There was never live television coverage of England's winter tours last time we won The Ashes in Australia. We were reduced to evening highlight shows or the rich descriptions and humour of Test Match Special, dozing in and out through the night. And since Sky came along and started covering the tours the Australian cricketers have been had one of the great runs in sport, 24 years of dining at the top table in world cricket. The legacy of Allan Border's work from 1987 to 1994 meant they dominated Test and one day cricket in a manner not seen since the West Indies of Richards and Lloyd. They has some of the all time greats in that team, Border himself, Taylor, both Waugh twins, Langer, Hayden, Gilchrist, McGrath, Warne... and Ricky Ponting. The Australian dominance reached an apotheosis in 2006/07 as they avenged the narrow, thrilling defeat of England 2005 with a 5-0 pasting, Flintoff's tears in Adelaide being the dominant image along with the grins of McGrath and Warne. Crucially though, that pair of bowlers, both on a list of the best to play the game, retired after the final Test of that series.
The home series of 2009 gave England an indication of how far Australia had fallen. None of the bowlers had experience of English conditions, and of the members of the side which had dominated cricket for the first years of the 21st century only Ponting remained, and even then doubts persisted about his captaincy. In Cardiff they utterly dominated the game, piling up over six hundred with four batsmen making centuries. Having England on the ropes, they couldn't land a knockout blow, and astonishingly tense last day boiling down to one of the great rearguard innings from Paul Collingwood and two of the most derided lower order batsmen, Jimmy Anderson and Monty Panesar, keeping Australia at bay for 69 balls. It seemed like an eternity to those of us in the ground, and then England held on with just one wicket standing between them and defeat it felt like a great victory. Flintoff's Herculean effort whilst half fit at Lords put them ahead, and after Australia won at Headingley England forced a victory in the Fifth Test at The Oval to take The Ashes back. England were clearly a better side than they had been in 2006, but were far from the finished article. More importantly the Australians often looked impotent, visibly removed from the juggernauts they'd been for ten years.
Despite the indications of one team rising and one declining, England cricket supporters almost didn't dare to hope. We'd had our hopes dashed too many times. And the first few days at The Gabba almsot killed our hopes before we began. Strauss fell in the first over and Peter Siddle took a hat trick before Michael Hussey and Brad Haddin forge a partnership of well over 300. All anyone hoped for was the avoidance of an innings defeat. What followed was series turning. England piled up 517-1, their highest ever score for the loss of only one wicket. Alistair Cook, after a 50 in the first innings began one of the most dominant series ever seen by an English batsman with an unbeaten 235, only the first of the records he'd eventually break and Trott simply refused to give his wicket away with a ton of his own. Ponting's quick fifty would end up being the highlight of a wretched series with the bat. Australia responded to the lack of wickets by chopping and changing their bowling attack for the Second Test, England responded by reducing the Australians to 2/3 and, despite Hussey's best efforts, a double century from Kevin Pietersen led England to an innings victory. Flintoff's tears were long dry.
Australia struck back in Perth, the ever unpredictable Mitchell Johnson turning into a demon on his home ground, hitting 62 and then running through England twice to level the series. It was a blip though, Australia overreliant on individuals, only two of whom consistently delivered. England's team effort meant they overwhelmed the Australians again by an innings in Melbourne. In a series of lows, Australia's first innings 98 was surely their nadir - well, until Strauss and Cook breezed past 150. And when Jonathan Trott delivered another undefeated 'daddy hundred' the victory was only a matter of time, Australia being nowhere near as mentally strong as England. The Ashes were retained, England's best series result series for 24 years guaranteed. Ponting's poor series was ended early, a broken finger keeping him out of the final Test.
It was never in question. Jimmy Anderson, producing the best series by an English bowler in Australia for over 50 years, led the attack beautifully which first contained the Australian batsmen. All the seamers chipped in with wickets, the much hyped Swann reduced to a containment role by unhelpful wickets. Alistair Cook then shattered the English record for time spent at the crease in a series in racking up another 189, averaging a Bradmanesque 127 in finishing a series with the second most runs ever in one series by an Englishman. Further centuries from Bell and Prior meant England capped the series off with their highest ever innings score in Australia, 644. 364 runs were needed to avoid near total humiliation.
They were never near it of course. Despite a dash after losing seven wickets the previous evening the only thing that could stop England was the rain. All those who were at the ground, all those watching at home were there for a coronation. It was delayed briefly by rain, then by Peter Siddle and Steve Smith. Hilfenhaus and Beer, both natural No 11s, couldn't keep anyone out for long. Chris Tremlett split Beer's stumps to end the series and for once, the thousands crying at 1 am weren't tired and emotional, just celebrating the end of a 24 year nightmare. And we celebrated the end of Paul Collingwood's Test career. He'd failed with the bat, but been his usual fine self in the field and nipped out a crucial wicket with what would prove to be his last ball in Test cricket. The consummate team player as ever, he spoke eloquently about going out on a high, despite the personal failures. Test Match Special's Jonathan 'Aggers' Agnew was captured doing the celebratory sprinkler dance and no doubt even Sir Geoffrey cracked a genuine grin - how could even cricket's most demanding curmudgeon not love the first ever time Australia lost three Test matches in one series by an innings?
It won't ever go down as one of the greatest days of Test cricket, the result already all but determined. But England provided the climax their efforts almost demanded, not just squeezing home by the odd Test but adding a decisive gloss. It's here for the moment at 12:54 UK time when Tremlett shattered Mitchell Beer's stumps and thousands of hardened cricketing fans, used to humiliation, wept. It's there for a moment of pure, unadulterated sporting joy, an absolute hammering handed out to a foe who'd had the upper hand for so long. We didn't just retain the Ashes, we didn't allow the Australians even a glimpse of them. It was simple magnificence, and the best thing of all? This England side look as if they're just getting started. Beating Australia isn't the pinnacle any more, sustained quality performances are, no matter the opposition. It's not just a resounding victory for cricket fans to talk about into their dotage, it's a promise of a bright future.
They're staying home, they're staying home, they're staying... Ashes staying home..
Thursday, 6 January 2011
2. The Secret Life of Bob Monkhouse (January 3) (BBC4)
Bob Monkhouse was a fixture on TV as I was growing up. He'd always been there - hell, given his age and success he must have always seemed to have been there for my parents too. And he was bloody good at what he did, having the common touch to host game shows and having a joke for each occasion. Of course, being so good for so long meant he was rarely appreciated, instead being the butt of jibes about his permanent tan, his insurance salesman smile and his greasy slickness as a host. We didn't know about his stand-up career, nor the early sitcoms and serious acting. Arguably his gameshow omnipresence undersold a man who worked hard to make himself a fine comedian and gifted teller of jokes. And then, at the end of his career, he managed to remind everyone how god he'd made himself with shows such as Bob Monkhouse On The Spot, where he came up with jokes on topics randomly suggested by audience members. And, rightly, he spent the last eight years of his life reassessed as one of the finest comedians in Britain for over fifty years. A friend of mine witnessed his stand-up show and, having seen a fair number of those considered our best and brightest comedians, still thought it was the finest one he'd seen.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Documentaries called 'The Secret Life Of...' always ring alarm bells, similarly titled documentaries on Channel 4 being hatchet job on beloved comedians. This never fell into the trap of prurience though. Instead it presented a balanced overview of a long career, never shying away from more awkward or controversial moments. It covered the bright but doomed partnership with Dennis Goodwin, a career crisis where he all but abandoned comedy for serious acting and his controversial dismissal from The Golden Shot (and the footage of Norman Vaughan and Charlie Williams revealed what a poor decision that was and how easy Monkhouse made a ridiculously difficult job look). It even showed footage of the last of his Golden Shots before Vaughan took over, which showed a bitter edge to the comedy. It was a clear eyed run through one of the great light entertainment careers, and revealing to those of us who only knew him in his later years.
The real meat of the documentary though were the insights into the man behind the smarm. Without being overly intrusive, it covered the twin tragedies of his children (one having cerebral palsy, leading to a near heartbreaker of a moment where Monkhouse almost cracked talking about it on a chatshow, another dying of a heroin overdose in Thailand) and covering his last days. But what it revealed was the OCD collector behind the front, a man who not only collected comics (the walls of his house were covered in them) but who was absolutely obsessive about comedy. Obsessive to the point of recording everything possible (he had one of the first VCRs in the UK apparently had eight VCRs). He had to build a 'shed' in the garden to accommodate his video collection, which included a massive number of otherwise lost material. And he even obsessively annotated the Radio and TV Times to the times when programmes actually started. To someone who thinks they've still got too many videos like myself, the sheer number of tapes was jaw dropping and according to archivists the range of material recovered was even more so. To prosecute him for having the collection, on the basis of a note from Terry Wogan's son recovered from his dustbin was far more criminal than anything a quiet English obsessive was up to in preserving history that would otherwise have been lost.
What we got wasn't anything like a hatchet job. Instead it was a fitting tribute which recognised what an achievement his career was whilst prising off his mask enough to expose what the man behind it was really like. Behind that smooth mask was one of the great obsessive eccentrics that England seem to produce so many of. If anything, the documentary deepened the appreciation of the man by delving into his private life. There was no obvious agenda, just the story of one of the great entertainers and what drove him. Quite simply the textbook example of what a career spanning documentary should be.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Documentaries called 'The Secret Life Of...' always ring alarm bells, similarly titled documentaries on Channel 4 being hatchet job on beloved comedians. This never fell into the trap of prurience though. Instead it presented a balanced overview of a long career, never shying away from more awkward or controversial moments. It covered the bright but doomed partnership with Dennis Goodwin, a career crisis where he all but abandoned comedy for serious acting and his controversial dismissal from The Golden Shot (and the footage of Norman Vaughan and Charlie Williams revealed what a poor decision that was and how easy Monkhouse made a ridiculously difficult job look). It even showed footage of the last of his Golden Shots before Vaughan took over, which showed a bitter edge to the comedy. It was a clear eyed run through one of the great light entertainment careers, and revealing to those of us who only knew him in his later years.
The real meat of the documentary though were the insights into the man behind the smarm. Without being overly intrusive, it covered the twin tragedies of his children (one having cerebral palsy, leading to a near heartbreaker of a moment where Monkhouse almost cracked talking about it on a chatshow, another dying of a heroin overdose in Thailand) and covering his last days. But what it revealed was the OCD collector behind the front, a man who not only collected comics (the walls of his house were covered in them) but who was absolutely obsessive about comedy. Obsessive to the point of recording everything possible (he had one of the first VCRs in the UK apparently had eight VCRs). He had to build a 'shed' in the garden to accommodate his video collection, which included a massive number of otherwise lost material. And he even obsessively annotated the Radio and TV Times to the times when programmes actually started. To someone who thinks they've still got too many videos like myself, the sheer number of tapes was jaw dropping and according to archivists the range of material recovered was even more so. To prosecute him for having the collection, on the basis of a note from Terry Wogan's son recovered from his dustbin was far more criminal than anything a quiet English obsessive was up to in preserving history that would otherwise have been lost.
What we got wasn't anything like a hatchet job. Instead it was a fitting tribute which recognised what an achievement his career was whilst prising off his mask enough to expose what the man behind it was really like. Behind that smooth mask was one of the great obsessive eccentrics that England seem to produce so many of. If anything, the documentary deepened the appreciation of the man by delving into his private life. There was no obvious agenda, just the story of one of the great entertainers and what drove him. Quite simply the textbook example of what a career spanning documentary should be.
1. Father Ted Night (Jan 1st)
New Years are often supposed to be about looking forward, but given a fair chunk of the population has been imbibing/staying up late or both it ends up being neither, just passing by in a pleasant haze (or with an unpleasant head). New Year's Day therefore ends up being the hangover from the previous year - Doctor Who used it as a full stop to the Russell T Davies/David Tennant years for instance. So it's really just an extenstion of the old year, a grey zone at the end of the Christmas period before things return to normal. So it's a more appropriate time to look back that might otherwise be thought.
And so Channel 4 opened the New Year by celebrating what's probably it's greatest sitcom success (and I say that as a big fan of Spaced and the denizens of the old late 80s/early 90s Friday night slot, let alone Peep Show). Father Ted is proof you can't tell a thing about how good a show will be until you see the thing made. A sitcom about three pressies and their housekeeper on an arse end of nowhere island? And all this written, directed and acted by native Irishmen, the two leads being comedians rather than actors? Never going to work...
Except of course it did. Let's start with the bit no-one outside the writers thinks of about situation comedy - the situation. Ideally the situation is something which naturally forces the characters together and from which there's no prospect of escape, hence allowing certain tensions in that can be miined for comedy. What we've got is three priests the Catholic church have shoved away to where they can do least damage - Father Ted Crilly himself for 'that Lourdes thing' (allegedly stealing charitable donations and absconding to Vegas), Father Dougal McGuire who could charitably described as naive, uncharitably as simple, and Father Jack Hackett, a complete pisshead. And as their occasional visits from Bishop Brennan make clear, they've no hope of escaping (although they do make the odd excursion, such as in The Mainland). And all fuelled by tea obsessed housekeeper Mrs Doyle. It's perfect material to mine for comedy, three contrasting characters in a closed space. And for three series (plus the seemingly obligatory Christmas special) it was one of the most consistently funny and inventive sitcoms seen on British TV. Dermot Morgan brought a sublimated manic frustration to the always-rolling-snake-eyes-on-the-dice-of-life Ted, Ardal O'Hanlon was all wide eyed innocence as Dougal and all you need to know about how good Frank Kelly's memorably grotesque Jack was is when you see him interviewed, intelligent and soft spoken. And even better Linehan, Matthews and Hat Trick Productions knew when to get out, already having decided the show was to end before the sadly early death of Dermot Morgan. They mined three series worth of material, and got out before they started struggling for material.
This then was Channel 4 celebrating one of their great triumphs - about time really given it was nearly thirteen years since it ended. It began with Linehan and Matthews discussing their comic influences, a diverting but by no means essential documentary as most of these turn out to be the best known comedies of the time (the likes of Seinfeld, Only Fools and Horses and The Simpsons), but also bringing up less obvious and lesser known films such as Neil Simon's The Heartbreak Kid and the mind boggling Irish beauty contest the Rose of Tralee. It's those lesser known influences that are more interesting - the showing of The Heartbreak Kid at the end of the evening gave an opportunity to see how they'd drawn from Charles Grodin's Lenny Cantrow for Ted. And besides, anything that gets a Neil Simon film on terrestrial TV is a damn fine thing.
The other documentary of the evening, 'Small, Far Away' was a loving tribute from the writers, director and much of the cast. It covered the making of the series, from the late, great Geoffrey Perkins suggesting a mock documentary be turned into a full series, right through to Going to America and the show's legacy. What it turned into, which raised it above any sort of weren't-we-great backslapping fest was the emotion that clearly showed when it came to discussing Perkins and Morgan, particularly Morgan. Perkins was once again revealed as probably the finest producer of comedy of the last thirty years, ridiculously modest for a man associated with The Hitch-Hikers Guide TO The Galaxy, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue, KYTV, Have I Got News For You, Drop the Dead Donkey... and all whilst having a perfect sitcom name. But it's clear, particularly from interviews with O'Hanlon and Jim Norton (Bishop Brennan), that losing Morgan at a relatively young age is still a raw wound. In particular, Norton discussing why he could never watch 'Kicking Bishop Brennan Up The Arse' was a poignant highlight, a painful and tender moment. But the emotion was never allowed to overwhelm a typically understated celebration, which managed to capture the essence of why Ted was great without ever overstepping the line into self congratulation.
Splitting the documentaries and the film up were a viewer favourite episode and then Matthews and Linehan's favourite. I must admit to being pleasantly surprised that Song for Europe didn't win thew viewer vote, instead it was one of my favourites, the brilliantly conceived Speed 3 (I needn't point out that minds that can conceive of the absurdity of re-enacting the Speed films on a milkfloat are those of twisted genii). It's a masterclass of plotting, covering cheap innuendo, parody, sharp digs at Catholicism and deliciously delayed pay-offs. I should note I'm exceptionally jealous that my wife saw the studio filming for the episode. And if you haven't seen it you need to do it now. And the writers chose my other favourite, the sublimely titled 'Kicking Bishop Brennan Up The Arse'. Originally the second part of a double episode, it still worked magnificently as a stand alone, the scenes following the titular booting being some of the finest sustained comic tension seen on British television. And yes, it's still bloody funny now.
Which is kind of the point. It'd be pointless celebrating if the evening didn't remind you how painfully funny Ted always was. But for a few hours it did, neatly sidestepping simple nostalgia and providing something far more worthwhile, and reminding you that sometimes spectacels don't need to be rose tinted. The good times really were that good.
And so Channel 4 opened the New Year by celebrating what's probably it's greatest sitcom success (and I say that as a big fan of Spaced and the denizens of the old late 80s/early 90s Friday night slot, let alone Peep Show). Father Ted is proof you can't tell a thing about how good a show will be until you see the thing made. A sitcom about three pressies and their housekeeper on an arse end of nowhere island? And all this written, directed and acted by native Irishmen, the two leads being comedians rather than actors? Never going to work...
Except of course it did. Let's start with the bit no-one outside the writers thinks of about situation comedy - the situation. Ideally the situation is something which naturally forces the characters together and from which there's no prospect of escape, hence allowing certain tensions in that can be miined for comedy. What we've got is three priests the Catholic church have shoved away to where they can do least damage - Father Ted Crilly himself for 'that Lourdes thing' (allegedly stealing charitable donations and absconding to Vegas), Father Dougal McGuire who could charitably described as naive, uncharitably as simple, and Father Jack Hackett, a complete pisshead. And as their occasional visits from Bishop Brennan make clear, they've no hope of escaping (although they do make the odd excursion, such as in The Mainland). And all fuelled by tea obsessed housekeeper Mrs Doyle. It's perfect material to mine for comedy, three contrasting characters in a closed space. And for three series (plus the seemingly obligatory Christmas special) it was one of the most consistently funny and inventive sitcoms seen on British TV. Dermot Morgan brought a sublimated manic frustration to the always-rolling-snake-eyes-on-the-dice-of-life Ted, Ardal O'Hanlon was all wide eyed innocence as Dougal and all you need to know about how good Frank Kelly's memorably grotesque Jack was is when you see him interviewed, intelligent and soft spoken. And even better Linehan, Matthews and Hat Trick Productions knew when to get out, already having decided the show was to end before the sadly early death of Dermot Morgan. They mined three series worth of material, and got out before they started struggling for material.
This then was Channel 4 celebrating one of their great triumphs - about time really given it was nearly thirteen years since it ended. It began with Linehan and Matthews discussing their comic influences, a diverting but by no means essential documentary as most of these turn out to be the best known comedies of the time (the likes of Seinfeld, Only Fools and Horses and The Simpsons), but also bringing up less obvious and lesser known films such as Neil Simon's The Heartbreak Kid and the mind boggling Irish beauty contest the Rose of Tralee. It's those lesser known influences that are more interesting - the showing of The Heartbreak Kid at the end of the evening gave an opportunity to see how they'd drawn from Charles Grodin's Lenny Cantrow for Ted. And besides, anything that gets a Neil Simon film on terrestrial TV is a damn fine thing.
The other documentary of the evening, 'Small, Far Away' was a loving tribute from the writers, director and much of the cast. It covered the making of the series, from the late, great Geoffrey Perkins suggesting a mock documentary be turned into a full series, right through to Going to America and the show's legacy. What it turned into, which raised it above any sort of weren't-we-great backslapping fest was the emotion that clearly showed when it came to discussing Perkins and Morgan, particularly Morgan. Perkins was once again revealed as probably the finest producer of comedy of the last thirty years, ridiculously modest for a man associated with The Hitch-Hikers Guide TO The Galaxy, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue, KYTV, Have I Got News For You, Drop the Dead Donkey... and all whilst having a perfect sitcom name. But it's clear, particularly from interviews with O'Hanlon and Jim Norton (Bishop Brennan), that losing Morgan at a relatively young age is still a raw wound. In particular, Norton discussing why he could never watch 'Kicking Bishop Brennan Up The Arse' was a poignant highlight, a painful and tender moment. But the emotion was never allowed to overwhelm a typically understated celebration, which managed to capture the essence of why Ted was great without ever overstepping the line into self congratulation.
Splitting the documentaries and the film up were a viewer favourite episode and then Matthews and Linehan's favourite. I must admit to being pleasantly surprised that Song for Europe didn't win thew viewer vote, instead it was one of my favourites, the brilliantly conceived Speed 3 (I needn't point out that minds that can conceive of the absurdity of re-enacting the Speed films on a milkfloat are those of twisted genii). It's a masterclass of plotting, covering cheap innuendo, parody, sharp digs at Catholicism and deliciously delayed pay-offs. I should note I'm exceptionally jealous that my wife saw the studio filming for the episode. And if you haven't seen it you need to do it now. And the writers chose my other favourite, the sublimely titled 'Kicking Bishop Brennan Up The Arse'. Originally the second part of a double episode, it still worked magnificently as a stand alone, the scenes following the titular booting being some of the finest sustained comic tension seen on British television. And yes, it's still bloody funny now.
Which is kind of the point. It'd be pointless celebrating if the evening didn't remind you how painfully funny Ted always was. But for a few hours it did, neatly sidestepping simple nostalgia and providing something far more worthwhile, and reminding you that sometimes spectacels don't need to be rose tinted. The good times really were that good.
The Mission, Should I Choose To Accept It
Simple idea, because it's going to save me a lot of time and trouble at the end of the year. These are the things that I've loved this year books, telly, films*, mags, websites, whatever - they may not all have been made or released this year (particularly since anything I'm discussing now will have roots in at least 2010 for a start off). It'll mean I don't miss out on anything I loved during the year.
Simple enough, yep? Off we go then, I've got a few lined up to start with...
* Don't hold your breath too much on the films though, having a near three year old around means I don't get to see too many - last year I managed to get out to the flicks only three times (Inception, The A Team and Toy Story 3).
Simple enough, yep? Off we go then, I've got a few lined up to start with...
* Don't hold your breath too much on the films though, having a near three year old around means I don't get to see too many - last year I managed to get out to the flicks only three times (Inception, The A Team and Toy Story 3).
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