…and who’s that there behind the penultimate calendar door? Why, it’s only our old pal ‘Dinners’, with a special surprise…

I’ve never really questioned the validity of televising awards ceremonies as an entertainment. It is quite a peculiar phenomenon really. Whilst it is always nice to see those one admires being honoured for their work in celebratory rather than monitory terms, more often that not the events can translate to the screen more like a never-ending and over-rich sticky pudding rather than the televisual feast a roomful of the cream of film and television talent could potentially provide, given the right vehicle.

On the other hand, there is something verging on the regal about such occasions that the peasantine masses can’t help but be drawn to; the beautiful people dressed up to the nines, freshly bronzed from the blitzkrieg of flashbulbs illuminating the self-importance in their eyes as they launch up the red velvet runway transfixed on the complimentary champagne; the nervous twitching as the nominees pretend not to care who will receive the coveted emblems of affirmation. At home, we sit and enjoy a semi-lob of tension as we wait to see if our favourite will prove victorious, thus affirming our own good taste and affording ourselves a hint of smugness.

Historically, The British Comedy Awards is one of the more entertaining shindigs to be broadcast; aiming to reflect the irreverence and mirth of those it celebrates, even to go as far as to have gained a reputation (which it now voraciously self-promotes) for moments of shocking hilarity that a roomful of inebriated comedians on live television will inevitably deliver. Famously in 1994, Julian Clary’s comment about his backstage activities with inexplicably but ironically present comedy-chancellor Norman Lamont caused as much uproar in the tabloid press as it did hilarity in the room. Clary’s television career subsequently became the quarry of tasteless critic Garry Bushell; the ferocity of which led many to believe it was he who had received the fist and not Lamont. Even Richard and Judy were in hysterics. Equally memorably a year later, Spike Milligan responded to a letter of praise from HRH Prince Charles by referring to the heir to the throne as ‘the little grovelling bastard’. It was with trepidation and expectation then that I settled down to watch the 2009 event the other night.

Disappointingly, despite presenter Jonathan Ross’s everlasting eulogy about his own controversial broadcasting misdemeanours attempting to set a precedent early on, there was little to anger forgotten bearded moral champions other than a remark from Frankie Boyle in which he claimed his charity work involved helping sexually abused children to escape from his house. The length of Ross’s introductory build-up rivalled that of any FA Cup final in living memory. Subsequently snippets of the nominations in action were reduced to milliseconds, and the awards wafted by accompanied by unlikely presentation parties including Lee Majors, Pamela Anderson and JK Rowling, who proved during a short speech she is not to comedy what she is to the pen. Just as thoughts were turning to one more beer before bedtime, an unrecognisably bald and bearded Griff Rhys Jones appeared on stage to present the Ronnie Barker Writers Guild of Great Britain Award. I didn’t hear the introduction to the montage that followed owing to a drunken argument between my housemates over whether it was Griff Rhys Jones or not.

Then a montage of clips; a fantastic sketch from Smith & Jones, probably one from Big Train (I was a bit drunk myself by now) and clips from both Father Ted and The IT Crowd. I quickly made the connection and was very pleased, nay delighted to see Graham Linehan announced as the winner of the coveted prize, especially as earlier in the week he had tweeted me: ‘Drunk of not, I thank you!’. Thank your for what, I pondered the next morning.  The previous evening I had taken part in a rather long and well-liquified pub quiz. I don’t remember getting in, but whereas most people would utilise the brashness and self-confidence such a state can bring to send inappropriate texts to people  they fancy (even if they normally don’t), I took it upon myself to send Linehan a tweet praising his work and telling him how I admired him in slightly colourful language. I would like to point out that I don’t think about Graham Linehan in any other way than admiration for his works, nor have I substituted drunken bawdiness for celebrity arse-licking. Maybe if all goes well I might one day combine the two, but in this instance I flopped my netbook open and had the urge to shower (no more than) congratulations on @Glinner himself. To see him collect a coveted trophy for his talents was a fantastic sight to see, and there was probably a lump in my throat as there always is when the person/team I want to win, wins.

I have made no secret of my desire to write a sitcom and Graham is undoubtedly one inspiration for that (and of course long-term co-writer Arthur Mathews), but sometimes I find it more comforting to watch a crap example than to watch an episode of Father Ted or The IT Crowd. However, rummaging around Graham’s blog and listening to the DVD commentaries of his shows has provided very useful guidance into how certain decisions were made, and how a successful outcomes were realised when writing a quality product. That isn’t to say he’s always happy with it – I seem to remember quite a few grumbles about the length of the Ted Christmas Special, but it’s nice to know what the writer would have changed given the chance. I can only dream of achieving approaching anything anywhere near a show of that calibre at the moment, but I shall continue plugging away and scribbling every idea down, until perhaps something vaguely pitchable takes shape. In the meantime, I shall endeavour to avoid lavishing drunken praise on Twitter, although that is usually followed by the recipient receiving an award from their peers. In any case, if you ever read this Mr Linehan, I do apologise.

I should probably return to a policy drunken textual perversion, which may or may not be for the best.

I’ve never really questioned the validity of televising awards ceremonies as an entertainment. It is quite a peculiar phenomenon really. Whilst it is always nice to see those one admires being honoured for their work in celebratory rather than monitory terms, more often that not the events can translate to the screen more like a never-ending and over-rich sticky pudding rather than the televisual feast a roomful of the cream of film and television talent could potentially provide, given the right vehicle.

On the other hand, there is something verging on the regal about such occasions that the peasantine masses can’t help but be drawn to; the beautiful people dressed up to the nines, freshly bronzed from the blitzkrieg of flashbulbs illuminating the self-importance in their eyes as they launch up the red velvet runway transfixed on the complimentary champagne; the nervous twitching as the nominees pretend not to care who will receive the coveted emblems of affirmation. At home, we sit and enjoy a semi-lob of tension as we wait to see if our favourite will prove victorious, thus affirming our own good taste and affording ourselves a hint of smugness.

Historically, The British Comedy Awards is one of the more entertaining shindigs to be broadcast; aiming to reflect the irreverence and mirth of those it celebrates, even to go as far as to have gained a reputation (which it now voraciously self-promotes) for moments of shocking hilarity that a roomful of inebriated comedians on live television will inevitably deliver. Famously in 1994, Julian Clary’s comment about his backstage activities with inexplicably but ironically present comedy-chancellor Norman Lamont caused as much uproar in the tabloid press as it did hilarity in the room. Clary’s television career subsequently became the quarry of tasteless critic Garry Bushell; the ferocity of which led many to believe it was he who had received the fist and not Lamont. Even Richard and Judy were in hysterics. Equally memorably a year later, Spike Milligan responded to a letter of praise from HRH Prince Charles by referring to the heir to the throne as ‘the little grovelling bastard’. It was with trepidation and expectation then that I settled down to watch the 2009 event the other night.

Disappointingly, despite presenter Jonathan Ross’s everlasting eulogy about his own controversial broadcasting misdemeanours attempting to set a precedent early on, there was little to anger forgotten bearded moral champions other than a remark from Frankie Boyle in which he claimed his charity work involved helping sexually abused children to escape from his house. The length of Ross’s introductory build-up rivalled that of any FA Cup final in living memory. Subsequently, snippets of the nominations in action were reduced to milliseconds, and the awards wafted by accompanied by unlikely presentation parties including Lee Majors, Pamela Anderson and JK Rowling, who proved during a short speech she is not to comedy what she is to the pen. Just as thoughts were turning to one more beer before bedtime, an unrecognisably bald and bearded Griff Rhys Jones appeared on stage to present the Ronnie Barker Writers Guild of Great Britain Award. I didn’t hear the introduction to the montage that followed owing to a drunken argument between my housemates over whether it was Griff Rhys Jones or not.

Then a montage of clips; a fantastic sketch from Smith & Jones, probably one from Big Train (I was a bit drunk myself by now), Ted and Ralph from The Fast Show and clips from both Father Ted and The IT Crowd. I quickly made the connection and was very pleased, nay delighted to see Graham Linehan announced as the winner of the coveted prize, especially after a minor incident that happened earlier in the week after I had returned home after a very long and lubricated pub quiz. Whereas most people would utilise the brashness and self-confidence such a state can bring to send inappropriate texts to people  they fancy (even if they normally don’t), I took it upon myself to send Linehan a tweet praising his work and telling him how I admired him in slightly colourful language. I would like to point out that I don’t think about Graham Linehan in any other way than admiration for his works, nor have I substituted drunken bawdiness for celebrity arse-licking. Maybe if all goes well I might one day combine the two, but in this instance I flopped my netbook open and had the urge to shower (no more than) congratulations on @Glinner himself. To see him collect a coveted trophy for his talents was a fantastic sight to see, and there was probably a lump in my throat as there always is when the person/team I want to win, wins.

I have made no secret of my desire to write a sitcom and Graham is undoubtedly one inspiration for that (plus of course Arthur Mathews, although for some reason – and I don’t know if it was Graham’s speech, everyone in the room aside from myself thought to be dead), but sometimes I find it more comforting to watch a crap example than to watch an episode of Father Ted or The IT Crowd. However, rummaging around Graham’s blog and listening to the DVD commentaries of his shows has provided very useful guidance into how certain decisions were made, and how a successful outcomes were realised when writing a quality product. That isn’t to say he’s always happy with it – I seem to remember quite a few grumbles about the length of the Ted Christmas Special, but it’s nice to know what the writer would have changed given the chance. I can only dream of achieving approaching anything anywhere near a show of that calibre at the moment or in the near future, but I shall continue plugging away and scribbling every idea down, until perhaps something vaguely pitchable takes shape. In the meantime, I shall endeavour to avoid lavishing drunken praise on Twitter, although that is usually followed by the recipient receiving an award from their peers. In any case, if you ever read this Mr Linehan, I do apologise.

I should probably return to a policy drunken textual perversion, which may or may not be for the best.

It’s been a while, but I’ve got some new interviews up for your reading pleasure.

Most recently, I chatted with Russell Leetch, bassist of Editors. Editors have a lovely, dark, synth-heavy new album out, called In This Light and On This Evening. It recently spent a little time as the #1 album in the UK. So, when the #1 album in the UK meets the #1 interviewer in my half of this duplex, here’s what you get:

JH: So, you all had to sing on this album …

RL: Yeah, on the backing vocals. Flood [Producer Mark "Flood" Ellis] made us! He was like, “So, Tom does all the backing vocals?” and we were like, “Well, yeah, ’cause he can sing the best.” He said, “Well, you all sing in tune, and it’ll sound like someone else’s voice. That’s what you want for the backing vocals.” When we started singing, we’d be laughing and going “We are really bad at this!” But the Boxer vocals are from all four of us, and they sound quite nice and eerie. It was opening us up to the fact that being a bit shit can be to your advantage.

A little bit before that, I got another chance to do The Morning News’ excellent TMN Talks series, which involves drawing from TMN’s in-house collection of very interesting questions. I corresponded with Graham Linehan, writer of some of my favorite TV comedies, including Father Ted, Black Books and The IT Crowd.

TMN: Have you done or considered doing stand-up?

GL: I have. Didn’t go well. Twitter is a much better stage for me. I think through my fingers.

Thanks for indulging me. There should be more to come quite soon.

Spend Day 10 in the company of John, ‘Dinners’, George, Ringo and Darrell as they run through a festive medley of some of their greatest hits, but with a special Christmassy twist…

Google, Facebook, Yahoo! and eBay have sent a joint open letter to Lord Mandelson urging him to reconsider plans to give the business secretary power to make new legislation regarding copyright laws.

Glinner, or Graham Linehan to his mum. Also known as that man who wrote Father Ted and the IT Crowd to many others. He’s quite a regular tweeter, and entertaining with it, but he also finds some wonderful things on the internet, some of which get posted to his blog (Why, That’s Delightful!), like this:

Totally 100% Trend

(original post)

To complete my fawning appraisal of the man’s greatness, I have to add he also cooks up the odd fantastic compilation on spotify now and again. All this for clicking one tiny follow button. Bargain.

“Psychiatric Tales” by Darryl Cunningham

I came across this through a post by Graham Linehan — aka @Glinner – (comic genius behind “Father Ted,” “The IT Crowd,” etc., etc.) on Twitter.

It’s due to published by Blank Slate Publishing in March, according to its author, former psychiatric nurse Darryl Cunningham.

Cunningham has posted several chapters on his blog, Darryl Cunningham Investigates. The book explores mental illness from an advocacy angle from the perspective of a mental health worker. It is said to detail several different disorders and related topics, chapter by chapter, with the final chapter devoted to the author’s personal struggle.

Linehan’s original link was to a chapter on schizophrenia, but the most affecting one for me is an early strip (that I think may not even be published as is in the book) entitled “It Could Be You,” which poignantly touches on the stigma and stereotype of mental illness (“… many people still believe mental illness to be a result of failure of character and self-discipline … this attitude only compounds the difficulties sufferers have to endure”) in a way that’s touching, engaging and educational.

This chapter resonated with me the most of the ones I’ve seen, but in terms of exucution, you can see an obvious progresion in drawing and lettering in later chapters such as the haunting, painfully personal penultimate chapter, “Suicide.”

When it comes to subject material for a graphic novel, it doesn’t really get any darker than mental illness. I’m amazed at the efficacy and sheer power of Cunningham’s simple drawings and fragmented text to convey complex issues and very deep, difficult emotions. It’s sheer brilliance, and I really do hope to get my hands on a copy of the finished book.

Graham Linehan

Isn’t there some kind of religion built around worshipping Graham Linehan yet? Because seriously, we need to “get on that”. So, Graham, why do stories in games suck?

“A lot of writers – not only in games, but also in films – have stopped reading books. They’re just watching films. Vice City to me is a really good example of a game written by someone whose only experience of what they’re writing about is through film.

“The only thing that’ll give a game world a bit of texture and depth and traction is research, and by research I don’t mean watching Scarface twenty times in a row.”

Head of nail, meet hammer. This quote is from an interview from Gameswipe, Charlie Brooker’s excellent one-off videogames show on BBC4.

Also: yes, I just used “excellent” and “videogames show” in the same sentence – together. Gameswipe really was very, very good telly; Linehan’s appearance was the cherry on the cake for me. I don’t know how long it will last on YouTube, but you can catch the whole of Gameswipe there, starting from here.

The latter half of last week proved to the world Twitter’s power regarding civillian debate.

I am talking, of course, about the Hannan, NHS, Republican, Fox News controversy that has been sweeping the airwaves and broadband of the Atlantic.

I tuned in to Channel 4 news every evening last week where the Tweets of Sarah Brown and David Cameron were being showcased alongside the Tweets of average Joe Public on the matter. What a revolution. Far cry from the ineloquent and wooden voxpops we see on news programmes, Twitter has revolutionised the way the media can guage the public reaction, and it can select the soundbite-long political statements like pic n’ mix.

One prolific Twitterer, Graham Linehan, or Glinner, appeared as a talking head about the “media hysteria” sweeping the  social networking tool regarding the NHS debate in the US. Not David Milliband, not Hilary Clinton, not the ancestors of Anuerin Bevan – the writer of Father Ted.

It is a strange commodity which leads the media to record such diverse aspects of what really is nearing an internaional relations issue.

Being an avid Twitterer myself, I took to the iBook and began scrolling through the Tweets bearing the NHS and welovetheNHS hashtags.

There I found examples of overwhelming praise for the NHS including snippets of peoples’ own family stories where the NHS helped save or prolong a life. Of course, everybody has their axe to grind about our health service, waiting lists, superbugs, over-worked staff, cleanliness and of course the food however, for once the British people decided not to whinge but to wax optimistic about our beloved NHS.

The US side of the debate, for the most part was either in agreement with the UK (perhaps after watching Michael Moore’s “Sicko” or after a bad experience of the US health system) or they were asking questions… there was a parcentage who hadn’t the foggiest what was going on as with some clueless Brits also, but they are outside the venn diagram of this particular debate.

I was shocked to see, albeit in the minority, the damning comments about the NHS by certain American Twitterers backed up with links to news items and blogs on the subject. I saw one girl describe the NHS as run by Death Czars and compared the system to Nazi Germany. A lot of fear of old Eastern European communism and socialism was repeated as well as a fear for raised taxes and little return.

I was even more astounded when I flicked over to Fox News that the self-congratulatory item about socialist medicine was being repeated with gusto by Fox’s “journalists” – although it is hardly journalism if the item is entirely one-sided, now is it?

Be that as it may, although it has its faults and its leaks and it drives us all mad at some point, the principal of the NHS is what I am proud of. Free health care from the cradle to the grave is not something to be sniffed at. Alright its not free, its paid for in taxes (the blood of the country after all) however the fear of socialism and communism which seems to be the sole argument coming from our American cousins is baffeling to me. Its immaterial, surely?

Fox News, run by News Corporation, prides itself on being “fair and balanced” and denies biased reporting however how balanced is it to squak about one side of a valid debate? You can see the effects of biased reporting reflected on those who were quoting Murdoch’s baby on Twitter last week and it wasn’t pretty.

If you are interested at all in what I have to say when I’m not blogging then by all means follow me on Twitter as Rosebiscuit.

You will remember that, back in June, Classic Clip Friday featured Father Ted’s My Lovely Horse.

You’ll notice at the bottom of that blog post that I had planned a follow-up but had to scrap it because the video I wanted to show you had disappeared from YouTube. Well, now it’s been re-uploaded so I finally get to post this.

Within the show, the motivation for fathers Ted and Dougal to write the song My Lovely Horse was that they wanted to write the Irish entry for the Eurovision Song Contest.

On the DVD commentary for the episode of Father Ted in which the song appears, titled Song For Europe, the writers Arthur Mathews and Graham Linehan note that the song and the video were inspired by the real-life 1975 Irish Eurovision Song Contest entry – That’s What Friends Are For by The Swarbriggs.

In particular, several scenes from the promo video produced for the Swarbriggs song ahead of the contest itself were recreated or homaged in the My Lovely Horse video that Ted and Dougal dream of, most notably the swimming pool scene.

And here is that 1975 Swarbriggs video in all its hilariously cheesy glory. The picture is a little choppy at the start and the resolution isn’t the best but then, it was recorded in 1975.

And here, once again, to make it easy for you to compare and contrast, is the My Lovely Horse video:

Here’s Podcast No. 6.  Andrea, our producer, says it’s “possibly the best one yet”. Which is not necessarily as good as it sounds. Oh, and she’s made me put this warning… This Podcast contains bad language. And rude terms! Sorry. You have been warned though.

You can listen to/download the podcast here.

download notes: For PC users, right-click the link above, then select ‘Save Link As’ and download to the selected location on your computer. For Mac users, hold down Ctrl and click the link, then select ‘Save Link As’ and download to the selected location on your computer.
Here’s the stuff, listed lovingly by Andrea:

1. Simon is homeless (and irritable)
2. The hot weather
3. The Fog
4. Andrea in a playsuit
5. Trev’s casting
6. Michael Jackson (and Paul Weller)
7. The stunts of Bruce Springsteen and Bob Hoskins
8. Bubbles the monkey
9. Trev’s relaxation technique
10. Trev and Simon’s clean-living BBC years
11. George Lamb and legal highs
12. Trev has to fill
13. Ed and Oucho
14. Blythe Hill Fields
15. Starbursts, and pictures on the wall
16. The moon landings and moonwalk
17. Glastonbury memories
18. A question from Maxxmonkey
19. Acupuncture
20. Trev’s lost passport
21. If Trev and Simon had taxpayers’ expense accounts
22. Fluffy Flo
23. Back and forth
24. Bruce Springsteen again
25. Simon’s homelessness again
26. Twitter etiquette
27. Stalkers and followers
28. Dentists and sexybots
29. Graham Linehan’s books
30. Lance Henrikson and the No Show
31. Finchley
32. Hampstead
33. A plea to the residents of Finchley
34. ‘My Lean Baby’
35. The Presenter Look
36. Celebrities named after animals
37. Introducing Sarah Gillespie

I’ll admit that I do nick a lot of stuff pointed at by Graham Linehan’s blog or his Twitter. I try not to, but there are occassions like this which just NEED TO BE SHARED:

I have been working on a piece about British comedy, but I’m struggling to get my thoughts organised. There are a few “acts” I’d like to focus on and these include:

•    Ricky Gervais, Stephen Merchant (and Karl Pilkington)
•    The Likely Lads
•    Graham Linehan and his crew
•    Green Wing

While they obviously are all comedy-related, I’m not sure I can connect them into one piece. I don’t know if it’s worth breaking them into “genres” (tv, sketch, writing, etc). I think it’s probably better to focus on what I want to say about each to see if that provides a link to tie them together.

I’m not going to lie: I think British comedy deserves some good analysis but my main connection with it is simply that it helps me when I’m struggling to get through.

In the meantime, enjoy.

MONKEY NEWS

Oh, Karl. “They did a thing, like they do.” Love the monkey when he puts the spacecraft into reverse.

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE LIKELY LADS

My heart belongs to Terry Collier.

THE IT CROWD

Watch Richard Ayoade’s leg action. Priceless.

GREEN WING

Believe it or not, it does all make sense. The clips suffer though from the lack of the brilliant original soundtrack.

That’s a horribly laboured reference in my post title. Not like the elegant allusion with which The Word has headlined my Graham Linehan interview in their July issue:

I bought the dvd pictured below because i follow this guy. he’s an Irish comedy writer and twitter pioneer. his name is graham linehan. he is very funny and the tv show is a winner. it’s in season 3 in the UK but thus far only season 1 is available in this region of the world.

and can i just say how moronic it is that there are different “regions” for dvds? to prevent piracy i guess. well let me just say that the only thing it has ever prevented me from doing is legally purchasing dvds and instead forces to watch things online for free that i would happily have paid for.