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Radio - Light programme

Published Monday 19 February 2007 at 16:20 by Nick Smurthwaite

The visceral rollercoaster that is Channel 4’s Shameless was reflected in writer Paul Abbott’s Desert Island Discs. It soon became clear that Abbott’s own upbringing had been just like Shameless only worse, and without the jokes. Deserted by both parents, Abbott and his siblings chose to fend for themselves rather than be taken into care. He was brutally raped at 11, working three jobs by 13, sectioned at 15 and writing for Coronation Street by 23.

Writing was his salvation. He couldn’t live without it. Neither could he live without his wife and two children, or rather, as he put it, being bipolar and constantly warding off thoughts of suicide, he knew that his love for his family was stronger than his desire to end his life. “They know I’m flaky and unreliable,” he told Kirsty Young, “but they also know that I’m totally reliable when they need me to be.”

In The Archive Hour’s Out on Air, Richard Cole traced the history of homosexuality on BBC radio, from the love-that-dare-not-speak-its-name days of Mrs Dale’s Diary in the fifties to Radio 1’s Loud and Proud. Apparently there was a character on Mrs Dale’s Diary called Richard Fulton who wore orchids in his buttonhole and owned a Pekinese, despite being married to Mrs Dale’s sister. He got knocked down by a lorry but not before he’d come out, a radical piece of broadcasting for its time.

“Oooh, in’e bold!” as Julian and Sandy might have put it on Round the Horne. Of course there was never anything really filthy in their camp badinage but lines such as “How do you fancy a little chihuahua?” would yield an explosion of laughter from the studio audience simply because Kenneth Williams and Hugh Paddick delivered them with such relish.

After homosexuality was decriminalised in 1967, a lot more programmes aimed at lesbians and gay men started to appear and mainstream shows like Woman’s Hour and The Archers began tackling gay issues. It became acceptable for a traditionally heterosexual slot such as Simon Bates’ Our Tune to feature gay love stories. The mission of shows like A Sunday Outing and Out this Week has been to break down gay stereotypes.

In Geoffrey Wheeler’s Palace of Laughter on BBC7, Sarah Woodcock from the Theatre Museum explained how some of the more sought-after performers of the day would often fit in three or four “turns” a night at different venues, since the voracious audience was accustomed to anything up to 25 acts on the same bill. Did you know the metropolitan Victorians had their own Mary Whitehouse, a formidable lady called Mrs Ormiston-Chant? She protested about the lewd behaviour at the London Alhambra, a bustling music hall owned by Sir Oswald Stoll, where prostitutes used to tout their wares at the back of the stalls. The Alhambra was a vast, Moorish extravaganza on the site of Leicester Square Odeon, and it was extremely popular with soldiers on leave during the First World War.

Sir John Mortimer is making up for lost performing time by touring his own one-man show around the country, paying no heed to his multiple disabilities. The admirable Peter White, blind from birth, got nowhere trying to awaken the writer’s interest in disabled issues in No Triumph, No Tragedy. “Being in a wheelchair has huge advantages,” chirruped Mortimer unhelpfully, “I’m always whisked through airport control ahead of everyone else.”

When White sought his views on “the language of disability,” Mortimer did not pull his punches. Everyone, disabled or otherwise, should be a bit more thick-skinned, he pronounced. “I’m against this idea that you mustn’t offend people. Being offended keeps people alive.”

It was good to hear The Small Faces celebrated by Billy Bragg in Watcha Gonna Do About It - The Small Faces Story. Though they were only together for four years (1965-69), the band produced some of the most iconic sounds of the sixties - Itchicoo Park, Lazy Sunday and All or Nothing in particular.

What led to their downfall was their pretty ‘boy band’ looks, which belied a genuine musical quest and the considerable songwriting talents of Steve Marriott and Ronnie Lane, both now dead. Marriott, weary of the teenybopper image, quit to form Humble Pie with Peter Frampton, while Lane joined forces with Rod Stewart to form The Faces. Had they stuck together, as Paul Weller pointed out, they could have rivalled another Lennon and McCartney. There was certainly enough talent between them.

DETAILS:

Desert Island Discs - R4, Sunday, February 11

The Archive Hour: Out on Air - R4, Saturday, February 10

Palace of Laughter - BBC7, Friday, February 9

No Triumph, No Tragedy - R4, Tuesday, February 13

Watcha Gonna Do About It - R2, Saturday, February 17

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