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)
Tuesday, 7 April 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.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 851, 30 July 2008 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.
(Republished from the Radio Magazine Issue 851, 30 July 2008 and Issue 873, 7 January 2009)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
