forerunner to Round the Horne, when it was first broadcast but I have listened to many episodes since then on tapes and on BBC7. One of the most popular characters played by Kenneth Williams had the catchphrase 'Thirty-five years!'
It doesn't sound quite as impressive if I go around saying 'Three years!' as I celebrate the third anniversary of beginning these fortnightly columns but I am surprised, both at how quickly the time has flown and the fact that I am have somehow come up with seventy-plus articles (and counting!)
You see, it all started out as a proposal for just one feature. Back in the late nineties, I rang the then editor of the Radio Magazine, the late Howard Rose, to ask if he would be interested in a one-off piece about the ups and downs of show prep writing. He said he was, and to send it in. But somehow, what with my speaking, teaching and other writing commitments, I never got around to doing so.
Fast forward to 2003 and I rang again. By now, Paul Boon was the editor, a very friendly chap who laughed at my humour on the phone and told me that if I had enough ideas, I could do it as a two-parter. Now that made things even easier - so why did it take another three years for me to actually sit down and write it?
When I did finally send the articles, I mentioned that I had also contributed to BBC radio comedy shows for twelve years, written a Radio 2 documentary about 10cc and been interviewed on air several times myself and that the anecdotes and observations from these might make a handful of further pieces. Paul said he'd have a word with his deputy, Collette Hillier, and see what she thought. The result was that I was asked to write a fortnightly column from that point onwards.
I had never realised before how much of my writing, whether for radio, live performance or publication, is fully-formed in my head before I ever put pen to paper or switch on a computer. Of course, there are times when I make notes and develop them, or compose from scratch on the screen, but so many of these columns have been conjured up while doing something else. This is fine - just as long as no-one can see you. It's one thing to devise material while lying in the bath but doing it in a public place like a supermarket means that people are sometimes amused/baffled/frightened by the inevitable facial contortions which accompany such intensive thought!
A few years ago, I was in a comedy club in Camden on my way back from speaking at a lunch in Beaconsfield. There was a chance to do an open mic spot and, as I hadn't done any stand-up for about five years and I was on a high from the speech going so well, I thought it might be interesting to have a go. I had a short time in which to put a five-minute routine together so I took myself off into a dark corner (actually, they were all dark corners in this particular room above a pub) to sort out some new material, try and remember tried and tested lines from years before, put them all into a logical sequence and mentally rehearse.
The resulting dancing eyebrows, jaw movements like a cow chewing the cud and twitching shoulders as I prepared myself soon led to the Aussie organiser coming over and asking in a very concerned way 'Here, mate, are you alright?' And I thought I was being so unobtrusive...
Another thing which has surprised me is how big a part radio plays in my life, not just professionally, so this supplies me with subject matter, whether it's the listening habits of Bournemouth taxi drivers I know or missing programmes during a power cut.
Today Collette is the editor, the Radio Magazine can now also be read in an online version and these columns seem to be delivered so much nearer to the printer's deadline than when I started. But the ideas keep coming.
It's called creativity. Some of the larger networks might like to give it a try.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 883, 18 March 2009)
It doesn't sound quite as impressive if I go around saying 'Three years!' as I celebrate the third anniversary of beginning these fortnightly columns but I am surprised, both at how quickly the time has flown and the fact that I am have somehow come up with seventy-plus articles (and counting!)
You see, it all started out as a proposal for just one feature. Back in the late nineties, I rang the then editor of the Radio Magazine, the late Howard Rose, to ask if he would be interested in a one-off piece about the ups and downs of show prep writing. He said he was, and to send it in. But somehow, what with my speaking, teaching and other writing commitments, I never got around to doing so.
Fast forward to 2003 and I rang again. By now, Paul Boon was the editor, a very friendly chap who laughed at my humour on the phone and told me that if I had enough ideas, I could do it as a two-parter. Now that made things even easier - so why did it take another three years for me to actually sit down and write it?
When I did finally send the articles, I mentioned that I had also contributed to BBC radio comedy shows for twelve years, written a Radio 2 documentary about 10cc and been interviewed on air several times myself and that the anecdotes and observations from these might make a handful of further pieces. Paul said he'd have a word with his deputy, Collette Hillier, and see what she thought. The result was that I was asked to write a fortnightly column from that point onwards.
I had never realised before how much of my writing, whether for radio, live performance or publication, is fully-formed in my head before I ever put pen to paper or switch on a computer. Of course, there are times when I make notes and develop them, or compose from scratch on the screen, but so many of these columns have been conjured up while doing something else. This is fine - just as long as no-one can see you. It's one thing to devise material while lying in the bath but doing it in a public place like a supermarket means that people are sometimes amused/baffled/frightened by the inevitable facial contortions which accompany such intensive thought!
A few years ago, I was in a comedy club in Camden on my way back from speaking at a lunch in Beaconsfield. There was a chance to do an open mic spot and, as I hadn't done any stand-up for about five years and I was on a high from the speech going so well, I thought it might be interesting to have a go. I had a short time in which to put a five-minute routine together so I took myself off into a dark corner (actually, they were all dark corners in this particular room above a pub) to sort out some new material, try and remember tried and tested lines from years before, put them all into a logical sequence and mentally rehearse.
The resulting dancing eyebrows, jaw movements like a cow chewing the cud and twitching shoulders as I prepared myself soon led to the Aussie organiser coming over and asking in a very concerned way 'Here, mate, are you alright?' And I thought I was being so unobtrusive...
Another thing which has surprised me is how big a part radio plays in my life, not just professionally, so this supplies me with subject matter, whether it's the listening habits of Bournemouth taxi drivers I know or missing programmes during a power cut.
Today Collette is the editor, the Radio Magazine can now also be read in an online version and these columns seem to be delivered so much nearer to the printer's deadline than when I started. But the ideas keep coming.
It's called creativity. Some of the larger networks might like to give it a try.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 883, 18 March 2009)
There is life after radio
'Whatever happened to ---- ?' is a query you will often see posted on radio message boards. Answers arrive pretty quickly. Former national BBC presenters are often traced to decent time slots on local stations while big-name commercial jocks still usually tend to be working somewhere, either behind the microphone or even running a station. And then there are those involved in agencies, voice-overs, training...
When I was writing for multi-contributor BBC radio comedy shows, I knew that these would not run forever and I would sometimes look at my colleagues and wonder what they would do when the axe finally fell. Some were already just about to leave anyway as they had performing careers that were taking off or they had made the transition to writing for TV. Others were creating work by devising their own radio series and one or two even became producers. But what of those who would have no other comedy writing outlets, particularly the ones who never came to London but sent in their gags and sketches from all over the UK?
In my own case, I found myself taking on a wide range of freelance writing long before the BBC opportunities dried up. Not all of it has been humorous and these strait-laced commissions have hardly been in the same league as the broadsheet technology journalism that some of my fellow gagsters moved into but any writing work beats sitting in a call centre for little more than the minimum wage.
So, over the years, and with varying degrees of enthusiasm, I have written: part of a script for a video dating agency plus others for horticultural films for my local council; a press release for a day nursery; advertorial for a greasy spoon cafe and 'business thoughts-for-the-day' recorded messages (probably never used). But there has been comedy as well, ranging from my radio prep service through speeches of all kinds to material for ventriloquists and magicians (not for radio, obviously), pantos, greetings cards, stand-ups, impressionists, singers, a teenage strongwoman and a mind-reading goose (believe me, writing these columns is a doddle by comparison!)
But what happens to comedy performers who are no longer heard on the radio? As an example, I'd like to cite not some political stand-up or improv team but...the Grumbleweeds!
Formed in 1962, they moved from serious pop through children's TV to comedy sketches and impressions and then had their own award-winning Radio 2 series from the late 70s to the early 90s, produced by the BBC's small radio comedy department in Manchester. Even their long-running ITV series was called The Grumbleweeds Radio Show. So what are they doing now? Well, they've slimmed down from a five-piece to the original founding duo consisting of the naturally funny Graham Walker and the remarkably youthful and multi-talented Robin Colvill. They sent me a couple of DVDs a while back, including one of their highly successful cabaret act. OK, so I'd heard most of the jokes elsewhere but they were perfectly linked and executed. In their case, I can even relax my usual rule of not approving of impressionists impersonating other comedians' characters because they just do it so well. And Robin's impression of Cher is worryingly convincing! With a busy diary of concerts, cruises, summer season gigs and pantomimes, I hope they won't feel the need to go on some ghastly reality show to remind the public of their existence just yet.
But I bet they could do a really good sketch about one.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 877, 4 February 2009)
When I was writing for multi-contributor BBC radio comedy shows, I knew that these would not run forever and I would sometimes look at my colleagues and wonder what they would do when the axe finally fell. Some were already just about to leave anyway as they had performing careers that were taking off or they had made the transition to writing for TV. Others were creating work by devising their own radio series and one or two even became producers. But what of those who would have no other comedy writing outlets, particularly the ones who never came to London but sent in their gags and sketches from all over the UK?
In my own case, I found myself taking on a wide range of freelance writing long before the BBC opportunities dried up. Not all of it has been humorous and these strait-laced commissions have hardly been in the same league as the broadsheet technology journalism that some of my fellow gagsters moved into but any writing work beats sitting in a call centre for little more than the minimum wage.
So, over the years, and with varying degrees of enthusiasm, I have written: part of a script for a video dating agency plus others for horticultural films for my local council; a press release for a day nursery; advertorial for a greasy spoon cafe and 'business thoughts-for-the-day' recorded messages (probably never used). But there has been comedy as well, ranging from my radio prep service through speeches of all kinds to material for ventriloquists and magicians (not for radio, obviously), pantos, greetings cards, stand-ups, impressionists, singers, a teenage strongwoman and a mind-reading goose (believe me, writing these columns is a doddle by comparison!)
But what happens to comedy performers who are no longer heard on the radio? As an example, I'd like to cite not some political stand-up or improv team but...the Grumbleweeds!
Formed in 1962, they moved from serious pop through children's TV to comedy sketches and impressions and then had their own award-winning Radio 2 series from the late 70s to the early 90s, produced by the BBC's small radio comedy department in Manchester. Even their long-running ITV series was called The Grumbleweeds Radio Show. So what are they doing now? Well, they've slimmed down from a five-piece to the original founding duo consisting of the naturally funny Graham Walker and the remarkably youthful and multi-talented Robin Colvill. They sent me a couple of DVDs a while back, including one of their highly successful cabaret act. OK, so I'd heard most of the jokes elsewhere but they were perfectly linked and executed. In their case, I can even relax my usual rule of not approving of impressionists impersonating other comedians' characters because they just do it so well. And Robin's impression of Cher is worryingly convincing! With a busy diary of concerts, cruises, summer season gigs and pantomimes, I hope they won't feel the need to go on some ghastly reality show to remind the public of their existence just yet.
But I bet they could do a really good sketch about one.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 877, 4 February 2009)
Thursday, 2 April 2009
The Right Impression
Once, when I was twelve, I silenced an entire changing room by bellowing outside in the voice of our games master. I then proudly entered to a chorus of 'Oh, Thomas!' If he had been in there, I don't know what would have happened.
As someone who has always had an interest in impressionists, I am rather proud of the fact that the first sketches I ever had used on the radio were performed by Alistair McGowan. Back in 1990 he was a guest cast member on Radio 4's Week Ending but he's done rather well since then.
There are certainly some very good impressionists on TV (many of whom started in radio) but however accurate the voice and brilliant the make-up, they are often let down by a lack of physical similarity to the impressionee (let's coin a new word, shall we?) I don't think I am alone in thinking that Dead Ringers worked better on radio than television.
Over the years, I have written for a large number of impressionists on Week Ending, for the London Fringe and Edinburgh Festival show Newsrevue, Brighton's Treason Show and many cabaret performers.
One thing I have noticed is that you cannot be in the company of an impressionist for long without them having to prove that they can impersonate the famous - even if you have heard them perform many times over the years. Imagine the scene: the restaurant on the end of Bournemouth Pier, lunchtime, height of summer. The place is packed and I am having a meeting with an impressionist I have known for years about some material I'm writing for him. He's not a household name but he has had numerous TV appearances and he works solidly. He's also a very nice chap - a showbiz/media person who I have never heard say anything negative about anyone (weird!) Halfway through our discussion, he goes into his Michael Jackson impression. No crotch-grabbing, llamas or baby-dangling but enough high-pitched squeaks to have send me sliding down my seat under the table supporting my haddock and chips. I tell you, I earn my money.
I wrote for twelve years for the News Huddlines which mixed impersonations with caricatures. The first 'long' sketch of mine they ever used featured the show's excellent Chris Emmett as a showreel for an after dinner speaking agency offering Derek Jameson, Frank Bruno and Sir John Harvey-Jones. But when a famous person was in the news whose voice was nondescript or not well-known to the public, it was a case of 'How shall we do ---- ----?' Thus June Whitfield's interpretation of Norma Major revisited her Eth voice from Take It From Here and her Queen Mother was a bizarre but much-loved hybrid of Irene Handl and Mrs Bridges from Upstairs Downstairs. Roy Hudd, meanwhile, played Denis Thatcher as Ray Allen's vent doll Lord Charles. Such caricatures continue to this day with Little Britain's baffling but amusing depiction of Dennis 'feme toon' Waterman.
Topical shows often have to feature some newsworthy person, regardless of whether they can be easily imitated or not, so the dialogue in a sketch may need to explain who on earth the actor is meant to be. But what irritates me is when club acts who have total choice over over who to impersonate open with 'Hello, ---- ---- here!' I mean, if you have to explain that you're ---- ---- then why bother at all? Sadly, even pretty good impressionists frequently attempt that one voice too many, the one which is way beyond them.
Another annoying type of mimic simply impersonates other impressionists' impersonations, if you see what I mean, complete with the same invented catchphrases.
Worst of all for me are the 'comedianalikes'. Yes, they do exist, such as the one I saw advertised as 'A tribute to Peter Kay'. I mean, why? Peter Kay is awfully good but he was very much alive the last time I looked (young even) and thus pretty easy to see. It's different when it's a much-loved figure from the past, of course. One act I know does very well as a Tommy Cooper tribute. Now there is a star who is remembered with great affection a quarter of a century after his passing and this chap concentrates more on magic tricks, gags and telling TC's life story than trying to be a perfect copy of him.
But back in the 90s, I was commissioned to write some material for an 'impressionist' whose act consisted solely of pretending to be Harry Enfield's Tim Nice-But-Dim. I just couldn't do it and after several weeks received a furious phone call demanding to know why he hadn't received his gags and threatening to report me to Equity! I returned his cheque with pleasure, relieved to be free of trying to write for a seemingly pointless performer who wanted to get all his laughs by default.
There's art in good impressions but simply copying someone else, well, that's the stuff of the playground - or even the school changing room.
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 851, 30 July 2009 and Issue 873, 7 January 2009)
As someone who has always had an interest in impressionists, I am rather proud of the fact that the first sketches I ever had used on the radio were performed by Alistair McGowan. Back in 1990 he was a guest cast member on Radio 4's Week Ending but he's done rather well since then.
There are certainly some very good impressionists on TV (many of whom started in radio) but however accurate the voice and brilliant the make-up, they are often let down by a lack of physical similarity to the impressionee (let's coin a new word, shall we?) I don't think I am alone in thinking that Dead Ringers worked better on radio than television.
Over the years, I have written for a large number of impressionists on Week Ending, for the London Fringe and Edinburgh Festival show Newsrevue, Brighton's Treason Show and many cabaret performers.
One thing I have noticed is that you cannot be in the company of an impressionist for long without them having to prove that they can impersonate the famous - even if you have heard them perform many times over the years. Imagine the scene: the restaurant on the end of Bournemouth Pier, lunchtime, height of summer. The place is packed and I am having a meeting with an impressionist I have known for years about some material I'm writing for him. He's not a household name but he has had numerous TV appearances and he works solidly. He's also a very nice chap - a showbiz/media person who I have never heard say anything negative about anyone (weird!) Halfway through our discussion, he goes into his Michael Jackson impression. No crotch-grabbing, llamas or baby-dangling but enough high-pitched squeaks to have send me sliding down my seat under the table supporting my haddock and chips. I tell you, I earn my money.
I wrote for twelve years for the News Huddlines which mixed impersonations with caricatures. The first 'long' sketch of mine they ever used featured the show's excellent Chris Emmett as a showreel for an after dinner speaking agency offering Derek Jameson, Frank Bruno and Sir John Harvey-Jones. But when a famous person was in the news whose voice was nondescript or not well-known to the public, it was a case of 'How shall we do ---- ----?' Thus June Whitfield's interpretation of Norma Major revisited her Eth voice from Take It From Here and her Queen Mother was a bizarre but much-loved hybrid of Irene Handl and Mrs Bridges from Upstairs Downstairs. Roy Hudd, meanwhile, played Denis Thatcher as Ray Allen's vent doll Lord Charles. Such caricatures continue to this day with Little Britain's baffling but amusing depiction of Dennis 'feme toon' Waterman.
Topical shows often have to feature some newsworthy person, regardless of whether they can be easily imitated or not, so the dialogue in a sketch may need to explain who on earth the actor is meant to be. But what irritates me is when club acts who have total choice over over who to impersonate open with 'Hello, ---- ---- here!' I mean, if you have to explain that you're ---- ---- then why bother at all? Sadly, even pretty good impressionists frequently attempt that one voice too many, the one which is way beyond them.
Another annoying type of mimic simply impersonates other impressionists' impersonations, if you see what I mean, complete with the same invented catchphrases.
Worst of all for me are the 'comedianalikes'. Yes, they do exist, such as the one I saw advertised as 'A tribute to Peter Kay'. I mean, why? Peter Kay is awfully good but he was very much alive the last time I looked (young even) and thus pretty easy to see. It's different when it's a much-loved figure from the past, of course. One act I know does very well as a Tommy Cooper tribute. Now there is a star who is remembered with great affection a quarter of a century after his passing and this chap concentrates more on magic tricks, gags and telling TC's life story than trying to be a perfect copy of him.
But back in the 90s, I was commissioned to write some material for an 'impressionist' whose act consisted solely of pretending to be Harry Enfield's Tim Nice-But-Dim. I just couldn't do it and after several weeks received a furious phone call demanding to know why he hadn't received his gags and threatening to report me to Equity! I returned his cheque with pleasure, relieved to be free of trying to write for a seemingly pointless performer who wanted to get all his laughs by default.
There's art in good impressions but simply copying someone else, well, that's the stuff of the playground - or even the school changing room.
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 851, 30 July 2009 and Issue 873, 7 January 2009)
Friday, 21 November 2008
Stay away from those boundaries!
It's not going away, is it? Every transgression by a BBC broadcaster is now cross-referenced to the Brand-Ross scandal while that story itself continues to provide tabloid fodder, some of it truly bizarre. I read that Jonathan Ross could sue the Beeb for actually allowing his broadcast. Really? And perhaps he could launch a further suit against them for their neglect in leaving a phone within his reach; he could also take action against Andrew Sachs for entrapment by having voicemail in the first place.
One paper gleefully announced that branches of Borders were selling the latest books by Ross and Russell Brand at 50% off, conveniently ignoring the fact that this was part of an ongoing discount offer also involving a number of biographies by other (non-controversial) stars!
My previous column centred on the issue of cruel humour but this time I would like to add a few more thoughts about the biggest story concerning radio comedy in years.
I am tired of hearing about it being a comic's 'duty' to push boundaries, as if any show which doesn't attempt to do this has limited merit. It is perfectly possible to consistently entertain audiences without trying to push boundaries all the time - thousands of performers manage to do so every day - and is radio really the place to be pushing them anyway? The Goon Show was ground-breaking in the fifties but there was very little TV then. In later years, great iconoclasts, such as Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Billy Connolly and Bill Hicks got their breaks through live shows, albums and late-night TV. In the nineties, Armando Iannucci did create a new comedic genre by mixing vox pops with scripted material in Radio 4's On The Hour but that was rather more sophisticated than prank answerphone rants!
I think Paul Gambaccini got it right when he mentioned the dangers of airlifting TV presenters into radio. A performer whose natural arena is a late night chat show or an adults-only live comedy gig is always going to be difficult to rein in.
Much has been made of the fact that the 40,000 complaints were only received after the press coverage but I think that for many listeners it wasn't a matter of protesting about an item they hadn't even heard but a long-overdue opportunity to petition against Jonathan Ross: his over-exposure, his inadequately censored outpourings and, of course, his reported salary. Incidentally, I see that he won't be hosting this year's Comedy Awards on ITV. It's always amazed me that the BBC let him moonlight for other channels when they are shelling out so much for his services. It's a bit like Man Utd saying to Rooney 'Ok, Wayne, this is your salary but if you want to go off and play the odd game for City then that's fine by us'. If a station has to put someone on the air so much in order to get their money's worth then you would think the last thing they would want would be to have their rivals contributing to the diminishing returns in audience appreciation. What would he have charged them for exclusivity...?
And if only two complaints were received from among 400,000 listeners before the Mail on Sunday ran the story then doesn't that indicate that boundaries weren't exactly being pushed that much anyway?
Over the fourteen years that I have been writing daily topical prep for commercial presenters, I have always been given a clear idea of limits. ILR stations may have had their share of phone-in scandals (just like the BBC) but any instances I read about where presenters overstep the mark (usually on breakfast shows!) these seem to be dealt with far more swiftly and effectively.
The coverage of the US elections once again demonstrated how BBC radio can be so much better than its television. It really shouldn't need to imitate it.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 866, 12 November 2008)
One paper gleefully announced that branches of Borders were selling the latest books by Ross and Russell Brand at 50% off, conveniently ignoring the fact that this was part of an ongoing discount offer also involving a number of biographies by other (non-controversial) stars!
My previous column centred on the issue of cruel humour but this time I would like to add a few more thoughts about the biggest story concerning radio comedy in years.
I am tired of hearing about it being a comic's 'duty' to push boundaries, as if any show which doesn't attempt to do this has limited merit. It is perfectly possible to consistently entertain audiences without trying to push boundaries all the time - thousands of performers manage to do so every day - and is radio really the place to be pushing them anyway? The Goon Show was ground-breaking in the fifties but there was very little TV then. In later years, great iconoclasts, such as Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Billy Connolly and Bill Hicks got their breaks through live shows, albums and late-night TV. In the nineties, Armando Iannucci did create a new comedic genre by mixing vox pops with scripted material in Radio 4's On The Hour but that was rather more sophisticated than prank answerphone rants!
I think Paul Gambaccini got it right when he mentioned the dangers of airlifting TV presenters into radio. A performer whose natural arena is a late night chat show or an adults-only live comedy gig is always going to be difficult to rein in.
Much has been made of the fact that the 40,000 complaints were only received after the press coverage but I think that for many listeners it wasn't a matter of protesting about an item they hadn't even heard but a long-overdue opportunity to petition against Jonathan Ross: his over-exposure, his inadequately censored outpourings and, of course, his reported salary. Incidentally, I see that he won't be hosting this year's Comedy Awards on ITV. It's always amazed me that the BBC let him moonlight for other channels when they are shelling out so much for his services. It's a bit like Man Utd saying to Rooney 'Ok, Wayne, this is your salary but if you want to go off and play the odd game for City then that's fine by us'. If a station has to put someone on the air so much in order to get their money's worth then you would think the last thing they would want would be to have their rivals contributing to the diminishing returns in audience appreciation. What would he have charged them for exclusivity...?
And if only two complaints were received from among 400,000 listeners before the Mail on Sunday ran the story then doesn't that indicate that boundaries weren't exactly being pushed that much anyway?
Over the fourteen years that I have been writing daily topical prep for commercial presenters, I have always been given a clear idea of limits. ILR stations may have had their share of phone-in scandals (just like the BBC) but any instances I read about where presenters overstep the mark (usually on breakfast shows!) these seem to be dealt with far more swiftly and effectively.
The coverage of the US elections once again demonstrated how BBC radio can be so much better than its television. It really shouldn't need to imitate it.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 866, 12 November 2008)
Thursday, 13 November 2008
A beef about bullies
(This was the first of my two most recent articles for the Radio Mgazine about this major news story from the world of radio comedy).)
No prizes for guessing the big radio story this week. In fairness to the BBC, what started out as a headline in the Mail on Sunday did become the lead item on Radio 4's PM the next day despite it being about them, complete with extracts from the offending calls to Andrew Sachs' answerphone by Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross, material that was pre-recorded and, remarkably, cleared by a producer for broadcast. As we go to press, there are demands for heads to roll but, as we have seen from so many public figures in recent years, sackings are simply the new suspensions.
This story has merely added to what was going to be the subject matter of this article anyway: drawing the line between using topical humour involving celebrities and bullying them, humour vs humiliation.
Nicola Roberts is a member of Girls Aloud, the pale redhead who didn't crop up performing sketches on the Friday Night Project with her bandmates and who perhaps says least in interviews. Despite having a large following, she is perceived as less glamorous than the rest of the group, rather like Mel C in the early days of the Spice Girls. She is also a regular target for Chris Moyles on Radio 1 and elsewhere (in his first book, he launched into an attack on her in the opening pages) and, earlier this month, she spoke out about his constant attacks.
All humour has a victim and although self-effacing wit is least likely to offend, a presenter or comic who only talks about him/herself could be accused of self-obsession (not that this stops some!) There are arguments that those who choose to put themselves in the public eye are fair game and that all publicity is good anyway. Having met a certain number of celebrities, all I can say is that they have varied in personality type from those who seemed incapable of even ringing for a taxi without a manager doing it for them to the totally down-to-earth.
At a talk to a mature audience recently, I drew applause when I said that I try to adhere to a rule of only joking about behaviour that can be avoided. I'm not sure if this was entirely deserved - there are times when I know I break this rule.
Of course, there are some famous figures whose self-destructive tendencies are bound to be fodder for comedy: Doherty, Amy, Kerry: celebrities whose names end with a 'Why?' as well as a y. But sometimes it becomes clear that we gag writers need to lay off. The stage show We Will Rock You removed a reference to Britney Spears as her personal life imploded and there seem to less jokes about Jade Goody since her cancer diagnosis.
Mock The Week is a show I love (Andy Parsons was the first person who spoke to me when I started going to Broadcasting House as a new, nervous comedy writer) and Frankie Boyle's material often makes me laugh out loud. My partner Val loves a lot of his stuff too but when she recently asked me why Professor Stephen Hawking is the butt of so many jokes, it was hard to find any answer other than the obvious. Modern comedy is supposed to be non-sexist, non-racist, non-homophobic but somehow the disabled and elderly have often been targets for otherwise PC comics. Difficult to take the moral high ground if all you do is demonstrate a different set of prejudices. Of course, it is possible to be humorous about Hawking, for example, his Brief History of Time which so many ostentatiously bought and carried around everywhere but so few read because they couldn't actually understand it. Years ago, I was proud to get a sketch aired on Radio 2 which satirised one of Anne Widdecombe's policies as a minister rather than making fun of her looks.
Ofcom are now involved in the Brand - Ross case. All told, not a good week for radio comedy.
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine, issue 864, 29 October 2008)
No prizes for guessing the big radio story this week. In fairness to the BBC, what started out as a headline in the Mail on Sunday did become the lead item on Radio 4's PM the next day despite it being about them, complete with extracts from the offending calls to Andrew Sachs' answerphone by Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross, material that was pre-recorded and, remarkably, cleared by a producer for broadcast. As we go to press, there are demands for heads to roll but, as we have seen from so many public figures in recent years, sackings are simply the new suspensions.
This story has merely added to what was going to be the subject matter of this article anyway: drawing the line between using topical humour involving celebrities and bullying them, humour vs humiliation.
Nicola Roberts is a member of Girls Aloud, the pale redhead who didn't crop up performing sketches on the Friday Night Project with her bandmates and who perhaps says least in interviews. Despite having a large following, she is perceived as less glamorous than the rest of the group, rather like Mel C in the early days of the Spice Girls. She is also a regular target for Chris Moyles on Radio 1 and elsewhere (in his first book, he launched into an attack on her in the opening pages) and, earlier this month, she spoke out about his constant attacks.
All humour has a victim and although self-effacing wit is least likely to offend, a presenter or comic who only talks about him/herself could be accused of self-obsession (not that this stops some!) There are arguments that those who choose to put themselves in the public eye are fair game and that all publicity is good anyway. Having met a certain number of celebrities, all I can say is that they have varied in personality type from those who seemed incapable of even ringing for a taxi without a manager doing it for them to the totally down-to-earth.
At a talk to a mature audience recently, I drew applause when I said that I try to adhere to a rule of only joking about behaviour that can be avoided. I'm not sure if this was entirely deserved - there are times when I know I break this rule.
Of course, there are some famous figures whose self-destructive tendencies are bound to be fodder for comedy: Doherty, Amy, Kerry: celebrities whose names end with a 'Why?' as well as a y. But sometimes it becomes clear that we gag writers need to lay off. The stage show We Will Rock You removed a reference to Britney Spears as her personal life imploded and there seem to less jokes about Jade Goody since her cancer diagnosis.
Mock The Week is a show I love (Andy Parsons was the first person who spoke to me when I started going to Broadcasting House as a new, nervous comedy writer) and Frankie Boyle's material often makes me laugh out loud. My partner Val loves a lot of his stuff too but when she recently asked me why Professor Stephen Hawking is the butt of so many jokes, it was hard to find any answer other than the obvious. Modern comedy is supposed to be non-sexist, non-racist, non-homophobic but somehow the disabled and elderly have often been targets for otherwise PC comics. Difficult to take the moral high ground if all you do is demonstrate a different set of prejudices. Of course, it is possible to be humorous about Hawking, for example, his Brief History of Time which so many ostentatiously bought and carried around everywhere but so few read because they couldn't actually understand it. Years ago, I was proud to get a sketch aired on Radio 2 which satirised one of Anne Widdecombe's policies as a minister rather than making fun of her looks.
Ofcom are now involved in the Brand - Ross case. All told, not a good week for radio comedy.
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine, issue 864, 29 October 2008)
Saturday, 1 November 2008
Peter Hickey: An Appreciation
When Peter Hickey died last year, the media coverage was centred on the fact that he died in a fire and only briefly mentioned his long and impressive comedy writing career. I tried to redress the balance a little with this article in the Radio Magazine.
I stay in touch with some of my old BBC colleagues and, from time to time, an email will arrive, headed ‘Some Sad News’. This happened a few weeks ago when I learned that the comedy writer Peter Hickey had died aged 67 in a fire at his Brighton home.
As a script editor, Pete was the first person to select anything I’d written for BBC radio (Week Ending) and in later years I would sit with him on Wednesday afternoons writing last-minute News Huddlines sketches while he compiled that show’s opening monologue.
He would plough methodically through hundreds of gags sent in on spec (many handwritten/hopeless) and somehow produce a flowing routine which got roars from 300 people at the recording but he was never too busy to contribute ideas if other writers were struggling. On one occasion, Gerry Goddin and I were discussing a news story I’d read about Siamese twins arrested for fighting…each other (only In America!) With Pete’s input, we quickly wrote a sketch which went down very well despite being in dubious taste but then he loved outrageous humour; if someone sent in a really offensive gag, he would groan ‘Oh de-ar!’, laugh, remove his glasses and go off to regale the producer with this foul offering before returning to the mountain of submissions.
Pete grew up in Bermondsey and even as a child wrote short stories. His father sent him to Pitman’s College but his early jobs included taxi driving (often conveying some shady characters!) and working for a Russian tea merchant who also specialised in certain ‘duty-free’ goods! After an involvement with pirate radio, he put his shorthand and typing training to good use as a sub-editor for the Sun and also worked in the teleprinter room at LBC/IRN where his colleagues included our own Paul Easton.
By this time he had started writing for BBC radio. Derek Jameson claimed in his autobiography that Pete wrote the notorious sketch which led to his expensive libel action against Week Ending but years later he still employed him to write for his show on BSB.
In fact, he wrote for an amazing array of stars on radio or TV in the UK, USA and Australia: David Frost, Joan Rivers, Bob Monkhouse, Ronnie Corbett, Les Dennis and Dustin Gee, Little and Large, Roy Walker. Alfred Marks, John Inman, Keith Harris, the Copy Cats…But he was more likely to boast about who he HADN’T worked for; he proudly told me that he’d never written for Spitting Image! (I guess he didn’t need to).
Radio quizzes were a speciality for Pete, for example, Press Gang, where he attempted to write material accommodating the speech difficulties associated with host Glyn Worsnip’s cerebellar ataxia. And then there was the hugely popular (and frequently risqué) Trivia Test Match, its 8-year innings ended only by Johnners’ death in 1994. The show still gets BBC7 repeats.
And with his lifelong love of movies, he must have been delighted when studios employed him as a script consultant.
I remember Pete as a dapper character (radio comedy writers didn’t usually wear ties, braces and cufflinks!). He appeared forbidding if you didn’t know him but once you did, he was friendly, encouraging and an amazing source of scurrilous showbusiness stories!
On a professional level, he never used any of my initial material until I had reached the required standard. Any revisions he made demonstrated his perfect English or his years of experience of what made a gag work. And seeing how my material fitted into the monologues he compiled taught me about structure - which carries through to my work today. I’m glad I knew him.
(With thanks to John Vyse and Paul Easton for their help regarding Peter Hickey’s extensive CV).
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 809, 10 October 2007).
I stay in touch with some of my old BBC colleagues and, from time to time, an email will arrive, headed ‘Some Sad News’. This happened a few weeks ago when I learned that the comedy writer Peter Hickey had died aged 67 in a fire at his Brighton home.
As a script editor, Pete was the first person to select anything I’d written for BBC radio (Week Ending) and in later years I would sit with him on Wednesday afternoons writing last-minute News Huddlines sketches while he compiled that show’s opening monologue.
He would plough methodically through hundreds of gags sent in on spec (many handwritten/hopeless) and somehow produce a flowing routine which got roars from 300 people at the recording but he was never too busy to contribute ideas if other writers were struggling. On one occasion, Gerry Goddin and I were discussing a news story I’d read about Siamese twins arrested for fighting…each other (only In America!) With Pete’s input, we quickly wrote a sketch which went down very well despite being in dubious taste but then he loved outrageous humour; if someone sent in a really offensive gag, he would groan ‘Oh de-ar!’, laugh, remove his glasses and go off to regale the producer with this foul offering before returning to the mountain of submissions.
Pete grew up in Bermondsey and even as a child wrote short stories. His father sent him to Pitman’s College but his early jobs included taxi driving (often conveying some shady characters!) and working for a Russian tea merchant who also specialised in certain ‘duty-free’ goods! After an involvement with pirate radio, he put his shorthand and typing training to good use as a sub-editor for the Sun and also worked in the teleprinter room at LBC/IRN where his colleagues included our own Paul Easton.
By this time he had started writing for BBC radio. Derek Jameson claimed in his autobiography that Pete wrote the notorious sketch which led to his expensive libel action against Week Ending but years later he still employed him to write for his show on BSB.
In fact, he wrote for an amazing array of stars on radio or TV in the UK, USA and Australia: David Frost, Joan Rivers, Bob Monkhouse, Ronnie Corbett, Les Dennis and Dustin Gee, Little and Large, Roy Walker. Alfred Marks, John Inman, Keith Harris, the Copy Cats…But he was more likely to boast about who he HADN’T worked for; he proudly told me that he’d never written for Spitting Image! (I guess he didn’t need to).
Radio quizzes were a speciality for Pete, for example, Press Gang, where he attempted to write material accommodating the speech difficulties associated with host Glyn Worsnip’s cerebellar ataxia. And then there was the hugely popular (and frequently risqué) Trivia Test Match, its 8-year innings ended only by Johnners’ death in 1994. The show still gets BBC7 repeats.
And with his lifelong love of movies, he must have been delighted when studios employed him as a script consultant.
I remember Pete as a dapper character (radio comedy writers didn’t usually wear ties, braces and cufflinks!). He appeared forbidding if you didn’t know him but once you did, he was friendly, encouraging and an amazing source of scurrilous showbusiness stories!
On a professional level, he never used any of my initial material until I had reached the required standard. Any revisions he made demonstrated his perfect English or his years of experience of what made a gag work. And seeing how my material fitted into the monologues he compiled taught me about structure - which carries through to my work today. I’m glad I knew him.
(With thanks to John Vyse and Paul Easton for their help regarding Peter Hickey’s extensive CV).
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 809, 10 October 2007).
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