HEARING VOICES by Andrew Pixley

We have emphasized an awful lot these days – and quite rightfully so – about the need for subjects to be communicated by ‘different voices’. Absolutely!  Couldn’t agree more. But I didn’t expect to have the notion brought home to me quite as effectively as when I attended – of all things – Slapstick!, a festival celebrating silent comedy.

I’m horrifically aware of the need for new, fresh perspectives and thoughts because of my own entirely selfish needs. There are several fandoms that I’ve now been involved with – both as writer and reader – for coming up to 40 years, and some have survived better than others. While fan studies are a massively complex subject that many of you will have written about far more than me, the bottom line is that it’s the sub-cultures that have a continual churn of people with changing attitudes and perspectives that keep me engaged with new thoughts and opinions… and those which tend to have the same (or similar) gene pool saying vaguely similar things for decades on end that instinctively attract me or hold my attention less.

And I include myself as part of this problem. That’s why I like to experiment with new subjects and new ways of communicating. Being able to blog at CST is already allowing me an excitingly different way to ponder notions that aren’t commercial or locked to one specific series or sub-culture. I can use vocabulary and styles which are outside my norm. And I’ve been delighted to receive contact from new and exciting people offering me further inspiration or possibilities for research [ii].

As a consumer, I’ve already noted that it’s things like HE Cooper’s blog “Back in Time for TV” that excite me as a reader. So, yes, I’m all in favour of unfamiliar people saying new things about older stuff, or familiar people saying new things about newer stuff.

But even so, I never realised how exciting it was to hear – literally – different voices at Slapstick!

Slapstick!’s great. It’s a wee bit tangential to my televisual tastes, but since its inception in 2005 it’s offered some choice events of enthusiasm and enjoyment on a variety of small screen specialities.

My wife and I travelled down to Bristol – the festival’s home – in January for a day of meeting mates (including somebody who used to write for PrimeTime and another somebody whose dad wrote for Arthur Haynes [iii]) and savouring some quality chat from comedy luminaries.

Although emerging from the celebration of silent era slapstick cinema comedy, over the years the festival has embraced many elements of television material which have presented their humour with a strong slice of physical hilarity. Tim Vine (who travels in time) enthusing about his passion for The Phil Silvers Show (1955-1959), Graeme Garden interviewing the legendary Eric Sykes about his extensive career including Sykes (1972-1979) [iv], an audience with Nicholas Parsons [v], Ian Lavender falling in for a discussion about Dad’s Army (1968-1977), and Professor Gilli Bush-Bailey explaining how the residuals for throwing custard pies about on Here Come The Double Deckers! (1970-1971) financed her entry into academia.

My own personal highlights at these events tend to revolve around The Goodies (1970-1982). I’ve blogged about my passion for this show previously, so there should be little surprise about that. I’m a first generation fan – I grew up with it during its run, first engaged by its visual slapstick silliness and slowly having my comedic pallet challenged by what I realised was increasingly satirical material that made me think about some of the things happening in the world.

When, years later, I was hired as a consultant to work on the reunion tribute programme Return of the Goodies (2005), it was an utter delight to sit in on camera rehearsals as Graeme Garden, Bill Oddie and Tim Brooke-Taylor brought their small screen alter-egos back to life in a recreation of their 1970s office set. They were everything that I’d always hoped that they would be in real life – smart, funny, unpredictable. It’s an afternoon that I’ll never forget.

While it achieved massive audiences at the time, ran for years, and even spawned best-selling records, The Goodies – it has to be said – has lived on in television history somewhat in the shadow of Monty Python’s Flying Circus (1969-1972) [vi]. But not down in Bristol. Here, Bill, Tim and Graeme’s legacy of laughter has been celebrated on numerous occasions across the years when otherwise eschewed by other establishments and organisations.

So, this January we made the trip down for a couple of sessions. The first was a look with Tim at Rediffusion’s rather lovely sketch series At Last the 1948 Show (1967) – now restored on DVD from the BFI. The second was the real treat – a fiftieth anniversary celebration of The Goodies with Robin Ince chatting to Tim, Graeme and Bill on stage and showing classic clips. Naturally, being keen devotees of these clever and kind gentlemen, my wife and I got seats down the front in an enthusiastic but decidedly non-stalkerish manner to drink in all the fun and nostalgia.

And then I heard the voices.

It was the Q&A session at the end. The voices were coming from behind us in the darkness of the auditorium – we couldn’t see who they were coming from, but there they were. And they sounded so unlike me. Different ages. Different gender. Different accents. And with different thoughts. But – as you’d hope with Goodies fans – smart, funny and unpredictable.

It was a lovely feeling to know that there were second and third generation fans there too. Voices which – by the sound of them – will be heard long after mine has fallen silent.

But in the meantime, I can’t wait to hear what they have to say…

 

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Andrew Pixley is a retired data developer. For the last 30 years he’s written about almost anything to do with television if people will pay him – and occasionally when they won’t.

The above piece was originally written in early March 2020. Earlier today – 12 April – my wife and I heard about the tragic loss of Tim Brooke-Taylor to coronavirus. He was an immensely kind and generous man who helped so much with my work over the last 20 years or so, he was continually friendly and tolerant… and he made us laugh so very, very much.

RIP Tim. Your voice will be heard for many, many years to come, and continue to bring us so much laughter.

 

 

Footnotes:

[i] It’s a silent comedy festival. A caption with words struck me as inappropriate.

[ii] Thank you Kim. Thank you Tobias.

[iii] That’s one for the teenagers.

[iv] … some of which were remakes of Sykes and a… (1960-1965).

[v] He worked with Arthur Haynes.

[vi] Oh, go on then… and Monty Python (1974). And those two editions of Monty Python’s Fliegender Zirkus (1972).