This Morning Spoof: Richard, Judy And The Hair You'll Be Wearing Next Year...

Spoof magazine interview found in a pub in December 1989...

3 October 1988 was a grand day in the history of television. Nope, it wasn't the launch of Channel 4, breakfast TV, or Sky TV - those events occurred in 1982, 1983 and 1989 respectively.

No, think, mateyboots, think...

Can't think?

Oh well - 1988 gave us THIS MORNING with husband and wife presenters Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan, and it really was quite something. The 1980s saw UK television going all day and all night, something for everybody, but for years into the decade the mornings were so drop dead boring you could have wept. Picture it, you take a sickie, you're at home, luxuriating with an economy sized Wispa, and all you have to watch is schools programmes! I mean - PURLEASE!!!

All right, if you were lucky, you could slam in a video, but as we've already seen elsewhere on this site, the spread of VCRs was slow, so you probably didn't have the option.

Morning TV had been looking a little more hopeful since the launch of the BBC's daytime service in October 1986, but then, suddenly - BAM!! - the ITV schools programmes were accommodated on Channel 4 in 1987, and we got This Morning the following year, an all-sorts mix of human and celebrity stories, fashion, cookery, health - you name it!

The show was revolutionary - before that we'd had to wait until nearly lunchtime for even a glimmer of anything interesting, unless you counted the 10am repeat of yesterday's Neighbours.

And This Morning was also revolutionary in length. In the first instalment, Richard and Judy informed the audience that they were going to be on air for the next two hours!

This Morning was broadcast by Granada TV, live from the Albert Dock in Liverpool.

I liked it a lot... although maybe it seemed a little middle class, it wasn't as stuffy (or middle class) as some previous magazine-style shows, and I grew fond of Richard and Judy, cook Susan Brookes, weatherman Fred Talbot, agony aunt Denise Robertson, etc, etc, etc.

Richard and Judy, who had met back in the year of the Falklands and the deelyboppers - 1982 - soon became the darlings of daytime TV, so much so that many of us referred to the show as Richard & Judy.

By late 1989, This Morning was an institution.

And it was in December 1989, sitting, jaded after too much festive cheer, in a bar in Islington, that I found an alternative magazine staring up at me from the bar, and took a look.

And it contained a delicious spoof article on This Morning that made me chuckle. And still makes me chuckle to this day. It's a brilliant piece of tongue-in-cheek, razor sharp late 1980s humour, it struck a chord with me, and with apologies to Richard, Judy, and anybody else involved with This Morning back then, I reproduce it below.

And remember this is a SPOOF interview - Richard and Judy had nothing to do with it! Bless 'em!

GOOD MORNING

BREAKFAST TELEVISION

with RICHARD & JUDY

If you are a man between the ages of 20 and 70, or a woman between 18 and 35, you could be a morning television presenter.

JUDY: Believe me, it is hard work - introducing reports on knitting patterns, getting bread to rise properly, coffeetime interviews and soap debates.

RICHARD: But also true stories of love, humanity and courage that bring people closer together.

JUDY: That's right. It's taking the events of the day and presenting them nicely. It's knowing what to say when there is nothing to say, and wearing something nice.

RICHARD: No one ever said it would be easy.

JUDY: (LAUGHS) But seriously. The hard work has its advantages - your face is instantly recognisable, people let you go ahead of them in queues, and old men send you gifts in the mail. You and your public share a genuine warmth that is all too rare these days. I suppose more than anything, if you're a woman, is not to wiggle and pout when they point the camera at you.

RICHARD: That's right.

WHAT IS AN ITEM?

JUDY: It can be almost anything. Would you make some coffee, Richard? (RICHARD GETS UP AND MAKES EVERYONE COFFEE) An item can be almost anything! Like if a viewer suffers food poisoning from a poor quality tin of smoked salmon, that's news. If Margaret Thatcher gets a new hairstyle, that's news. If a soap star gets a divorce, that's news as well. The public has a right to know. Isn't that right, Richard?

RICHARD: Absolutely, Judy.

WHERE DO ITEMS COME FROM?

RICHARD: Most of the items come from the teletype machine...

JUDY: ... which is a neat black printing machine on our desk.

YOU BOTH USED TO BE REPORTERS, SO WHAT IS JOURNALISM?

RICHARD: Oh, errrr...

JUDY: We'll be right back after this break.

DO YOU GET TO TRAVEL?

JUDY: I sometimes do reports.... like recently I visited a school for the severely brain damaged diabetic children and we made a film. At first I was so worried that it wouldn't come out right, but they all proved to be really photogenic.

RICHARD: And it looked really good. (PAUSE) And we just thank god the 'twins' are healthy and normal.

TELL US ABOUT 'WARMTH'

JUDY: Undoubtedly the key to warmth is not to think about what you're reading from your autocue. I always imagine my viewers. I picture them writing one of those wonderful letters and I see their bright smiling faces.

RICHARD: I never knew that, Judy.

JUDY: (GLARES AT RICHARD) An information booklet accompanies this series...

WHAT ABOUT AD-LIB?

RICHARD: (LAUGHS) Well, this is when the autocue is not working...

JUDY: Or has been turned off. (BOTH LAUGH)

RICHARD: It is, of course, the most challenging time for a presenter.

JUDY: Like the other day, there was this story about handicapped children participating in their first annual wheelchair marathon, and the autocue suddenly stopped working, so I said "If you spend time with the handicapped...

RICHARD: That's right, (CONTINUING FOR JUDY) 'I think, well, their hopes and dreams become part of you.'

JUDY: (LONG PAUSE. DEEP BREATH. RUBS FINGERS ON THE BRIDGE OF HER NOSE) Let's take a short commercial break, but we'll be back with the sort of hair you'll be wearing next year.

TELL US ABOUT THE WEATHER

RICHARD: Fortunately, we don't have to do the weather.

JUDY: But we do have to talk with the Weather Personality. Always keep an eye on him.

RICHARD: Yes, if he loses weight or his skin clears up - he could be your next replacement.

JUDY: And remember that the weather personality makes the final impact on your public, so if he talks bad weather, interrupt him - "Rain, rain, rain. Don't you have anything good for us?"

RICHARD: Or, "Surely it's going to improve for the weekend?"

JUDY: But you've got to get the timing right - make sure the closing signature tune leaves him no time to say anything clever.

Bob By Merry Pottinger. Or Could It Be Lauren?

Many thanks to Lauren who e-mailed me, enclosing the picture above.

You requested and I found Bob the French bulldog as featured on Gilbert's Fridge in 1988. As you can see, it is a real painting, signed and titled by the artist himself.

Thank you so much, Lauren! It's wonderful. Though I suspect you may have had more to do with it than you say! 

Gilbert Gets It Sorted? Nope, not on this occasion. Nor Merry Pottinger. But Lauren!

Gilbert's Fridge: Calling For Bob...

Regular readers of this epic '80's work (bless you, both!) will know that I am a lover of that very 1980s celebrity Gilbert the alien. In fact, I adore Gilbert so much I have a Gilbert bendy in the bedroom and a Gilbert poster in the loo. Phil Cornwell, the man who brought Gilbert down from Drill, is plainly an English hero and the episodes of Gilbert's Fridge are something that we all want, as Victoria Wood might have said, to keep and keep again.

But is Bob a real painting or was he, like Helen Daniels's finest works in Neighbours, splurged out by somebody 'in scenery'?

But who IS 'Bob', you cry, the creepy chappie from Twin Peaks who was written into the script when the set dresser inspired David Lynch in 1989?

Well no, achuwarly. Bob was the Boston terrier or French-bulldoggie-type-doggie in the painting in the 1988 screen capture from Gilbert's Fridge above. Gilbert, posing as a frightfully posh fine art person, tried to flog him to Dieter Meier of Yello. Dieter was unimpressed and didn't seem to have a drawing room, which would obviously have been the best place to display Bob, so Gilbert gave up, having to admit that Bob was an 'ugly little blighter',

So, is Bob a real painting? According to Gilbert in 1988, Bob was painted by a chap called Merry Pottinger in 'the year 171766 or so', but knowing Gilbert that might not be quite right.

If you know if Bob is a real work of art, please drop me a line to actual80s@btinternet.com.

I imagine this plea will go unanswered, calling forlornly out into the inky blackness of the webby night - 'OOOWOOO! OOOWOO!' - with occasional breaks for a plate of Batchelor's Savoury Rice, a Bejam mini-pizza and a mug of Café Hag - but who knows!

Hoping to hear... one day...

I remain yours, in hoops...

XXXXX

Computer Technology 1988 - IT For The Terrified...

TV Times, 10/11/1988: IT for the Terrified -

1: STORMY FRIDAY

Our world is increasingly dominated by new technology. So how can ordinary people be expected to understand what is happening?

Those were strange days indeed! I never thought I'd get to grips with computer technology back then - ever! I simply couldn't imagine it - the whole thing was far too complicated and what would be the point? I was far from being alone...

But the invention of the World Wide Web by Tim Berners-Lee in 1989 would end up bringing computers into just about ALL our lives.

Good programme, IT For The Terrified - I'd love to see it again. It would be quite nostalgic and fascinatingly dated!

Howard and Hilda talk '80s

Howard and Hilda Hughes in the 1980s.

We asked Howard and Hilda Hughes, two of the stars of that searing 1980s suburban life documentary series Ever Decreasing Circles (1984-1989) what they thought of the decade...

Hilda: "Well, I was in the Wrens back then (giggles). I think I quite liked Lonnie Donegan."

'80s Actual: "That was the 1950s, actually."

Howard: "Oh dear, Hilda (laughs), you got it a bit wrong there old girl!"

Hilda: "Yes, I did, Howard!" Laughs as well. "The 1980s... we decorated the Polly Wally Doodle room I seem to recall..."

Howard: "Yes, we did, Hilda. A lovely shade of pastel pink."

Hilda: "Yes! Oh, that was lovely, Howard. And we had all that trouble with the buddleia ."

Howard: "That's right, dear. It got a bit out of control, didn't it?" (Laughs)

Hilda: "It did, Howard!" (laughs too.) "Wasn't that when we made our basketwork Neddy?"

Howard: "It was Hilda. I think we should try working in basket again."

Hilda: "Yes, it was fun, wasn't it?"

'80s Actual: "That's all very interesting. But what did you think about the popular culture of the 1980s?"

Hilda: "The Shipping Forecast was very good back then."

Howard: "It was, Hilda."

Hilda: "And the rosehip syrup. I don't think it tastes the same these days."

'80s Actual: "Did you participate in the fashions of the decade? Deelyboppers? Power dressing? Shell suits?"

Hilda: "Well, I made some lovely jumpers and cardigans. Quite a lot of them were matching - Howard and I like to be matching sometimes, don't we, Howard?"

Howard: "We do, dear."

Hilda: "And I like knitwear - it keeps the draughts out. I've got a back, you see."

'80s Actual: "Er, yes... What about the political scene of the 1980s? What did you think about Reagan and Thatcher? The miners' strike? Clause 28? Perestroika and Glasnost? The Fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War?"

Hilda: "I never discuss politics. Nasty things. Cause a lot of disagreements. My father was always very strict about that. We never do, do we, Howard?"

Howard: "Do what, dear?"

Hilda: "Discuss politics."

Howard: "No, dear."

'80s Actual: "Oh. What about the sporting scene? Botham and Becker? Lineker and Steve Davis? Zola Budd?"

Hilda: "Well, I remember that little beast at the World Cup. That "hand of God" thing. Was that when you're talking about?"

'80s Actual: "Yes, 1986."

Hilda: "Oh, well, we remember that, don't we Howard?"

Howard: "We do, dear. And I played a lot of cricket of course. And tried my hand at snooker. You could say I was something of a sportsman back then."

Hilda: "Yes! And I knitted the jumpers for the cricket team! We had that lovely wool shop in the high street back then. It's closed now of course. It's one of those coffee places now."

Howard: "Yes, it is."

'80s Actual: "What about pop music back then? Do you remember Adam and the Ants? New Order? Pet Shop Boys? Erasure?"

Howard: "No, I don't think we do, old boy. We liked Sing Something Simple though."

Hilda: "Oh, yes! We used to sing along, didn't we, Howard? Every Sunday afternoon. We always looked forward to that."

Howard: "Yes, we did, dear."

Hilda: "The neighbours must have thought we were a bit of a rowdy house when that was on. We got quite carried away at times!" (giggles).

Howard laughs.

'80s Actual (sighing): "So, is there anything else you remember from the 1980s?"

Hilda: "Well, [lowers her voice] I attacted a poltergiest. I know it was then because I kept a diary. I bought it at WH Smith's - it had a lovely pink pelican on the front cover. Hardback. I bought it because I wanted to see if there was any pattern to the supernatural activity, you see. 1989 it was."

Howard: "I don't think it was really a poltergeist, Hilda."

Hilda (getting slightly indignant): "Then how do you explain my little wooden windmill? Me predicting the Red Devil? What happened at the supermarket?"

Howard: "Don't distress yourself, Hilda. That was a long time ago."

Hilda (calming): "Yes, you're quite right, Howard. And we have a guest. I'm sorry, Howard. I'm sorry, Mr Actual."

'80s Actual: "That's fine. I think I should be going now. Thanks for answering my questions - I'll definitely feature you on the blog."

Hilda: "Would you like a nice cup of tea before you go? Rosehip syrup? A nice muffin with zero cholesterol butter perhaps and some of my homemade jam?"

Howard: "I can really recommend Hilda's cherry."

'80s Actual: "No, no, thanks - I really must go. Thanks again. It's been really..." (leaves quickly). Standing on the garden path at the front of Howard and Hilda's house, our '80s Actual "journalist" hears a voice inside the house drifting out of the open window:

Howard: "Shame we unpicked Neddy's ears, wasn't it?"

Hilda: "That was nervous tension, that was, Howard Hughes."

Howard: "Yes, it was, dear. Still, we could always fetch him down from the attic and re-basket them, couldn't we?"

Hilda (enthusiastically): "Yes, we could, Howard. That would be wonderful. And we could put him in the Polly Wally Doodle Room with the gramophone."

Howard: "And people say retirement can be boring! We've never found that, have we, Hilda?"

Hilda (giggling): "No, we most certainly have not, Howard!"

They laugh together.

Pause. Then:

Hilda: "Howard, is there such a word as 're-basket'?"

'80s Actual hastens away.

'80s Emmerdale Farm: Amos Brearly - The Marrying Kind?

Emmerdale Farm: Amos Brearly (Ronald Magill) - marriage plans in 1988.

Sheila writes:

Much is made of Amos's proposal of marriage to Annie Sugden - purely for business reasons - in 1972. But was Amos ever romantically involved with a woman during the 1980's? I do seem to recall something, but can't  quite remember!

Yes, Sheila, he was. In October 1988, Amos came close to marrying old acquantance Gloria Pinfold (Hope Johnstone). A personable woman, she dominated the blustering landlord and caused Henry Wilks (Arthur Pentelow) great irritation when she moved into The Woolpack and threw out the sausages and bacon because of their high cholesterol content. She also crticised Henry's book keeping.

Amos told Henry he was going to marry Gloria.

Henry would have to leave The Woolpack.

It looked like the days of one of Beckindale's best-loved duos were numbered, until Gloria called off the engagement and went off with someone else.

Amos and Mr Wilks continued their partnership until early 1991, when Amos retired.

Postbag - "Brookside" And "South"

Charlotte writes:

I admire your blog alot and luv spending time here. I was wondering about something a bit on the obscure side from the 1980's. The highly revolutionary BROOKSIDE soap did a couple of spin-offs late in the decade, and while most viewers remember DAMON AND DEBBIE, the other one, SOUTH, seems to have been forgotten. I remember it being about Tracy Corkhill, who was the daughter of Doreen and Billy, and the sister of Rod "The Plod". Do you have any material about this program?

Hi, Charlotte! Glad you like the blog. As far as this TV show is concerned, I only have the above TV Times page from March 1988, which details the start of South as part of the English Programme, an educational show for schools. It was the tale of Tracy (Justine Kerrigan) and Jamie (Sean McKee) trying their luck down South. I've also included another TV Times piccy for the Brookside episode that day, featuring the wonderful Ralph Hardwick (Ray Dunbobbin) and Harry Cross (Bill Dean) "ironing out problems" back in the Close!

Red Nose Day - 25 Years - 1988-2013

 1988 - Griff Rhys Jones, Lenny Henry and Jonathan Ross take part in the very first Red Nose Day.

Did you wear your red nose today? '80s Actual Towers has been fair bristling with the things! Comic Relief was, of course, launched on Christmas Day 1985 with a live report from a refugee camp in Sudan, and the first Red Nose Day was held on 5 February 1988.

Recently, Lenny Henry wrote about the first Red Nose Day back in 1988, and how it has changed since then:

"Comic Relief these days is much more in line with shiny-floor shows like The X Factor – fast, zappy, presenter-led – but we were just asking everybody to be kind and help. We had live entertainment from comedians such as the Goodies and pre-recorded films from Africa, but lots of comedians discovered it was very difficult to do live comedy with an audience that has just watched somebody die. I went to Ethiopia for one section where we filmed a row of Ethiopian men in their tribal gowns. The camera panned along them and the voice-over said, 'Please give us some money; poverty can affect somebody you might know.’ The last person on the row was me, dressed in the same tribal gown. For the first time it wasn’t just an image of a starving child with a big belly and flies crawling all over their face – it was somebody that the audience knew. 

"There is a lot of fear bound up in comedy – 'How will I be funny? Am I going to be the funniest?’ – but since we were all aiming at the same target there was a bullish vibe. Everything went wrong, of course – the autocue stopped, someone tried to do some magic and it didn’t work, Frankie Howerd came on and wouldn’t stop talking – but people were really moved by the films. I thought that if I made people laugh, and donate, then maybe the kids I visited in the Kibera slum in Kenya wouldn’t have to live in a room with a sewer running down the middle of it. We raised £15 million that night, which was a big deal."

BBC Cashes In On EastEnders...

DOSH! DOSH! DOSH! Auntie Beeb - AKA the BBC - had a very nice not-so-little earner going on in the mid-to-late 1980s - courtesy of that brash new soap EastEnders! You could buy all sorts of EastEnders goodies - simply squillions of things - even a novel detailing Andy and Debs's back story - so how would real life beer fans fancy paying out for some of the brews sold over the bar at the Queen Vic? Cut to 1988 newspaper article:

The Beeb is planning to make millions by selling Dirty Den's bitter all over Britain.

Flooding the market with EastEnders' ales is the latest plan in a BBC campaign to milk Albert Square for every last penny.

Already the top soap is bringing its bosses more than £1 million profit a year.

But that could be more than doubled as the cash-thirsty corporation gets set to rival the top brewers.

Insiders at BBC Enterprises - the selling arm of the BBC - have revealed that executives are now searching for the right company to make the beer.

Among the BBC brews set to be stacked on the shelves in pubs, off-licences and supermarkets are Churchill ale, Luxford and Copley Strong Bitter and Melbourne Star lager - all sold in Den's pub.

The beer would join scores of EastEnders' spin-offs already taking the world by storm. For all over the globe people are raving about the goings-on in Albert Square.

Besides the actual programme, the BBC is selling EastEnders' underwear, mugs, T-shirts, cut-glass, calendars, stationary, records, books, videos and will soon launch an EastEnders' board game.

Sue Osman: "'Ere, Ali, if they're gonna be sellin' Den's beer, wot about my bacon sarnies? Why 'aven't the BBC been in touch with us?"

Ali Osman: "Do you really wanna know, Sue?"

Coronation Street: Percy Sugden

Eee, 1989 - what a year! The Berlin Wall came down, Tim Berners-Lee invented the World Wide Web, the Game Boy was released in America, and in Coronation Street Mrs Phyllis Pearce (Jill Summers) crept up on Mr Percy Sugden (Bill Waddington) in the Rovers Return and said, without any ado:

"Boo!"

Percy (furious): "I wish you wouldn't do that! I'm a coiled spring, y'know! I act very quickly and very aggressively when startled!"

Phyllis: "Ooh, I wish you would!"

Introduced in 1983, the Coronation Street character Percy Sugden took over the role of community centre caretaker in the show, and rapidly proved himself to be a well-meaning pain in the neck. Whilst First World War veteran Albert Tatlock was happy to sit in the Rovers, cadging or perhaps nursing a rum (if he was lucky), Second World War veteran Percy charged around the neighbourhood, "organising" people and events, sticking his nose in left right and centre and generally getting people's backs up.

Percy was actually quite a lonely men, a widower, with only his budgie, Randy, for company. He was delighted when his favourite niece, Elaine Prior, visited him in 1984, but saddened to see her leave again - after her wedding to local man Bill Webster.

Percy did attract one admirer - Phyllis Pearce, she of the foghorn voice - but he would have cheerfully had his toe nails pulled out rather than marry her.

Forced to retire in 1988, Percy was miserable at leaving the Street, and was taken pity on by that fine Christian lady Emily Bishop, who invited him back to lodge with her.

The character of Percy was played with great zest by Bill Waddington.

Percy was always convinced that he was doing right, and acting for the best. His most famous comment was probably: "When you've made gravy under shell fire, you can do anything!"

According to Bill Waddington, some people on the Granada Studios Tour expressed fear that Percy might come out and tell them off whilst going around the outdoor set!

One of my favourite Sugden sagas took place in 1988.

A chance remark by Emily Bishop set the story rolling. Trying to sleep in the front bedroom of No 3, Coronation Street, she was sometimes disturbed by next door neighbour Don Brennan, arriving home in his taxi in the early hours of the morning. The sound of the car engine and the slamming of the car door often drew her from her slumbers.

It was never a good idea to say anything much at all about anything to Percy Sugden, Emily's new lodger at No 3. Especially when it came to problems. But when Emily let slip her night time difficulties in passing, he immediately set out to remedy the situation.

Percy had often noticed that Don's parked taxi overlapped from the space outside his own house into Emily's parking space, and so he immediately painted "NO PARKING" on the pavement, with two lines to mark out No 3's parking space.

On hearing of the problem he was causing, Don was sympathetic, and promised Emily he'd be quieter.

He and Ivy were, however, both annoyed and amused to see Percy's pavement etching, and Don said he'd get his own back...

The next morning, Emily emerged from No 3 to find a gaggle of factory girls outside, all laughing at the pavement! Percy's "NO PARKING" had been crudely altered to "NOSY PARKER". Emily was furious. She hadn't even been aware that Percy had daubed the pavement in the first place. She called him outside. "We've been vandalised!" squawked Percy.

Emily insisted that Percy removed the offensive lettering from her pavement immediately. Percy was, as always, sympathetic - and, in fact, quite outraged on Emily's behalf: "I can understand you being upset. There's no truth in this at all. You're no nosy parker, not in my book - and if anybody ever said you were..."

Emily could hardly believe her ears: "This is not aimed at me, Mr Sugden - it's aimed at you!"

Percy was deeply saddened. This wasn't the first time he'd encountered the bizarre female tendency to delude themselves when it came to any unpleasantness, but still, he'd thought better of Mrs Bishop.

However, he remained gallant: "I wouldn't think so, no, but if that's the way you want to think about it, Mrs Bishop, so be it."

Emily told Percy that she was going to work, that she wanted to see the pavement clean when she returned, and that she wanted no reprisals carried out against Don Brennan or anybody else Percy suspected of committing the deed. She would brook no argument!

As it happened, Don wasn't involved in the pavement daubing exercise. And if Percy had glanced down the street as Mrs Bishop stalked off across the road to Baldwin's factory, he might have gained more than a small clue as to who the miscreant actually was.

As Jack Duckworth later confessed to Gloria Todd, it was him.

He'd nipped out in his "jim jams" early that morning.

It had been too good to resist.




Percy never did catch the culprit.

And he was greatly disappointed to discover the attitude taken by Mavis Riley, apparently Mrs Bishop's best friend, who seemed completely unruffled and deluded regarding this outrageous slur against her.

Like Emily, Mavis told Percy that she believed the "NOSY PARKER" slogan referred to him!

Women!

You wouldn't credit it, would you?

The Beiderbecke Trilogy - Jill Swinburne And Trevor Chaplin - Where Are They Now?

Trevor (James Bolam), Jill (Barbara Flynn) and First Born (Thomas McGlingly) - 1980s TV heaven!

Thomas has written:

I adored the 1980s TV series The Beiderbecke Trilogy and was saddened to hear of the death of the writer, Alan Plater. I connected with Jill, Trevor, Big Al, Little Norm, and the series was sheer brilliance. The 1980s setting was very important, because the show was very topical in its own distinctive way, but did Alan Plater write any more about Jill and Trevor? Have we any idea what happened to them next? This is keeping me awake nights!

I know what you mean, I think, Thomas!

I grew very fond of Jill, Trevor and company and I missed them - and their unique outlook on life - when the final series ended. Over the years since, I have often wondered how they are coping.

It would be so good to phone them up or drop them a line!

I've often been saddened by the ending of an enjoyable TV series and bemoaned the loss of weekly visits to favourite fictional characters via the little screen, but none more so than Jill and Trevor.

I watch the Trilogy every few years, never tire of it, always delighting in old acquaintance and fresh observations. But I always put off watching the final episode because I find the characters leaving my life again very upsetting - this is true every time - and I must have watched the series about ten times since the 1980s!

"Look Not Upon The Blondes When They Are Platinum..."

I have scouted around the web, and found a 2003 interview with Alan Plater, in which he reveals that he was keeping up-to-date with our old friends in the moonstruck outer limits of Leeds at that time:

For the record, I know exactly what's going on in Beiderbecke-land. Jill is the recently appointed head of San Quentin High, which has just finished bottom of every league table in the land. Trevor has retired and spends his days playing dominoes in the bowls pavilion with Big Al and Little Norm. Hobson has made a sideways career move out of the police force and is now a highly paid consultant in some byway of the New Labour Project. The heart of the matter is subversion. If the Scorsese gospel says we all have the capacity for violence, the Beiderbecke equivalent says we all have the capacity for deadpan daftness when confronted by men wearing suits.

Read the full interview here.

I too was sorry to read of Alan Plater's death - and, of course, we are now cut off from Beiderbecke land forever.

In the 2003 Guardian article, Alan Plater, pondering on the hold the series continued to have on its audience eighteen years after the original Beiderbecke Affair series began in 1985, wrote:

The last words belong to Jill, Trevor and great-uncle Bix.

In the Tapes, Jill says:

"Beiderbecke? The first great white jazz musician. Drank himself to death. His playing sounded like bullets shot from a bell."

"How do you know that?" says Trevor.

"You gave me a two-hour lecture about it in bed one night. In lieu of the cigarette."

"I didn't know you listened when I talked."

Maybe that's the answer. I didn't realise people were listening when I wrote.

We were, Mr Plater, oh we were!

Read our original tribute to the Beiderbecke Trilogy here.

Graduate policeman Detective Sergeant Hobson: "It is my view that the major challenge to the police force in the 1980s lies not with so-called major crime, but in the behaviour of people who, while outwardly respectable, show signs of social abnormality."

Coronation Street 1980s: Part 1

Coronation Street celebrates its 50th anniversary on 9 December, and here at '80s Actual we've been getting all dewy-eyed remembering The Street in years gone by.

With the help of our sister blog, Back On The Street, we've got some glimpses of Coronation Street as it was in the 1980s. We're beginning late in the decade and working backwards!

Eee, 1988 on't Street... Do you remember, chuck? Derek Wilton (Peter Baldwin) and Mavis Riley (Thelma Barlow) made it to the altar - oops, I mean registry office - second time lucky - though Mavis wasn't impressed by a couple of smutty comments from Sally Webster (Sally Dynevor) at the Corner Shop when she and Derek returned from honeymoon. Marriage was not just about that sort of thing, she lectured Sally.

Quite right too...

Meanwhile, Rovers barmaid Gloria Todd (Sue Jenkins) had been feeling her biological clock ticking for some time. So, when she fell for a fella, perhaps marriage - maybe even kids - lay around the corner? Trouble was, the fella belonged to Rovers cleaner Sandra Stubbs (Sally Watts). Gloria couldn't help herself, although she felt terrible. She began seeing Sandra's fella and they really seemed to "click". Gloria was horrified when Sandra turned up for a natter at her flat one evening when she was entertaining Mr Wonderful.

Finally, she confessed all to Sandra and got a pint of beer in her face for her trouble. Gloria left the Rovers after the incident.

Alan Bradley (Mark Eden) had left Rita Fairclough (Barbara Knox) and was living in a bedsit away from the Street. Rita was completely besotted with the man, and begged him to return to No 7. Alan refused, but changed his mind when the bank refused to finance his business's move to new premises. Alan returned to Rita and daughter Jenny (Sally Anne Matthews) for his own benefit - with a plan in mind. He also secretly continued to see Carole Burns (Irene Skillington).

Here's some Corrie trivia for you: Did you know that Mark Eden first appeared in the show in 1981, playing a man Elsie Tanner (Patricia Phoenix) rather liked? He was called Wally Randle and sadly, did not feel the same way about Elsie!

Terry Duckworth (Nigel Pivaro) made Vera (Liz Dawn) so proud when he began work for Mike Baldwin (Johnny Briggs) in 1988. His work was mainly chauffeuring (Mike had been banned from driving), but there were prospects. When Terry took a married girlfriend out in Mike's Jag and her husband sprayed "STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE" down one side, the writing was on the wall as far as Terry's career at Baldwin's Casuals was concerned. Vera was distraught. Terry left the Street just before Christmas, feeling that he no longer had much in common with old pals like Kevin Webster (Michael Le Vell) and that it was time to move on again.

Pump Up The Jam...

Flippin' 'eck! 1989! What a year it was! Rita Fairclough was nearly smothered by Alan Bradley, and a tram dominated the end of that saga... but what ELSE happened down Weatherfield way?

Well, one half of the Street disappeared and new buildings rose in its place, courtesy of one Maurice Jones (Alan Moore).

Deirdre Barlow (Anne Kirkbride) (note her squarer framed glasses and nice '80s perm below) found out that Ken had been up to naughties with former town hall mole Wendy Crozier (Roberta Kerr). The icy atmosphere at No 1 ruined Tracy's Christmas.

The McDonald family moved into No 11 and Jim and Liz (Charles Lawson and Beverley Callard) made their first visit to The Rovers Return, where they tried to suss out their new neighbours and soon began making friends.

Meanwhile, the Corner Shop suffered a direct hit - from a football, causing the front window to fall out. The McDonald twins, Steve and Andy (Simon Gregson and Nicholas Cochrane), were responsible. The Roberts household was already under strain as Alf and Audrey's attempt to buy a new house had fallen through and they'd gone to live in the flat above the shop. Audrey (Sue Nicholls) was not pleased. "It's only temporary," wheedled Alf (Bryan Mosley), taking her a nice early morning cuppa. "LIFE'S only temporary!" snapped Audrey.

And for Curly Watts (Kevin Kennedy) his new job as assistant manager (trainee) at Bettabuys Supermarket, which he began in October 1989, was fraught with complications. Manager Reg Holdsworth (Ken Morley) asked him to write reports on all the staff, and then announced his intention to use them as the basis for making redundancies in January 1990.

Curly was gobsmacked - particularly as his landlady, Vera Duckworth (Liz Dawn), was on the redundancies list.

The Duckworths had much to celebrate earlier in 1989 (well, at least Vera did!) when they had their house stone clad!

Neighbours 1988: Harold Bishop And The Devil's Tiddlywinks...

Harold Bishop (Ian Smith) - "Poker is the Devil's Tiddlywinks..."

A lovely e-mail from Cerys, who has read our recent material on the Australian soap Neighbours:

I loved that show in the '80s! It was a wow across England, Scotland and Wales - as big, if not bigger, than our home grown soaps. Those Ramsay Street years still stand tall in my memory, although some of the details are perhaps a little blurry!

I recall the wonderful fuddy duddy Harold Bishop making a comment about gambling being the "devil's tiddlywinks". Can you tell me the details?

As regards the original version of the theme tune, it was definitely "perfect plan" that was sung, not "perfect blend". The "blend" version began in the early 1990's.

Keep up the good work here - this is definitely the 1980's as they actually happened!

Thanks, Cerys! You're very kind.

In Neighbours, Harold Bishop commented to Henry Ramsay in 1988:

"Henry, you know I don't approve of gambling. Poker is the Devil's tiddlywinks!"

We never actually heard Harold say it as far as I'm aware - Henry reported the fact to Scott Robinson, with a wickedly accurate impersonation of Harold!

A very funny scene, although Scott wasn't amused, simply commenting that Harold was a "dag" and asking why he said things like that?

Of course, Henry didn't know!

But then that was Harold.

The Beiderbecke Affair, The Beiderbecke Tapes, The Beiderbecke Connection, The Beiderbecke Trilogy

The Alan Plater telly series Get Lost!, starring Bridget Turner and Alun Armstrong, began on June 12th 1981. In the first episode, Judy Threadgold was (like Mrs Dale of diary fame) worried about her husband, Jim. Jim Threadgold had disappeared, leaving behind a farewell message on video.

Judy joined forces with fellow teacher Neville Keaton in an attempt to track Jim down, and so began a wonderfully quirky four part series - a joy to watch.

I never missed an episode and, aged fifteen, was puzzled over the show's appeal for me. It seemed slow-moving plot wise. It wasn't the Sweeney. It wasn't even good old Coronation Street. There were no Regans and Carters "nicking" villains and making hard boiled buddy comments to each other, no Elsie Tanners using pub ashtrays concealed in handbags to clobber snide Ray Langtons. Going by my previous plot-driven TV form, Get Lost! didn't contain a great deal to command my attention.

So, why did it?

It took me ages to work out that the clever dialogue and ideas contained within the series were what was making it compulsive viewing for me.

I wasn't used to clever dialogue and ideas. In fact, "ideas" were frowned upon round my way. Anybody who "had ideas" was not to be trusted. Getting by day-to-day was usually the priority.

Get Lost! was good, but something absolutely wonderful lay just a few years ahead...

Above and below: programme details from the original "Beiderbecke Affair" press pack...

... issued by Yorkshire Television in January 1985.

From the press pack - "We are on the brink of a new era, if only..."

Ronnie Scott's Jazz Club, London - the writer, members of the cast and production team gather for the launch of "The Beiderbecke Affair".

Back row (left to right) actors Dudley Sutton, Dominic Jephcott, Terence Rigby and Danny Schiller.

Front row (left to right) writer Alan Plater, director David Reynolds, actress Barbara Flynn and producer Anne W Gibbons.

-

"Look not upon the blondes when they are platinum..."

The first episode of The Beiderbecke Affair, a six part series, was shown on 6 January 1985. The show was similar to Get Lost! - it too was written by Alan Plater and also had two school teachers as its main characters, one of them being a jazz fan. But there were differences. The dialogue was wittier, tighter, cleverer, and the casting, whether by genius or lucky accident, was absolutely wonderful. Not that the Get Lost! cast had been bad, but this really was something else.

Trevor Chaplin (James Bolam), one of the two central characters, had well and truly "heard the music" of the jazz greats. He made frequent trips to headphone heaven.

Trevor hailed from the North East of England but had somehow ended up in Yorkshire, where he taught woodwork at a rundown-and-clobbered-by-the-cutbacks comprehensive school in the "moonstruck outer limits of Leeds".

Trevor's partner was one Jill Swinburne (Barbara Flynn), an English teacher.

Jill had stickers with slogans like Nuclear Power - No Thanks, stuck to her front windows.

Unlike her ex-husband, who (like so many) had protested when it was fashionable to protest and become a whizz kid when it was fashionable to become a whizz kid, Jill was a genuine idealist - out to save the planet, the whale, and anything else that needed saving. Her "let's go get 'em" attitude perfectly complemented Trevor's laidback approach and together they took us through three brilliantly idiosyncratic series - The Beiderbecke Affair, The Beiderbecke Tapes and The Beiderbecke Connection. The final series was in 1988.

Bix Beiderbecke, whose playing sounded like "bullets shot from a bell", was one of Trevor's jazz heroes, and his enthusiasm for this great man sparked off three adventures.

During them, we met other highly distinctive characters - including Big Al and Little Norm, who ran an illicit "White Economy" mail order business from a church crypt and an allotment shed; Sylvia, the oldest suffragette in town; and Detective Sergeant Hobson, who had a computer, a corrupt superior and a forward facing haircut.

And then there was the dog, Jason.

The whole thing added up to simply magical telly.

Trevor and Jill with Big Al.

The platinum blonde supplied Mr Carter with an exploding hedge trimmer...

Graduate policeman Detective Sergeant Hobson: "It is my view that the major challenge to the police force in the 1980s lies not with so-called major crime, but in the behaviour of people who, while outwardly respectable, show signs of social abnormality."

From the "TV Times", 1987.