Sorry!
It's one of the greatest comedies of all time!
Darling.
And one which went on an extraordinary journey
from the stage to our screens.
I've not been in this theatre since 1973.
It's a show with a line-up that became the fab four of sitcom.
It is very well written,
but they've really kind of made the characters leap off the page.
But what did go on between these walls?
Frances leaned over to me and said "He doesn't want to kiss me".
Tonight in Rising Damp Forever, we'll reveal the secrets of life on set.
Richard hated that wig. He couldn't wait
to get rid of that wig.
I've decided to change me image. I've been neglected myself.
And they'll be an emotional return
to the place where television history was made.
The thing about coming here was, it was very homely here.
I felt completely welcomed here. So did I.
Agh!
Every single time I see it, I howl proper, proper,
proper howl with laughter!
(LAUGHTER)
I love it. Just thinking about it makes me smile.
I should think that would be more than enough!
(CAT MEOWS)
This is the story of a miserly landlord called... Rigsby!
..his three tenants... Roses are red, violets are blue,
and your tenants are sweet, what happened to you?
..and a cold dark house that has long seen better days.
You've got rising damp. My furniture's falling apart.
From 1974 to 1978 Rising Damp was one
of the most popular series on our TV screens.
Have you thought anymore about the room?
I thought about it, yes.
And you said you'd consider me. Did I?
Yeah, you did say that. No, you couldn't afford a room like this.
But as we'll reveal tonight, the classic line-up we came to love
could have been so very different
in a journey that begins with a man then working
as an electricity board auditor in Grantham - Eric Chappell.
I always wanted to be a writer and secretly I was writing novels.
They were terrible novels and I knew that
because people always fell asleep while they were reading them.
And then one day I had this thought: "I'll write a play."
When I started to write the play, I realised I wasn't so boring
and what one person said to another
was far more important to me than describing it.
It was that gift for dialogue that changed my life.
In 1968, aged 36, Eric Chappell wrote a play
that would change both his life and comedy history.
Do you mind if I just check your paintwork, Miss Jones?
I thought it might need another coat!
It's had five already, Mr Rigsby.
I know, Miss Jones, but it's groaning for it.
Inspired by a newspaper article about a black student masquerading
as an African prince at a London hotel,
Eric put pen to paper and wrote The Banana Box.
I thought what a great idea for a farce,
but, actually, it didn't work like that
because first of all I didn't know anything about superior hotels.
It became a lodging.
And it became a landlord like Rigsby.
It became a different sort of play, but never the less it worked for me.
The character millions of us came to love as Rigsby
was originally called Rooksby,
while his tenant Alan started out as Noel.
Eric Chappell turned the African prince into the sun of a chief
and the suave and sophisticated character of Philip Smith was born.
I found a book on African folklore.
There were great lines in the book,
like "I'm a pool without water, but men may drown in me",
and "I have beautiful milk", and things like this.
And I used that for Philip.
Your trouble is you're mean. No, I'm not.
Yes, you are. No, I'm not.
I like a woman to like me for what I am, not what I've got.
Well, I can understand that, but we have a saying in my country:
"He who seeks the bird of paradise but must put down a little seed."
After rehearsals at the Hampstead Theatre Club in 1970,
The Banana Box went on tour
with Steptoe And Son's Wilfred Bramble as Rooksby
and Neville Aurelius as Philip.
Two years later, when the play moved to East Grinstead,
47-year-old Leonard Rossiter joined the cast.
The journey towards the series we came to know and love
was now truly underway.
On the first night when he came on,
he gave a glowering look to the audience, and they laughed.
And I thought, "I haven't written anything yet
and he's getting a laugh. I'm home and dry."
Go on! (CAT MEOWS)
(LAUGHTER)
No, he was great. And it just suited him, you know.
The son of a barber, Leonard Rossiter was born in Liverpool in 1926,
and after national service, took up a career as an insurance salesman.
Aged 24, Rossiter discovered his talent for acting
when he joined an amateur dramatics group.
He was just noticeable, I suppose.
I've worked with some wonderful actors from Sir Lawrence Olivia,
you know, you name it, but he was just something
and his comic timing was brilliant.
Oh, oh, goodness me. What?
We appear to be standing under the mistletoe! Are we?
You can't quarrel with fate, eh? Mr Rigsby, I'm in uniform.
I don't mind But, Mr Rigsby!
Please, you're tampering with the Royal Mail.
In 1954, Leonard Rossiter gave up his sales job
and auditioned for a rep theatre company.
It would be the start of an extraordinary 30-year career
on stage and screen.
I was a huge admirer of Leonard's.
I just revelled in watching him
cos I just thought this man's a genius.
(LAUGHTER)
What are these like grilled?
Rossiter's onscreen performances earned him many plaudits,
but he proved not the easiest man to work with.
It's only a game, old sport. It's all a game, for Weaver's benefit.
I know that some actors said that they were aware
that when they were working with Leonard,
that a lot of the times he wouldn't look at them.
And, and when you watch Rising Damp the series,
you can see that as Rigsby he's continually looking around a room
and doing other things
rather than facing the actor and straight ahead.
I think that might have been disconcerting for the other actor,
but, you see, you can't argue
because it was wonderful for the character.
Rossiter would come to be regarded
as one of Britain's greatest comedy actors,
but often seemed to be uncomfortable with the label.
Can I ask you whether you're naturally a funny man,
or whether life isn't a rather more serious sort of business?
Life's fairly serious! No, I'm... I...
What I find curious is people say,
"I see you've stopped being a serious actor now you're doing comedy?"
As though it isn't particular serious to do.
Comedy is the most serious form of work,
in so far as it's very difficult to get laughs.
By 1973, Leonard Rossiter was a well established stage actor,
but despite roles on TV and in films,
his was not a big name at the box office.
Eric Chappell's play The Banana Box
still needed a star turn to sell tickets.
The producers turned to a man
who was clearly top of the pops with the British public.
# I'm hers # I'm hers
# She's mine # She's mine
# I'm hers, she's mine, wedding bells are gonna chime
# Whoa-oh-oh-oh
Joining the cast was pop star Paul Jones
from '60s chart toppers Manfred Mann.
One of the things about Leonard, he had a slight bitterness
about the fact that he hadn't been recognised as the actor that he was.
He hadn't yet reached those heights of fame that he was about to.
I think perhaps that might be some of the reason why I was in it.
It was that I had a bit of a name and quite a lot of a hit records
and I might have been helpful in getting a few more botties on seats!
Actress Rosemary Leach, who would go on to star in The Jewel In The Crown
and The Charmer, was cast alongside Rossiter as Miss Jones,
and replacing Neville Aurelius as Philip,
an actor fresh out of drama school,
who was about to start a partnership with Rossiter
which would change both of their lives.
Did I mention the rent? Yes!
£6 a week and I insist on a month in advance.
Miss Jones didn't mention that.
Just right!
Don Williams was born in Trinidad in 1951
and arrived in Britain aged five alongside his mother,
swapping the Caribbean for the cold river Tyne.
I was a bit disappointed, I have to say.
It was very dark and it was damp,
and I expected something much shinier.
And I was also very struck by the fact
that the houses were stuck together.
I wasn't used to that.
Everything really was smaller than I thought it would be.
The family made their home in the backstreets of Newcastle's West End,
where Don and his brother found themselves very much in the minority.
There were elements of of racism.
There was one where a teacher,
because I was left-handed I used to write sort of upside-down,
and the teacher said "Where did you learn to write? Up a tree?
And that was painful, that was difficult.
It was tough going to begin with, but it was also enjoyable.
Kids are very resilient and we made friends.
I became a Geordie, as you do, and that was that!
But Don had ambitions that would soon take him away from his new home.
I always wanted to escape. I wanted to get away from reality.
I remember watching On The Waterfront with Marlon Brando,
and I just thought, "I want to feel all that,
but I want to feel it all the time for a living".
Aged 17, Don got his first job as an assistant stage manager
at a Newcastle Theatre before heading south to London to train as an actor,
a role which required a new identity.
I had to change my name
because there was somebody else with my name.
And I said to my mother "But I don't know what to do."
She said, "Why not call yourself after the road you grew up in?"
So I did. Warrington Road. So I became Don Warrington.
But Don Warrington didn't have to wait long for his lucky break.
After leaving drama school,
he was immediately cast as Philip Smith in The Banana Box,
a part that would prove the role of a lifetime.
I thought, "I think I can do this.
I think I can do this because I think I can pretend to be posh
because Philip pretends to be posh."
That was the thing about that character.
He was a new invention, as it were, in terms of black people, anyway.
Philip, at last.
I've been so impatient, waiting for the others to go.
I wanted to give you a proper welcome.
(LAUGHTER)
Are you all right for butter?
Donald was absolutely amazing.
He had this wonderful ability to be telling people things,
and at the same time finding them quite amusing himself.
It would be just absolutely a tiny hint of a smile just sort of there
and you weren't sure you'd seen it.
Despite poor audiences, The Banana Box went down well with the critics
and the tour continued to include Don Warrington's hometown of Newcastle,
where his simple twist of fate would play a key role
in bringing Rising Damp to our screens.
In the early 70s, Eric Chappell's play about a cantankerous landlord
and his three lodgers was on a nationwide tour
when it arrived at the Theatre Royal, Newcastle.
43 years have passed since Don Warrington returned home to Tyneside
with the starring role as Philip Smith.
Today, he's back at the Theatre Royal to remember the play
that would change his life.
This is Mr Smith. He's from Africa.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
I've not been in this theatre since 1973.
Yeah, it's a long time.
There's something I don't understand about you, sunshine.
If you're the son of a chief, why are you called Smith?
That's not my real name.
I suppose what I feel is a sort of...just a slight kind of...
my heart just does a quick kind of, you know...a tightening happens,
and I was just thinking about just being onstage, really.
You said you could get me a flat. I didn't know you'd be next door.
I didn't know I was gonna come to Newcastle or this theatre.
This is where I grew up. It was coming home,
which was exciting, but frightening.
It gave my family, anyway, a chance to see what I'd been doing in London
for the last 4 years.
And so in that sense it was really nice,
but in another sense you think, "They're gonna come
and they're going to go, "Well, how good is he?"
But they were generous. They came and they liked it.
My biggest fan was my auntie, my Auntie Lena.
She was just so, so proud.
I think she came every night and she brought all her friends,
anybody she knew, anybody who she could corral into coming,
they came to see it. It was lovely!
Fresh out of drama school, Don Warrington found himself
working with two big names from the worlds of pop and the stage.
Paul played Noel when I first met him.
I was very struck by how nice he was.
He was a great harmonica player.
And we used to play harmonica together.
There's me and Leonard.
Wow! I've never seen this!
We all looked up to Len because he was such a renowned performer.
Ah, that's a lovely picture.
Look at my hair. It's very nice to see him,
him being me all those years ago.
It's... Yeah, he seemed all right.
He seemed quite a nice boy, really.
I-I-I quite like him.
As the tour continued, Rosemary Leach left the production.
She would be replaced by an actress millions of us would come to love,
as the object of Rigsby's affections - Miss Jones.
Oh, Miss...Jones!
Mr Rigsby! Oh!
Frances de la Tour!
She was so sexy. Really sexy.
Happy days, eh?
Ha ha ha!
Frances de la Tour was born in leafy Hertfordshire in 1944.
She was educated at London's Lycee Francais,
and later studied at the Drama Centre.
After graduating, she joined the Royal Shakespeare Company
and in 1970 was given a leading role
in Peter Brooks acclaimed production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Even for that, I do love you the more!
I am your spaniel and, Demetrius, the more you beat me,
I will fall on you, use me that as your spaniel,
spare me, strike me, lose me, neglect me,
only give me leave I'm worthy as I am to follow you.
In the early 70s, Frances de la Tour worked steadily on both stage
and screen before landing the role that would make her famous.
Y-Y-You know, Miss Jones, there are some men who'd try
to take advantage of a single woman like you living on her own.
Do you think so, Mr Rigsby? Ooh, what?
If you don't mind me saying so, Miss Jones,
you waste too much time on students. You ought to think of yourself more.
You need a companionship of someone nearer your own age,
someone who's seen something of the world, who's knocked about a bit,
who's understanding, you know, with a sense of humour.
I don't meet people like that, Mr Rigsby?
I didn't how to write for women.
It was hard for me to get into the psychology of a woman,
but I gave her a few lines,
the rest was up to her and she just built it. She was wonderful.
I mean, I hope the others don't think I'm too fussy.
I want them to accept me.
Oh, they'll accept you, all right. That's what worries me.
I think Frances de la Tour is a great actress.
There was a vulnerability,
there was a beauty, a gracefulness in what she did
and she seemed to understand that woman so well.
I thought she was brilliant.
Philip.
You promised to come down last night what happened? I couldn't.
Rigsby was painting your door.
I know, that was the fifth coat!
I think he suspects. He even paints the doorknob.
You see, we must be careful. There's only one answer, I must come to you.
No. I mean, what about Alan?
Well, he always goes home on Fridays.
I know, I'll bring a nice bottle of wine
and we can have one of our long talks.
Oh, no. I mean, what about?
About us, Philip. We've got to see if we can make it work.
Make what work? Black and white, Philip!
She had a strange ability to be extremely intelligent
and somewhat vacant, pretty vacant!
And it was...it was just amazing.
Oh, goodness me, Frances de la Tour.
My girl crush.
And I have to say, she is a fabulous.
She is just iconic.
In May 1973, and now with three-quarters
of the classic cast we would come to know in place,
The Banana Box finally made it to the West End.
But its run at The Apollo Theatre in London would be brief.
What did we do in the West End? Five weeks or six weeks?
When the notice finally went up, Leonard said,
"Well, we mustn't grumble, we've had almost a year's employment".
I picked up the phone and my agent said,
"You're going into the West End".
I felt even then that they were taking a risk.
I never thought it would run
because I think it was that the names weren't pulling them in,
and I just didn't think it would pull them in in enough numbers
and it didn't.
It was the final curtain for The Banana Box,
but Eric Chappell's script was about to be given a new lease of life.
A TV executive had been in the audience
in Don Warrington's hometown of Newcastle,
a night that would be remembered when, in 1974,
ITV began looking for a new hit sitcom.
In 1973, we faced a winter of discontent
with the three-day week, strikes and power cuts
all making Britain a rather cold, dark place in which to live.
The lights had also gone down
on the damp, domestic capers of The Banana Box
which had come to the end of its nationwide tour.
It could have been the last we'd ever hear
of Eric Chappell's seedy landlord and put-upon tenants,
but fate was on our side.
Stand by, telecine one.
In the early 70s, Yorkshire Television was keen to add
to its already impressive list of light entertainment shows,
featuring stars like Les Dawson and Frankie Howard.
A small company with big ambitions,
Yorkshire TV's reputation for quality programmes was growing quickly
with ex-BBC man Paul Fox at the helm.
He tried to make it a mini BBC in so much that we had documentaries,
we had current affairs and we had drama,
we had entertainment, we had children's.
It was a very exciting place to work.
Fox brought in comedy producer Duncan Wood from the BBC,
where he'd been responsible for hit shows like Steptoe And Son.
Could he create the same magic in Yorkshire?
At the time, it was the golden fleece of television.
If you can get a winning sitcom, you were made;
that and a good quiz show plus a good documentary,
and you were halfway there, you know.
And the big thing was the sitcom.
We were the infantry.
Duncan Wood was about to receive the best tip-off of his life;
a colleague had been to see The Banana Box at the Theatre Royal Newcastle
and told him of its potential.
Could this be the hit comedy series that everyone was looking for?
They said to me, "Write a sitcom."
I said, "I haven't got the stamina."
They said, "No, do what you can, write a show."
And after that they said, "Could you write another one?"
So I said, "I'll write another one." "Could you write a third?
I wrote a third. "Why don't you write two more?"
In search of a better title for the sitcom,
Eric Chappell picked Rising Damp
as the perfect description of Rigsby's grotty boarding house.
For the cast, Duncan Wood went straight
to the stars of the theatre production.
Well, I'd forgotten about it.
I'd done it, it was over and I was looking forward
to moving on to do lots of other things.
Then out of the blue came this phone call from my agent saying
that they were hoping to turn it into a television series
and that and they wanted me in it.
And I said yes to it.
You'll try and surprise me, but I will surprise you by the -
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
Leonard Rossiter was persuaded to reprise his role as Rooksby
who by now had become Rigsby,
following an objection by a real-life landlord with the same name!
And once teenage heart-throb pop star Paul Jones
was approached for the role of Alan.
My agent rang me and he said,
"They're going to make it into a television serial."
So I said, "Richard, it was never a success.
I don't think I want to do it."
So they got Richard Beckinsale.
Jones' decision had left the door open for an emerging name in comedy,
and the final piece of the Rising Damp jigsaw
was about to fall into place.
Richard Beckinsale was born in Nottingham in 1947.
Leaving school at 16 with no qualifications,
his real ambition was to act.
He would go on to win a place at the prestigious Rada drama school
before becoming a professional actor in 1968.
His television debut would follow one year later in Coronation Street.
Now, then, Missus... Sharples.
We can't have this, Mrs Sharples. You're in breach of all the bylaws.
'Ey, this young lad says we're breaching his bylaws.
The 23-year-old would win his first starring role a year later
alongside Paula Wilcox in the ITV sitcom The Lovers,
the series that first made Richard Beckinsale a household name.
Me mam.
Has she taken up morris dancing?
To remind to be a good girl.
She's not going to need the Red Army ensemble, then, is she?
Jeffrey, sex isn't the only thing in life.
It isn't even ONE of the things in mine.
There's a gentleness, both in sort of real life and onscreen.
What comes across is a slight sort of bumblingness.
He just couldn't help but being funny. It was just in his nature.
He had this this universal appeal.
There was just like nobody who didn't love him,
and he managed to sort of make everybody of all ages and types...
Remember, there is not that many actors
that appeal to absolutely everyone.
Ahh!
Pull the rope. Pull the rope.
Now grab him.
In 1974, Richard Beckinsale would make an entrance
in two of the most significant roles of his career:
on the BBC as Lenny Godba in Porridge...
Hello, Fletch.
..and over on ITV as Alan in Rising Damp.
Hello!
Welcome to Bleak House!
Mind if I come in for a warm?
I'm Alan Moore, live upstairs.
Philip Smith. How do you do!
Leonard had worked with Richard
and I think he thought he had such a natural charm,
and it was a brilliant, brilliant piece of casting
because I suppose Alan was in a way the hardest character to play.
He was less defined than the other three characters,
and it needed somebody with Richard's skill
to make it live, which it did.
# Them bones, them bones, them dry bones
# Them bones, them bones, them dry bones # That's not funny!
Richard, in a sense, had all the experience.
Richard had done The Lovers. He'd done three or four series,
so Richard was the authority on situation comedy
and the others weren't. Where is he? Where is he?
Where do you think you're going?
What's the matter, Rigsby?
"What's the matter," you're saying, after nearly poisoning me?
You're exaggerating.
I was drugged to the eyeballs.
I slept for 24 hours. I still can't feel my teeth.
And the first time I met Richard, I was delighted.
I admired him, but I felt he was within reach.
Whereas, with Leonard, I mean he was stratospheric,
as far as I was concerned.
Richard was the most approachable.
What time did are you meeting them? About nine.
It's nice of you to ask me, Philip. I do appreciate it.
That's all right! What's mine like?
She's a very sweet, sensitive girl.
You mean, she's ugly? She's not ugly, she's very attractive.
Why am I getting her, then?
Because he's a friend of the girl I'm seeing.
They wanted a foursome, said if I knew someone reasonably presentable
with a pleasing personality to bring him along.
And you thought of me? No, he couldn't come!
At 8pm on the 2nd of September 1974,
millions of us got our first view of what would prove to be one
of the nation's favourite comedies and casts.
Once you put those talents, Leonard and Becky and Don on top of that,
and Frances de la Tour, and you put that on top of that platform,
and say "Right, take it away, you lot",
I mean, it's going to be a massive success, isn't it?
It remained to be seen whether Rising Damp would rise
to the top of the TV charts, but for a young black actor
the series had already proved a breakthrough.
At the time, people had a view of black people,
which was people who were outsiders, people who didn't belong here.
And the thing about Philip was he was more English than the English,
and I think that was very startling.
And where do you think you're going, sir?
I'm just going in. Oh, no, you're not. Outside.
I've got a table. Tables are all taken. I know, I've booked one!
Hello, Charles.
Why, good evening, Mr Smith. Is there some difficulty?
Oh, is this gentlemen with you? Yes.
Oh, I'm sorry about that, sir. One can't be too careful these days.
Your usual table, this way!
There were certain aspects of it that were politically incorrect.
On the other, you can see how it held up a mirror
to the way we were living.
Do you know what I planned to do with the jungle, Rigsby?
What? I'm going to tarmac it.
No, I-I-I suppose it is an idea, yes.
I pictured it, where there was once only the mosquito,
they'll be trees growing out of black velvet tarmac.
Oh, yes, I suppose so.
They'll be fluorescent street lights, white lines,
bus shelters, little baskets, car parks.
Can you see it, Rigsby? Oh, yes. It should look very nice.
And, of course, zebra crossings.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
Oh, very funny!
Despite its less than glamorous setting,
Rising Damp was a comedy that received a warm reception
from millions of viewers.
IT had a new hit comedy on their hands,
and it seemed Leonard Rossiter had at last found the part
he was born to play.
Hey, what happened to the old traditions, eh?
What happened to good old British grit?
I think your sweeping most of it under the carpet, Rigsby.
Leonard said to me about playing Rigsby,
"It's the easiest thing I've ever had to do."
He said, "I know that man inside out".
While Rossiter fitted perfectly into the now famous green cardigan,
Richard Beckinsale wasn't quite so lucky.
He'd had his long hair recently cut short
for the character of Godba in Porridge
and was forced to wear a wig to play the part of medical student Alan.
Richard hated that wig.
He couldn't wait to get rid of that wig.
Every week he'd go, "Can we get rid of the wig?" "No."
But, you know, that was the look they wanted at the time.
He out-acted the wig. That was his greatest triumph.
He'd beaten the wig into submission till they got rid of it.
But Richard Beckinsale looked set
to be stuck with his hairpiece for a while longer.
The comedy antics from this charmless boarding house
had somehow charmed us all.
Was this a sitcom that was still on the rise?
What on earth's that?
This is a piece of wood.
Well, I can see that, Mr Rigsby.
Stop wafting it around, you'll start a fire.
I will start a fire, all right, Miss Jones.
Please extinguish your stick.
Sorry, but this is one fire you can't put out, Miss Jones.
We'll soon see about that!
In 1974, as a generation of much loved comedy shows
like Steptoe And Son and The Likely Lads came to the end of the line,
Britain had a new favourite over on ITV.
What happened? Nothing! Nothing happened.
But while the shows we saw were full of laughs,
the atmosphere on set was often much more serious.
Len wasn't a bunch of fun all the time.
He was very intense and he had tremendous energy.
I'm going to show you what clean living and a balanced diet can do!
I'm going to raise this chair aloft by one leg. Eh?
You ought to be careful, Mr Rigsby.
It's all right. I used to do this 20 years ago, I can still do it today.
Now, then, here were go.
If you watch Leonard you can see how high he was
because of the adrenaline, because of the audience,
because of his desire to get it right that first time.
That's it! What? Oh, God, I wish you'd stop doing that!
It's the grey lady, she's trying to in touch with you.
I wish she'd ring me instead of jumping out like that.
Len would be thinking several sentences ahead
and the pace of the delivery was such.
And they'd run it, something would go wrong.
Anything could go wrong. It could be any fault and you have to stop.
But I hated having to stop Len.
Yeah, you'll break hearts like, like, like this
and this and this and this and this!
Do you realise what you leave behind, Miss Jones?
It looks like half a pound of broken biscuits.
It would take ten seconds for him to actually stop the speech, you know.
You take a man's finest feelings and you leave them crushed and mangled
like this and this! Not the flowers, no, Mr Rigsby!
I felt guilty actually, having to go in and stop it, and he hated it.
Playing opposite the phonetic Leonard Rossiter,
Richard Beckinsale proved a calming influence on set.
I just don't want you spying on me, that's all. I'm not spying.
If you want to be bloody secretive.
I'm not secretive. Where have you been?
As a matter of fact, I have been seen to Dr Zhivago.
Ah. What did he say?
Richard was great in the show because he absorbed Len's energy.
You know what's in this bottle? Micro-organisms. Billions of them.
Enough to wipe out a city. I just remove the stopper.
I don't believe you. There are millions and not one of them overlapping.
I can't see anything. No, you won't see anything,
but they're there and they'll come slopping out at you.
In 10 minutes you'll be foaming at the mouth,
in 20 minutes you'll praying for death.
Don't you come near me with that thing? Here, catch.
Oh, God.
(SOBS)
(SNIFFS)
Salad cream, I might have known! You...get out of here.
If he'd competed with Len on that phonetic scale,
it would have been disaster, but he absorbed it
and was calm and relaxed.
Rigsby, do you have to creep up like that?
You never get tired of looking at yourself, do you?
You'll wear that mirror out. I was just combing it.
You were making your eyebrows go up and down, weren't you?
No, I wasn't. Yes, you were. You look as if you're having a fit.
Len had a real affection for Richard.
You won't get a woman that way, you know.
This detached cynical expression pulls the birds.
I get quite a few looks. Yeah, I'm not surprised.
Richard never once fell for Len's reputation.
Richard just cut right through it.
It was another human being
who he would just talk to in an ordinary way,
and I think Len really appreciated being treated in that way.
Although the comedy chemistry seemed like a match made in TV heaven,
in real life, Leonard Rossiter
and Frances de la Tour were frequently at odds.
Everybody got on very well apart from Frances and Len.
They were poles apart.
This was really based on politics.
I mean Len was far away Genghis Khan,
and she was far away the other end, Tony Benn,
so they would never, ever mix
and they had no respect for each other off screen.
Onscreen and at rehearsals they were just magic together
because they were both very, very clever people.
Frances de la Tour aside, there was one other cast member
that Rossiter brushed up the wrong way;
the cat that played Rigsby's beloved Vienna.
Len hated the cat!
(VIENNA SCREECHES)
Vienna was an absolute anathema to him.
That cat, its hairs would get everywhere.
It never liked being in the show.
I mean, Len held it in a vice-like grip.
I'll just show you something. Gather round. Now, look, look!
It was kind of splayed out like that you know,
and he couldn't wait to get rid of it.
If I let him go, what do you think will happen?
He'll go through the floorboards.
No, he won't. He'll land on his feet and do you know why?
Because he's got perfect reflexes. It's a scientific fact.
You'll have to watch carefully
because it'll be all over in a flash.
Ready, steady, one, two, three!
(THUD AND MEOWING)
He used to scurry under the staging and they couldn't get it out again
because it hated working with Len. It was no actor, this cat wasn't.
He usually lands on his feet!
I meet ladies now even today who say, "I've called my cat Vienna."
Why do you call him Vienna? Ah, well, you take this cat
to the door on the coldest night of the year -
well, you'd have to kick a polar bear out, never mind a cat -
usually on the front door,
and if he sees another pairs of eyes out there, it's goodnight, Vienna!
But among the cast, it was Richard Beckinsale and Don Warrington
who would develop the firmest of friendships both on and off set.
It's stopped. Don't let him get me, Philip, don't let him get me.
Richard and I would hang out together...
..and we had a merry time.
Not only did they share a house onscreen,
off set the two young actors also found themselves together
in a lodging house near the television studios in Leeds.
I think we got banned from the guest house.
I think our behaviour was not what was required at the time.
We were a bit noisy, so we got kicked out en masse.
Ha ha ha!
And then we moved to the Queens,
where we could do what we wanted, and we did!
We can't get the lid down. Course you can get the lid down.
It will squash your nose. You wouldn't squash...
Turn his head sideways.
There you are, see like that. Its easy. Try it now.
Yeah, go on, and try it now. There you are!
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
Today, Don Warrington is back at the Queens Hotel...
42 years since he first travelled from London to record the sitcom
that would become a classic and make him a household name.
Do you like England, Philip? It's all right.
What do you like best?
I think the telephone boxes, they're rather nice.
Is that all? I like the swimming pools,
but I suppose that's because there are no crocodiles.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
In the early days, when we first started to do the series,
we travelled by train.
We'd all meet at Kings Cross and get some wine or beer.
There would be Leonard, Richard, myself and the guest artists.
Wahey. Yes!
Could I have a double portion of mother's ruin
and a bottle of your very best slimline?
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
In later series, Len took to driving up to Leeds.
We would meet at Swiss Cottage
and he would pull up, and I would jump in,
and sometimes we would drive all the way in absolute silence.
I don't know why!
This will be the first time in four decades
that Don Warrington and writer Eric Chappell have met at the studios
where Rising Damp was recorded.
It looks like it's still very damp in Leeds!
Apart from the logo at the top of the building,
it looks exactly the same.
Don. Eric.
Nice to see you again. Lovely to see you. It's been too long!
If I remember correctly. It's getting on for 40 years, isn't it?
It seems that way, Eric.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
So you've made yourself at home, then?
Yes. What do you think of it?
It seems very nice.
It seems nice, yes. That's the wallpaper, very good quality.
But it has to be to hold these bricks together, eh?
It is amazing to think that all those years ago we were here.
I mean, the thing about coming here was it was very homely.
We went into the canteen and you knew everybody.
I felt completely welcomed here. Yeah, so did I.
And it was good because I think that gave us the freedom to do the show
to the best of our ability.
Do I look all right, Mr Rigsby?
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
Oh, right, Miss Jones, you look ravishing.
I was wondering about this. You don't think it looks a bit odd?
why should it look odd, Miss Jones?
Well, I think it's a bit old-fashioned now.
I think it's the head.
I keep thinking something's leapt on me from behind!
You shouldn't give it a moment's thought. It suits you.
What do you think, Philip?
What do I think of it? I think it's just another example of the way
so called civilised countries are decimating the animal kingdom
just to satisfy the whims of fashion
to grace the idle, pampered shoulders of western women.
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
You don't like it?
While the first series was being recorded,
a buzz about this new comedy on the block spread quickly
among the workers at Yorkshire Television.
Well, I just know that when we we started making it,
the staff would come in at the dress and start to watch,
and those numbers grew during that period.
And I thought it must be good
because the pros are coming in to watch it, you know,
and they'd seen it all.
Right! I want a good clean fight.
No biting, no scratching, no kicking, no gouging,
no punching with the inside of the glove and no punching on the break.
My God, you're enjoying this, aren't you?
After an afternoon rehearsal on set,
Rising Damp was recorded on Friday nights in front of a studio audience
with as few breaks in filming as possible,
a method that kept TV newcomer Don Warrington on his toes.
Coming to the studio for the first time to do a sitcom,
I remember the reaction of the audience,
and I had no experience of studio audiences.
But it seemed to me at the time that the laughter
that was coming was absolutely genuine. Yeah!
Because I remember several times we had to stop and do it again
because they laughed too much.
Philip! Philip! Got him.
How about that, then, eh? No, no, no, no, no, no!
(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)
It was a theatrical event.
We were doing television, but it was a theatrical event
with the audience and the whole thing. Yes, yeah.
And the cameraman loved me because I wrote long scenes.
Probably the actors didn't want them as much,
but the scenes were quite long themselves?
And that's my complaint to you today.
Nearly 40 years I've waited, so, Eric, those scenes were too long.
But, no, no, they were great, they were good.
Because the writing was so good.
Rigsby, about that favour.
Oh, yes. Yes, I have a girl outside.
Haver you? Yes.
She's very cold out there. She must be, its bitter, isn't it?
Yeah. I wondered if I could possibly
you know, bring her up, you know? Did you?
Yes. Yes, well, let me put your mind at rest.
You cannot bring her up. You can stay out there
and bloody well freeze, that's what she can do.
As if Miss Jones would fall for that ordinary fireman.
All he did was make her eyes water.
Is it any wonder? Hey, smell that.
By God, what a stink. You can tell that comes from Africa, all right.
It doesn't come from Africa. What?
It came off the wardrobe.
Wardrobe!
Next time on Rising Damp Forever,
what happened when one of Britain's greatest sitcoms went to the movies.
We were at loggerheads, it's fair to say, throughout the film.
Tragedy strikes the Rising Damp family.
I'm really happy and grateful that people sort of remember him
and that I get to enjoy how loved he was.
And there's an emotional reunion back on the studio floor.
Here's to Rising Damp.
Rising Damp. Cheers. Cheers.
subtitles by Deluxe