Home AboutArchivesBest Of Subscribe

“It doesn’t rain in TV studios!”

Other TV

It’s odd, how some shows fade from the common memory.

Take How Do They Do That?, a magazine show which aired on BBC1 between 1994-97. You do not require a long explanation of what the point of the show was: the format of the programme is contained entirely within its title. Just ask that question a few hundred times per episode, give some answers, and you have yourself a television programme.

These days, the show mainly known for two things. Among TV presentation fans, it’s known for this behind-the-scenes look at the making of the BBC2 idents. And among Red Dwarf fans, it’s known for this behind-the-scenes look at the model effects for Series VII. And that’s pretty much your lot.

But I have one very, very strong memory of the show. Something which stuck with me for 25 years. The other day, I decided to see if anybody had uploaded it anywhere, not expecting to be rewarded. And blow me down, somebody else had remembered it too.

Here’s the day – the 24th January 1996, although the explanation part of the clip comes from the following week – when the How Do They Do That? studio was flooded.

Usually, when writing about my TV memories, I make an effort to note down what I remember about a show before watching the resulting video. This time, however, I was caught off-guard. I never really expected it to be online, let alone to find it so easily. So my memories of watching this stunt in 1996 are now thoroughly blended with me watching the video in 2021, and they’re difficult to disentangle.

But there is one moment I 100%, absolutely do remember. And that’s the point 36 seconds in, where we cut from studio VT to film.1 It blew my mind when I first watched it, aged 14. It still fairly blows my mind now. Suddenly, with that one shot change, we see the barriers between different kinds of television breaking down. Magazine shows just aren’t supposed to turn into films on a whim. But this one had. I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing.

I’ve always had a love for television which send genres crashing into each other. Red Dwarf is a sitcom crossed with science fiction. Ghostwatch is a drama, done as a live documentary. And here is a normal magazine show, crossed with a disaster movie. There’s nothing that is more designed to send my brain flying off in weird directions than that. It’s exactly the kind of TV that I adore. The fact they actually then went behind-the-scenes in order to tell us how it all worked was the icing on the cake, but that wasn’t the thing I truly loved about the sequence. I loved the initial genre-bending, legitimately odd piece of television.

Wide shot of studio
Flooded studio


And this is exactly the kind of thing which TV finds it difficult to do in 2021. No evening magazine show on BBC One is going to have the money to go off to Pinewood Studios and shoot a sequence like this in their water tank. With a few honourable exceptions such as The One Show, evening magazine shows are an endangered species full stop these days, let alone anything else. The budget for television to go out and do spectacular, stupid things like this just isn’t there any more, at least for this kind of show.

Which makes me sad. Because this is one reason why I loved the kind of TV that was around when I was 14. Not because I was 14. Not because of rose-tinted spectacles. But because truly odd, spectacular things like this could happen on a Wednesday evening on BBC1.

And I miss it.

With thanks to KillianM2 for the original YouTube upload. Their YouTube channel has loads of great stuff, that you could – and should – get lost for hours in.


  1. Sadly a little obscured by the upload, as the VT sequence has been folded down to half the temporal resolution it would have had on broadcast. But you still get some of the effect. 

Read more about...

What The Papers Say

TV Comedy

HACKER: Don’t tell me about the press. I know exactly who reads the papers. The Daily Mirror is read by people who think they run the country. The Guardian is read by people who think they ought to run the country. The Times is read by the people who actually do run the country. The Daily Mail is read by the wives of the people who run the country. The Financial Times is read by people who own the country. The Morning Star is read by people who think the country ought to be run by another country. And The Daily Telegraph is read by people who think it is.
HUMPHREY: Prime Minister, what about people who read The Sun?
BERNARD: Sun readers don’t care who runs the country as long as she’s got big tits.

Yes, Prime Minister, “A Conflict of Interest” (TX: 23/12/87)

The above is one of the most famous sequences in the whole of Yes Minister and Yes, Prime Minister. And like so much of the best comedy, it’s many things at once. A forthright piece of satire on the media, a character moment for Bernard… oh, and a rude joke into the bargain.

It was also, in some circles, a well-worn piece of material by the time it was broadcast on the 23rd December 1987. And the original version of that material was certainly not written by Antony Jay and Jonathan Lynn.

Not that any of this comes under the Official Secrets Act. It’s often been talked about on Twitter, people have asked about it on forums, and it’s also briefly discussed in Graham McCann’s excellent book, A Very Courageous Decision: The Inside Story of Yes Minister. But nobody seems to have collated all the different strands of this little story together in one place.

So here is the tale of where this routine comes from… or, at least, as close as we can get. I can’t promise you that I have found the true origin of this material. But I believe I have managed to get further back than anybody ever has before. And if you already think you know definitively where this material comes from, then prepare to be surprised.

[Read more →]

Read more about...

,

Talking Stock: Hi-de-Hi’s Closing Credits, Part Two

TV Comedy

Dear reader, I fear that with my last article, I may have pushed your goodwill too far. Moreover, I may yet do so again before the end of this article. So before you click away and resolve to never to read another word of this dumb website, let’s quickly dive into some of the good stuff I’ve been promising.

So, where exactly does the stock footage used in the end credits of Hi-de-Hi! come from? Well, let’s throw ourselves straight into some Pathé archive, shall we? And immediately, something rather exciting makes itself obvious…

[Read more →]

Read more about...

,

Talking Stock: Hi-de-Hi’s Closing Credits, Part One

TV Comedy

Last time, I talked at length about the stock footage used in the opening titles of Hi-de-Hi! They took us on a whirlwind tour of important news stories from the late 50s/early 60s, and do a beautiful job of setting up the mood of the show before Ted even mentions his latest scheme.

The closing credits take a different tack. We’re still in newsreel land, but they’re not of important news stories of the day. Instead, it’s a trip through actual footage of holiday camps from the period. It’s the perfect goodbye to each episode, and again adds a real sense of verisimilitude to the show. It also seems to look like a gift to any researcher tracing down the origin of the clips used; surely, if anything, clips of people having fun would be even more delightful to wallow in?

Sort of. In fact, I’ve had a few problems researching this footage, which makes it rather more irritating than I’d hoped. You may eventually get a dopamine hit with this one, but it’ll take a while to get there. Before all that, we have to deal with some exciting sitcom admin. And the major reason for this admin is that unlike the opening titles, which stay the same for every single episode, the footage used in the end credits keeps changing.

[Read more →]

Read more about...

,

Drop The Dead Donkey: George’s Wedding?

TV Comedy

There is something very suspicious about Series 4 of Drop the Dead Donkey, you know. And it involves poor old downtrodden news editor George Dent.

For years, we’ve heard about his dreadful life with Margaret, his wife. About her cruelty towards him, about her affairs, about him having to go and sleep alone in the attic… and about how she eventually divorces him. This comes to a head early in the aforementioned Series 4, with “The Day of the Mum” (TX: 13/10/94). The day Margaret remarries.

Except brilliantly, rather than resulting in more misery for George, the episode culminates with his delicious revenge instead:

DAVE: Oh no, let me get this straight. You hired a beautiful call girl to accompany you to your ex-wife’s wedding just to rub her nose in it, and then you got this woman to make a pass at the groom… and ruined their wedding day. That’s what you did, isn’t it George?
GEORGE: Yes. That’s what I did. And it was the best £2000 I have ever spent.

Indeed, for a while, things begin to look up for George. In “Helen’s Parents” two weeks later, he’s met someone new. And not some “sad old spinster who’s picked up George because her favourite Labrador’s died”, as Henry so delicately puts it. She’s gorgeous.

GEORGE: I’d like you all to meet Anna, everybody.
ANNA: I am very pleased to meet you all.
GEORGE: Anna is from Poland.
ANNA: But now my English is quite good. One day I hope to even understand Loyd Grossman.

In case you thought the show would let George be happy for long, you are very much mistaken.1 The very first time we see her alone with George in his office – “This is my wall planner – where I plan things… on my wall” – we are immediately suspicious of Anna’s reactions. The show doesn’t leave us with much mystery about her intentions towards him.

[Read more →]


  1. Unlike in real life, where Jeff Rawle ended up marrying Nina Marc, who plays Anna, in 1998. And they’re still together. Awwwww. 

Read more about...

Talking Stock: Hi-de-Hi’s Opening Titles

TV Comedy

Out of all the many great things about Hi-de-Hi!, one of my very favourites is how the show achieves such an achingly specific sense of period.

Part of that is the beautiful location filming, at Warner’s Holiday Camp in Dovercourt. Part of that is because Jimmy Perry lived and breathed this world, rather than spending his whole life indoors attempting to become a writer. And part of that is the brilliant theme music, which – much like the Dad’s Army theme – sounds like something which was sung at the time.

But alongside the strains of “Holiday Rock” is another, less-talked about means of establishing exactly when we are. Look past the close-up of Paul Shane’s face in the opening titles, and stock footage – mostly from the late 50s – plays in the background. A quadrant of key historical events of the time. And that same footage was used from Hi-de-Hi!‘s pilot in 1980, right through to its last episode in 1988.1

So, where is this footage from? The answer is contemporary newsreels, mostly from the late 1950s, from outfits like Pathé and Visnews. And helpfully, the paperwork for the Hi-de-Hi! pilot lists every single one of the newsreels used, along with their catalogue number. So I thought it would be fun to try and trace every newsreel clip used in the opening titles, and find the full versions of each online. That, to me, seems like a worthwhile way of spending my life. I presume, if you’re still reading this article, that reading such a thing seems a worthwhile way of spending your life too.

First, the good news. I’ve managed to identify every single historical event depicted in the opening titles, and trace a good number of the original newsreels, especially when it comes to the Pathé material. On the other hand, even with the original paperwork, some of this material has been impossible to find. Exactly why is a bit of a story in itself, and I’ll explain along the way.

So take a trip with me now to 1959…

[Read more →]


  1. The opening was amended in 1984 to accommodate Simon Cadell leaving the show, but the background footage remained the same. 

Read more about...

,

The Most Exciting VT Clock in the World

TV Comedy

I have so many things piled up, just waiting for me to find the time to watch. High on that list is Angels, which I’ve promised someone I’ll give a proper go, after they took the time to watch Tenko on my recommendation.

So, instead, I’ve… started my umpteenth rewatch of Drop the Dead Donkey. Oh well, whatever. We’re in the middle of a pandemic, I need my comforts. And you deserve your comforts as well. If you spend any kind of time reading this site at all, hopefully you’ll enjoy this little observation.

Let’s take a brief look at the final episode of Series 1, “The Big Day” (TX: 11/10/90). We’re not going to tackle the main plot, about whether it’s Henry or Sally who gets to interview Margaret Thatcher. Instead, we’re going to concentrate on the episode’s chorus: a friendly, if mildly irritating electrician.

Or more specifically, what’s on the monitor behind him. Surely that’s not…

Electrician with VT clock in the background
Close-up of VT clock


DROP THE DEAD DONKEY
INSERT 17
SHOW 10 INSERT A
AFRICA

Amazing. And just in case you thought that might be any old Drop the Dead Donkey VT clock, “The Big Day” is Show 10. And the very first VT insert of the show is indeed set in Africa, where Damien tempts a young child with chocolate before smacking them round the head to induce the requisite crying:

Child in truck
Child after just having been hit by Damien


Clearly, the team needed something technical to route to the monitor on-set in order to look the part, and just chose the output of the VTR machine used to play in the pre-records… hoping that we wouldn’t be looking too closely. They clearly thought I’d have better things to do in 31 years time. They were incorrect.

I can’t be arsed trying to identify the other 16 inserts used throughout the series, though. What, do you think I’m sad or something?

Read more about...

How to Write Your Very Own Dirty Feed Article

Meta

Just follow this easy template:

  • You thought <something interesting but well-worn> about <an old sitcom>, didn’t you
  • But had you considered <something boring but at least obscure>
  • By the way, that’s exactly like this bit in Red Dwarf

Sprinkle liberally with “however”, and serve for between 300 – 2500 hits.

Roughly 3,000 Words on Yes Minister Pilot Edits

TV Comedy

When discussing the origins of Yes Minister, one story seems to loom above all: a nervous BBC delaying the series until after the 1979 election. The following version of this tale, told by writer Jonathan Lynn, seems a good a place to start as any. On that pilot recording:

“That Sunday, we recorded the show. I had asserted, with a confidence I did not wholly feel, that it would get laughs. Neither of us1 quite expected the gales of laughter which came from the studio audience that night. John Howard Davies lost little time in commissioning three more scripts, to make the first series of seven. Then we waited, and waited… and waited.

The Winter of Discontent approached and government all but broke down, and the BBC refused to transmit the first series until after the forthcoming election, which turned out to be not until 1979. They were scared that it would be seen as improperly influencing the election. Finally, three years after we had first proposed the show to the BBC, we went on the air in February 1980.”

Jonathan Lynn, “Comedy Rules”, p. 107

Perhaps Lynn can be accused of indulging of some spin of his own here. I’m willing to take him at his word that it was three years since he and Jay had proposed the series to the BBC, but that isn’t the real point when it comes to this particular delay. The heavy implication in the line about the election not being “until 1979” is surely that the pilot was made in 1978; otherwise, why not say “later that year”?

In fact, the pilot of Yes Minister was shot on… the 4th February 1979, a year before it was broadcast on the 25th February 1980. The election clearly caused a delay, but perhaps not for as long as Lynn indicates here.

[Read more →]


  1. Lynn is referring to his co-writer Anthony Jay here. 

Read more about...

, , ,

Cambridge 1959

TV Comedy

Right now, I’m deep in the middle of researching the stock footage used in the opening and closing titles of Hi-de-Hi!. Which, I’m sure you will all agree, is the best possible thing I could be doing with my life.

So as a little taster: have you ever wondered exactly where the footage which opens the pilot comes from, which the caption proudly proclaims is “Cambridge 1959”?1

Tough, I’m going to tell you anyway. I can EXCLUSIVELY reveal that it was taken from this short 1957 Pathé travelogue, called Cambridge Backs.

Which starts with a mild admonishment of the audience, because of course it does.2

Wait, so that was shot in 1957, but Hi-de-H! claims they’re showing Cambridge in 1959? MORE OUTRAGEOUS BBC LIES, CANCEL THE LICENCE FEE.


  1. Incidentally, the music used on Hi-de-Hi! for this sequence is a specially recorded organ version of “Gaudeamus Igitur”

  2. Silly to be nervous.” 

Read more about...