Brian Hall - Much More Than a Chef

It's always difficult for an actor to step out from the shadows of a universally successful TV show and have their career appreciated as a whole rather than condensed down to one specific role. It's understandable, of course, as memory space is a valuable commodity for us humans, so we only store the essential, memorable details.

However, it's a real shame to define an actor by that one standout role they landed. Everything that came before and after this career highpoint is just as valid when analysing their worth as an actor. And, sometimes, you'll find some hidden gems in amongst their acting CV.

Brian Hall, best known by everyone as Terry the chef from Fawlty Towers, is a great example of this blinkered overview of an actor's career, so I decided it was high time I paid tribute to his undeniable talent and maybe reactivated a few dusty synapses up in your old brainbox.

Tales from the Poop Deck

Life on the Seven Seas must have been a captivating and intriguing affair in those crazy days of maritime high jinks so readily linked with the 18th Century. After all, those dashing Royal Navy chaps looked pretty cool wielding their cutlasses like phallic representations of war and pirates were fiendish rebels who liked getting smashed on rum and bellowing out bawdy sea shanties.

Naturally, with these marauding gangs cluttering up the oceans, it's inevitable that they'd rub eyeballs with each other and, no doubt, try and impale their opposite number on a less than clean blade; worryingly, many of these chaps would fail to get a tetanus shot before embarking on their seafaring adventures. And all this rather negative bunkum meant that it was rare to find them arm in arm down the local tavern.

What if this lack of harmony, though, was suddenly reflected through a prism of love? It would certainly make for some compelling viewing as differences were thrown aside as rapidly as the involved parties' pantaloons. And, let's derail all sense of normality by flinging an ex Bond villain hot on their trail. Done that, have you? Great, that means you're beginning to get to grips with Tales from the Poop Deck.

Genre: Children's
Channel: ITV
Transmission: 07/04/1992 - 12/05/1992

Shored up in Kingston, Jamaica, the Royal Navy ship, HMS Intrepid, is preparing to raise anchor and head back to Britain packed full of taxes for the motherland to feast upon. However, Captain Henry Stallion is a little perturbed by reports that pirates are operating in the area. With the help of professional silly sod Petty Officer Coleridge (Paul Shearer) and the intelligent, but conniving Lieutenant Parkinson (Colin McFarlane), Stallion hopes for a smooth passage across the Atlantic.

Meanwhile, over at pirate ship the Sea Cow, despite rumours that they've retired from piracy and gone into landscape gardening, Connie Blackheart (Helen Atkinson Wood) and her crew (the most feared and bloodthirsty gang of cutthroats in the Caribbean) are planning a raid on HMS Intrepid's glittering contents.

And it's a raid which will not only see Blackheart capturing a chest of gold and Coleridge, but one which will spark a romance between Stallion and Blackheart. It's a dangerous proposition, but then the course of love never did run smooth. Making matters worse, Stallion is forced to inform his easily irritated uncle Dennis aka Admiral De'Ath (Charles Gray) that their haul has been hijacked.

Whilst De'Ath's rage is a fearsome beast, both the crews of the Intrepid and Sea Cow also need to battle sea beasts from deep within the ocean's belly, explore the mind bending effects of Treasure Island on Ben Gunge (Chris Langham), contend with marauding cowboys and question the ethics behind the slave trade. It's a right load of shenanigans, but in the name of treasure and love, those seafaring chaps will do their utmost to succeed.

Setting Sail

Tales from the Poop Deck was a six episode series which aired on ITV as part of the CITV strand in Spring 1992. The series was shown a few weeks later on Channel 4 in a slightly later 6.30pm slot, but this would prove to be the final outing for the show.

The writers, Lenny Barker and Vicky Stepney, had previously written on Smith and Jones so it comes as no surprise that they were able to gather together Griff Rhys Jones and Mel Smith to contribute towards Tales from the Poop Deck. 

Chris Langham, who also appears in some small roles throughout the series, received his first TV production credit on Tales from the Poop Deck. 

Buried Treasure?

Tales from the Poop Deck isn't a show which showed up on my televisual radar back in 1992, but I stumbled across the opening credits on YouTube recently and had my interest piqued. Here was a sitcom for the kids and, crikey, it didn't half have an outstanding cast attached to it. The writers didn't appear to have much history, but, what the hell, it sounded like it was worth my time.

I duly located myself a copy, uncorked a bottle of rum and prepared to have my timbers well and truly shivered.

The cast, obviously, is the most eyecatching aspect of Tales from the Poop Deck's initial premise, so lets cock our eye towards the cast list. It's a remarkable set of actors and I can only assume that there were supernatural forces at play to ensure such a window came up in all their schedules.

Not only have you got Helen Atkinson Wood (forever known as Mrs Miggins from Blackadder), but you've got Dudley Sutton who was, at the time, riding high as Tinker Dill in Lovejoy, Paul Shearer (The Fast Show), Griff Rhys Jones as the narrator, his erstwhile colleague Mel Smith in a quick cameo role, Colin McFarlane (The Fast Show) Chris Langham, Norman 'Desmond' Beaton and, yes, Charles Gray aka Bond supervillain Blofeld.

It would make for an amazing lineup in an adult sitcom, but for a children's sitcom it's stratospheric in terms of its reach. And the acting is undeniably excellent with everyone putting in a tremendous effort, perhaps most impressive is Charles Gray whose face is jam packed full of explosive power meaning that a mere lip curl becomes a scene changer.

So, the writers, Lenny Barker and Vicki Stepney, were spoiled with a haul of fantastic actors, but how would their writing fare?

Well, it's not the most rollicking of yarns. Sure, we get to see the treasure going backwards and forwards nicely with a couple of nice diversions thrown in such as the cowboy bounty hunters, but it's difficult to get invested in it as the action gets monotonous with endless ship scenes and characters constantly getting captured by their opposite numbers. It brings a numbing tediousness to the show and, after two episodes, I found myself wondering whether I should abandon the whole thing.

I persevered, though, and in episode 3 things seem to perk up as the various parties adventure through Treasure Island, get double crossed by cowboys and De'Ath demands that his errant staff are hunted down and made to pay for their betrayal of the Navy. It genuinely felt like a turning point, but things fail to reach these swashbuckling highs again and, instead, we're force fed further prisoner scenes and less than dynamic fight scenes.

In defence of the plots, however, I have to give the writers some real kudos for their efforts in episode five with regards to Lieutenant Parkinson's plot strand. Painted as a deceptive agent working purely for himself, he completely sidesteps this path by revealing that he's been striving to capture the treasure and put it to good use. You see, the treasure is made up of the proceeds from the Antigua slave trade and Parkinson wants this money, instead, to be used to help slaves in the Southern USA escape to the less oppressive North.

It's a wonderfully altruistic twist and one which started to reshape my opinion on Tales from the Poop Deck's narrative. Also, we finally see the chemistry between Stallion and Blackheart take flight and their genuine love for each other promises a happy future together on the high seas. It would have made for a fantastic episode to go out on, but the writers had other ideas...

Unfortunately, episode six acts as a needless epilogue which finds Stallion and Blackheart tying the knot back in Britain. Okay, it's a sweet touch, but the writers take this notion and twist it into an excuse to reveal Stallion as being nothing more than a massive tosser. It feels like a lousy move by the writers after we've invested time in Stallion and Blackheart, plus it seems to condemn any sort of acceptance of love across barriers.

So, yeah, I wasn't very keen on the narrative despite its ability to occasionally sparkle. What's even worse is the comedy on offer. Now, with the cast in place on Tales from the Poop Deck, you'd expect the scripts to be packed full of amazing dialogue to tumble out of their gobs, but there's barely a titter. I found myself desperately willing each line of dialogue to deliver a fantastic punchline, but what I found, well, they weren't even trying to be gags. And, I know that comedy is incredibly hard to write, but a comedy which fails to find the funny soon becomes a struggle.

Not that there's nothing mirthful about Tales from the Poop Deck. Paul Shearer's bumbling twit Coleridge and Chris Langham's barmy Ben Gunge provide light relief, but neither of these characters are supposed to be the heart of the show. Sadly, the two main leads - Stallion and Blackheart - fail to deliver much funny and Charles Gray's interminable rage begins to be feel tired very quickly.

And, as the end credits rolled on episode six, I found myself with timbers which had resolutely not been shivered, not even slightly trembled by Tales from the Poop Deck. Still, that rum tasted good.

Walk the Plank

Tales from the Poop Deck is packed full of potential, but it's glittering cast is sorely let down by a script which is below par and lacks any real sass. Sure, there are glimmers of excitement scattered throughout, but they're too scarce and, unfortunately, Tales from the Poop Deck is a comedy which simply isn't funny. It's a failure where perhaps it could have breathed the same air as Maid Marian and Her Merry Men, but, on this occasion, it's scrabbling round on the floor for breath.

The Crystal Cube

Science is a wondrous branch of learning that allows mankind to not only make great leaps forward, but also understand how it's dragged itself to this juncture as well. Problem is, though, that science can be a complicated old affair. For example, just look at this:

Chips’ Comic

Today's blog is a special guest blog from ScampySpiro who can usually be found writing over at The Spirochaete Trail

Channel 4 never garnered much of a reputation as a hub for quality children’s programming, although its early years did see it taking some novel, if largely forgotten stabs at the market.

Pob’s Programme, a show featuring a monkey puppet purported to literally inhabit the internal space of your television set, still evokes fond memories in a sizable number of people, but those who remember the channel’s very first attempt at a children’s production, Chips’ Comic, which initially aired in 1983 and boasted a central gimmick several stages more ambitious, are an altogether rarer breed.

5 Sketches That Prove Hale and Pace Were Funny

 
Back in the late 80s, the promise, for me, of watching an episode of Hale and Pace was one that was charged with a certain frisson. After all, to a pre-pubescent squirt, Hale and Pace was packed full of the type of smut and silliness which defined not only our own age bracket, but plenty of adults who should have known better.

Therefore, it came as quite a surprise, in my later years, to discover that Hale and Pace was looked down upon as cheap, tacky nonsense. In fact, one particular comment on a forum which caught my eye stated that it was "Lazy, poorly-written, poorly-timed, poorly-constructed shite that builds toward a punchline that's straight out of Smut comic".

Harsh words indeed, but was it that terrible? Well, as with all sketch shows, they're a bit hit and miss, but surely you'd have to be carrying out some right terrible shenanigans with the television commissioners to rack up 10 series of non-stop, grubby bilge, right? The answer, in regards to whether they were awful (their backstage antics remain a mystery) is, in fact a resounding "NO!".

And here's 5 sketches that prove Hale and Pace were funny.

Bloomers

The world of horticulture is one that has remained somewhat untouched by the mischievous hand of British comedy. Sure, Monty Python's Flying Circus touched upon Dennis Moore's obsession with lupins and there was the delicate world of Gumby flower arranging, but that appeared to be it.

However, after a little digging (and hoeing), I was delighted to discover a rare shoot of comedy with its roots firmly entrenched in the soil of British sitcom. And the fact that it was Richard Beckinsale's final sitcom meant I had no choice but to check out Bloomers.

Genre: Comedy

Channel: BBC2
Transmission: 27/09/1979 -25/10/1979

Stan Partridge (Richard Beckinsale) is a down on his luck actor - despite being "the 2nd most promising new act of 1966" - who lives with the emotionally unstable, and seemingly addicted to therapy, Lena Peartree (Anna Calder Marshall) in a messy, cramped flat drenched in domestic unrest.

After discovering that his rubber plant is dead - apparently murdered by Lena - Stan pays a visit to a garden shop to pick up a replacement. Run by Dingley Paisley (David Swift) and the unhinged plant sympathiser George (Paul Curran) it appears to offer a lucrative opportunity for Stan to escape the constant disappointment of failed auditions.

Keen to become a useful member of the community, Stan takes up Dingley's offer to become a partner in 'Bloomers'. Naturally, with no capital rattling round in his bank account, Stan will have to work off his investment in the firm, but perhaps it could be the making of him and secure some stability in his relationship with Lena.

Horticultural matters, naturally, are all about freedom and the open air, but Stan will soon learn that the claustrophobic nature of man's weaknesses and imperfections will stretch his relationship with Lena and Dingley to breaking point.

Planting the Seeds

Written by esteemed playwright and master of absurdist theatre James Saunders, Bloomers was a five episode sitcom which aired on BBC2 in 1979. Now, you may consider it strange that only five episodes were made, but it was meant to be your standard six episode series. Tragically, on the day of rehearsals for the sixth episode, it was discovered that Richard Beckinsale had died from a heart attack.

Although this acted as a glumly premature punctuation to the series, the five episodes recorded were broadcast later on in the year and acted as a tribute to Beckinsale. Bloomers may have had a sad and mournful end, but where did the show's genesis lie? Well, after spotting John Challis popping up in one episode, I tweeted him to ask what he remembered about the show and he graciously delivered this amazing nugget of sitcom trivia:

"I remember the writer James Saunders was a customer at my garden centre and he wrote a script about my experiences. I gave the script to my agent who gave it to John Howard Davies at the BBC who was looking for a vehicle for Richard Beckinsale. So Bloomers was written with me in mind but I wasn't famous enough, but Richard Beckinsale was wonderful and I got an episode out of it!"

Only one repeat of the series - consisting of four episodes - was ever aired and this came on BBC1 in August 1980. The scarcity of actual broadcasts, coupled with no commercial releases, has left Bloomers as a rarity of British TV comedy, but, thankfully recordings - seemingly from Australian TV - have surfaced on YouTube.

Blooming Marvelous?

Richard Beckinsale's best known roles - as Lennie Godber and Alan Moore - always painted him as a somewhat doe eyed dreamer who approached the world like a lamb to the slaughter. However, Bloomers finds him playing a much more confident and able character in the form of Stan Partridge. The allure of women is clearly something that doesn't threaten him, but does run the risk of tampering with the stability of his life.

And this is why it's really interesting to see Beckinsale inhabiting such a character. It almost feels like a brave new start for the actor. Tossing off the shackles of being seen as the go to choice for wet behind the ears characters, Bloomers still finds him as an actor packed full of instantly amiable charm, but it's a more mature role and backed up the claims that he would go on to great things during the 1980s.

Positioned somewhat clumsily as a mentor who seems to have little influence over Stan, David Swift brings his rich vowels and fine pedigree as a British actor to Bloomers. Again, Swift is a highly likeable actor and his presence on our screens for 40 years is hearty evidence of how he mastered the medium. There's a charming chemistry between Stan and Dingley, but I did feel that perhaps there's not quite enough discord to engender a double act for the the ages.

Also failing to create an engaging relationship is Lena, Stan's complex and neurotic girlfriend. Whilst Anna Calder-Marshall takes on the guise of Lena with a confident measure of the character's flaws, her relationship with Stan is an odd one. Prone to wild arguments, they seem like a couple on the edge of a severe breakdown. Now, whilst this setup can often pay comedy dividends, there's virtually no glimpses of happiness, or hints that they've ever been happy, and their relationship left me feeling a bit cold.

All these relationships take place against a backdrop of horticultural influenced shenanigans penned by James Saunders. And, if one thing stands out, it's the magnificent dialogue on offer. Coming from a background in absurdist theatre, Saunders ensures that there's no cut and paste dialogue from a million other sitcoms of the time. The dialogue is intelligent, peppered with philosophical musings and has a snappy rhythm which marks it out as ahead of its time.

The actual plots, though, are a bit of a hotchpotch of the sublime and the mediocre. The third episode - which sees Stan and Dingley trying to obtain Christmas trees in June - is a fantastic piece of sitcom farce and acts as an entertaining watch which demonstrates what Bloomers was capable of. Other episodes, however, struggle to match this and, whilst perfectly innocuous, they struggle to raise any sense of tension and merely amble along with a cheery smile.

And the humour on show befalls a similar fate. Obviously, anything in Beckinsale's career is going to struggle against the might of Rising Damp and Porridge, but the humour in Bloomers is a mixed bag. There are the broad strokes of basic sitcom humour to guarantee some base laughs - although the character of George feels far too broad and caricatured - and this is mixed in with the more cerebral heady gags. It's an intriguing cocktail of humour, but not always one which goes down smoothly.

Hanging out the Bloomers

Bloomers is an intriguing sitcom and not simply because it featured the swansong of one of Britain's beloved actors. James Saunders appears to be brewing something very special with it. Sure, the emotional stakes are hardly raised and there's little resolution to the characters' plights, but there's something interesting going on. A curious concoction of clever, engaging dialogue with fantastic performances left me thinking that it was teetering on the edge of blooming into something bigger.

And, remember, it's only the first series. It's difficult for any television show to hit the ground running and, in particular, comedy finds this incredibly difficult due to the subjective nature of humour. A second series may have brought new conditions to up Bloomer's game, but this was never to be. As it is, the five episodes we're left with remain a brave and genial take on the sitcom genre. It may not define Richard Beckinsale's career, but it certainly doesn't detract from his talents either.

Andy Crane, Children’s BBC and Me…

 
Today's blog comes from Heather Lewis a writer so amazing that, even as you read this blog, her words are being etched into stone for TV archaeologists to discover in the future!

Welcome Curious British Telly fans to my first blog post here and I’m going to start with a confession to you…I am a fan of Andy Crane! Half of you reading this now think I’ve totally lost the plot and the other half may need a little prompting, his name sounds familiar, right? If not, then please let me help you out a little bit…

Archive Tape Digging: Selected Ad Breaks Vol.1

In this latest delve into dusty, old forgotten VHS tape recordings I've recovered, I'm going to be presenting a series of ad breaks which may titillate those who yearn for retro chocolate bars, a young Ralph Ineson and James Nesbitt going all Star Trek and, uh, the wonders of Coloroll.

1. ITV Thames Adverts 01/04/1986

Archive Tape Digging: Drugs in Prison

A few weeks backs I reported on the exhilarating and exciting collection of 50 old, used VHS tapes which were surely packed full of rare gems of British TV. Truth was, there was barely anything worth getting excited about, but in amongst all the dross and endless South Park episodes there was something interesting.

Tagged on to the end of a tape containing nothing but the Elvis film Blue Hawaii was an episode of the political series This Week. Fronted by a magnificently coiffured and suited Jonathan Dimbleby, it was an episode from 1987 entitled 'Drugs in Prison' and was imbued with that sense of gritty brutality the 80s excelled in.