In 1960, the cobbles laid waste to culture’s middle-class cobblers
LIKE a bad dose of the runs after a plate of stale hotpot, No10’s tribute to Corrie was as inevitable as it was painful.
“The residents of Weatherfield have entertained us for six fantastic decades with gripping storylines and characters loved by many.
“Coronation Street is not only a great British institution but a place where many across our country feel at home,” tweeted Boris Johnson, presumably after a spin doctor had told him it’s the only telly show, apart from darts, watched by the northern ferret fondlers who voted for him.
Because I’ll wager he’s never seen an episode and only heard about it when someone likened him to Ken Barlow (as in he’s slept with 257 women and is a crashing bore).
Although his tribute raises some questions: if he truly loves The Rovers Return why not move Manchester into Tier 2, where EastEnders resides, so they can serve pints again? If he really sees it as a great British institution does he plan to flog it abroad? And does he realise that Corrie was created as an insurgent yell against a Britain that was run by male, public school elitists like him?
In 1960, the working-class never saw real versions of themselves in dramas because they weren’t deemed important enough.
In films they were simpleminded minded stooges, stoog or rogues, whose only h hope of being taken seriously was a plot twist showing they were born bor into a higher class. On TV, all y you heard were cut-glass accents on tuxedo-wearing newsreaders, readers, in dramas, d documentaries and childr children’s programmes. Or American imports. i And then Corrie landed and an viewers weaned on Home Counties Co middle- class parlours filled fi with Jane Austen conversatio conversations saw versions of themselves in i two- up, two- down streets.
Right from the off the undoub undoubted stars were the magni magnificent matriarchs: Ena Sharples, Sharp Elsie Tanner, Hilda
Ogden and Annie Walker. In the 1960s these larger- than- life battleaxes, caustic wits, inverted snobs, inveterate gossips and tarts with hearts were an inspiration to ordinary women who were portrayed in culture as meek home-makers who knew their place in a male-dominated world.
In many ways, Elsie Tanner, played by the superb Pat Phoenix, a real-life socialist, was the first feminist of British popular culture.
Her sexual allure, refusal to be stigmatised as a single mum and her up-yours attitude to moralisers told millions of women they didn’t have to stand by their man, take crap off their boss or lectures from snobs.
That a woman could walk into the pub and drink, smoke, flirt and hold court as the genuine centre of attention. Which struck a chord with many of us who came from big families where the women ruled the roost and had more balls than the men.
What a revelation and an inspiration it must have been in the early 60s to see working- class characters finally capturing the national conversation.
An inspiration that paved the way for gifted TV writers like Ken Loach, Mike Leigh, Alan Plater, Dennis Potter and Alan Bleasdale to shine an authentic light on the struggles of real people.
So I’ll raise a glass to Corrie at 60. For showing that working- class lives mattered and women didn’t have to know their place.
And I’m sure the PM would agree with me. If he’d ever watched it.
The matriarchs were the stars of the show – Elsie, Hilda, Annie and Ena
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