What Was It Like Presenting Why Don't You?

As a child, hearing the Why Don't You? theme tune meant two fantastic things: firstly, it was the school holidays and, secondly, that you were going to discover a whole new world of games, activities and crafts to get to grips with. Remember, this was in the days before YouTube and Fortnite (whatever that is), when television was the dominant source of information for children. Anyway, as we all know, the series was built around young presenters, all of whom had incredibly authentic regional accents. But what exactly was it like being a presenter on Why Don't You?

Regional Oddity: Sit Up & Listen

Much like the concept of ringing our friends on a landline for a chat, the TV closedown is another archaic reminder of a very different landscape where the rudimentary constraints of technology limited what was available to us. It was a world which, quite simply, went to bed when the evening’s programming finished.

This all started to change in the 1980s with LWT first pushing their closedown back to 2am in 1983 and then, in 1986, Yorkshire Television experimenting with 24-hour schedules. Before this, however, most channels went off the air around 12.30am.

The BBC would sign off in decidedly patriotic fashion by blasting out the national anthem as any remaining night owls shed a tear of unabashed pride. Meanwhile, many of the regional ITV networks followed a similar suit, often playing the music over a still of the Queen. There was also time, just before the closedown, for ITV regions to slip in a final scrap of programming. These were often peculiar, gloriously British and always low rent. An example which ticks all these boxes is Sit Up & Listen.

Book Review: Travel Without the Tardis

Before you read any further, please prepare yourself. A statement which can only be described as a bombshell of epic proportions is about to follow. And that jaw dropping revelation is thus: fans of Doctor Who are a curious bunch. It may come as a shock, but the truth is that spending your days dreaming about grappling with Zygons, heading off for a pint with Duggan and solving the puzzles of the Exillon city are niche aspirations.

To put a positive spin on such a state of affairs would be to point to the clear evidence of a fertile imagination but – to so called normal people – Whovians remain a peculiar crowd. And I can say this without prejudice as I’ve been a lifelong fan of the series since 1986. Little did I know, however, that as I was digesting Gallifrey’s finest for the first time in Trial of a Timelord, one of the most eccentric helpings of Doctor Who merchandise had recently been released. It was a book unlike any Doctor Who book before or since. And that book was Travel Without the Tardis.

The Life of a Runner on The Children's Channel in the 1980s

Around a year ago, I published an article about The Launch of The Children's Channel in 1984 and, in one of those wonderful this-is-why-I-started-this-website moments, it caught the attention of Charlie Bushell, who had worked as a runner on the channel in the late 1980s. Naturally, Charlie had plenty of insights of what it was like working for a channel which was still relatively young. Therefore, I decided to share his experiences and bring a little more backstory to the history of The Children's Channel.

Bradley

Ephemeral television, as is its nature, comes and goes without causing much of a fuss. Indeed, it only takes a quick perusal of the Curious British Telly archives to understand just how much of our cultural output falls in between the cracks of our groaning, much put upon memories. But, as I've been saying for well over a decade, thanks to the written word and permanence (we hope) of the internet, these brief dalliances with broadcasting can be cemented into the digital consciousness. And that's why I'm cock a hoop to finally breathe life into a true forgotten oddity: Bradley.

29/10/1984 - Let's Pretend: The Milk Float and the Racing Car

It's been a year and a half since I last looked at an episode of Let's Pretend and that's because not a single second of it has popped up anywhere. It's a continual source of frustration given that over 200 episodes were produced, but I guess there's worse things happening in the world (probably). Anyway, the good news is that Neil Miles, the intrepid tape archaeologist, has retrieved an episode from the clutches of a dusty old tape. It's an episode from the fourth series - titled The Milk Float and the Racing Car - which first aired in October 1984, although it appears this particular recording came from a mid-morning repeat in January 1985.

New Article in Best of British (January 2023)

Although Christmas is still a few days away, I've already received an early present: an article of mine being published in the latest issue of Best of British. Following on from my debut in the March 2022 issue, the bods at Best of British towers have been kind enough to give me a couple of pages to detail the short history of Pay-TV - Britain's first pay television experiment which ran for a couple of years in the 1960s. If you're interested in taking a look, then just head to your local WHSmiths where it should be nestling on the shelves.

Christmas at the BBC 1972 – Dramas Out of Crises

By Jon Dear

The last couple of years have been rather tough, haven’t they? Starved of a functioning government and with Covid and Brexit stalking the land like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse after Tory cutbacks, plenty of people spent the long weeks of isolation in front of the telly. But the early 2020s don’t have a monopoly on bad times producing great stories. November-December 1972 produced some of the best regarded and well-remembered television, particularly in the field of ghost stories, and as we shall see, a lot of shit went down in 1972 as Britain had an identity crisis, went to war with a European neighbour over fish and there was a narcissistic liar in the White House. Hopefully we will never see these times again.

Bob Monkhouse: The Flip Side (Thirty Minute Theatre)

It's hard to believe that next year marks the twentieth anniversary of Bob Monkhouse's death. For decade upon decade, he was a resolute fixture in the schedules, and it almost feels as if he's still with us. In fact, if he popped up fronting a new quiz show tomorrow, no one would bat an eyelid. Such was his engaging warmth and expertly honed wit, it's far from hyperbole to describe him as a legend of British television. Oddly, he's never featured on Curious British Telly, but today that changes as I look at The Flip Side.