The “super, smashing” compère of ITV’S Bullseye
Jim Bowen 1937-2018
Jim Bowen, who has died aged 80, presided over one of the more unlikely TV hits of the 1980s. The first two episodes of Bullseye were said to be so dire that ATV destroyed them – and the dartsbased quiz show never got much better, said The Times. Bowen described it as “crap”, and acknowledged that his own compèring skills were no small part of the problem. A genial but unvarnished graduate of the northern comedy circuit, he struggled to keep the score, fluffed his lines, looked into the wrong camera and relied heavily on a set of wellworn catchphrases. “Super, smashing” was one he often deployed when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “What do you do for a living, Ken?” he asked one contestant. “I’m unemployed, Jim.” “Smashing, Ken,” Bowen replied. (Terry Wogan once counted how many times he said “smashing” and found it was more than 40 in a single half-hour programme.) Yet the show became a cherished staple of Sunday afternoon telly, attracting audiences of up to 20 million and running for 14 years.
Born to an unmarried mother in 1937, Bowen was brought up by adoptive parents in Lancashire. His mother was a weaver; his father worked in a brickworks. At Accrington Grammar he failed his O levels, and he briefly worked as a binman in Burnley before going back to school, resitting the exams and training as a PE teacher. It was seeing Ken Dodd reduce a live audience to helpless laughter in the early 1960s that inspired him to try his hand at stand-up. Meanwhile, he carried on teaching and became deputy head of Caton primary school. In the 1970s, Frank Carson got him a spot on a TV show called The Comedians – which led in turn to Bullseye. It soon gained a huge following, although it had none of the glitz of rival shows. Whereas the likes of Bob Monkhouse had glamorous assistants, Bowen had Tony Green, a chubby darts player who would sometimes help the contestants (the “knowers and throwers”). Then there was Bully, the show’s hideous mascot, said The Daily Telegraph – a bull in a darts shirt, which, in cartoon form, would slide in and out of the corner of the screen, “winking and gurning”. The prizes were risible (Teasmades, matching luggage sets, gold-effect carriage clocks), but fans relished the patter with which Bowen presented Bully’s prize board. “In one: No more shirking, you’ll love working with this fabulous power-tool kit. In two: Stay cool and upright with this refrigerator. In three: What goes up, must come down. It’s a stylish umbrella...” Years later, Bowen admitted that even the Star Prizes (hidden behind a screen) were not well thought-out: residents of council estates in Coventry rarely had much use for a speedboat. Losers were cruelly told to “look at what you could have won” – and sent home with a plastic Bendy Bully as a consolation prize.
The show made Bowen famous – he addressed the Oxford Union in 1992 – and rich. But he was philosophical when ITV cancelled it. “We were getting an average of 11 million viewers a week,” he said, “but mainly because nobody could be arsed to turn it off. There was nothing on the other side except Songs of Praise.” Later, he popped up in some straight acting roles, as well as playing a Blackpool hotel owner in Peter Kay’s comedy Phoenix Nights, and in 2005 he cashed in on Bullseye’s cult appeal among students by performing at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. His show was named after one of his most familiar catchphrases: You Can’t Beat a Bit of Bully. He was married to Phyllis, whom he had met when they were both teachers, for nearly 60 years; they had two children.