At their best, Galton and Simpson stood comparison with the most revered dramatists of their day - Pinter, Ayckbourn, Osborne, Albee. It is hardly surprising we are still celebrating their talents half a century on.
In R2’s Very Nearly an Armful - a quote from The Blood Donor, as any self-respecting baby boomer will know - the comedy writer Stephen Merchant analysed their lasting appeal, with the help of Denis Norden, Ben Elton, Beryl Vertue and David Mitchell.
It was to Norden and his writing partner Frank Muir that the two working-class lads, thrown together in a TB sanitorium in their late teens, sent their first efforts at comedy scriptwriting. Norden recognised their raw talent instantly and later put them “in a class of their own”. They broke more new ground than any of their contemporaries, he said.
Apart from anything else, Galton and Simpson pioneered what Norden called “the jokeless radio comedy”, by which he meant a series (Hancock) which relied on situation and character, rather than an endless stream of gags. It was the beginning of the sitcom.
Its apogee was Steptoe and Son, each half-hour episode a perfect little mini-drama of aspiration, conflict and disappointment, distinguished as much by the fine playing of Wilfrid Brambell and Harry H Corbett as it was by the masterly writing of Galton and Simpson.
How’s this for a hot comedy concept for 2010 - a spoof news programme taking its inspiration from old nursery rhymes and songs? Do me a favour. Amazingly though, The News at Bedtime kind of works, thanks to some very sharp writing and the presentational skills of Jack Dee and Peter Capaldi as anchormen Tweedledee and Tweedledum.
You get a breaking story about police surrounding the Three Bears’ house: “Put the spoon down Goldilocks and nobody will get hurt,” while Mummy Bear tells the reporter earnestly: “I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm, but it’s not going to bring our porridge back, is it?”
Jack Spratt, sounding horribly like Jamie Oliver, puts the case against child obesity, while the Tooth Fairy stands up for sugary snacks. Capaldi gives an eyewitness account of the Cow Jumping Over the Moon - “one small jump for a cow, one giant leap for cowkind” - and asks if anyone has any relish or even a beer as the cow burns up on re-entry into the earth’s atmosphere.
The source material isn’t going to mean a lot to the younger generation, but to anyone over 40, this clever deconstruction of rhymes and songs we learnt as kids ought to raise a chuckle or two.
We’ve known for years that death can be a good career move for youngish pop stars, but what’s happened to Elvis since his untimely demise in 1977 is something else altogether. In Elvis the Brand, Paul Gambaccini scrutinised the industry that has grown up around the legend, from Beanie Babies to an army of Elvis impersonators, massing in Wales later this year, apparently to stage the first ever Elvis Tribute Act World Cup.
This fascinating two-parter, produced by Susan Marling, made the point that posthumous celebrity is untouchable, because the adored one is forever frozen in time, unable to provoke our wrath or disenchantment. Elvis could be bigger yet in a hundred years’ time.
Very Nearly an Armful: The Galton and Simpson Story - R2, Friday, December 25
The News at Bedtime - R4, Thursday, December 24
Elvis the Brand - R2, Monday, January 4
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