It's 1964. The BBC, or Auntie Beeb as she was known, is 45 years old.
So far, she's given birth to one televisual child.
And on April the 20th of that year,
she was to find herself once again in labour.
Do come on, Auntie Beeb, stop making a fuss and push.
Ooh!
The child was on its way.
But what was it to be called?
We have one television channel.
Tonight we launch a second.
What on earth are we going to call it?
Pipes in. Pencils out.
I've calculated that if we do indeed have two channels,
then the current channel - BBC Television -
should be known as BBC One.
I've checked your calculations and they're correct.
If the current channel equals BBC One,
what does the new channel add up to?
X to the power of -13.
This new channel shall be called BBC X To The Power Of -13.
You've blundered in your reduction of this fraction,
you horrid little homosexual.
X to the power of -13 cancelled out is two.
BBC Two.
Can't we call it BBC Stalin?
Are you a communist?
This is the BBC - we're all communists, aren't we?
ALL: Sh.
So we're all agreed. BBC Two.
AUNTIE BEEB YELLS
That's better.
"BABY" CRIES
Two.
Cup of tea?
The new channel has a name.
All it needs now is someone to run it.
A king or queen. A tsar.
A Fuhrer. A Fat Controller.
There was only one man for the job and his name was Porky Peacock.
And Porky Peacock knew exactly what Porky Peacock wanted.
Long documentaries about the First World War
that went on for weeks and weeks
and weeks and weeks and weeks.
By the winter of 1914,
the war on the Western Front had reached stalemate.
From Switzerland to the sea, British and German forces
faced each other in a deadly battle of attrition that was
to last for the next four years, except for one day -
December the 25th, 1914, Christmas Day.
And right opposite us there's a rubbly old nunk
and Gerry dug in fast.
Come dawn of Christmas Day, up he pops as bold as brass.
He's standin' there, right on top of the rubbly old nunk
and I'm proper plabber-glasted.
We were stuck in the trenches with all the mud
and fizz-bangs going off left, right and centre.
It was jolly wet and noisy.
We hear Gerry singing this Christmas Carol, so we do now.
It's a good Protestant carol, so it is now.
These Gerries are Hanoverians, so they are now.
They're the people of King Billy, so they are now.
So we join in now, so we join in, so we do now, so we do.
And suddenly these shapes came over the top -
and they were short and brutish and wearing skirts.
We recognised them as Highlanders.
We're standin' there in no-man's-land
and I've shown a picture to Fritz
of our Martha. And his eyes have fairly popped out of his head,
cos she's big as a bus, our Martha.
She's a whacking great whale of a woman.
We are chatting away to these German scallywags
and one of them is touching me on the face and hands -
I don't think he'd ever seen a dusky fellow before.
We were so starved of the fairer sex
and because these Highlanders wore skirts,
I observed some of my men acquiring the trouser tents.
This I wished to discourage so I improvised a game of Fussball.
Out of nowhere comes a football.
We started playing football, so we started playing football, so we did now, so we did.
We got to playing the football game, right aside the rubbly old nunk.
It vas fundamentally like polo but without the horses.
And the game ended in a nil-all draw.
And it's one-all at full time. One-all.
A three-all draw.
Five goals apiece.
It ended four-all. And thus it went to penalties.
And the Germans won on penalties.
The Germans won on penalties.
Fritz won on penalties.
And the Germans, they won on penalties.
And we Germans won on penalties.
The Germans won on penalties.
Ground-breaking documentaries there might be,
but Peacock also wanted his channel that was new to have news.
And not just news, but news at night.
Nightnews.
Is the Government right about everything?
Good evening. I'm Gerald Manley Paxman.
Is the Government right about everything?
I'm joined by the Government Minister.
Good evening, Government Minister.
Good evening, Gerald Manley.
Is the Government right about everything?
Yes.
Are you sure?
Are you doubting me?
Not for a moment, and I do apologise if I appear to be.
Please continue to speak for as long as you like
without any interruption whatsoever.
The Government is right about everything because it is a good government,
composed of extremely intelligent,
high-minded and deeply moral ministers.
Thank you, Minister. You are the most interesting man I've ever met.
Time to look at tomorrow's papers.
The Times leads with, "The Government's right about everything."
The Telegraph goes for, "The Government is right about everything."
And this rag leads with some complete poppycock.
The new channel was, like its elder sibling,
to be funded by the licence fee.
Freed from the pressures of the marketplace,
it was to be very much BBC T double-O. BBC Too.
But it still wanted to compete with commercial ITV.
And compete it did. Dramatically.
Well, The Forsyte Saga was...
Actually, tell you the truth,
I don't remember a great deal about it -
but I was there!
I'd had the wonderful idea of shooting the whole thing
on a single camera with no editor.
Now, I got the idea from drinking three bottles of wine one lunchtime, at the BBC bar.
Television history.
MUSIC: Theme to "The Forsyte Saga"
Father.
Ah, Julia.
Come in and sit quite close to me.
A little closer, my dear.
I'm worried. You work so hard, Father. What are these?
Important documents for the attention of your cousin Julius,
who will attend to them at ten.
I'm attentive to his attentions to myself, Father.
Pay no attention. His attentions are tentative.
Good day, Jolyon. Ah, Cousin Julia.
Cousin Julius. You are well?
Indeed. Do you like my mop-top?
I do.
I trust I am the only man in the 1890s with such a hairdo.
Won't you sit down?
No, thank you. I won't be in shot.
Cousin, I've tendered these documents for your attention.
I beg your pardon, Cousin Jolyon. Could you repeat that?
SQUEAKING
Attend to these documents that I've tendered.
They relate to a trust fund which I set up for the benefit of
any future children you might have,
should you one day choose marriage.
Marriage?
SCRATCHING FOOTSTEPS APPROACH
SHE CLEARS THROAT
May I come in? Why, of course.
Oh! Worried I am. Very, very worried about everything.
GLASS SMASHES All I can do is worry and I fear I shall die of worrying.
Worry, worry, worry. Endless days and nights of worry.
I worry.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Peacock wanted laughter on his channel.
And not just laughter, but laughter from somewhere that, hitherto,
no-one at the BBC had ever dreamt there was laughter.
Somewhere full of dread, dirt and depravity.
The North.
FOGHORN BLOWS
Ee, Terry, what you done to me bike?
I've bumped into a bus and bust it, Bob.
I'm very sorry. You'll get your money.
Oh, bloomin' Nora!
And I'm supposed to be meeting Thelma at t'pictures in half hour.
Are you going to hold her hand?
I've only known her eight months.
I reckon she'd love it.
Ee, Terry! Wash yer mouth out wi' carbolic, why don't you?
Eh!
It was a wonderful show - absolutely super.
It was one of those shows
that was wonderful and super at the same time.
Absolutely wonderful and totally super.
Wonderful and super, perhaps,
but Southerners couldn't understand the Northern accents.
And as for Northerners, well, this was 1964 -
they'd only just learnt how to use a lavatory.
TOILET FLUSHES
Education was still a Northerner's dream.
ITV, yes. BBC Two - ee, by gum, no.
And this was a problem.
Peacock appeared more Lord Reith than Lady Gaga,
and this was the '60s - the generation of the baby-boomers, or Baby Gagas.
Young people had been invented in 1957 by Mr Elvis Presley,
and here we were, a decade later,
with only one programme for them
and that was Keep Still.
Keep Still ran for eight hours a day, every day of the week.
One had to sit very still.
If one moved at all, well...
CHALK SQUEAKS
STICK SMACKS
The clown was absolutely terrifying.
He could talk without moving his mouth.
'Charlie's gonna eat your face off.' SHE GASPS
Keep Still was the end for Peacock.
GUARD GRUNTS
He was booted upstairs to BBC One.
His replacement - David Attenborough.
And for Attenborough it was,
"Hello, good evening and, well, I'm here - let's get on with the job."
Out went Nightnews. In came Naughty Nightie News.
# Naughty Nightie News. #
Is corporal punishment outdated?
Should it be abolished in our schools?
Hugh Parsley.
Well, Joan, I believe it to be a demeaning form of punishment.
Sir Hubert Tuft, if I were naughty, would you cane me?
I would.
You have to remember it was the '60s.
We were all feeling frisky all the time.
Is sex a good thing?
Edward Rhys Spoon?
I hate sex and so does my wife.
It's horrible and stupid.
How about you, Donald Hairwave?
I rather like sex.
So do I.
I'd like to have sex with you.
So would I.
# Naughty Nightie News. #
It's the mid-'60s, and television is about to get ugly.
And your starter for ten - what is the theme tune to this show?
Gruesome College Cambridge?
Ba-woom.
# Bing-dang-dung. #
HE TRUMPETS THEME TO "University Challenge"
Very ugly.
Welcome to Ask The Ugly Family.
This week we say hello to our ugly family from Leicester...
Hello. Hello.
..and, dare I say it, our even uglier family from Norfolk.
Hello.
BBC Two wanted a slice of the ugly action.
Hello. I'm Professor Bill Borderline-Spectrum.
And I'm Dr Fiona Firmly-Spectrum.
Today we are going to be looking at one of the most exciting things in the world...
Or, as we prefer to say...
L-bar gamma to the mu
times the quantity I-delta sub-mu minus one-half G...
tau.W sub-mu minus one-half G,
prime YB sub-mu times L plus R-bar gamma to the mu
times the quantity I-delta sub-mu minus one half G
prime YB sub-mu times R.
HE MUTTERS INCOHERENTLY
# Sport, sport, I like sport
# Running and jumping I'm a physical sort. #
Sport, sport, I like sport.
Running and jumping - I'M a physical sort.
But Attenborough wasn't.
He liked sport, sport, he liked sport -
but of the sitting around, drinking beer and smoking fags sort.
Snooker.
But snooker came with a problem that almost snookered BBC Two.
COMMENTATOR: And in goes the darkish-grey ball,
nicely into the centre pocket.
So here's the choice - the lightish grey ball into the bottom corner
or the darker light-grey ball into the centre.
Darker light-grey ball into centre.
Narrowly missing the lighter darker-light-grey ball.
For Attenborough, it couldn't carry on.
On July the 1st 1967, BBC Two got colourful.
And so did snooker.
JAUNTY MUSIC PLAYS
COMMENTATOR: Ray Spencer reacts by rubbing his upper lip.
What a colourful character. COMMENTATOR CHUCKLES
What a tremendous personality.
Now he's chuckled. COMMENTATOR CHUCKLES
Here comes the Hurricane. Will it be the yellow or the brown?
He's gone for them both. COMMENTATOR CHUCKLES
Oops. COMMENTATOR CHUCKLES
What's he going to do with the white?
Up it goes. What a super hit.
COMMENTATOR CHUCKLES What a great sequence of shots!
Colour television brought with it endless possibilities
for grand documentaries.
And there was none more grand than Jacob Bronowski's epic series...
I'm rather a long way away from you.
Now I am much closer.
Now you can observe with clarity the riot of beige
which is my jacket, shirt and tie.
Now I am on top of this hillock.
How did I get here? It's a mystery.
Now I am much, much closer - almost too close for comfort.
When one thinks of David Attenborough,
one thinks of animals dying.
'Buffalo.' Fuck!
'Zebras.' Oh, fuck!
'Pythons.' Fuck!
And Monty Pythons.
After three series on BBC One,
Attenborough brought them to his channel
to bear witness to their televisual death throes.
Hello, I'd like to buy one, please.
I'm very sorry - we haven't got any. Now look 'ere, Miss.
Is this going to be a very long sketch? Oh, yes.
You see, I'd already been to see the BBC Two people and I'd said,
"I'm not going to do any more Monty Python,
"and cos I'm much, much funnier than all the others
"and much, much more popular, you'd better cancel it."
And they said "John, we disagree."
WHEEZY LAUGH
Ha! I mean, the arrogance of these people!
So, just how long is this sketch going to be, then? Very long indeed.
And even when it's eventually ended,
we'll continue to reprise it throughout the rest of the show...
Oh, Gawd!
..before reviving it every decade for the next half century...
Oh, Gawd! ..when it is definitely past its sell-by date.
Oh, Gawd! When it is a dead sketch.
Oh, Gawd! When it is pushing up daisies.
Oh, Gawd! No, sorry, I like that bit - do carry on.
When it has shuffled off this mortal coil.
Oh, that was brilliant.
When it has run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible!
I never wanted to do this in the first place.
I... I wanted to be...
a travel-show presenter!
It was the end of Python.
Palin wanted to travel the world.
# I'll put on linen clothing
# And hang around in bazaars. #
LOCALS: Hang around in bazaars?!
John Cheese-Shop-Sketch yearned for more sophisticated comedy.
Come here, you stupid racial stereotype.
I from Barcelona - I know nothing!
Ah! Sorry about that.
And the only female Python, Cherri Jones...
Ooh, I'm gonna bash your brains out.
..had a sex change and became a man.
They put these testicles where my vagina used to be,
and rather a small cock.
It's the 1970s and time for the new channel to get serious.
Dramatically serious.
About drama.
I remember very, very clearly that I was pissed the whole time.
I don't remember anything.
But I was there!
I decided to commission a high-quality classical piece
and for that I required the best classical actors in the country.
I saw Ian McKellen. He was a lovely boy but he just wasn't right.
And I saw Alan Rickman and he was a lovely, lovely boy
but he just wasn't right.
And I saw Derek Jacobi and I thought,
"What a lovely boy. Lovely, lovely, lovely boy."
We had this wonderful chap playing Caesar - what was his name again?
Lionel Lovely, Simon Super? No, no, no - Brian Blessed!
I was there.
The result of this collaboration?
One Clavdivs.
'Rome was fast falling into parlousness.
'All the men were acting their sandals off -
'yet still they introduced all manner of actory business.'
I do like your eye make-up, my dear Empress Marc Bolana.
It is predicted by the high priests of Jupiter that one day all girls
shall have make up like this in the 1970s, on Top Of The Pops.
It suits you merrily, merrily.
Father, I come to warn you of my brother, Baftus Nomination.
Out! I will not hear of it!
Baftus Nomination is a fine boy,
trained by Radus in all things flourishy.
My brother schemes behind your back.
He will poison you and put me to the slaughter and claim Rome as his own.
Oh, calm down, Actus Tremendous.
He is in league with my sister Whatta Scorcia!
Do not hate Whatta Scorcia - she is indeed your sister.
Go to her bed and make love to her.
That I shall.
And presently shall I tear our unborn foetus from her womb
and eat it in bloody fashion.
Ooh, he's a very odd ball.
There is a delegation from Palestine to see you, Caesar.
From a new religion called the C-C-Christians.
Show them in!
Blessed be the Brian, for he hath a loud and warming voice.
Yes, yes, I'm very pleased with you. I will give you lands.
Where is my Governor of Palestine - Pontius Pilates?
Ooh, yes, I'm just finishing a class.
Cat stretch, girls!
Ooh, yes.
Ooh, I can smell it from here.
He's also a very odd ball.
Ooh!
One Clavdivs was hugely popular.
But was that what BBC Two was really about?
Shouldn't BBC Two be just a bit boring?
Well, the BBC music department was very powerful.
The music industry had to take us very seriously.
And so when they came to us and said,
"Can we have a vibrant, happening, groovy show for BBC Two,"
I said, "No.
"I want something dull."
HE MUMBLES INDISTINCTLY IN HUSHED TONES
My highlight was when the lead guitarist
of the prog-rock group Aeon
died on stage of boredom.
GUITAR RIFF PLAYS
And by the time the drummer had pretty much finished his solo,
the guitarist had completely decomposed.
It was one of those shows that was wonderful and super
at the same time. Absolutely wonderful and totally super.
As the '70s wore on, rumours of a culture of sexual depravity
at Television Centre began to circulate.
It was decided to tackle this potential time bomb head on,
on prime-time BBC Two.
Hello and welcome to a show which could quite easily be called Would I Lie To You?,
will soon to be known as Call My Bluff
and is currently entitled Speech Impediment.
And we like it that way.
And our first word is...
..paedophile.
Frank, what is a paedophile?
Well, a pae-do-pa-hilly,
a fruh, a fruh-fruh fruh-fruh.
Frank thinks it's a type of chocolate bar
made of nuts and fruit. Is he right, Patrick?
A... INCOHERENT POPPING
..toes.
Patrick says it's a type of instrument
for scraping the dead skin off your feet. Derek?
Pee-pa-pa-pe-pe, pee-pa-pa-pa, poh.
Or is it, as Derek suggests,
a ceremonial dress worn by German women on Maundy Thursday?
And the answer is...
Well, you're all wrong
because there's no such thing as a paedophile. APPLAUSE
Britain was changing.
There was strife, unemployment and nationwide grumpiness.
And BBC Two drama was to reflect the new puritanism.
I wanted to make a drama about the poor darling
Northern working classes, who had been thrown onto the dole
by Margaret Thatcher.
And I couldn't find a single person from Oxford or Cambridge in the BBC bar who was prepared to write it.
'Man Alive happened to be making a documentary at the time'
about how marvellous I was, er,
which I'd commissioned, when this chap burst into my office.
SCOUSE: All right, mate, go on, gizza job, mate.
I could write that drama. Go on, gizza job, mate, gizza job!
Were you at Oxford? Or Camb...
He was a funny, angry little creature. I rather liked him.
He was a lovely boy.
I'm not'n, Beryl. My life is not'n.
Oh, yeah, great joke, God.
"Here's Michael, he's not'n."
You've done your best, Michael. What more can you do? Not'n.
Me best's not'n.
When I'm dead, you know what me gravestone's going to say?
"Here lies not'n. Dust to dust, not'n to not'n."
And you know why, Beryl? You want to know why?
Don't, Michael.
Because I haven't got a catch phrase.
And without a catch phrase,
you're not'n in Maggie Thatcher's broken Britain.
What you doing, Michael? Sitting on the settee, eh?
I could do that. Gizza job sitting on the settee, eh?
Hey! Not now, Yosser.
Gizza job, Beryl.
All right, Yosser, calm down, calm down!
Calm down! Calm down!
All right, calm down!
Eh! Eh! Calm down. Calm down. All right.
Boys From The Blackstuff was the right stuff for the viewer,
but the wrong stuff for the Conservative government.
It was furious.
Its anger was vented by a young MP called John Major.
The British people don't wunt programmes like this.
They wunt programmes without bias.
They wunt fairness, they wunt to say,
"We wunt our old BBC back, and we wunt it now".
It's not "wunt", you complete rhymes-with-wunt.
The BBC was being crucified.
It agreed to make a drama that would balance Boys From The Blackstuff.
But who would write it?
I could do that. Gizza job, go on.
MUSIC: JAUNTY RENDITION OF "Land Of Hope And Glory"
Hey, all right, Michael?
All right, Yosser? What are you doing on that thing?
I got on my bike and started looking for work
like Norman Tebbit told us to.
He's a top man, that Tebbit.
BOTH: Tories! Tories! Tories! Five more years!
Hey, have you seen Sid?
I have - he told me the good old Tories and Maggie Thatcher are privatising British Gas!
I fuckin' love the Tories.
I've gone and got meself some shares!
Gizza hob. Come 'ead, gizza hob, eh?
All right, calm down! Eh? Come 'ead, gizza hob, eh?
Eh? Eh? Eh?
Eh, eh, eh. All right? Eh, eh, eh.
I think BBC Two had an ambivalence towards Mrs Thatcher.
Sometimes it found her frustrating
a-a-and sometimes quite sexy.
'Tonight on 40 Minutes...
'Margaret Thatcher - is she sexy?'
Good morning, John.
.."goose fat," and he said, "I know, madam."
Margaret was never the easiest person to get on with in cabinet,
but there was something about her.
We remember Geoffrey coming to see us one day,
with a policy that we didn't much care for.
And I said, "Please, Margaret."
And we said, "No, Geoffrey, no."
She was a very sexy woman - I remember going to her.
And we remember Nigel came to see us and he said,
"You must, Prime Minister, I insist."
I was very insistent.
And we said, "No, Nigel, no!"
I said, "Margaret, please."
And we said "No, Geoffrey! No!"
I said, "Margaret, please listen."
And we said "No, Nigel, we will not listen!"
I said, "Margaret, I'm pleading with you on bended knee, you mad..."
"..power-crazed bint."
And we said, "No, Geoffrey! No!"
I said, "Margaret, just listen for one minute, you completely..."
"..deranged old boot."
I said, "Margaret."
We said, "No, Nigel, no!
"Bad dog, Nigel!
"No, no, no. You bad dog!"
And I found myself on all fours in front of her,
and she literally trampled me underfoot.
And we remember very clearly that Nigel was very cross.
It was really quite erotic.
But life under the Tories wasn't all doom and gloom.
There was also fun to be had.
..thinks about, talks about. You ask him what he's doing!
Give yourself...
I'd like to buy a dead parrot, please.
I don't want to be a shop keeper - I want to be a travel host.
Comedy is an incredibly serious business.
Anyone who tells you otherwise
simply isn't taking it seriously enough.
Rowan Atkinson's probably the most serious person who's ever been born,
ergo he's the funniest.
Lump? Thistle? Blurt? 'I think it's fair to say that every single word that Rowan says is funny.'
Hooligan? LAUGHTER
Nubble? LAUGHTER
Wastepaper basket? LAUGHTER
I put Rowan together with the cleverest man in the world, Stephen Fry.
Stephen, of course, invented adult humour.
Bum chums and willy biscuits. LAUGHTER
Ladies, wee-wees, and poo-poos. LAUGHTER
Gentlemen's diarrhoea. LAUGHTER
So we did a pilot of Blackadder for BBC Two.
It was just dynamite.
Button up your botty hole, Blackadder.
Here comes the new king.
Top blimmin' hurrahs, Blackadder!
Congratulations on being crowned King Edward VIII,
King Edward VIII.
This is my new totty, Mrs Simpson. She's a bloomin' yank!
I'm gonna be Queen of England!
Bum-trouseringly good news, eh, Blackadder?
Although personally, I'd prefer Bertrand Russell's
bloated boil-faced brother became betrothed to your Royal Bigness.
Yee whizz and pooey!
Have you met my new prime minister, Sir Stanley Baldrick?
Hello, Blackadder.
Bloody hell.
Botty-boiled bastard!
Ah, General Disaster!
What news, General Disaster?
Bad news, I'm afraid, Lord Melchett.
One - I've cut my finger.
You bloody disaster.
And two - Hitler has invaded the Rhineland.
Top bloody hurrahs and all that. Ha-ha-ha-ha.
Pooey! Bum.
Balderdash and big bugger burps, Blackadder.
It was a wonderful show. Absolutely super.
It was one of those shows that was
wonderful and super at the same time.
Absolutely wonderful and totally super.
Historical comedy there might be,
but there was also room for history to be dramatic.
LEEDS ACCENT: It's snowing again.
It's always snowing in Moscow at this time of year.
I can see Comrade Milankova down by the statue of me.
She's a widow, Comrade Milankova. Her husband died of natural causes -
which is not at all natural in Moscow at the moment,
if you get me drift.
I can't seem to stop having people bumped off.
I call it me urge to purge.
'Ere comes trouble.
Comrade Jim Broadbentovich.
Hello, Stalin. How are you?
Very well, thank you. Yep.
How's the five-year plan going?
I'm afraid it's failed. So I suppose that's curtains for me.
Well, you can have these ones if you like.
Very kind of you.
I thought I might go for chintz - it's nice and cheery.
What do you think?
Brighten the place up a bit, wouldn't they, Stalin?
I'm having him shot later. It's a shame, really.
He's a nice man.
Now history began to happen before our very eyes.
The Cold War ended, the Wall came down,
and for BBC Two trouble was brewing -
in not one, two, three
but 4-form.
The new channel was young, anti-establishment,
and it wanted to shaft BBC Two.
Up the arse.
SQUEAKING AND WAILING
It was time to change or be buggered.
And change came in the form of a new controller.
And his name was Yentob.
VERY DEEP VOICE: I made Citizen Kane.
HE CAWS
Orson! Oh, Orson! Yentob Orson friend.
ORSON GRUNTS, YENTOB TRILLS
Yentob may have had an arts background
but he could see that Channel 4 was dumbing down fast
and he wanted a piece of the action.
Yentob in turmoil! Yentob...
He needed a man with the skill to dumb down an entire channel.
And he found him.
Albus Dumbledowne.
Yentob see salvation!
These red leather seats are really quite cosseting.
Be vulgar, Jeremy! Be mockney!
EXAGGERATED ACCENT: Oh, my God. I feel like...
..I'm in a vagina.
Mm.
I'm a dildo!
Yentob brought in this ghastly new head of comedy, Paul Someone.
He was a horrid little man.
I didn't want all that elitist Oxbridge crap -
I wanted alternative comedy. Edgy comedy, full of edge and edginess
by working-middle-class people who failed to get into Oxbridge.
Ah! Here!
Aargh!
Hur-hur-hur.
Ha-ha! Ah.
Oh shut up, Neil!
Ow.
Where's Mike?
Hey! It's cool out there - and so am I.
WIND BLOWS
Somebody hit someone, for God's sake.
Ha-ha! Ha-ha!
It was all edgy comedy then. Just edge.
No side, no top, no bottom, no back, no front - just edge, edge, edge.
Would you like to suck my lollipop?
Ooh, you are awful but I like you,
young man!
Young man!
Yentob was successful in his quest
to beat Channel 4 at its own moronic game.
But he was uneasy, agitated, distressed.
Yentob unhappy. High culture he crave.
And who, from the world of high culture,
exiled to America and rejected there, was as alienated as Yentob?
Mr Potter!
Yes! Only Mr Potter can make Yentob happy!
Yes! Yes!
'He's the one. Yes. Him.
'I choose him.'
Oh! Oh!
Oh, I'm sorry. I do beg your pardon. Oh, I say!
How are you? Er, do I...?
Yes! Last week - you remember! Yes, of course.
And now it's today! So you must be on your way to...
The rehearsals. Yes. For the play, isn't it?
The television play.
Yes, the one that I wrote! I'll come with you. Come along.
Are we still rehearsing in the...
The hospital? Yes. Yes.
POTTER CACKLES
Stop it. What are you doing?
What are you doing to our Mary?
I saw something. Something in the woods.
Our Mary Whitehouse being porked.
Right in her Forest of Dean.
Look at your face!
I've got cornflake eczema.
And I've got Rice Krispie psoriasis.
What's to be done?
Maybe we could do something weird, like mime along to an old song.
RECORDING: # Good mornin', skin game
# Hollerin' skin game, please last
# Good mornin', skin game
# Hollerin' skin game, please last
# I done staked my man to win
# And I hope my money will pass. #
Well, that didn't work, did it, Potter?
Maybe my nephew can help.
Skin complaintus, disappearus.
Is he simple?
There's something mouldy on your foot.
It's a wart.
That is the lord of all mouldy warts.
Lord Mouldy Wart killed my parents!
Oh, Jesus Christ. Will my career come to this?
HE CHUCKLES You sold your soul, Michael!
HE CACKLES
Right, Mr Singsong. It's time for me to grease up your winky.
Oh, God.
I had absolutely no idea what was going on at the time
but it was bloody marvellous.
Yentob had done all he could for the channel.
It was time for him to move on.
The new controller was his disciple - Michael Jackson.
What kind of programmes do you want to commission?
What about current affairs?
I want a sketch show that's very, very fast.
This week I are bein' mostly in 'Arry Potter.
The trouble with you lot is you can't act.
I'll get me cloak.
Harry Emery.
Enfield. Same thing. Why weren't you in The Fast Show?
Oh, well... Paul Whitehouse and Charlie Higson were in your show.
Why weren't you in theirs? Well, I didn't really want to be, so...
Did they ever ask you? No.
Were you disappointed by the lack of BAFTAs that your show got?
Not at all, no. I never really think about awards.
And The Fast Show got...how many?
I've no idea. Four.
Four. And your show got...?
None. Does that bother you?
Fast Show - four. Your show, Harry Enfield and Chums...
You changed the name - Harry Enfield's Television Programme.
Still no awards.
Honestly, not a problem.
No bitterness?
None whatsoever. I'm extremely proud of my show.
BAFTA wasn't. Great to speak to you.
There were storm clouds brewing.
A new man had taken charge of the whole BBC.
And his name was Burt. Burt John.
Burt John wasn't really a BBC man at all.
I mean, he gathered us together and gave some funny little speech
about something called value for money.
I didn't really understand a word - but I was there!
It seemed to mean getting rid of the subsidy in the BBC bar.
And I was very much there.
Well, it's very difficult, you know, to come up with wonderful ideas
that the nation will take completely to their hearts
unless one's somewhat sozzled!
Er, no...
Burt John was a total cu...
He brought in a woman to run BBC Two.
That woman was Jane Brute.
And she wanted women.
I wanted Robert Robinson to front the new quiz show.
But the woman in charge wanted a woman.
So we used Robert's daughter.
Welcome to Is Your Child An Idiot?
Tonight, who is our idiot?
Is it you, Susan?
Or is it Andrew?
Or perhaps it's Simon.
Or quite possibly Sally.
What is the Latin name of the rice-field rat?
Rattus argentiventer.
What was the name of the General
who led the ANZAC troops in the First World War?
William Birdwood.
RMS Lusitania, torpedoed and sunk by the Germans in 1915,
was designed by who?
Leonard Peskett. Bank!
Who was the Secretary General
of the Hungarian Communist government from 1949 to 1956?
Enver Hoxha. BUZZER
Oops. Oh, dear.
And at the end of that round...
Sally, you think Hungary and Albania are the same, do you?
The Hungarian dictator was...
Matyas Rakosi.
Knowing the answer now doesn't make you any less of a moronic buffoon,
any less of a cretinous dolt.
Sally, you are an idiot. Goodbye.
A new decade dawned.
With comedy.
With Dawn.
Kertanger.
I like shagging, dead people...
don't like shagging... cos they're dead, yeah?
I like shagging dead people.
Look from Dawn.
Joke!
I most certainly do NOT like shagging dead people.
Obviously.
Only done it once. It was impersonal.
Look from Hobbit.
Dawn.
Hobbit.
As the noughties dragged on, a new threat loomed.
Recession. Money was tight.
It was time for BBC Two to make programmes
about nothing at all.
Grumpy Old Bores are minor celebrities with absolutely
nothing interesting to say about how there's too much plastic packaging.
I find plastic packaging terribly difficult to open.
And you always have to pop all the bubbles on bubble wrap -
it's quite addictive.
I mean, what's going on?
You go to buy a cucumber and it's covered in a condom!
HE CHUCKLES
And you end up slashing at the plastic packaging with a knife
and you cut your bleedin' finger.
Sometimes it takes my servants hours to get the packaging off
the many important things that arrive for me every day,
which, er... which makes me quite grumpy. Grr!
I mean, all this plastic packaging's a pain in the arse, innit?
Grumpy old bores will say obvious things about anything for the money.
Now talk about reading glasses.
They make you look like you've got four eyes.
What's wrong with contact lenses?
Contact lenses.
They're so hard to get in your eyes. Laser surgery's the thing.
And just when you've had enough of Grumpy Old Bores,
they bring on Grumpy Old Bags.
I mean, why do we even need this World Wide Web anyway?
And they won't even take money on the buses any more.
You have to have... a Scallop card, is it?
SHE GRUNTS
And my grandson - he's always...
If BBC Two was hitting the depths, it didn't want you to think so.
In came a late-night arts show.
It was to be more of a pseudo-intellectual snack
than a delicious donnish dinner.
It was dark, bitter and thinly spread -
Smarmnite.
Hello, I'm Mark Egghead. This week - meh-meh-eew! - The X Factor.
Meh-meh-meh. Simon Cowell et al.
David Ponse. Well, I've never actually eurgh The X Factor.
I've never eurgh Simon Cowell
and I've certainly never eurgh Louis Walsh.
It was a solid... Please, let me finish. And I hope I'm spared any more of this lamentable eurgh.
Well, the minor... Paul Poorly.
Betrayal of working class, bread and dripping, Ian Curtis.
Tom Appalling? Well, I rather liked it.
Ugh! But surely - meh-meh-meh -
Sharon Osbourne and - meh-meh-meh - Louis Walsh.
Mah-ma-ma-ma-mah, ma-ma-ma-mah...
BBC Two was fast running out of viewers - and money.
To solve this problem would take all the brainiest brains
of the BBC's brightest brains.
This channel needs stars. Stars cost money.
We need stars that don't cost money. Pipes in. Pencils out.
I have the solution.
Ordinary people. HE CLEARS THROAT
Psst! Are you still a communist?
No. Nor am I.
I still am.
That's because you're a horrid little homosexual.
Gentlemen, I have calculated that
a famous person plus money equals a star.
I've checked your calculation - it's correct.
I have also calculated that a star is greater than...
an ordinary person.
If you take away money,
you have to cancel out the star.
But you are left with a famous person
who is greater than an ordinary person.
Ah! Hmm.
I'm better than you.
Yes, Lord Sugar.
And I'm better than you.
Yes, Lord Sugar.
Look at my watch.
Have you got a watch as nice as this one?
I don't think so - I'm better than you.
Yes, Lord Sugar.
You haven't even got a watch - I'm better than you.
Yes, Lord Sugar.
I earn more money every year than you'll earn in your lives.
Because I'm better than you.
Yes, Lord Sugar.
And I'm better than you.
In due respect, Lord Sugar,
I-I feel in my gut of guts that I could be nearly as good as you...
but she's holding me back.
Oh, do you, now?
Well, let me tell you, Sonny Jim Boy With A Lot Of Glue In Your Hair,
you'll never be as good as me cos I'm better than you.
Yes, Lord Sugar.
And I'm better than you. Oh, yes, Lord Sugar.
Now, get out. Thank you very much, Lord Sugar. Thank you, Lord Sugar.
Simon is cooking for three very important people.
They're better chefs than Simon. They're better people than Simon.
They're all better than him.
You've got five minutes, Simon, and the clock's ticking.
Which means you've only got two minutes.
Time's money to them, Simon, and you've got just four minutes.
Or 75p. Don't keep them waiting. They're better than you.
You've got 90 seconds left, Simon, and that's less than ten minutes.
This is no time to panic, mate, but hurry up!
Simon's got to give this meal 100% and if he doesn't - phew!
And I'm in a different room to you.
What do you think his chances are?
Exactly. I'm yellower than you.
Mmm, mmm. They do look absolutely marvellous.
Not a hint of a soggy bottom.
What a clever little ordinary person you are.
Wouldn't I make a wonderful queen?
And I'm better than you.
50 years ago, this cathedral of programme making
brought joy to the great unwashed.
I like television. I like Bruce Forsyth.
I like Doctor Who.
I like Coronation Street.
How different television looks today.
I like Bruce Forsyth.
I like Doctor Who.
I like Coronation Street.
BBC Two's contribution has been immeasurable.
I think the best show was entirely my idea,
made up entirely of live bands presented by Jools Holland -
and I cannot understand why it didn't work.
Ladies and gentlemen, a very warm welcome to Earlier with me, Jools Holland,
the only breakfast show, of course, with all live bands.
And what a treat - Jeff Beck! CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
Jeff, perhaps if I could prod you awake, a little poke there.
No?
But never mind because in reserve it's Klaxons - that's right.
APPLAUSE
And no definite signs of life but never mind -
it's live TV, we move on.
Round here in a great sweep reminiscent of the Mississippi -
of course the Mississippi Delta, birthplace of the Blues -
to the wonderful, charming and wide-awake Damon Albarn.
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
Go away.
I'll keep that thought upmost in my mind
and as I come round here, I can see in the gloom
a friend of the show over in the corner - Rowland Rivron -
but first we must traverse the sleeping Chrissie Hynde,
ladies and gentlemen. Sh. FAINT APPLAUSE
So I'm going to move here.
Come along, come along. And joy of joys - who's this here?
It's Rowland Rivron, ladies and gentlemen. Hootenanny!
Yeah, and that, yes. I see you've brought your dog Rover Rivron.
Rover Rivron, ladies and gentlemen.
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE What type of dog is Rover Rivron, Rowland Rivron?
He's a Yorkshire Terrier, Jools. That is quite fascinating and really much more reminiscent
of breakfast TV. Thank you very much.
I think in drama, I'm most excited about our new
Scandinavian series from the director of The Killing.
DOOR BELL RINGS
RINGING CONTINUES
MUSIC: OMINOUS VERSION OF "Pingu" THEME
HE SPEAKS SCANDINAVIAN-SOUNDING GIBBERISH
Waa-waa!
Waa-bla-bla.
Waa-waa!
DOOR BELL RINGS
SIREN WAILS
I think in comedy, the cheapest show -
I mean, the best show - has to be Panel Show.
Hello and welcome to Panel Show.
This week, I'm going to be sacked for shagging about.
And replaced by me.
Ian, for whom did everything go wrong this week?
The Government?
Is it Boris Johnson, tousle-haired shagger?
Boyish coy look.
I love Poundland and potatoes and I have periods.
Ha-ha-ha! Rude word!
What actually happened was the Government...
Is it a dolphin in a bathtub?
Er, wasn't it total cock-up? Er, the Government?
And the interesting thing about the Government
is it has 428 on each tentacle,
which allows it to eat its own regurgitated sick.
Alan, look like an overripe strawberry.
What did Ed Miliband this week?
Er, Ed Miliband, total cock-up?
I think what actually happened was Ed Miliband - bad misjudgement,
which was amusing because... Is it a dolphin in a bath tub?
Russell. Oh, my God, the Daily Mail!
Oh, my God, the Daily Mail.
Oh, my God, the Daily Mail!
Oh, God, yeah, the Daily Mail.
Oh, my God, the Daily Mail!
Daily Mail, Boris Johnson, a couple of slappers.
Boyish coy look.
What actually happened was the Daily Mail, Boris Johnson,
which... Is it a dolphin in a bathtub?
Oh, my God, the Daily Mail - total Nazis.
And the interesting thing about the Nazis is
they actually won the Second World War but it was changed in the film.
Alan, strawberry.
The interesting thing about Nazis - there's no T in it.
Should actually be pronounced "nah-zee".
Diddy Andy Hamilton, please sneer at Ann Widdecombe.
Ann Widdecombe.
Ann Widdecombe! Eurgh!
And the truth about Ann Widdecombe...
Is Ann Widdecombe a dolphin in a bathtub?
And the interesting thing about Ann Widdecombe is it's pronounced
"Ann Wuddicome" in parts of Scotland
and "Anne Wycombe" in parts of Wycombe.
And I spend my evenings cuddling me cushion,
which is more fun than me boyfriend,
and it hides me cake shelf.
Oh, my God, the Daily Mail!
Can we bully some old people now?
Number one's an ugly ginge. Number two's ugly and stupid.
Number three's ugly, stupid and mental.
Number four's an ugly, stupid, mental wanker.
And number five's an ugly, stupid, mental wanker paedophile.
Number five's definitely a paedo.
A wonky-eyed-wanker paedo - I'm going to throw a brick at him.
Look - I've cut his 'ead open!
It's number five,
the ugly, stupid, mental, wonky-eyed wanker paedophile!
Disapproving look.
Stop-stop-stop starting and start stopping.
Oh, my God, the Daily Mail!
Good night!
If BBC Two's past has been worth celebrating,
what about the present?
Of course, what I'm really excited about
is a brand-new 26-part documentary we've just made
to celebrate the centenary of the First World War.
December the 25th, 1914, Christmas Day.
And up popped this German right on top of the rubbly old nunk.
And we are chatting away to these German scallywags.
I improvised a game of Fussball.
The game ended in a nil-all draw.
And the Germans won on penalties.
The Germans won on penalties, so they won on penalties.
And the Germans won on penalties.
We Germans won on penalties.
The Germans won on penalties.
I've got wandering hands.
And in 50 years' time, with so many new channels,
so many different new forms of media,
will there be BBC Two?
And if there is, will there be BBC Two...Too?
Johnny and I married a decade or so after he directed me in the show
and we still like to keep the spark alive for up to eight hours a day.
Charlie's going to eat your face off! Oh!
Ah!
Goodness Gracious Me returns,
Oh, yes, I bet you are well jel, in't it.