Posts Tagged ‘Dad’s Army’

The Friday Question #1

May 16, 2008

He's dead, he's dead, he's not dead, he's dead

A new feature on WWM which will probably be binned after today for not getting much of a response. But it’s worth a shot.

So, today’s question is:

Who is the best Dad’s Army character, apart from Wilson and Mainwaring?

Please show your working – and berate anyone who disagrees with you.

The Wright Stuff (again)

September 12, 2007


Did you happen to catch The Wright Stuff medical phone-in last Tuesday morning? If not, you missed the most revolting 15 minutes of television I’ve witnessed in a long time.

First to phone in was a man whose penis had gone all bent out of shape thanks to his bad diet (for examples of a bad diet see Piqued). This wasn’t all that bad, considering what came next.

Because next up was a man who, when he sat at his computer and farted, had an oil he described as being ‘like that liquid on the top of a curry’ leak out of his arse and contaminate his chair. He didn’t describe whether he was cursed with this mysterious arse-oil when he farted on other seats, so I was led to believe it only happened when he farted at his computer. The doctor suggested it might be pancreatic cancer – an illness I had no idea made you fart oil whilst looking at the internet.

Next was a man who’d picked up arse-worms whilst trekking around India. The doctor suggested he look at his arse in the mirror but, arse-worms being the shy little devils they are, he’d have to catch them off guard. The plan was to lull them into a false sense of security by turning off the lights, then catch them in the act of wriggling out of the guy’s anus by shining a torch at them as he crouched in the dark straddling a mirror looking at his own arsehole.

Finally there was the guy who, when attempting a fart, ended up belching instead. Of course, this being the most disgusting phone-in show ever devised by man, the belch stank of farts. He wasn’t best pleased. Who would be? Farting out of their mouth like that? Imagine if you did it at a dinner party? Or in Smith’s?

For years, my grandfather has been thundering at me that television has gone down the pan. For three decades I’ve dismissed his cries and wails as the moans of a hoary old misery guts stuck in a time-warp of Morecambe & Wise Christmas Specials and Dad’s Army. After seeing this … this … whatever it was, I am now in complete agreement with him.

You Have Been Watching …

April 2, 2007

 Allo Allo

I like to pretend to myself that I am a cultured individual. I’ve read books that don’t feature Nazis fighting dinosaurs on the front cover, I’ve listened to music where orchestras play tunes that haven’t been used to advertise paint, I’ve watched films where everyone’s French and speak in French and I’ve watched them in their original French because I can speak French too (if extraordinarily badly) … shit, I’ve even watched BBC Four once or twice and last year I read The Guardian (though to be fair that last one didn’t work out terribly well). I like to think I have risen above the cultural gutter inhabited by the likes of Walker, Texas Ranger, Barry Manilow and John Grisham … I like to think this but in fact I’m talking shit.

Y’see, I have harboured a filthy secret for years and it is this: I, a man who has attended not one, not two, but three Mozart festivals, have loved just about everything Jimmy Perry and David Croft have ever done.

Unfamiliar with the names? Then let me enlighten you so you can understand the full horror of the previous statement. Either together or on their own, Croft and Perry are the creators of Dad’s Army (well that aint so bad, you’re thinking … but wait!), It Aint Half Hot Mum (bloody hell!), Are You Being Served? (fuck a duck!), Hi-De-Hi (CHRIST ALMIGHTY!), ‘Allo ‘Allo (PHONE THE POLICE!), You Rang M’Lord? (SHOOT HIM! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHOOT HIM!), and Oh, Doctor Beeching! (THOU ART A SERVANT OF BAAL! HIGH THEE TO THE VERY LOWEST CIRCLE OF DAMNATION, SERPENT!).

That’s right ladies ‘n’ gentleman! Set it in the old days, stick Paul Shane in it, shove ‘You Have Been Watching’ at the end and I’m happier than a pig in shit. I only have to hear the phrase ‘The Fallen Madonna with the Big Boobies’ and I’m transported back to those gay, carefree days of the brutal Nazi occupation of northern France. Sing me the opening bars to The Holiday Rock and I’m relaxing in my chalet after winning the knobbly-knees competition, looking forward to tonight’s cabaret and Ted’s risque jokes. Come up behind me and bellow ‘YOU LUVVERRLY BOY!!’ into my ear ‘ole and I’m looking around for the Japs.

I always loved these shows even after becoming drenched in the blood of ‘proper’ comedy such as Monty Python and The Day Today. Dad’s Army is, of course, a bona-fide comedy classic and even the most Ben Elton-minded, 80s-centric, Young Ones-fixated miserabilist will harrumph and grudgingly agree. But to openly admit you love rubbish like He-De-Hi and ‘Allo ‘Allo is to invite ridicule from almost every corner … you might as well say you enjoy Birds Of A Feather (though I understand this is stretching it a bit) or that arch-enemy of cutting-edge comedy, The Last Of The Summer Wine.

I can offer no excuses and no concrete explanation for this adoration. Perhaps it’s the evocation of a gentler age that leaves me incapable of criticism? Perhaps it’s  familiarity breeding content (they do tend to have the same cast in them)? Or perhaps it’s just that I can’t help enjoying myself everytime Rene’s hopes for a quiet war are dashed by that bastard Herr Flick (I am not ‘appy about zeeeeeees!)? Or maybe it’s the fact that a lot of the younger women featured in the shows wore stockings and suspenders and were randy little vixens and I happened to be twelve when I watched them the first time around?

Whatever the reasons, I am happy to confess this deep-held affection for low-grade comedy. Give me Ted Bovis pushing Spike in the swimming pool (AGAIN!), Officer Crabtree’s ‘Goooood Moaneeeeng’, or Sergeant Major Williams bellowing ‘SHAAAAAAAAAT AAAAAAAAAAAAP!” and I’m transported back to a time when all I had to worry about was homework and trying to get into Abi Titmuss’s knickers. Maybe that’s what it is? These shows make me feel young again … which is a hell of a tribute considering the jokes were about at the time of the dinosaurs.