2017: Far From 'Fantabulosa'

It hasn't been the most straightforward of years.

If anything my naivety got the better of me at the worst of times,
falsely falling into the belief that just being in a place with others
destined to go onto greater things, would guarantee me doing the same.

I'd finished presenting a regular radio show, but chose to carry on at CSR
with station sound roles and helping out where I could elsewhere.

Whether it be standing in on shows, or assisting with a 24 hour marathon
broadcast, the overall excitement and fun of it was starting to fade,
and certainly with the marathon broadcast, I was just waiting
for the show to finish, and get the train back to Ramsgate.

Not a good sign.

But I kept going, aware that if anything came up in the bigger world of radio,
it would be worth talking about in hope of impressing potential employers.

And in April arrived the possibility of a four week work placement at an independent
production company based in London only a few doors away from Wise Buddah
where I spent two fun months the year before on their Future IMGR placement.

It was potentially a great opportunity to get a sense what it was like
to produce programmes as opposed to just the the noises that identified them.

I had sent multiple e-mails and eventually got a phone interview with their
"production operations manager" and that's where it all went balls up.

The woman I was speaking to explained that they were looking for someone
who could "generate ideas for programmes in a sentence, like "a blockbuster movie".

A common trait within the broadcasting industry, using big words
or statements to cover up for very little substance.

Not being a massive fan of big budget pictures, it was only
one step of the way to suggest I was fucked.

But more discouraging was the interviewer's indifference towards my practical abilities
and past achievements such as the work I had done at Folded Wing,
hoping for someone who had at least worked previously as a broadcast assistant
at the BBC.

Hang on a second, you're wanting someone who's spent a lengthy amount
of time working in a paid position in broadcasting, to come and intern
with you for sod all?

Granted, no one working in radio should be doing it solely for the money,
but it's not a lot of money, barely enough to cover daily train travel
costs and living expenses.

What with me being a nervous wreck during the phone conversation
there was very little chance of me getting in.

Made worse by them e-mailing me a PDF document before the interview
listing all the perks of the placement such as sitting in on shows,
and getting an exit interview with the company CEO.

Almost identical to the late 90s ITV gameshow "The Moment Of Truth"
where little children were flashed money-can't-buy prizes at them, which they
could only win if their mum or dad could perform a feat of endurance
such as remembering every UK number 1 single.

It left me pondering if I could ever find work in an industry
I had loved and was passionate about.

Yes I was passionate enough.

But barely able to think on my feet, develop ideas under pressure
and produce them for air on the same day on a daily basis.

And in that rare instance where I appear to be never short of ideas,
to everyone else that's a cause for me to be sectioned.

In order to survive in radio you have to do more than just radio.

Whether that be reviewing gigs, being able to spot up and coming acts,
or putting on your own live music nights. All sorts of things that my condition
strips the social abilities of being able to do so.

And living in Ramsgate, where very little of interest happens, not helped by the
fact it hasn't moved into the 21st century, well it's no surprise I struggle
to get inspired.

But aren't there other options that may not be money earners, but still allow
you to enjoy making audio?

Well yes, but the key thing was that I wasn't enjoying it anymore.

Despite being offered to return to a show at CSR, or present for other online
or community stations, the fact that it's barely going to lead to anything,
and me suffering from the radio presenter/producer's equivalent of writer's block
brings to mind the last line of Kenneth Williams' diary before his death almost 30 years ago;

                                              "What's the bloody point?"

When I find myself getting more enjoyment listening to music on weekend
outings away in places such as Cromer in June earlier this year, it's a reminder
that maybe there are better ways to enjoy music and spoken word, than attempting
to do so yourself in an isolated room to little to no listeners.

















Yes, the Abbey Road. In Sheringham.


If there's anything hopeful for 2018, I have booked another weekend away
on the North Norfolk shores in late August, with a visit to Newquay earlier
on in the warmer months.

But is there anything that can occupy me day to day before then?

Well, it's easy to forget that for the last two years I have been on ESA
benefits and for good reason. My anxiety is at a massive high, and although
manageable, it can crop up in the worst possible places, be it an open
office environment, a radio conference, or even at a live music gig.

Most certainly if it's a long distance away from home, travelling to and
from on the same day.

And if that and many other thoughts are dominating my mindset, then of
course it's going to get in the way of achieving whatever task has been
set at me, to a high standard.

It may be an idea to get psychiatric help on dealing with the many "what if?"
thoughts, constantly emerging whenever anything practical that I'm
not used to doing is suggested.

And also to look back on the positive experiences that radio has given me,
such as the appearance on Radio 4's "The Listening Project" in the summer,
which covered a number of areas already written.

If finding the strength to focus more on what good I have done, rather than
what I struggle with, then maybe more positives will open elsewhere.

An ideal way to finish would be via two blogposts that hit home in the year
and so much better written than mine.

The first from Nadya Powell, on advertising and the increasing
obsession with data

"Dear John: A break up letter to the advertising community"

And this from Sarah, a fellow student on my uni radio course
and without doubt the best and most talented.

But even the very best get cold feet and for some reason
or other they fall out of love with it all.

"Flinging a Burning Dream Of A Cliff and Changing Career Goals"

As of typing I have no idea what I want to do day to day
outside beach breaks away. But if worked on gradually and maybe
when in a better mental state, I'll jump at the things I am scared of
and maybe I'll actually start to enjoy them.

Be able to look back on them, and actually realise they will pull through.

Radio - A "Struggling To Find Any Passion" Project

Radio has long been a passion and interest.

But over the last 6 months the idea of me actually doing so
practically, has turned into a provider of stress and anxiety.




Within a space of a day, the one outlet for creativity and overall enjoyment
suddenly becomes none of those things whatsoever, and at this time
I'm confused as to what I want to get out of it.

Is it a stepping stone to a professional career in the industry,
or just something done as a hobby alongside a proper job?

The latter being something I've tried too hard to avoid,
even if it is the logical route.

An open question to anyone who presents a show that's
syndicated, or done as a hobby either in hospital, community, or student radio;

What is it that spurs them on to do so every week?

Where do they get the energy to present a radio show that's going
to be heard by few people if none at all?

And how is it possible to sound enthusiastic about songs or items
that they are recycling on air again and again?

I wouldn't want that to sound negative, (although it probably will).

But the idea of "doing radio" just fills me with unnecessary stress
and anxiety meaning I cannot think about anything else.

Worried that I'm putting a lot of thought into something disposable
in the same way as a meal.

Up to December last year I had my own radio show "Blam Jam"
on CSR FM in Canterbury.

Running for 7 years, it was a show that never really found it's identity
until around 2012/2013, becoming a weekly blend of present day
soul tunes and cutting spoken bits in between. 
There was also the occasional interview now and again.

But just when I started to finally get the hang of it, I chose to knock it on the head
which confused many, but felt it was the right decision.

 























It couldn't compete amongst an array of soul shows playing similar
music on internet only stations, but spoken content was less about
the music being played, in favour of whoever just logged onto the station's
chatroom.

Even worth fading down a song halfway through to mention
their arrival, before whacking it back up again.

I struggled to develop a fanbase of my own, crucial in radio
these days, not helped by a soul scene in Canterbury being virtually
nonexistent.

If that's not the case I would love to find out, though maybe it's because
I find it hard to break ice at any social event with people I don't know
where it's impossible to actually communicate with them because the
music being played is just too fucking loud.

Though having attended events near me in Thanet I've come to realise
that I may love the music, but not the seaside postcard humour
that goes with it.

Or is that because of my Aspergers? I'd hate to use that as an excuse
as no one person with it is the same.

I agreed to stay at CSR in my role of head of production creating sweepers
and jingles for the station, which although productive and good for the station
I fell out of love with it.

A work placement I took at Wise Buddah's IMGR division reinforced
that the audio I produced though of a high standard for CSR and community
radio in general, was of a low standard to the bigger world of radio.

Tightly produced song intros, cleverly written scripts, maybe the world
of audio imaging is far too advanced for my abilities, as with fewer jobs
available, you're expected to be an expert in multiple skills learnt within
a very short space of time.

Or at least that's how it came across to me.

Not to mention that back at CSR it just felt very siloed.

Every show for themselves, and no sense of community within it all.

Which is all the more ironic being a community radio station.

I have had recommendations to take my show elsewhere including from
a former member of CSR now at a station in the Medway area, telling me
"they're always looking for presenters and the guy running it
is really in to what you do".

Or more realistically, really into what I would have been doing 5 years ago,
trying to be a poor man's "Serious Jockin", which maybe an oxymoron in itself.

The confusion between a "passion project" and dated self-indulgence.

In real life, 5 years ago I was very close to packing it in.

An outburst at a station in Folkestone due to anxiety caused me to take
three weeks away from CSR and an indefinite leave from the one in Folkestone.

Had I not attended an interview and then get accepted on to a work placement
at the indie Folded Wing, I may not have carried on chasing the radio
dream for a further five years.

I produced a podcast with them looking at my experience with bipolar
and more recently a two part interview with their company founder Karen P
who is amazing.

Really delightful, full of warmth, and who became a very special friend.





















That may be down to it.

There's so many influential people in radio, but very few Karen Ps.

Those who are talented, but aren't toxic.

I even feel the need to joke about it in the second part of the podcast
at around 44.54.

Five years on it's happening again.

A much quieter, but still agonising spell of anxiety over what I want
to be doing in radio right now.

The lack of any collaborative work, and a struggle for self-motivation
being right at the front of it.

I have touched on the idea of syndication and presenting a show remotely.

I have the equipment, so why not give it a go?

Well, to be quite honest, I have hit a creativity block.

A lack of motivation and sudden loss of enjoyment for what I used
to like doing.

Recently I got cold feet at the idea of returning to CSR to a show playing oldies
from the last 6 decades, and struggled through a phone call to an internet station
designed solely for those with disabilities, all because of nerves and uncertainty
of what sort of show I would like to present for them.

There are others struggling to identify their strengths in radio
even if those strengths are obvious to those around them.

A very good friend who studied on my radio course at university, going on to make
brilliant documentaries for the BBC and hailed in the Guardian newspaper
as "radio through and through" felt out of love with the medium
for similar reasons to mine.

Anxiety and ongoing rejections, opting for a career in mental health nursing.

The answer to the question at the top of the blog post maybe that it
all comes down to the overall love for what it is, and not over-analyising it all.

Or worrying that it won't necessarily lead to bigger radio opportunities.

If I'm getting enjoyment out of presenting a makeshift radio show online,
then I should keep at it, if not, maybe it's finally time to stop.

Admit defeat and try something else that could provide personal
enjoyment and satisfaction.

Something which can be enjoyed without worrying about what everyone else is
thinking, which they probably aren't.

The Television Ten

At the beginning of this year, the Radio Times published a supplement
of the 100 must-see TV series.

Many entries being box-set dramas, and mainly fiction-based series
with characters that are a struggle to even care about, let alone
stick with them for a whole series.

Although not the direct influence, it's spurred me on to provide
a list of my ten favourite television series, a fair number of them not
even available as physical or online box-sets, others not even repeated.

Let's give this a go.

10: The Adam And Joe Show (Channel 4/World Of Wonder)
December 1996-May 2001)



A series that provided escapism during five torturous years at secondary school.

A week before I started at that, as I first stumbled across the geeky wit
of Adam Buxton via a song by "Louise" performed on
a Takeover TV Sci-Fi special shown on BBC 2's "Spoof Trek"
as part of at Star Trek themed night in August 1996.

At the time I found it hilarious because of his "bastards!" pay off.

Thankfully Adam and Joe's humour didn't devolve into that of
Bo Selecta.

The bedroom-based comedy and sketch show became a late
night staple of Channel 4 in the late 90s, with it's array of
movie parodies with soft toys and Star Wars figures, and musicians
having their record collections exposed by the Vinyl Justice squad.

1999 saw the duo attempting to "re-boot" their show from a studio
set, with more elaborate sketches, but after a leaked pilot received
a lot of negative comments by an early phase of "internet trolls"
they went back to basics for their fourth and final series
with new sketches such as the well-observed
daytime spoof "People Place" and "Fred West-Country" activists
"The Media Chaos Collective".

The latter provided a highlight with their spoof of Chris Morris's
"Jam" despite upsetting comedy fans for being too similar
(but funnier) to yokel-accented rave band "Cyderdelic".

A move to the BBC in 2002 got off to a false start,
but it was in radio they soon found their strengths with weekly shows
on XFM and shortly after BBC 6 Music, bringing their wit
and song-wars to greater acclaim.

Nowadays the pair have gone their separate ways, Adam still
supplying the laughs, and a great series of podcasts whilst
Joe seems to be lapping it up in Hollywood.

Though there's a chance the pair will make occasional returns
such as that on Adam Buxton's podcast towards the end of last year.

9: The Office (UK) (BBC 2/BBC 1 July 2001-December 2003)



Before getting onto the crux of this entry, there's a running theme
within a certain clique of television fans, involving an irrational hatred
towards the main star of the series.

Granted most projects since Extras have been sub-par, and as for Derek...

But the many negative comments towards Ricky Gervais seem to say
more about those mocking him than the performer himself,
and The Office as a series cannot be faulted.

It took a bit of time to properly get into despite me being the only
person to have taken a liking to Gervais on The 11 O'Clock Show
and his Channel 4 chat show (I was 15, I knew no better)
but after a repeat run and my younger brother explaining most
of the jokes to me, I began to warm to it.

By the arrival of series 2 in September 2002, I was in anticipatory mode
and wasn't disappointed.

It's the themes of petty conflict and jealousy over
superior management figures that I've found the most amusing,
though I've learnt more when viewing the series on the rather
tragic predicament of David Brent.

A man who despite appearing to be lively on camera, isn't happy
in his job, and sees the arrival of a camera crew as a chance
to reignite his fallen dreams.

A scene involving Brent revealing a gameshow proposal instead of a
company report to boss Neil was one particularly amusing moment
though I can remember asking my Dad "why has he written
a gameshow pitch?" to which he responded "Because he wants to
become a celebrity!".

Unlike it's American counterpart, The Office didn't
outstay it's welcome, finishing with a two part special of which
the second episode has been much lauded, but I've found the
first one funnier, due to it's rather depressing mood with Tim
missing Dawn, sick of his idiotic colleagues, and Brent
trying too hard to stand out amongst other Z-list celebrities
when making PAs in seedy nightclubs.

Gervais may have the agenda of a grown-up school bully,
but The Office maybe the exception to his juvenile back-catalogue.

8: Noel’s House Party (BBC 1, November 1991-March 1999)



Following on nicely from David Brent, another fella who it is easy to hate.

That aside, for the first five series, Noel Edmonds was at the centre
of the most exciting live entertainment show on television that
paid great attention to detail in its items.

Many of them carried over from preceding series The Noel Edmonds
Saturday Roadshow (1988-1990) such as the Gotchas, Wait 'Til I Get
You Home and The Gunge Tank, which prior to series 3 in 1990,
was deprived of it's shrieking siren noise that added to the excitement
of a brightly coloured drenching.

To borrow a quote from one of the later entries in this countdown
"You ever known a siren to be good?"

Well yes, provided you're not the one in the gunge tank,
or fire place as it was relocated in later series.

Another factor to the show that lead to it's infamy was Mr Blobby.

Proving that you can't really make proper sense of a character originally
intended for a stunt in a series of Gotchas based around a spoof
children's programme teaching the bigger world to younger viewers
with experts in their respective fields.

Namely the first victim Wayne Sleep who's reaction to the gold statue
is unintentional comic timing perfection.

It's hard to say whether complacency or changes for the sake of changes
lead to the show's demise, but when it came,
I certainly wasn't in mourning.

By the final series the great house looked like something from a horror movie
with low lighting to match, aiming to chuck out the tired features,
that had caused Edmonds to walk out midway through the previous series.

Only they hadn't quite worked out what to replace them with.

Out went the gunge tank, and in came contrived stunts
that were just sick.

Don't remember it this way.

Very few telly series finish when the time is right, and when it was
right, it was unpredictable appointment viewing.

7: That Peter Kay Thing (Channel 4, January-February 2000)



A vastly underrated series, and proof that the stand-up comedian
maybe at his best when not in complete control.

So a bit like Chris Evans.

Picking up on the docusoap boom which did damage to television
long before "reality" arrived, this sent-up the genre for all it was worth
and also gave frank at times autobiographical tales of Peter Kay's
time growing up in Bolton with one menial job after another.

The funniest episode in the series being "The Ice Cream Man Cometh"
with the focus on Mr Softy Top, who's ice cream van doubles as
an "adult art" video rental outlet due to declining sales in soft scoops.

Despite it's many laughs, it would have been a struggle to make
a whole series out of such a premise, so understandably they went
with "In The Club".

Whilst there are many hilarious moments, the series has a more darker
and tragic underlying feel to it, that was missing from Phoenix Nights,
(most certainly in the second series).

The final episode in particular "Lonely At The Top" catching up
with Mick Hucknall's stunt double Mark Park, and his split from
singing partner Cheryl Avenue providing a brilliant observation of
how the whole docusoap phenomenon in the late 90s was eating itself
and only going to get worse.

With the BBC now transmitting anthologies of Kay's older
material after an Xmas special last year, here's hoping a
wider audience will be able to see that there's more
to the bloke known otherwise for twatting about on chat shows.

6: South Park (Comedy Central, 1997-)



A series that's evolved from it's rather tame plotlines in its early years
to a lean mean satire spitting machine.

Certain episodes being quite possibly the funniest sitcom episodes
to have frequented a TV screen.

The turning point being Season 5's "Scott Tenorman Must Die"
where after being pushed and humiliated by a ninth grader,
tricked into buying his pubes, Cartman proves
that he may be smarter than previously assumed,
with a very dark pay-off.

This was the point where the series began dealing with tough
issues, and expanding beyond the four main characters,
and allowing greater emphasis on the elder residents of
the mountain town, namely Stan's dad Randy Marsh.

The geologist at the centre of an episode guarantees it a good one,
with exploits including rioting at baseball matches, ambitions
of being a celebrity chef, and parading himself as the singer Lorde.

At present Matt and Trey are contracted to running the series for another
four years, though although well thought, the serialized structure
of the last two seasons failed to get the grasp of all threads needing
to be tied up at the end.

But if given the challenge of recommending just one season for anyone
new to the show, Season 8 with it's anime pisstake (and a brilliant song),
Michael Jackson parody, and of course "AWESOM-0" would be the one to go for.

5: This Morning With Richard Not Judy (BBC 2, February 1998-June 1999)



This may have been the first television series that caused me to
fall into a depressed void after its departure in the Summer of 1999.

Though unlike Adam Buxton, I didn't write a song, and send out
threatening letters to the BBC.

A random (but not pretentiously surreal) series broadcast directly after
children's programmes on a Sunday lunchtime, but with humour
that children (and hungover students) really found funny,
observing the declining world in a way that even post-watershed
comedy shows are scared to tread in the present day.

Though that may have been the pair's failings as a double act
as while the topical stuff was very funny, it was too topical
to establish any running gags, having put to bed the moon on a stick.

It was lucky to have been green-lit overall, thanks to the open mind
of Paul Jackson, producer of The Young Ones, turned BBC comedy
exec, seeing something in Stewart Lee and Richard Herring who two years
earlier had been given the boot from the Beeb after a second
rather rushed series of "Fist Of Fun".

The duo seemed the perfect fit for BBC 2's Sunday lunchtimes following
the departure two months earlier of "The Sunday Show".

Spawning from an Edinburgh show, the new series was designed as
a spoof of the ITV husband-and-wife-hosted mid-morning show
and took a fair bit of time to settle in, not least with the duo
finding their feet within the challenges of live television.

By series 2 it had dropped the hallmarks of a magazine show (including
the unnecessary phone polls and live interviews) and became essentially
Fist Of Fun on the set of a daytime TV programme.

Similar in a way to Noel's House Party,
only dropped before it's prime, as opposed to long after.

Even more ironic considering series 2 started just one day after
the final Saturday outing for Noel in March 1999.

Memorable items included kids puppet spoof "Histor's Eye",
"Sunday Heroes" which lead to complaints from more
religious viewers, and Nostradamus, as played by Emma Kennedy,
providing three predictions each week in the style of Family Fortunes in order to win a barbecue for herself and "her horse David Collins".

Not forgetting the Curious Orange as played by Paul Putner,
who despite an indifference on first appearance became a much
loved part of the show, even when replaced by the Curious Alien
for a good half of the second series.

Though that was due to Putner being double-booked to
film scenes for Channel 4's "Spaced".

Whilst the series was adored by fans, the BBC neglected it for all
its worth with repeats being shifted a day earlier, before even being
edited, and the live Sunday show dropped for sport every other week.

The frustration of which prompted Stewart Lee
at the end of one episode to mention that imports shown by the BBC
such as The Simpsons and Seinfeld could be seen on Sky
where they weren't shunted round the schedules.

Supposedly to "give other shows a chance".

One unfortunate obstacle faced by the series was the planned
revival of Fist Of Fun favourite "The False Rod Hull" played by
Kevin Eldon, who after a foul-mouthed tirade at the end of series 1,
was guaranteed a set of sketches in series 2, to undertake physical challenges
to win green jelly, with his rubber arm being his Achilles Heel.

Sadly the real Rod Hull died through an accident
(almost resembling the premise of a possible sketch
the show could have done) just days before the start
of series two, meaning the sketches had to be pulled.

Herring, known to have quoted many times in interviews that
he felt more bad about the sketches having to be pulled,
rather than that of a man dying, upon hearing the news.

Though the character made an appearance right at the end of

Series 2 as a tribute, making a funny but solemn end to
an underrated comedy series, misunderstood by upper management.

4: The Beiderbecke Trilogy (ITV/Yorkshire Television) January 1985-December 1988)



At an early age, the soundtrack album to this series as performed by
Frank Ricotti and his players was a favourite in the Blamires
Sony compact disc hi-fi player.
 
It wasn't until 15 years later that I finally set view on this series, penned

by Alan Plater where the cornet playing of Kenny Baker underscored the
not-so-adventurous, but witty escapades of schoolteachers Trevor Chaplin
and Jill Swinburne, unwillingly getting themselves caught up in suspicious
circumstances.

The delightful pairing of James Bolam and Barbara Flynn almost never
happened, as the "Affair" was initially written as a sequel to Plater's
1981 4-part drama series "Get Lost!" where two schoolteachers Neville Keaton,
and Judy Threadgold, played by Alun Armstrong and Bridget Turner
attempted to solve the mystery around the sudden disappearance
of Judy's husband.

Whilst the series performed moderately Plater was given the
green-light for a follow-up but with Armstrong being unavailable,
he re-wrote the two main characters completely, whilst still working
from a script that had the ones from Get Lost!.

Ironically, Armstrong ended up appearing alongside Bolam
in New Tricks.

Whilst Chaplin retains the North East wit of Keaton, Barbara Flynn
as Jill Swinburne provides a more lively and attractive female counterpart
as opposed to the more stern and less charismatic figure from Threadgold.

Together throughout the three series, they get caught up with
corrupt councilors and businessmen, armed officers following
them to Amsterdam, playing guesthouse to con-men and bankrobbers,
and the constant dealing with an over-zealous headmaster
resembling an evil Bob Holness.

The first two episodes of "The Affair" whilst setting the basic premise,
are rather slow-moving, lacking plot development, though that maybe
the intention of establishing the characters, in a way that would barely
be seen in present day television drama.

In fact the whole trilogy is driven by characters, with enough warmth and wit,
to give second fiddle to the plot itself, allowing one or two loose ends.

Despite the popularity of the series, YTV initially said no to a sequel,
though after a novel was published, they changed their mind, on the compromise that it would be a two-parter made up of 90 minute episodes broadcast almost three whole years after the first series, in December 1987.

Therefore losing a few key characters, including Big Al who at the time
was busy filming Crossroads, though the axing of the soap the following year
allowed him to return for the final 4-part series "The Beiderbecke Connection",
which saw changes in the filming style and visual look of the series.

With the departure of executive producer David Cunliffe
and YTV chairman Paul Fox earlier in 1988, Plater may have seen it
as an omen to end the series, before it got axed,
and with ITV undergoing many changes as a whole at the time,
it may have been the right decision.

Overall, whilst lacking in coherent plots it's a series with brilliant
photography, witty dialogue, and still a fantastic soundtrack.

So good, that the CD originally released in 1988 which caused me
to burst out laughing at sax solos aged four, is included in Network
DVD's release of all three series, making it not a contender for,
but the best box-set ever, period.

3: The Trap Door (ITV/CMTB/Queensgate Productions), 1986)



A series of five minute shorts originally scheduled daily as part
of Children's ITV on weekday afternoons, I discovered the series
aged around 4, with it normally being the last item of the summer
Saturday morning  series "Ghost Train" five minutes
before The Chart Show started.

It looked a little odd (made moreso by the titles cut down to the last
verse of the memorable theme tune) but through VHS releases
I discovered the brilliance and untidy charm of the plasticine series
held together by the many voices of the late Willie Rushton.

Parodying the horror genre (with a nod to Vincent Price in the
opening titles) the premise involves Berk, a blue creature who
is submerged in chores for an unseen, foul-tempered master,
with his friends Boni a wise skull, and Drutt, an annoying noisy pet.

Despite orders not to do so, Berk as anyone would under a
negative instruction, is always tempted to open the castle's
trap door and often forgets to close it leading to many messy
consequences.

Whilst never a provider of nightmares personally (leaving other
programmes to cover that without intention) the series has left
a mark in the minds of younger viewers, namely the final episode
"The Big Red Thing" in which Rogg, a dim but more friendly monster (who sounds like Shaun Wallace from The Chase) goes out
to fight a red monster from the first ever episode.

I won't spoil the ending if you haven't seen it.

As for the series itself, I'd say it's funnier than Dangermouse
in terms of gags (many of them ad-libbed by Rushton)
and the messy nature adding to its charm.

And it had a rather splendid theme tune.
 
2: Going Live! (BBC 1, September 1987-April 1993)
 


If there's one programme that's the most influential in life
and (failed) broadcasting ambition as a whole, then Going Live!
will take some beating.

With it being the earliest live Saturday morning magazine show I can remember, I had nothing to compare it to, though over the years,
it's been a struggle to find a television programme containing
brash energy without being wacky or over the top.

Probably because Timmy Mallett already had that covered.

Add to that high-profile interview guests, no-holds-barred
viewers questions (sometimes a little too honest),
a gungey gameshow, a cheeky comedy double act,
all held together by two strong presenters with a likeable,
unforced and at times flirty chemistry, and an exciting
climatic theme tune.

It was a show that could be enjoyed as a family every Saturday from

our home in East London, where the conventions of television could be
broken, and if anything messed up, no one cared and they got on with it.

Especially with the disastrous cookery items with Emma Forbes,
and Trev and Simon's sketches laying into the pop culture
simultaneously promoted on the show.

Though that said, the duo's ill-fated replacements James Hickish and Nick Ball
had to drop a sketch involving autograph hunters in the 1991-92 series
for being a little too close to home.

It was in this period that the series started to show it's age,
and whilst it didn't end in as dreadful a decline as it's successor
Live And Kicking, Philip and Sarah made the bold decision to finish
while viewers still wanted more.

The 2006 Christmas Special "It Started With Swap Shop"
gave a lot of time to the show despite the presenters not appearing
live in the studio, and could have been a trigger in what lead me
to going bonkers, just over six months later.

And whilst I'm not begging for the show to return, it would be good to
see more episodes pop up on Youtube, to see whether it still feels
special being wrapped up in the chaos as a viewer.

1: The Simpsons (20th Century Fox, 1989-)



How can a television show be the best and the worst
programme ever made?

A show that encouraged many households to buy a
satellite dish, but not enough to stop them heading over
to the BBC in 1996, where audiences quickly became familiar
with the family and the many residents of Springfield.

Though the decline of the series in the last 16 years has even
generated it's own podcast exploring in detail how
the witty gags, and creative plots gave way to characters
being there for the sake of it, and being obnoxiously
horrible for the sake of it, most notably "Jerkass Homer".

But rather than go into detail over the decline of
The Simpsons, how about a rundown of my favourite
five episodes?

Rather controversially, "Last Exit To Springfield" isn't one of them.

Not even worthy of being in a top 50 to be quite blunt.
5: "Stark Raving Dad" (Season 3)

The first episode to be broadcast in what became the
treasured BBC 2 weeknight timeslot in March 1997,
after a brief run on Saturday evenings up against
(and losing to) Sabrina The Teenage Witch on ITV.

Which itself got booted from prime time and moved to CITV.

Seasons 2 and 3 were really good at getting the emotional
level balanced well with the humour, to the point that
the more melancholy moments would be more prominent
(Bart The Lover, Lisa's Substitute).

And nonemoreso in this episode where a big overweight
white guy claiming to be Michael Jackson, is the cellmate
of Homer, committed to the New Bedlam Mental Institute
after wearing a pink shirt to work, and getting Bart to
fill in a sanity test.


The impostor voiced by the real Michael Jacksonunder an alias, and contractual obligations preventinghim from singing.But that doesn't prevent the episode's centerpiece,a song written by Jacko and Bart for Lisa's 8th birthdaybeing not only incredibly catchy, but very sweet and moving.Especially the full studio version used in the end creditswhich did have me going to a point on first viewing.

"Aunt Bella?!"

4: "Homer Badman" (Season 6)


Quite simply a brilliant dissection of tabloid television in America,
all spawned over a misunderstanding caused by a sweet in theshape of Venus De Milo.

Whilst originally written as a commentary on sexism, it
became a well-observed reflection on mob mentality and how
television can over-react to news items, sensationalizing stories
in a way that has gotten worse 22 years since airing.If anything, the episode is worth viewing solely for the edited interview
of Homer, on the investigative show "Rock Bottom".

"No Mr Simpson, don't take your anger on me! Mr Simpson nooo!"

3: "Itchy, Scratchy And Marge" (Season 2)

An episode that on it's first airing, I was excited on the basis
that it centred around the cat-and-mouse duo Itchy And Scratchy.

And it maybe the best one centred around the pair,
which not even the gag with Nelson pushing Milhouse's buzzer
in the Poochie episode can better.

As hilarious as it is.

Inspired by a similar outcry to Fox's own "Married With Children"
this episode tackles the themes of censorship and hypocrisy,
and is brilliantly assembled.

The pisstake of Psycho is paced and directed to great detail,
and the sequence involving the Fantasia parody looks like
the perfect finish to the episode (of which it almost was).

Until the arrival in Springfield of a tour for Michelangelo's David causes
a quandary for Marge, who refuses to protest against it
in the same way towards the animated duo, causing her to
dispel her campaign against cartoon violence.

"I never knew mice lived such interesting lives"

2: "Bart The Daredevil" (Season 2)

The second episode to be transmitted on the BBC in
November 1996, though the ending was spoiled by being featured
in the documentary "The Simpsons Have Landed" transmitted
on BBC 1 the week before.

Some have criticized the episode for putting too much
into 22 minutes, or padding up to the jump itself.

A flaw that's common throughout many "post-classic era" episodes,
only this episode actually has something in the way of humour,
from the wrestling match on television, to Homer's impatience
during the school band recital.

The pacing in the Gorge scene itself is perfected, even down
to the musical score, transitioning brilliantly from Homer making-up
with Bart, to the realisation that he's hurtling down to the edge of the cliff.

Though the funniest gag actually comes after the fall itself,
where a hospital bed-ridden Homer next to an injured Lance Murdoch
mutters "You think you've got guts, try raising my kids"
followed by a crash cut to the executive producers credit
on a black background.

Had the credit been superimposed on the image itself,
it wouldn't have had the same effect.

Apparently it's Matt Groening's favourite episode.

"When he's not in class, he's risking his ass!"
 
1: "Bart On The Road" (Season 7)

Another Bart-centred episode but it's the premise overall
that places it at number 1; the idea of Bart renting a car
and taking his mates on a spring-break outing, and
coming across as plausible, yet hilarious with heart.

One of two vacation themed episodes in Season 7, the other being
the brilliant heartfelt season finale "Summer Of 4 Ft 2",
whereas this road-movie parody focuses less on the emotional
side as Bart, Millhouse, Nelson and Martin travel to Knoxville,
Tennessee with the help of a 1982 guidebook.

It's not just the dynamic between Bart and his pals that works well,
there's also some great scenes with Homer and Lisa bonding at the power plant
also in situations not normally seen in.

Unlike more recent episodes with sub-plots inserted for the sake of it
(my least-favourite episode "The Boys Of Bummer"
being one-such offender) it all ties together in the end.

Add to that, the gags are on rapid-fire.

Martin investing in the stock exchange, Millhouse messing with the car radio,
Nelson at the Andy Williams concert, and best of all, the noisy family
in the passing car, with the enraged father.

Even in the closing credits, the laughs continue as Marge (who in allfairness is put to one side for most of the episode) is repeatedly
woken in bed by suspicious phone calls from Principal Skinner,
and the Tennessee State Police.

"That's It! Back to Winnipeg!"

Thanks for reading.