211: Christmas 4

“Harry Enfield and His Christmas Chums”, BBC1, 24 December 1997



Poor old Modern Dad was Richard Preddy and Gary Howe's idea. It appealed to me because I've lots of gay friends who've been through similar experiences. Few parents over sixty understand the 'progressive' comings and goings of their children, but they love them, so they try their best. I based my character on my father, who is from a much more traditional generation, and always tried just-that-little-bit-too-hard with my girlfriends, knowing that, in the modern world, he mustn't voice his old-fashioned disapproval of relationships outside wedlock. If you've ever seen my dad on Watchdog, you'll know how similar Modern Dad is to him. Modern Dad worked so well because Ben, who played my son, and his boyfriend Ewan (Spud from Trainspotting) were so sympathetic. They didn't 'camp it up' - they were just a normal, nice couple. You feel sorry for them, for me and for Mum. The sketch was basically “What if a gay couple had come to stay at Fawlty Towers?”

- afterword from “Harry Enfield and His Humorous Chums”, Penguin Books, 1997

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Like the previous piece from “Punch”, this exhumes almost every common gay pun imaginable. The “Punch” parody uses theses clichés because for that public that’s largely what people thought homosexuals were. Gays are funny because this is what gays actually are.

By the times of this sketch, they’re acknowledged to be rather worn-out hack clichés. Each of the clichés is expertly deployed to humiliate the well-meaning but horrifically anxious father for his cluelessness.

29 – “Gay”: The Kids in the Hall

Circa 1991
(transcript from: www.kithfan.org/work/transcripts/three/wordgay.html)

Mark McKinney as an old lady, solving a crossword puzzle in her garden.

I'm all in favor of certain people having their own, you know, lifestyle, but...why did they have to take the word "gay"? It's such a lovely word! They've...they've robbed the English language of a beautiful word. I...they have. I mean, now if I say to one of my friends, or one of my friends asks me, "How is your son or daughter feeling?", and I say "Oh, they're feeling gay"...it's a scandal. I've had to stop using the word altogether. Oh. So they've taken "gay" away from us. What was wrong with "pervert"?
And you can't use the word "faggot" anymore either, you...it used to be a lovely bundle of sticks. On cold winters' nights you'd throw another faggot on the fire. But now they work in restaurants, making your salads, being snotty and still expecting fifteen percent.
"Cunnilingus"? My grandfather drove one across America. With pride. He bought the first one off the lot in 1923. Oh, but now they're all gone, forgotten - the Cunnilingus, the Rambler. Oh. I suppose "Rambler" means something filthy now too, does it, does it mean something...?
Can't use the word "fisting" anymore either, oh no. No, no. But back in the forties the girls and I used to fist every Sunday afternoon. It was a knitting stitch, and a very difficult one. I made a lovely yellow afghan full of tiny, intricate fistings, that won a, that won a grand prize at a, at a jamboree. Yeah. Gave up knitting altogether, though, in 1979, finally found out what the word meant, oh no. No, no. I took that afghan with all that lovely fisting and put it up the poop-hole. Oh, that's, that's what we used to call attic. Now they're all gone, locked away, like those beautiful words.
Well, I guess I'm just supposed to fade away, in silence...or be modern and accept it. Fine. I guess I'll just have a Fuck Off. Oh, that used to be a summer drink, you know.

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Some very funny Canadians have the same idea as Fry and Laurie, about 4 four years later.

28 - "Gay": Fry and Laurie

from “A Bit of Fry and Laurie”, 26 December, 1987

Fry and Laurie sketches have a tendency to be very word obsessed, and there is also a delight in slipping in real or make-believe vulgarities. So the sketch is a typical premise, where two fusty “Dail Mail”-type readers spout ever more graphic homosexual descriptions while wistfully reminiscing about some nostalgic English past.
However this satirising of those who get het up about the loss of the lovely word “gay” does take place against a rather nastier background. The latter part of 1987 saw the build-up of rhetoric about Section 28, and various weasel-words about what place gays should be allowed to take in society. Talk about reclaiming the word "gay" is really as much a wish that that we didn't have anything to call homosexuals so they couldn't even be identified and we wouldn't have to talk about them (oh, why can't they just go away).

15 - Vassall Case: That Was The Week That Was

Illustration by Willie Rushton
"But My Dear" by Peter Shaffer in "That Was The Week That Was", edited by David Frost and Ned Sherin, W.H. Allen, 1963

The scene is an office. A senior official is sitting at his desk,. a junior official is quaking nervously as he hands a letter he has just composed to his pompous and bullying senior.

SENIOR OFFICER: (Taking the letter) Give it here. (Reading) 'To Mr Jenkins.' Good. None of that' dear' nonsense. (Reading) 'Pursuant to your letter. . .' Pursuant?
JUNIOR OFFICER: It's the usual phrase, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: I don't like it. The word has an erotic penumbra. Take it out.
JUNIOR OFFICER: Yes, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: (Reading) 'I am hoping for the favour of an early reply.' Favour?
JUNIOR OFFICER: The Oxford Dictionary defines the verb favour as 'to look kindly upon'.
SENIOR OFFICER: (Pouncing) Exactly. I am amazed you can be so naive. Looking kindly upon anyone who earns less than you do is a deeply treacherous procedure.
JUNIOR OFFICER: I'm very sorry, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: You need some basic training in modern manners, can see that. If a man comes 300 miles to see you with papers, keep him waiting in the hall-or better still the drive, if you have one. If you offer him so much as a sandwich you will be suspected of improper relations; and a three-course lunch spells treason.
JUNIOR OFFICER: Yes, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER : You really are an innocent, aren't you?
JUNIOR OFFICER: I'm afraid I am, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: Well we must change all that. (Continuing to read) 'Hoping for the favour of an early reply. . . . Thanking you in anticipation.' Are you doing this on purpose?
JUNIOR OFFICER: What, sir?
SENIOR OFFICER: Thanking you in anticipation
JUNIOR OFFICER: Is that wrong, sir?
SENIOR OFFICER: Wrong? It's just about the most sexually provocative sentence I've ever read. It whinnies with suggestiveness.
JUNIOR OFFICER: I hadn't intended it like that, Sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: We're not concerned with your intentions, man-merely with the effect you create. And I can tell you that it's nauseating. You have the correspondence style of a lovesick au pair girl. In more honest days one would have said kitchen-maid..
JUNIOR OFFICER: But, sir -
SENIOR OFFICER: Don't interrupt, or I may lose control. Now understand this: in the Civil Service you will never thank anybody for anything, especially in anticipation. You will simply end your letter without innuendo of any kind. Now let's see what you've done. (Reading) 'Yours faithfully' I don't believe it.
JUNIOR OFFICER: That's normal, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: Normal? In the context of a man writing to a man it's nothing less than disgusting. It implies you can be UN-faithful!
JUNIOR OFFICER: I never thought of that, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: You think of very little, don't you? Even the word 'Yours' at the end of a letter is dangerous. It suggests a willingness for surrender.
JUNIOR OFFICER: Then what can I say, sir?
SENIOR OFFICER: What do the Pensions Department use?
They're about as unemotional as you can get, without actually being dead.
JUNIOR OFFICER: 'Your obedient servant', I think.
SENIOR OFFICER: Are you mad?
JUNIOR OFFICER: Sir?
SENIOR OFFICER: Your obedient servant. . . . That's just plain perverted.. People who want to be other people's obedient servants are the sort who answer those advertisements: Miss Lash, ex-Governess of striking appearance. To sign yourself an obedient servant is an ipso facto confession of sexual deviation. And that, as we all know, is an ipso facto confession of treason.
JUNIOR OFFICER: Oh, I say, sir!
SENIOR OFFICER: What do you say? (Looking at him narrowly) I believe you are one of those cranks who believe that there are loyal homosexuals! (Accusingly) I think you secretly believe that the way to stop homosexuals being blackmailed into subversive acts is to change the law so they can't be.
JUNIOR OFFICER: Well, it had crossed my mind, sir. Amend the law and the possibility of Vassalls is lessened.
SENIOR OFFICER: Sloppy, left-wing sentimentality! The only way to stop a homosexual being blackmailed is to stop him being a homosexual. And the only way you can do that is to lock him up in a building with five hundred other men. That way he can see how unattractive they really are. Now take this pornographic muck out of here and bring it back in an hour, clean enough to be read by a six-year-old girl, or John Gordon. And leave out everything at the end except your name:, a bare signature, brusque and masculine. What is your name, by the way?
JUNIOR OFFICER: Fairy, sir.
SENIOR OFFICER: I don't think somehow you are going to go very far in Her Majesty's Service. Good morning.

14 - TeeVee and Sympathy 3: Monty Python

Written by John Cleese and Graham Chapman, “Monty Python’s Flying Circus”, 12 October, 1969

And the final twist from “Monty Python”: keep the format, but just replace it with a nonsensical concept. Of course, what was silly concept becomes reality with the development of “furries”. This is a wonderful encapsulation of the all the clichés of the format. Since Graham Chapman was gay, one can only speculate as to what grievances he was working out in this one.

12 - TeeVee and Sympathy 1: That Was The Week That Was

"Confession" by John Braine, in "That Was The Week That Was", edtied by David Frost and Ned Sherin, W.H. Allen, 1963

Heterosexuality is an ugly word. Until recently it skulked in the obscurity of medical text books. Now, one hears it everywhere. Let us be explicit and fearless about its meaning, then. Hetero, as one might expect, is derived from a foreign language, and means 'opposite'. Therefore, a heterosexual man is sexually attracted only to women and vice-versa.
There are few outward signs by which a heterosexual reveals himself, though authorities on the subject claim that a heterosexual will sooner or later give himself away - if only by his clumsiness and coldness, and crashing insensitivity. A heterosexual walks - or rather clumps in hobnailed boots and belted mac - alone. Not for him the joys of true comradeship; his energies are all spent in the pursuit of women. There is nothing he longs for more, than a night out with the boys, but a night out with the boys - in the truest, deepest sense is precisely what he can never enjoy. He is too busy making passes at the barmaid.
What is being done about this problem? Very little. The prevalent official attitude is simply to make heterosexuality as difficult as possible, to scoop it under the carpet.
How do I know all this?
I am a heterosexual.
It began early with me, at my public school. I won't say which one. . . I have dishonoured it enough already. I was fourteen years old, apparently a happy, wholesome normal lad, making friendships which would stand me in good stead for the rest of my life, when suddenly I realised that I didn't feel as I should towards the Captain of the Eleven. I couldn't disguise my growing conviction that he was a big, fat, boring slob. The padre, the housemaster, the housemaster's wife, did their level best to help, but I left school under a cloud.
I became an up-and-coming young executive. My field was corsets. I was good at my job, then one afternoon, I found it necessary to take a client to a strip club. I was watching a young lady in a G-string wrestling with a stuffed snake, when, to my horror, I discovered that I violently desired her. I tried to believe that it was something I had eaten. I tried to behave normally, and only looked at the audience. But it was no use. I enjoyed looking at naked women. .
Of course, my work began to suffer. I lost my job. Now, I am a doorman at the strip club which was the cause of my downfall. I am not actively unhappy, and sometimes the young ladies let me take them home, but it's a strange twilight world I live in. I have fallen farther than most, because I had farther to fall.
Mine is a sad story, but heterosexuals do not cry. I am not a criminal. Before you condemn me out of hand, try and see me as I am, a lost and lonely soul, with perhaps, a more than passing resemblance to - dare I say it - yourselves.

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Now that people could admit that there were such things as homosexuals, homosexuality could be a recognised social problem. And so there began to appear TV profiles and documentaries in which anguished homosexuals could appear to confess they couldn't help it and ask for understanding and sympathy from straight society.
This piece by John Braine, famous as an Angry Young Man for writing "Room at the Top" (1957), is an early example of reversing the whole premise.
Charles Beaumont wrote "Crooked Man" ('Playboy, August 1955), a short story about the persecution suffered by the last few heterosexuals in a world gone gay. It's only slightly sneering, but it's notable that it's promoted in 'Playboy' as a horror story. Which I supoose it would be if you're the typical red-blooded, all-man reader of 'Playboy'. Not that 'Playboy' is really homophobic - it's just that homosexuality has to be largely ignored, so that the interest in consumer goods, men's fashion, etc doesn't attract any funny looks.
Martin Amis also rings the changes on this heterosexuals are a minority in a gay world in his short story "Straight Fiction", which I think I can remember finding a lot more unpleasant.
This is a theme we'll see more of later.

7 - Alan Bennett

in “On the Margin”, 9 November 1966
Alan Bennett as “Antique shop proprietor”
John Sergeant as “Customer”

SERGEANT: Well, actually, I was looking for something rather along the lines of a teapot stand. It's a birthday present for my wife. I bought her a teapot for her Christmas present, so I thought I'd follow it up with a teapot stand.
BENNETT: Oo! The last of the big spenders. Teapot stand. . .Well . . . (moves to Welsh dresser) you could stand a teapot on here very nicely.
SERGEANT: Yes - but it's a little bit bigger than what I had in mind, really.
BENNETT: Oo! It is big. . . it is big. . . but only an expert would have spotted it. But you know, if you'd be advised, you can't go wrong with these, you know (still fingering Welsh dresser) because these are going to rocket. The Americans are buying them up, you know. If you had six or seven of these tucked away, you'd never starve. I mean, you wouldn't have room to eat, but you'd never starve.
SERGEANT: How much do they run to?
BENNETT: Well, I'll have to look in my little book. I wouldn't want it to go to anybody who wasn't going to cosset it - but I think you're a cosseter, aren't you? Now then - it's seventy-five pounds, but I could stretch it and let you have it for seventy-four guineas.
SERGEANT: I prefer to pay less, really.
BENNETT: Do you know, it's funny you should say that, love, because most people prefer to pay less, whereas I prefer to charge more, you know. I think it's just a matter of taste.
SERGEANT: This is nice. (Touching a table)
BENNETT: Oh, I can see I'm going to have to watch you - you really have the eye, don't you? Can you keep a secret?
SERGEANT: What?
BENNETT (taps table): Wedgwood.
SERGEANT: But I thought that Wedgwood only did pottery?
BENNETT: That's the secret. It's a very unique piece. There's only one other in existence, and it's on trust for the nation. It's fifty-five pounds, and if you pass that up, you want your bottom smacking.
SERGEANT (pointing at old money box): That's not an antique. They had these when I was a boy.
BENNETT: Oo, you said it, dear, not me. (Picks up chamber pot filled with hyacinths) Have you ever thought of going in for these? I like to think that this is Worcester.
SERGEANT: What is it?
BENNETT: Well, it's an eighteenth-century breakfast cup, is that. I mean, in the eighteenth century they used to have these great big breakfasts - I mean, none of your two prunes and a Weetabix - so they had such big cups. (Picks up an old policeman's truncheon) Do you know what they're using these for nowadays?
SERGEANT: Well I know one thing - it's not teapot stands.
BENNETT: Oo, get in the knife box, you're too sharp to live.
SERGEANT: I was reading in one of the Sunday newspapers that the latest trend is this 'camp' thing. Have you anything 'camp'?
BENNETT: Now he tells us!
SERGEANT: Have you any camp teapot stands?
BENNETT: Do you know, if you'd come in here a week ago, I was knee deep in camp teapot stands. I've had teapot stands in this shop as camp as a row of pink tents.
SERGEANT: Really?
BENNETT: I tell a lie - as camp as a row of pink frilly tents.

This is a bit different, since Bennett is an actual gay man writing and performing the role of a camp gay man. Although I don’t think Bennett came out as such until the ’90s. This character was revisited in further sketches in Alan Bennett’s only TV comedy series “On the Margin”. Apparently no footage of any of them now exists since the entire series was wiped by the BBC. In later years Alan Bennett would dust off some of his old sketches for performances in charity shows. Whether this was one of them I don’t know. Although in a parody of the Secret Policeman’s Ball from “Janet Lives with Mel and Griff” (1988) the line “Alan Bennett revisits his uncanny impression of a Northern Woofter” may either refer to these sketches or else be a less than charitable comment on Bennett himself.

John Sergeant is indeed the John Sergeant who went on to a long career as a BBC political correspondent.

This sketch predates the Monty Python's camp judges use of “Get back in the witness box. You’re too sharp to live”. Was it a common phrase, or just the Pythons remembering its previous use and recasting it? Also, is this the first appearance of the phrase “camp as a row of tents”?

And for those unfamiliar with the prices: 20 shillings made 1 pound; 1 guinea was 1 pound and 1 shilling. So, 74 guineas is £77 and 14 shillings. See how worthless this information is.

5.5 - Not The Nine O'Clock News

“Not The Nine O’Clock News” 23 October 1979 – Rowan Atkinson


Aha, found it on youtube.

The swivels from attempting to appear sympathetic and non-judgemental to failed attempts at contemporary slang, further embarrassment, swiftly escalating into weird aversion therapy, and finally landing with a thud into matter-of-fact grand condemnation. Not bad for a minute and a half. The laughs are more at the expense of the character Atkinson is playing, his verbal contortions, his hunched-up body and gesticulating hands, with the big final laugh for the outrageousness of the last line coming from such a placatory-seeming character.

There, I think that's analysed all the fun from it.

4 - Queens of England

A compilation of queens from the early 70s:

Carry On Girls” (1973) Jimmy Logan as Cecil Gaybody

“Close order swanning about” from “Monty Python’s Flying Circus, episode #22, 24 November 1970

“Camp Judges” (Eric Idle and Michael Palin) from “Monty Python’s Flying Circus, episode 21, 17 November 1970

"Carry On Abroad" (1972)- Kenneth Williams, Charles Hawtrey and John Clive

“Clarence” (“Hello, Honky-tonk”) and “Hettie” characters played by Dick Emery

There is a minor fashion issue to raise: both "Clarence" and "Cecil Gaybody" are wearing godawfully ugly peaked hats. In "Doctor in Trouble" (1970), Graham Chapman plays a bitchy gay photographer who never appears with his peaked cap. Joe Orton wears his cap. Was "the hat" some sort of signal? A sub-military butch touch, which then goes horribly wrong, all floppy and purple? Or am I just being overly-attentive?