I don't know which to feel more nostalgic about - the amount of open door writing opportunities back then or the amount of hair I still had...
Showing posts with label TV comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV comedy. Show all posts
Monday, 6 June 2011
Thursday, 8 October 2009
Like the clappers?
The grammar school where I was nearly educated had a Latin teacher who pulled pupils' hair if we got something wrong in a lesson. (As you can see from my picture, Latin wasn't my best subject). I can remember him once telling us how actors in ancient Rome would say 'plaudit' after a performance, which translates as 'applause, please'. (Well, if you have to ask...)
Of course, some audiences don't need to be requested to clap but rather have to be asked to reign in their appreciation. Another memory from my schooldays is of a primary school headmaster informing us that he would appreciate it if the applause at a forthcoming prize-giving where parents and local dignitaries would be present could be more subtle than that at a recent swimming gala. And I once saw a snooker match on TV where an overly-enthusiastic Steve Davis fan clapped in a loud (and lonely) fashion after every single shot his hero played. He was eventually told to tone it down by an official.
(Don't even get me started on the baying mobs at TV talent show auditions...)
But audience response can be stage-managed. Those cheers at the beginning and end of the new-ish, lower-budget version of Countdown don't quite sound spontaneous to me and we are, of course, well into the party conference season with its predictable standing ovations (probably the only exercise some of those delegates get each year).
So what about the applause on radio comedy shows? At my speaking engagements, I often meet people who believe that all the laughing and clapping must be 'canned' or in response to some little bloke frantically jumping up and down holding signs saying 'LAUGHTER', 'APPLAUSE', etc. Some may even have attended tapings of TV shows - some decades ago - where this actually happened.
Having spent some years regularly attending recordings at the BBC Paris Studios and Radio Theatre, I have to try and convince them that this just isn't the case. I have certainly seen producers tell audiences beforehand to be enthusiastic and observed an announcer hold up an arm to signal applause at the end of the opening and closing signatures but that's about it; the lion's share of the response is down to the material, performance - and audience.
For a radio comedy writer it's a great experience when 300 people in the studio applaud an original one-liner of yours. This may be because it makes a point which they agree with or because they simply find it very funny but the most glorious moments are when something subtle gets a laugh which builds into a ripple and then a full round of applause as the penny drops.
But I once wrote for a topical series on Radio 2 which had very little promotion. I didn't attend any of the recordings and perhaps I should have done; judging from the volume of the laughter and applause, this might have boosted the attendance figures by several per cent. It wasn't a bad programme at all but it only ran for one series and I can't help thinking that this lack of audible appreciation helped to seal its fate.
Some of the most enthusiastic responses can be heard when long-running radio comedy panel games record editions away from London, in fact listeners may be left wondering if this is the only live entertainment which has ever been staged in that particular city. How some commercial radio presenters must envy such audience energy when they compare the indifference at their OBs from shopping malls!
Right, that's the end of this column; please feel free to clap. Go on, 'plaudit, plaudit'...
(Reublished from the Radio Magazine, 30 September 2009)
Of course, some audiences don't need to be requested to clap but rather have to be asked to reign in their appreciation. Another memory from my schooldays is of a primary school headmaster informing us that he would appreciate it if the applause at a forthcoming prize-giving where parents and local dignitaries would be present could be more subtle than that at a recent swimming gala. And I once saw a snooker match on TV where an overly-enthusiastic Steve Davis fan clapped in a loud (and lonely) fashion after every single shot his hero played. He was eventually told to tone it down by an official.
(Don't even get me started on the baying mobs at TV talent show auditions...)
But audience response can be stage-managed. Those cheers at the beginning and end of the new-ish, lower-budget version of Countdown don't quite sound spontaneous to me and we are, of course, well into the party conference season with its predictable standing ovations (probably the only exercise some of those delegates get each year).
So what about the applause on radio comedy shows? At my speaking engagements, I often meet people who believe that all the laughing and clapping must be 'canned' or in response to some little bloke frantically jumping up and down holding signs saying 'LAUGHTER', 'APPLAUSE', etc. Some may even have attended tapings of TV shows - some decades ago - where this actually happened.
Having spent some years regularly attending recordings at the BBC Paris Studios and Radio Theatre, I have to try and convince them that this just isn't the case. I have certainly seen producers tell audiences beforehand to be enthusiastic and observed an announcer hold up an arm to signal applause at the end of the opening and closing signatures but that's about it; the lion's share of the response is down to the material, performance - and audience.
For a radio comedy writer it's a great experience when 300 people in the studio applaud an original one-liner of yours. This may be because it makes a point which they agree with or because they simply find it very funny but the most glorious moments are when something subtle gets a laugh which builds into a ripple and then a full round of applause as the penny drops.
But I once wrote for a topical series on Radio 2 which had very little promotion. I didn't attend any of the recordings and perhaps I should have done; judging from the volume of the laughter and applause, this might have boosted the attendance figures by several per cent. It wasn't a bad programme at all but it only ran for one series and I can't help thinking that this lack of audible appreciation helped to seal its fate.
Some of the most enthusiastic responses can be heard when long-running radio comedy panel games record editions away from London, in fact listeners may be left wondering if this is the only live entertainment which has ever been staged in that particular city. How some commercial radio presenters must envy such audience energy when they compare the indifference at their OBs from shopping malls!
Right, that's the end of this column; please feel free to clap. Go on, 'plaudit, plaudit'...
(Reublished from the Radio Magazine, 30 September 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)
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
Course remarks
Last year, I wrote a series of articles for the Radio Magazine showing presenters how to write their own comedy material but for seven years, I taught adult education comedy writing classes heavily biased towards radio (in those days the most accessible market for freelancers, thanks to the BBC’s ‘open door’ policy).
Daytime courses attracted writers ranging from students to OAPs, with very different tastes in comedy, but we managed to find common ground. Some were instantly successful; a chap now in his seventies, who remains a friend, had material used on Week Ending, the News Huddlines and on TV by Rory Bremner before the course finished (I've never had anything used by Bremner!)
We covered many forms of humorous writing and had some great laughs. One lovely moment was when a lady (sadly no longer with us) with a real talent for comic verse sang a version of My Way on her last lesson, rewritten about how much she’d enjoyed the classes.
But not all my memories are fond ones. My first course attracted a harridan who only seemed to want to write bad taste material, rather like the ‘jokes’ that circulate after major tragedies. She would make disparaging remarks about myself and my clothes or would sit reading rather than paying any attention to what I was teaching. During one lesson, I asked the class to listen to the next edition of Week Ending, adding that I would give them details of how to submit material the following week. There was a sound reason for this: I wanted them to study the show first so that they would not waste the producer’s time with material that wasn’t suitable. My nemesis started loudly accusing me of deliberately holding back information (why would I?)
As the first half-term ended, she got a big laugh from everybody with a tasteless anecdote about a patient dying when she was (worryingly) a nurse. She never returned for the rest of the course; we felt as if a cloud had lifted. I later discovered that she had once made the front page of a newspaper by getting sectioned under the Mental Health Act after reacting in a novel way to a dispute over her housing benefit: by attempting to drive her car through the doors of the council offices. I still sometimes spot her out and about but she doesn’t recognise me. If she ever does, I relish the prospect of saying ‘Hi, ------, driven into any good town halls lately?’ Not that I’ve borne a grudge since 1997…
As the years went on, daytime classes became harder to fill, not helped by the service frequently omitting them from the brochure index. The minimum quota of students required to run courses seemed to increase in tandem with the number of highly-paid administrators being employed so I started teaching evening classes for the local college. These attracted younger students and were fine, provided I wasn’t being bawled out in front of my class by an obnoxious administrator for not noticing that a window was slightly open or being irritated by a caretaker hovering outside ten minutes before the lessons which my students were paying for were due to end.
I finished teaching for them after they paid me (public money!) to attend a meeting to arrange the timetable for my next courses – and then simply reproduced listings from the previous year, thereby advertising some on days when I wasn’t available and omitting others altogether. I sent my boss an email expressing my opinion that he couldn’t organise the proverbial distillery-based celebration.
So can you teach people to be funny? Well, you can certainly sharpen their talents. Adult education employers, on the other hand, just seem to be unintentionally comical.
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 833, 26 March 2008)
Continuing on this theme of teaching comedy, I must just add that I thought the booklet about writing comedy which came free with the Guardian last week was excellent. There were a number of big-name contributors, the majority of it being a tutorial by Richard Herring. (and yes, it was mostly written by Richard Herring!)I predict numerous 'Wanted' appeals and copies of this freebie changing hands on eBay in the months to come. On the other hand, you could just read it here!
For those who prefer something longer, I think this is the best British book:
And here is a good US comedy writing manual:
Daytime courses attracted writers ranging from students to OAPs, with very different tastes in comedy, but we managed to find common ground. Some were instantly successful; a chap now in his seventies, who remains a friend, had material used on Week Ending, the News Huddlines and on TV by Rory Bremner before the course finished (I've never had anything used by Bremner!)
We covered many forms of humorous writing and had some great laughs. One lovely moment was when a lady (sadly no longer with us) with a real talent for comic verse sang a version of My Way on her last lesson, rewritten about how much she’d enjoyed the classes.
But not all my memories are fond ones. My first course attracted a harridan who only seemed to want to write bad taste material, rather like the ‘jokes’ that circulate after major tragedies. She would make disparaging remarks about myself and my clothes or would sit reading rather than paying any attention to what I was teaching. During one lesson, I asked the class to listen to the next edition of Week Ending, adding that I would give them details of how to submit material the following week. There was a sound reason for this: I wanted them to study the show first so that they would not waste the producer’s time with material that wasn’t suitable. My nemesis started loudly accusing me of deliberately holding back information (why would I?)
As the first half-term ended, she got a big laugh from everybody with a tasteless anecdote about a patient dying when she was (worryingly) a nurse. She never returned for the rest of the course; we felt as if a cloud had lifted. I later discovered that she had once made the front page of a newspaper by getting sectioned under the Mental Health Act after reacting in a novel way to a dispute over her housing benefit: by attempting to drive her car through the doors of the council offices. I still sometimes spot her out and about but she doesn’t recognise me. If she ever does, I relish the prospect of saying ‘Hi, ------, driven into any good town halls lately?’ Not that I’ve borne a grudge since 1997…
As the years went on, daytime classes became harder to fill, not helped by the service frequently omitting them from the brochure index. The minimum quota of students required to run courses seemed to increase in tandem with the number of highly-paid administrators being employed so I started teaching evening classes for the local college. These attracted younger students and were fine, provided I wasn’t being bawled out in front of my class by an obnoxious administrator for not noticing that a window was slightly open or being irritated by a caretaker hovering outside ten minutes before the lessons which my students were paying for were due to end.
I finished teaching for them after they paid me (public money!) to attend a meeting to arrange the timetable for my next courses – and then simply reproduced listings from the previous year, thereby advertising some on days when I wasn’t available and omitting others altogether. I sent my boss an email expressing my opinion that he couldn’t organise the proverbial distillery-based celebration.
So can you teach people to be funny? Well, you can certainly sharpen their talents. Adult education employers, on the other hand, just seem to be unintentionally comical.
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 833, 26 March 2008)
Continuing on this theme of teaching comedy, I must just add that I thought the booklet about writing comedy which came free with the Guardian last week was excellent. There were a number of big-name contributors, the majority of it being a tutorial by Richard Herring. (and yes, it was mostly written by Richard Herring!)I predict numerous 'Wanted' appeals and copies of this freebie changing hands on eBay in the months to come. On the other hand, you could just read it here!
For those who prefer something longer, I think this is the best British book:
And here is a good US comedy writing manual:
Saturday, 7 June 2008
Corpse Remarks
I may have missed hearing it go out live but I certainly had plenty of further opportunities soon afterwards to enjoy newsreader Charlotte Green’s fit of giggles on the Today programme after she had just sat through the (unidentifiable) first recording of a human voice dating from 1860. Other BBC programmes and message boards rapidly picked up on the story and very soon sound clips had been posted on You Tube.
There were numerous references to her 1997 collapse while delivering news about a stranded sperm whale just after she had heard a reporter mention Papua New Guinea’s chief-of-staff Major General Jack Tuat (as if any number of fancy titles could distract from a name like that one) and there were links to Radio 2’s John ‘Boggy’ Marsh’s problem when an item about a youth who injured himself by attempting to launch a firework from his bottom instead of a bottle (so easy to confuse the two) was followed by news about some education inspectors who discovered that a school near Hyderabad contained only chickens.
Yes, it was unfortunate that the item that Charlotte was reading concerned the death of a very worthy film-maker and, of course, there were the predictable comments about her ‘unprofessional’ conduct from the po-faced/media wannabes, as if corpsing badly twice in eleven years somehow makes her the Radio 4 equivalent of ITV’s Fern Britton, whose on-screen giggling fits are now becoming a tad predictable. (I refuse to include the occasions when Charlotte loses it on the News Quiz because that’s meant to be – and is – a funny show).
As far as performers cracking up during comedy programmes is concerned, this can be a blessing or a curse. The first radio sketch I ever had broadcast that actually ran into a second minute (thereby qualifying it as a sketch rather than a quickie) only did so because a performer lost his place in the script and everyone corpsed. The result was a much better audience response, double the fee for me (I was paid per minute or part of one) and my finally being rewarded with the retained writer status that I had been working towards for months.
The downside is that it can destroy a comic creation for good. America’s long-running Saturday Night Live introduced a character called Debbie Downer, played by the hugely talented Rachel Dratch. Ms. Downer would spoil any happy occasion, such as a family reunion, by always bringing the conversation around to disasters, diseases and death. During the live broadcast, Rachel dissolved into hysterics several times, quickly followed by most of her fellow players. The studio audience loved it and the media analysed the incident in great detail but no other Debbie Downer sketch ever seemed as funny afterwards.
The all-time classic, of course, has to be the infamous Ian Botham ‘legover’ commentary from Brian Johnston in 1991. It’s always funny, however many times you hear it. Years later, I saw Radio 2 comedians Parsons and Naylor lip-synching as Johnners and Aggers on a telethon and one audience member quite literally fell off her seat laughing. When Johnners himself wrote or spoke about the worldwide response to his on-air giggles and wheezes, he seemed most proud of the fact that it got selected for Pick of the Week!
To all those newsreaders who occasionally let the world hear their human side, I say keep up the bad work – it brightens our week.
And it’s not just listeners who should be grateful; Google the name of that chap from Papua New Guinea and you will discover that, more than a decade later, he still has quite an internet presence – nearly all of it thanks to Charlotte Green. Isn’t it lovely to see a Tuat getting so much exposure?
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 833, 9 April 2008)
Postscript: I was saddened to read of the passing last week of Harvey Korman, another performer who was apt to dissolve into giggles. Here is a fabulous clip of him with Tim Conway in a classic sketch from the Carol Burnett Show. Towards the end, he just completely gives up trying to keep a straight face or keep his laughter inaudible!
There were numerous references to her 1997 collapse while delivering news about a stranded sperm whale just after she had heard a reporter mention Papua New Guinea’s chief-of-staff Major General Jack Tuat (as if any number of fancy titles could distract from a name like that one) and there were links to Radio 2’s John ‘Boggy’ Marsh’s problem when an item about a youth who injured himself by attempting to launch a firework from his bottom instead of a bottle (so easy to confuse the two) was followed by news about some education inspectors who discovered that a school near Hyderabad contained only chickens.
Yes, it was unfortunate that the item that Charlotte was reading concerned the death of a very worthy film-maker and, of course, there were the predictable comments about her ‘unprofessional’ conduct from the po-faced/media wannabes, as if corpsing badly twice in eleven years somehow makes her the Radio 4 equivalent of ITV’s Fern Britton, whose on-screen giggling fits are now becoming a tad predictable. (I refuse to include the occasions when Charlotte loses it on the News Quiz because that’s meant to be – and is – a funny show).
As far as performers cracking up during comedy programmes is concerned, this can be a blessing or a curse. The first radio sketch I ever had broadcast that actually ran into a second minute (thereby qualifying it as a sketch rather than a quickie) only did so because a performer lost his place in the script and everyone corpsed. The result was a much better audience response, double the fee for me (I was paid per minute or part of one) and my finally being rewarded with the retained writer status that I had been working towards for months.
The downside is that it can destroy a comic creation for good. America’s long-running Saturday Night Live introduced a character called Debbie Downer, played by the hugely talented Rachel Dratch. Ms. Downer would spoil any happy occasion, such as a family reunion, by always bringing the conversation around to disasters, diseases and death. During the live broadcast, Rachel dissolved into hysterics several times, quickly followed by most of her fellow players. The studio audience loved it and the media analysed the incident in great detail but no other Debbie Downer sketch ever seemed as funny afterwards.
The all-time classic, of course, has to be the infamous Ian Botham ‘legover’ commentary from Brian Johnston in 1991. It’s always funny, however many times you hear it. Years later, I saw Radio 2 comedians Parsons and Naylor lip-synching as Johnners and Aggers on a telethon and one audience member quite literally fell off her seat laughing. When Johnners himself wrote or spoke about the worldwide response to his on-air giggles and wheezes, he seemed most proud of the fact that it got selected for Pick of the Week!
To all those newsreaders who occasionally let the world hear their human side, I say keep up the bad work – it brightens our week.
And it’s not just listeners who should be grateful; Google the name of that chap from Papua New Guinea and you will discover that, more than a decade later, he still has quite an internet presence – nearly all of it thanks to Charlotte Green. Isn’t it lovely to see a Tuat getting so much exposure?
(Reprinted from the Radio Magazine Issue 833, 9 April 2008)
Postscript: I was saddened to read of the passing last week of Harvey Korman, another performer who was apt to dissolve into giggles. Here is a fabulous clip of him with Tim Conway in a classic sketch from the Carol Burnett Show. Towards the end, he just completely gives up trying to keep a straight face or keep his laughter inaudible!
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
An excellent article about topical monologues
Many comedy fans in the UK will be familiar with the Tonight Show with Jay Leno or Late Night with Letterman but may well have missed this superb article by Sam Anderson in New York magazine about their different approaches to the recent writers' strike in the United States. It includes some acute observations about the daily grind of producing a quota of topical humour.
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