Posts Tagged With '1979'

PICTURE BOX no.1: NOT’s landing

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"We're the new frontier of British comedy, quick, Pamela, do the spazz face!"

Taking advantage of the acres of pixel space now opened on the front page of TV Cream, we start an occasional series of lovely-pictures-without-a-remit.

This time around it’s this snap from a photoshoot for the first series of NOT THE NINE O’CLOCK NEWS. Rowan Atkinson, of course, absent. Presumably he was busy somewhere with the “first team” of comedy. But, from left to right: a rare cigar-less Mel Smith, Chris “Anything we put in here by way of a descriptor would be ill-advised” Langham and Strictly Come Dancing’s Pamela Armstrong.

Keep watching TV Cream for another lovely-picture-without-a-remit soon!

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Worzel Gummidge

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What d'you think of my new face, b'the way?JON P’TWEE was your thick-but-loveable scarecrow befriended by kids, according to the 7″ single (see below), “just like John and Sue”, with all the “thinking head”/”cup of tea and slice of cake” stuff. (Sue was, in fact, a pre-pubescent CHARLOTTE “FOUR/MARMALADE/ORANGES” COLEMAN.) Aunt Sally (UNA STUBBS) and “The playing-God-with-bits-of-turnip-and-carrot-alchemist Crowman” (GEOFFREY “CATWEAZLE” BAYLDON) did the schtick, along with multiple guest appearances down the years by BARBARA WINDSOR as Saucy Nancy. Original Southern television production later shifted lock, stock to New Zealand (for co-production of the “…DOWN UNDER”), though the series had long since deviated from the original BARBARA EUPHAN-TODD books.

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Question Time

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A humble spear-carrier, yesterdayUNCOUTH VERSION of Radio 4′s Any Questions, only with pictures. Invented to stop ROBIN DAY moaning about how the BBC weren’t giving him any work, and to fill a hole in the schedules when the BBC Governors nixed the idea of Parky going five nights a week (and thank fuck they did). Early editions had Sir Robin hunched over a beige desk flanked on either side by two captains of industry/trade union leaders. Well-spoken audience members in frocks and suits read “questions” off cards about collective bargaining. Nobody watched. Then some politicos started turning up, figuring it was a chance for a bit of after-hours ego-exercise, and more than a dozen people realised the show existed. Sir Robin ruled it like a personal fiefdom until 1989, when he quit (in a huff, naturally) to be replaced by multi-trillionaire signing PETER “Er…” SISSONS, who was useless and was soon replaced by DAVID DIMBLEBY. Latterday policy of having a) celebrities b) competition-winning students and c) Eddie Izzard on the panel likely to have Sir Robin spinning in his humble spear-carrier grave.

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Omega Factor, The

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"And Omega, don't forget Omega!"CHIEFLY REMEMBERED for having starred LOUISE “DICKIE DAVIES HAIR” JAMESON fresh from DR WHO as leather-clad inarticulate Leela, this BBC psychic drama revolved around JAMES HAZELDINE, who played a journalist sent to cover a story about a clairvoyant. Unwittingly he begins to display signs of his own psychic power and comes to the attention of an obscure govt department called Department 7, set up to study the paranormal, in the shape of Jameson, JOHN CARLISLE and the intriguingly named BROWN DERBY. Lots of “Can I trust the government? Are they doing experiments on me or being my friends?” paranoia ensues, with rather silly stories all shot on video with loads of over-the-top synth music and sound effects.

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Life on Earth

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"Don't fancy yours much"THE FIRST of Sir Dave’s big budget quests through, under, above and beyond the world around us, which pretty much set the template for everything that followed: ambitious topics, blustering incidental music, breathtaking filming, and sentences which our man would begin while strolling through the parched scenery of one heat-ridden country…

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In Loving Memory

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By 'eck as like - that corpse needed picklin'!THORA HIRD, as usual playing herself, is an undertaker in a bluff, gruff, “take me as you find me” Lancashire funeral firm with stupid nephew CHRISTOPHER BEENY as co-pallbearer. Now let the laughs commence!

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Only When I Laugh

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Pete inspects his number one fan "I prefer to call it The *Notional* Health Service"

“I’M H. A. P. P. Y…” Three patients spend four years in hospital even though there’s absolutely nothing bloody well wrong with them. The stars were socialist worker Roy Figgis (JAMES BOLAM) and snobbo dandy Archie Glover (PETER BOWLES), roping in neutral feebling Norman Binns (CHRISTOPHER STRAULI) into their “capers”. Pre-’Grave RICHARD WILSON was the doctor, hospital orderly Guptah was a restrained racial caricature for the time. Last episode, when they all left and ended up in the same restaurant, set new standards for baked bean endings.

Richard and James trade dogma and diagnoses "Piss off Pete, I'm trying to listen to Tony Benn's audio diaries"
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Tales of the Unexpected

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"A drop of something loaded with macabre significance, m'lady?" Joan prepares to *unexpectedly* put her head through a piece of modern art

THE ONLY thing unexpected about them being, of course, the identity of the uber-celebrity playing the part of the doomed protagonist this week. And then it was usually JOAN COLLINS. ROALD DAHL personally introduced the early series of these self-penned sting-in-tale half hours, but that was after you’d had to sit through the dodgy silhouetted woman dancing in flames, the tarot cards, the spinning revolver, the roulette wheel, some skulls and anything vaguely sinister-looking. Highlights from a decade’s worth of expected deception:

- Royal Jelly where TIMOTHY WEST fed the stuff to his son until he started to turn into a bee.

- That one where a bloke’s widow keeps his brain and one eye alive in a tank so he can watch her shagging another bloke.

- That one where a practical joker dies suffocating in a room.

- The Sound Machine: A bloke invents an ultrasonic hearing device, and discovers the screams of plants whenever they’re pruned, leading the ubiquitous pained outburst: “The plants…they’re intelligent and defenceless…every time we uproot one, they scream in agony and we are oblivious to their misery…oh god…in farms across the world, whenever a combine harvester cuts the wheat – thousands of voices – screaming! Screaming for their lives! (buries hands in face) Oh my god!!”

- First one ever: A professional gambler bets with people that he could light his lighter ten times in a row, starting with the old man’s Jaguar as prize but moving to the loser’s fingers. Blah blah blah and then, come the end scene, the prof. gambler’s wife holds her hand out with the car keys in it and half her little finger is missing. Ripped off by Tarantino for his part of the rubbish and now thankfully forgotten Four Rooms film.

- Georgy Porgy: A vicar who wakes up one morning to find he’s irresistable to women. The coffee morning takes on an air of erotic menace as hitherto indifferent women rub up against him. He’s even seduced on a river bank by, of course, JOAN COLLINS.

- Lamb To The Slaughter: The one where this woman (SUSAN GEORGE) murders her husband by clubbing him with a frozen leg of lamb. When the cops turn up (under the aegis of ex-Z Carser BRIAN BLESSED) she makes them a nice roast dinner with the evidence

- Skin: The one about this tramp with a tattooed back who gets looked after by this bloke (DEREK “I, CLAVDIVS” JACOBI) who then tops him for the artwork.

- The Krait: Some bloke living in India, gets hold of a deadly Krait snake, but loses it. Final shot is him going for the sherry decanter, and getting slow painful death in the wrist courtesy of the Krait…

- The one where this surgeon places a key underneath the mattress of an X-Ray machine when this bloke he obviously doesn’t like goes for a scan. Outline of key pops up on scan result, bloke gets cut up to remove key, no key there, goes for scan again, surgeon puts key under mattress again, bloke gets cut up again…etc etc. Comes to a sticky end for surgeon who shits himself when police come around and swallows the key.

- JOAN COLLINS as rich-bitch wife, pissing all and sundry off at a garden party, only to get her head stuck in massive modern art sculpture construction, in front of all the guests. Browbeaten butler takes great delight in being told by his master to fetch an axe to cut his wife out of said expensive bit of art (without damaging the sculpture), and subsequently decapitates Joan with great relish.

- A pair of poncey wine connoisseurs and spouses meet up to drink an ancient bottle of wine that is priceless – the holy grail of wines by all accounts. But what’s this? Wine Connoisseur #1 knows that Wine Connoisseur #2 is a) having an affair with his wife and b) affected by a heart condition. Connoisseur #1 bigs up the bottle of wine and how good it is going to taste before promptly changing his mind, as it’s “probably gone a bit off” and proceeds to pour it on the carpet in front of horrified wine loving onlookers. Connoisseur 2 drops dead on the spot from a fatal coronary, after a prolonged bout of red faced blustering disbelief.

- JOAN COLLINS (yet again) is the pretty sister, PAULINE “LIVER BIRDS” COLLINS is the dumpy one. Joan is cheating on her husband, JOHN ALDERTON (of course), whom Pauline is also in love with. Joan gets caught. Joan and Pauline then cook up a scheme that has Joan dressing in a white dress, taking pills, Pauline finding her in time and her husband taking her back in sympathy. When Joan takes pills, however, Pauline posts the suicide letter and lets Joan die, marrying the bloke herself.

- Pretty girl and artist get miserable old fat French woman drunk and pretend that they painted her nude. Blackmail her. Get money and take off, but they were having her on all along. Much histrionics from miserable old fat French woman in big car driving around Paris, or some such continental overseas filmed extravaganza.

- Bloke ditches wife JENNIE LINDEN for second wife SUZANNE DANIELLE, but she’s a gold digger, shoots her, disposes of evidence, but leaves proof of guilt in easily found suitcase. First wife changes her mind on the remarriage.

- The one where a con artist cum antique dealer turns up at a farm and persuades the yokels there that the Queen Anne desk (or similar item) that they’ve got in their kitchen, covered with old sacks and chicken shit, is of no value in itself but the legs are quite nice and he’ll give them a (pathetically low) “good price” for the desk to take it off their hands. When he comes back with the van, the yokels, glad to be of help, have sawn the legs off the desk and present them to him.

- Young man looks for digs, finds an apparently perfect place, run by a sweet little old lady who has her pets stuffed once they’ve shuffled off their mortal coils. Turns out that her previous lodgers have never left, and are upstairs in their rooms, sitting up in bed, also in a state of taxidermic perfection.

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Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

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There are three of them, and AllelineALEC GUINNESS unearths a mole in the British Secret Service very very slowly, mostly by talking abstractedly about lamplighters and ju-ju men, while MICHAEL JAYSTON steals dodgy dossiers, GEORGE SEWELL watches the door, ANTHONY BATE worries about “the minister”, BERYL REID gets pissed, SIAN PHILLIPS has a lie-in until the very last scene and Seymour off of LAST OF THE SUMMER WINE repeatedly lights a pipe. BERNARD HEPTON, TERENCE RIGBY and IAN RICHARDSON sweated. IAN BANNEN got chased through the Czechoslovakian woods by dogs. Oh, and Control (ALEXANDER KNOX) goes mental. A masterpiece.

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Give us a Clue

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"Psst - Kenny, wanna help me try and pull off Twelve Gentlemen of Verona?"NOW WE’RE talking. Or not, for fear of eliciting a petulant parb from Asp or Parky’s buzzer. The ultimate in parlour game riddle-me-ree telly, this served many a purpose during its celebrated reign, not least a) filling half an hour on the cheap b) keeping Parky in work after he sulked out of TV-am (not necessarily a good thing) c) keeping any number of equally jobbing light entertainment lackeys in the public eye, or at least in the early afternoon public eye, and d) having the most dementedly overlong here’s-how-the-whole-thing-works theme tune ever. Plus it proved ample inspiration for something to fill dying minutes of last-day-of-term school pissabouts. Original line-up had MICHAEL ASPEL bedded down behind cosy desk “keeping order” as TV Times always used to say over UNA STUBBS and LIONEL BLAIR, who in turn had ostensible jurisdiction over fellow contestants comprising defiantly D-list celebrities and members of the public. Later, more long-running roster comprised MICHAEL PARKINSON in a sweater behind a giant bureau, with LIONEL on his left and LIZA GODDARD on his right supported by a celeb-only back-up. Original theme (Chicken Man, aka GRANGE HILL) also ditched for inordinately long exposition in close harmony singing: “..with Mi-chael Par-kin-son (shot of Parky looking shifty)…Liza God-dard (shot of Liza looking sassy)…and Li-onel Blair! (shot of Lionel looking hyper, mouthing “Hello!” at camera)”. Captains would also introduce fellow comrades during the song. “And on my team today,” cooed Liza, “Maureen Lipman, Janet Brown and Rula Lenska!” “While on my team today,” minced Lionel, “Christopher Biggins, Bernard Cribbins and Brian Glover!” Host would then beckon member of team up to the desk to proffer title of book/play/film etc., displayed on screen for those “not playing along at home”. 90 second or less on the clock. Mime beings. Veterans, especially Lionel, prone to exaggerated slapping of splayed fingers on forearms and pressing of nose-ends when guess was correct. Guess followed by a bonus “When was it made? 1968, 1969 or 1970?” question in which Parky always directed the girls team to the correct answer in a misguided act of chivalry. Amusing 25-word “bit of fun” offering always doled out to Lionel at end of every show. “You swines!” Obligatory changing of seats with each round completed picture of cosy bonhommie, sadly missed.

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Sapphire and Steel

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Steely Visions in blue Erm... sapphirey

WOBBLY FRIDGE magnet letters and tadgerish geometric cartoons began this pretentious sci-fi supernatuum about two elemental agents Sapphire (JOANNA LUMLEY) and Steel (DAVID McCALLUM). Opening bullshit portent tried to impress with flash vocabulary “heavy transuranic elements may not be used.” Yeah, and Sapphire and Steel are not fucking elements. Ludicrous bag of wank plots involved being able to see through time, baubles of light, railway stations being dragged back through history and being able to reduce your body temperature below freezing. The sort of stuff, then, that comprises an entire series of Torchwood.

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Tropic

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“NOT THE Tropic of Cancer, or the Tropic of Capricorn, but our very own little English Tropic…” Of Ruislip, actually, from Leslie Thomas novel. Suburban schtick with animated title sequence and heroically low ratings. The ITV strikes didn’t help matters. RONALD PICKUP was in it, as you might expect.

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Turtle’s Progress

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SHORT-ARSED SNIVELLING baldie Turtle (JOHN LANDRY) is the brains of a petty crime partnership, the other half being, huge, thuggish, Crombie-clad skinhead Razor Eddie (MICHAEL ATWELL). One night they nick a Ford Transit, only to find (next day) that it is loaded with the booty from a daring deposit box robbery at a bank. Needless to say, the bankrobbers are neatly rounded up open-mouthed and bewildered as the police arrive; their getaway vehicle having vanished into thin air. Of course there are no links to Turtle and Eddie who are left in peaceful ignorance, and each episode was based on them opening a deposit box and an adventure sprang from the contents. Their deeds might have been Quixotic, but by now unmemorable.

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Two People

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TEENAGE LOVE affair in the HELEN mould.

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Two Up, Two Down

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THANKLESS AND thankfully-forgotten squattercom set in Manchester, with a couple (NORMAN TIPTON and CLAIRE FAULCONBRIDGE) moving into their new house, only to find (believe it or not) SU POLLARD and PAUL NICHOLAS as two squatters already resident. Imagine the consequences. Then try to banish them from your memory forever.

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Time Express

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GALLUMPHING SHORT-LIVED drama boasting a FANTASY ISLAND-type format: weird train enabled passengers to go back in time to change the way crucial past events worked out. VINCENT PRICE was the demented bloke in charge; CORAL BROWNE stood on the footplate.

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Tigris

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ZEITGEIST-BOTTLING DOCUMENTARY on that hobbledehoy Norwegian explorer THOR “KON-TIKI” HEYERDAHL, in this one building reed boats to sail from the Middle East to Malaysia.

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To The Manor Born

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PUNNING TITLE and YES, MINISTER-type theme concealed ultra gentle aristocom with PENELOPE “MARGOT” KEITH as Audrey Fforbes-Hamilton, forced to move out of Grantleigh Estate by financial pressures. In comes Polish wannabe dandy Richard DeVere (PETER BOWLES). Cue uneasy relationship, muted romance, massive fuck-off viewing figures and ANGELA THORNE as Margot, er, Audrey’s dippy best friend.

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Teliffant

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ENGLISH LANGUAGE not evident. Shown on Sunday mornings before The Sunday Gang, but only if you lived in, as Sarah Kennedy would have it, the Principality. Central characters Syr Wynff (WYNFORD ELLIS-OWEN in granny specs) and Mici Plwm (real name MICI PLWM) became involved in various shenanigans each week, which usually involved Wynff screaming at Mici, Mici getting a pint of milk poured over his head, and crying. Celtic slapstick at its finest.

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Telford’s Change

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PETER BARKWORTH, in no way typecast as pinstriped corporate banker from the city, packs up (see? Change, like money) and moves to the English countryside (Change! As in change. Clever, eh?) with wifey, the delightful HANNAH GORDON, lives on a houseboat and uses his economic and accounting knowledge to help out the locals. Except Hannah’s not so happy, preferring the high life of London town where she is treading the boards. Trouble brews, as is so often the way, when KEITH BARRON shows up. Affable Sunday night “quitting the rat race” gubbins.

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