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The Dave Nice Video Show, Part One: “A 60s Version of The Word”

TV Comedy

NICEY: Freddie was my most glorious introduction to pop. I remember the morn after the show, I got up and looked at myself in the mirror and said: “Mate, you’re a great bloke. You really are a great bloke. Open your gorgeous eyes and look. Pop’s here. Look, I pondered to myself, look, you great big beautiful blue-eyed lovely man. You were put ‘pon this earth to be one of the world’s great philosophers. To teach people about the meaning-of-life-type stuff. To show ’em how to make a curious sense of this crazy-world-in-which-we-live-in-type scenario. With pop as your vehicle1, you can speak to the nation. For that is your purpose.”

Nicey belches.

What is the most memorable part of Smashie and Nicey: the End of an Era?

I would argue the show sets out its stall early on. Firstly, there’s the glimpse of Dave Nice seamlessly dancing with Freddie Garrity on Blue Peter. This is followed shortly afterwards by Nicey blatantly hitting on Paul McCartney during an interview. If End of an Era had provided nothing of interest but those two scenes, it would still have earned its place in comedy history. A perfect blend of archive footage, and brand new material, fused together to form comedy nirvana.

But where does the archive footage in these scenes originally come from? Surely we can do better than “a 60s episode of Blue Peter” and “footage of a Beatles concert”? Yes. Yes, we can. Much better.

All timings given are from the broadcast version of End of an Era, although I’ve tried hard to give enough video reference here that you shouldn’t need to find whatever dodgy copy you have of it.

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  1. Mere text cannot quite convey how Harry Enfield pronounces this word. 

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Smashie’s Saturday Smiles

TV Comedy

INSPECTOR FOWLER: We have all seen the musical Oliver, and are familiar with the images of jolly, apple-cheeked urchins in big hats. Well, dispel this cozy impression. The Artful Dodger was a thief, and I don’t think he’d have considered himself quite so “at home” in a juvenile detention centre, which is where I’d have put him. Thieving is thieving. And no amount of “oom-pah-pah” or “boom-titty-titty” will change that. An Englishman’s pockets are his castle.

CONSTABLE KRAY: More like his pocket billiard room.

INSPECTOR FOWLER: Detective Constable Kray, there is a place for fatuous, flippant, would-be humorous inanities, and that place is on Noel’s House Party.

The Thin Blue Line, “The Queen’s Birthday Present”
TX: 13th November 1995

Here’s a question. How many overt parodies of Noel’s House Party can you name? Ones that go beyond the very amusing Thin Blue Line joke above1, and actually start tearing the show apart properly?

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  1. It is notable how much the studio audience in The Thin Blue Line enjoys the gag. 

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Smashie and Nicey – the End of an Era: Music Guide

TV Comedy

Nicey listening to music on headphones

What exactly is Smashie and Nicey – the End of an Era?

One of the endless joys of the show is that it’s many things. A parody of a certain kind of DJ, of course. Also a pastiche of a certain kind of documentary. But it’s also a trawl through decades of British light entertainment: a macrocosm of a particular strand of British culture.

With that in mind, it’s no surprise that the show is absolutely stuffed to the gills with music, of all different kinds. Some of them obvious, others obscure. Wouldn’t it be nice if somebody sat and worked out exactly where everything came from?

What, you want me to do it? Fine.

All times given are for the broadcast version of the show, although I’ve also noted any significant music changes made for the extended VHS edit. For any music which is taken from archive footage, I’ve provided very minimal details here; a companion article detailing all the stock footage used in the show is in the works.

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BBC100: Smashie and Nicey – the End of an Era (1994)

TV Comedy

For more on this BBC100 series of posts, read this introduction.

BBC 100 logo with Smashie and Nicey at their press conference

I get the idea with this project that I’m not really supposed to have favourites. The whole point is to celebrate a range of BBC programmes across the decades. Having a best one is a bit naughty, really. But on a good day, Smashie and Nicey – the End of an Era stands as my favourite TV show ever made. It somehow seems to represent everything that television can do as a medium, in 45 minutes of utter joy.

And yet those 45 minutes didn’t spring out of nowhere. Like so much brilliant comedy, it has its roots in something rather more ordinary, at least at first glance. Harry Enfield’s Television Programme (1990-92) is the kind of sketch show which used to be de rigueur on telly, and now very much isn’t. The number of famous characters which sprung from this series and its successor Harry Enfield and Chums is extraordinary: Tim Nice-but-Dim, The Slobs, Mr Cholmondley-Warner, Kevin the Teenager… the list is endless.

But two of the very best were Smashie and Nicey, played by Paul Whitehouse and Harry Enfield. Radio DJs for Fab FM – an extremely thinly-disguised parody of BBC Radio 1 – sketches typically went as follows:

NICEY: I love Tuesdays, don’t you mate?
SMASHIE: Certainly do mate, it’s one of the best between-Monday-and-Wednesday-type days we’ve got.
NICEY: It’s the only between-Monday-and-Wednesday-type day we’ve got mate. It may not have the glamour and excitement of a Saturday night, or the mournfulness of a Monday morn, but it’s our Tuesday, the good old-fashioned honest-to-goodness down-to-earth Great British Tuesday.

Inevitably, every sketch ended with them playing Bachman-Turner Overdrive and “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet”. If inane DJs were an easy and at times unfair target, it was an exceptionally well aimed one nonetheless, and the characters became a byword for what mainstream Radio 1 was doing in the early 90s.

But events quickly overtook Enfield and Whitehouse. In 1993, Matthew Bannister became the new controller of the real Radio 1, replacing Johnny Beerling who had been with the station since its launch in 1967. His remit was simple: get rid of the Smashie & Nicey image. Things started changing immediately. At a stroke, Enfield and Whitehouse had managed to create that rare thing: satire that actually achieved something.

And yet the success of their satire also seemed to signify its downfall. What was the point of continuing the Smashie and Nicey sketches, when what they were satirising was now dying? It was a point well taken by Enfield and Whitehouse. They decided to do one last special to say goodbye to the characters, and then move on.

That special was End of an Era, and they were given a gift of an opening. In August 1993, Radio 1 DJ Dave Lee Travis resigned live on air, with the immortal words “Changes are being made here which go against my principles, and I just cannot agree with them.” It was a short leap to change this to a press conference, and for Dave Nice to talk about “the current backstabtrocious policies” instead. What follows is a mockumentary – essentially in the style of the then-current BBC series Omnibus – looking both backwards and forwards at Smashie and Nicey’s career.

And what we end up with – and bear with me on this one – is British comedy’s version of James Joyce’s Ulysses. Before you close the browser and consider reporting me to the authorities, let me explain. Ulysses is often described as just as much of an encyclopedia as a novel; as “complete” a description of Dublin in the early 20th century as you would ever be likely to need. End of an Era is pretty much the same, but for British light entertainment from the 1960s – 90s. Less comprehensive, sure. But somehow, watching it, you feel you now know everything you need to about its development.

So we get Smashie’s ill-advised stint as an actor in live drama, Nicey interviewing the Beatles, their early days on Radio Fab in the 60s, their 70s Top of the Pops years, Smashie’s brief fortray into punk records (“On the ruddy rotten dole”), Nicey throwing himself into the world of advertising… all the way through to 90s Comic Relief, and Noel’s House Party. (Erm, sorry, Smashie’s Saturday Smiles.) All expertly recreated, either shot from scratch as pitch-perfect parodies, or by splicing together existing footage with newly shot-material of Enfield or Whitehouse.

One section in particular is just a perfect combination of picture research, special effects, and comic acting. To show Nicey’s career as a Blue Peter presenter, the team took an actual performance of Freddie and the Dreamers on the show (originally transmitted 23rd March 1963), and added Enfield dancing next to Freddie Garrity. It’s an astonishing piece of work which looks incredible today, let alone in 1994. It’s not just the brilliant compositing of the two pieces of footage; Enfield is moving in perfect synch with Freddie’s original distinctive leg movements. You just would not believe the footage was shot 30 years apart.

And then we get the big admission. Towards the end of the programme, we cut to the birthday party for 25 years of Fab FM, and meet a bunch of Smashie and Nicey’s replacements. (“Simon Northern-Accent, serious world music evening slot…”) And we are suddenly, utterly on Smashie and Nicey’s side, as we realise that their replacements are just as bad… or far worse. Enfield and Whitehouse weren’t out to destroy a section of British light entertainment after all. They just meant to poke a bit of fun.

Paul Whitehouse gave an interview to The Telegraph in 2015 which confirms this:

“I remember [former director general of the BBC] John Birt approached me at some award ceremony in the mid-Nineties… He said, “Oh well done, thanks for giving me the idea about the DJs. Now I can get rid of them.” And I said, ‘We actually quite like their rambling antics.'”

The characters of Smashie and Nicey weren’t inspired by hatred, or a desire to change things. They weren’t created in order to kill anything off. They came about through affection.

Perhaps people should have taken the satire a little less literally.

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DJs Leave Radio Fab

TV Comedy

JOHNNY BEERGUT: They’re sacked!
SMASHIE & NICEY: We resign!

The internet is not short of praise for Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse’s Smashie and Nicey: The End of an Era (TX: 4/4/94). This is not surprising, given that it’s their masterwork. What the internet is short of, mind, is going through End of an Era with a fine toothcomb, and picking out bits of obscure production detail.

Hello there. After our relaunch, let’s get back to business as usual, right?

So take a look at the newspaper at the beginning of End of an Era, announcing the resignation of Smashie and Nicey in a highly amusing manner.1

Now, clearly they wouldn’t have written an entire edition of a newspaper just for this sequence. So our question for today: what real newspaper did the production team use as a basis for the prop?

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  1. Incidentally, I also enjoy the Hippies take on this joke: HIPPIES IN POINTLESS, STUPID PROTEST AT OBSCURE SANDPAPER EXHIBITION. 

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The End of an Era: Yewtree Edition

TV Comedy

On the 31st Aug 15, an event was to happen of such earth-shattering proportions, that it was to shatter the earth to its very proportions. Smashie & Nicey: The End of an Era was repeated on BBC Two, for the first time since 2010. And… well, an awful lot has happened since 2010. Were we about to get a butchered-to-hell edit?

Perhaps surprisingly, no. The edits were minimal – in fact, comparing the two versions side-by-side, I only spotted two. Let’s take a look, shall we?

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Smashie and Nicey: The End of an Era

TV Comedy

“On the 22nd Nov 93, an event was to happen of such earth-shattering proportions that it was to shatter the earth to its very proportions…”

Or maybe that should be 4th Apr 94. For that was the day Smashie and Nicey: The End of an Era was first broadcast on BBC1: a spoof documentary featuring your favourite loveable Radio Fab DJs… acting not quite so loveably. Not that “spoof documentary” feels like an adequate description for this trawl through four decades of British pop culture – which, with absolutely no hyperbole, is one of the funniest, most affecting, most beautifully made pieces of comedy I have ever seen. If Norbert Smith – a Life is the best thing Harry Enfield ever did solo, then this is the best work Enfield and Whitehouse produced together.

Following on from the broadcast, the special was released on VHS: and rather than just the usual odd bit of music substitution, it was actually an entirely different, longer edit – a full five minutes longer, in fact. If you know me or this site even slightly, you can probably see where this is leading. So join me now, as I detail every single last difference between the two versions – and if you never saw the VHS edit, enjoy some extra moments of pure joy.

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