Please do not adjust your set... this is all just a TV in-joke!
YOU’LL forgive me. I hope, for indulging in some shop talk for a moment. It’s just that I found myself yet again, chuckling over Robert Hutton’s excellent book Romps, Tots and Boffins, which is essentially a compendium of the sort of words and jargon that are only ever used in newspapers.
Let me give you a few of the examples that the author comes up with. There are, of course, typical red-top clichés such as ‘booze-fuelled rampages’, ‘caged sex beasts’ and ‘crunch talks’. But there are also hackneyed and largely meaningless phrases – ‘leafy suburb’, ‘towering figure’, ‘on a knife edge’ and so on – that practically everyone who has ever written for a newspaper has used at some stage. (And yes, m’lud, I also plead guilty as charged.)
Interestingly, though, Hutton goes on to illustrate his case by showing how euphemisms routinely appear in print. One example that particularly caught my eye was the word ‘anarchic’. When used in relation to a sitcom or a stand-up performance, he suggests, it can be interpreted as simply meaning ‘unfunny’.
I’m right with him on that one. For reasons that I don’t have enough space to go into here I’ve always hated The Young Ones, Bottom and Filthy Rich and Catflap, as well as practically everything else that Adrian Edmondson has ever appeared in (with the exception, in fairness, of The Comic Strip productions).
Meanwhile, I have always felt that the words ‘surreal’, ‘innovative’ and ‘experimental’ could also be substituted for ‘unfunny’ when it comes to comedy.
Nothing about the likes of Monty Python or Spike Milligan has ever amused me to the remotest extent. I also found the highly acclaimed League of Gentlemen to be hard-going, though it did have its moments.
Far more to my liking was Inside No 9, written by and starring the League’s main men Steve Pemberton and Reece Shearsmith.
Two episodes were particular highlights: The 12 Days of Christine (starring the excellent Sheridan Smith) and Private View (featuring an ensemble cast that included Felicity Kendal – ask your grandpa – and our own Fiona Shaw).
Against that promising backdrop, I approached last weekend’s Halloween episode with a fair degree of anticipation.
It was a one-off live special called Dead Line, which was ostensibly about a doddery
pensioner (played by the versatile Pemberton) finding a mobile phone in a graveyard and trying to return it to its rightful owner.
After about ten minutes or so, though, the sound petered out. Next thing we heard was a BBC continuity announcer apologising for the technical difficulties and explaining that an old episode of the show would be shown instead.
But that promptly disappeared from the screen and more apologies followed.
Frankly, I was on the verge of putting my foot through the telly at this point. Figures show that about one-fifth of the viewers switched channels instead, which was probably the more sensible option.
I stuck with it, though, so the penny finally dropped that it was all a big stunt.
The camera cut to Shearsmith and Pemberton in their dressing room, watching the News at Ten and sending tweets in real time.
Confusingly, the unfolding drama – largely centred around a character played by veteran actress Stephanie Cole – was interspersed with vintage footage of performers such as Bobby Davro and the late Jim Bowen.
It finally emerged that this was an unconventional ghost story about a dead TV technician and, granted, there was a chilling finale.
But it was hard to avoid the conclusion that this particular instalment of Inside No 9 – as ambitious and daring as it was – ended up being just a little bit too clever for its own good.