Home AboutArchivesBest Of Subscribe

The Henderson Report

TV Comedy

On the 23rd December 1982, BBC2 broadcast the final episode of Series 3 of Yes Minister. Titled “The Middle Class Rip-off”, it’s an amusing satire on arts funding, and the nature of “high” culture and “low” culture.1

SIR HUMPHREY: The point is, suppose other football clubs got into difficulties. And what about greyhound racing? Should dog tracks be subsidised as well as football clubs, for instance?
BERNARD: Well, why not, if that’s what the people want?
SIR HUMPHREY: Bernard, subsidy is for art. For culture. It is not to be given to what the people want. It is for what the people don’t want but ought to have! If they want something, they’ll pay for it themselves. No, we subsidise education, enlightenment, spiritual uplift. Not the vulgar pastimes of ordinary people.

You can probably guess which side Hacker is on.

HACKER: Why should the rest of the country subsidise the pleasures of the middle class few? Theatre, opera, ballet? Subsidising art in this country is nothing more than a middle class rip-off.
SIR HUMPHREY: Oh, minister! How can you say such a thing? Subsidy is about education. Preserving the pinnacles of our civilisation! Or hadn’t you noticed?
HACKER: Don’t patronise me Humphrey, I believe in education too. I’m a graduate of the London School of Economics, may I remind you.
SIR HUMPHREY: Well, I’m glad to learn that even the LSE is not totally opposed to education.

Very droll, Humphrey. Still, the rights and wrongs of funding for the arts isn’t our big interest today. Instead, I want to look at the Radio Times capsule for the episode. Which features something rather unusual.


9.0pm Yes Minister
The Middle Class Rip-off
written by Anthony Jay and Jonathan Lynn
starring Paul Eddington
Nigel Hawthorne
Derek Fowlds

Jim Hacker MP... Paul Eddington
Sir Humphrey Appleby... Nigel Hawthorne
Bernard Woolley... Derek Fowlds
Sir Arnold Robinson... John Nettleton
Sir Ian Whitworth... John Barron
Brian Wilkinson... Patrick O'Connell
Football chairman... Derek Benfield
Curator... Joanna Henderson

Film cameraman Reg Pope
Film sound Bill Wild
Film editor John Dunstan
Designer Gary Pritchard
Produced and directed by Peter Whitmore

Take a look at those names. Eddington, Hawthorne, Fowlds: check. And John Nettleton, John Barron, Patrick O’Connell, and Derek Benfield: check. But what about Joanna Henderson, playing the Curator? She’s not in the episode at all. Nor is she in the end credits. What gives?

To answer that, I have to take you on a little expedition. And to tell the tale properly, we have to go right back to 1979.

[Read more →]


  1. For an alternative – and rather more negative – view of the episode, read Graham McCann’s A Very Courageous Decision: The Inside Story of Yes Minister, a book which comes highly recommended. 

Read more about...

,

Of Ministers and Mandarins

TV Comedy

Much as I love Jonathan Lynn’s Comedy Rules: From the Cambridge Footlights to Yes, Prime Minister, it seems that every time you poke it, another inaccuracy falls out. I’ve already talked about a certain set of Evening Standard reviews of Yes Minister. But that’s far from the only problem.

Let me quote that section of the book again.

“No one took much notice of the second episode, but everything changed after the third week. This sudden surge of enthusiasm was the result of a lengthy article by Roy Hattersley in the Spectator. Hattersley was Deputy Leader of the Labour Party at the time and, like Jim Prior in the Tory Party and Jim Hacker in our series, was a centrist politician who could have belonged to either party. Hattersley described everything that the show had shown so far, confirmed that this was exactly what had happened to him when he first became a minister, and asked how on earth did we know?

Hattersley’s article galvanised the political press. Suddenly political correspondents took up the show and editorials started to be written about it. The TV critics, late to the party, jumped on the bandwagon, and after the fourth episode the critic from the Evening Standard told his readers that Yes Minister was an excellent comedy show and he had said so from the start. He hadn’t.”

As well as misrepresenting the Evening Standard reviews, commenters here were quick to notice other errors. David Boothroyd correctly points out that Hattersley only became Deputy Leader in 1983; it was Michael Foot in the role at the time of Yes Minister‘s first series. Worse, even the referenced article by Hattersley is incorrectly attributed: Simon Coward points out that there’s no evidence of such an article in The Spectator around this time.

Luckily, I have very good readers who do all my work for me. A bit more digging from Simon revealed that the article wasn’t in The Spectator at all; it was in The Listener instead. Silly similar syllable sounds. And then your friend – and indeed he’s my friend as well – John Williams kindly bunged me a copy of the whole article.

Titled “Of Ministers and Mandarins”, and published in the 20th March 1980 issue of the magazine, this was clearly written after the third episode of the series was broadcast: “The Economy Drive”, on the 10th March. It represents one of the very first serious pieces of analysis of Yes Minister – perhaps the very first – and so is an important document in our understanding of the initial reaction to the show.

It seems worth, therefore, replicating the article in full. Take it away, Roy Hattersley.

[Read more →]

Read more about...

Don’t Tell Me About the Press

TV Comedy

Jonathan Lynn’s Comedy Rules: From the Cambridge Footlights to Yes, Prime Minister is a slightly odd tome. Part autobiography, part an attempt to nail down the rules of comedy – while admitting that any such attempt is doomed to failure – it does feel like it would occasionally benefit from a little more focus. On the other hand, I found myself nodding along vigorously to pretty much every single page.

For instance, when talking about Yes Minister and Yes, Prime Minister:

“The series eventually ran from 1980 to 1988 but was not about the eighties. It was devised in the seventies and reflected the media-obsessed politics of the Wilson/Heath/Callaghan years, not the conviction politics of Margaret Thatcher. It was actually much closer to the politics of the years that followed, the years of Major, Blair and Brown. In any case, there is a timelessness about good comedy: the pleasure and excitement of recognition are not rooted in a particular time or place. Humanity remains constant.”

This dual nature of what comedy can be is key: it can be ostensibly linked to a particular time, and yet still leap easily across the years. I always shake my head in dismay when people tell me how easily comedy dates. Comedy is usually about people, and people don’t change either as much or as quickly as many would like to think.

SIR ARNOLD: What about the DHSS? John?
SIR JOHN: Well, I’m happy to say that women are well-represented near the top of the DHSS. After all, we have two of the four Deputy Secretaries currently at Whitehall. Not eligible for Permanent Secretary of course, because they’re Deputy Chief Medical Officers and I am not sure they’re really suitable… no, that’s unfair! Of course, women are 80% of our clerical staff and 99% of the typing grade, so we’re not doing too badly by them, are we?

Yes Minister, “Equal Opportunities” (1982)

BARBIE: Are any women in charge?
MATTEL CEO: Listen. I know exactly where you’re going with this and I have to say I really resent it. We are a company literally made of women. We had a woman CEO in the 90s. And there was another one at… some other time. So that’s two right there. Women are the freaking foundation of this very long phallic building. We have gender neutral bathrooms up the wazoo. Every single one of these men love women. I’m the son of a mother. I’m the mother of a son. I’m the nephew of a woman aunt. Some of my best friends are Jewish.

Barbie (2023)

Humanity remains constant indeed. Especially the terrible bits. Which is what an awful lot of comedy is about.

[Read more →]

Read more about...

,

Stand By, Studio

TV Comedy

Anyone up for yet more production fun with Yes Minister? Of course you are.

Take a look at the below scene from the Series 3 episode “The Challenge”, broadcast on the 18th November 1982. Hacker is in a TV studio for a BBC documentary about civil defence, about to be interviewed by Ludo. Sorry, Ludovic Kennedy.

Spot anything interesting about the above scene? Take a look at the very opening shot. If you look carefully at the top of the interview set, you can see that it’s just a couple of green walls placed in front of one of Yes Minister‘s “real” sets!

Which one? I highly suspect that it’s the dining room set – there is a glimpse of the odious framed wallpaper at the top:

The TV studio

The restaurant

Regardless of any peeping bits of set, it’s a great bit of production design by the wonderfully-named Andrée Welstead Hornby. With a couple of green flats, and judicious use of the side of Studio 6 at TV Centre, you have a completely convincing setup, for very little money indeed. Because TVC was used to make all kinds of programming, it was very easy to simulate all kinds of programming as well.

Sometimes, as with Python, it’s easier and more effective to do your satire from the inside.

This point extends beyond the sets. There’s one more bit of fun to be had with this scene. Let’s take a look at the production paperwork for the episode; buried deep within it is the following:

IN VISION STAFF

BRIAN JONES – Production Manager, Light Entertainment Comedy Tel.
ANDREW MOTT – Camera Operator, Technical Operations

The above two names aren’t actors. These are actual BBC staff, who appear in-vision during the interview sequence. And who must have worked on Yes Minister as the actual Production Manager and a Camera Operator respectively.

Sadly, the only camera-related credit in the end credits is Peter Ware as Senior Cameraman. But if we check the Production Manager credit:

End credits caption: Production Manager, Brian Jones

Much like the wall of TC6, why not use what you have already, for added verisimilitude?

Now come on someone, write a sitcom which involves a BBC Network Director in a bit part. I want my own little moment of glory.

Read more about...

The Red Dwarf

TV Comedy / TV Presentation

On the 15th February 1988, the first episode of Red Dwarf aired on BBC2. I had no idea about it.

On the 7th January 1994, the first episode of Red Dwarf aired on BBC2 for the second time. I became obsessed with it.

On the 25th August 2023, the first episode of Red Dwarf aired on BBC2 for the seventh time.1 I prepped it for TX.

[Read more →]


  1. I usually write BBC2 for the channel pre-1997, and BBC Two for the channel post-1997, as per the branding guidelines. But that got really irritating swapping between the two with this article, so I’ve stuck to BBC2 for everything here. 

Read more about...

“Not the Most Gripping of Tales”

TV Comedy

Of all the books I’ve used for research on Dirty Feed over the years, I’ve rarely quoted from one as extensively as I have from Tooth & Claw: The Inside Story of Spitting Image (Faber, 1986). It is, for me, the absolute gold standard of any behind-the-scenes book. Not just because it’s fascinating – although it clearly is – but because it’s goddamn accurate.

This is a constant bugbear of mine. While researching the Doctor at Large episode “No Ill Feeling!” for this article in 2019, it was notable that certain books managed to get both the TX date and title of the episode incorrect. Which is kinda the basics, really. Tooth & Claw, meanwhile, manages to correctly cite which exact episode certain sketches appeared in, which gives you confidence in the rest of the book. And making sure such things were correct was a lot harder in 1986 than it is now.

Anyway, surely everybody loved the book at the time of its release too? Sadly not. Thanks to Sham Mountebank, who pointed me towards the following contemporary review of the book, from short-lived LM magazine.1

[Read more →]


  1. Not Living Marxism; this was a project from the publisher of Crash & Zzap!64, which folded after four issues. 

Read more about...

The Facts of the Case Are These

TV Comedy

Sometimes, I come across something fun in my research which I just have to share. The following is the official synopsis for the famous One Foot in the Grave episode “The Trial”. It is, frankly, difficult to imagine it being written by anyone other than David Renwick.



Victor is summoned for jury service at the Crown Court... and ends up as the man on trial

The facts of the case are these

A man is found with his wrist cut, following a visit by a youth from the local garden centre who bears a striking resemblance to Plug of The Bask Street Kids

The prisoner delivers an impassioned thirty-minute speech, in which he speaks of threats on his life and his acute desire for some OK Fruity Sauce

After struggling to work out various clues, Victor comes to the conclusion that he himself is the guilty man and has committed murder inside his own house.

Mrs Warboys flies back from Ireland to make a statement, but is refused a hearing on the grounds that she is too boring

And then, just when it seems that all is lost, a letter from Victor's brother Alfred provides a vital piece of evidence that saves the day...

In comparison, the Radio Times capsule for the original broadcast of the episode on the 28th February 1993 is simply the following:

“Popular sitcom about a grumpy old man for whom nothing ever seems to go smoothly. Victor is called up for jury service and ends up as the man on trial.”

Which essentially only uses one line of the full synopsis.

That full synopsis is fun for a number of different reasons. Most obviously, it shows Renwick’s thought process for the episode: that Victor is both awaiting a real trial, and actually experiencing a mock trial. This does eventually become text in the episode – killing a woodlouse and being sentenced to death – but it’s all done fairly subtly. It being stated so obviously is its own joy.

But my favourite line in that extended synopsis is the following:

“Mrs Warboys flies back from Ireland to make a statement, but is refused a hearing on the grounds that she is too boring”

Which is, obviously, very funny indeed. But I was especially reminded of the line when reading of the sad death of Doreen Mantle the other day.

Because the thing Doreen did so brilliantly in One Foot in the Grave is taking what could have been an immensely irritating character who you were desperate to get rid of, and turned her into a delight to watch. To the point where, even when you’re watching Richard Wilson’s 30-minute tour de force monologue, Mrs Warboys is right there in your head anyway. And part of the reason “refused a hearing on the grounds that she is too boring” is funny is because it conjures up Mantle’s confused, tedious face.

Her performance manages to echo not only into an episode she isn’t actually in, but a text description of an episode she isn’t actually in. I’m not sure you can get any more captivating.

Read more about...

Freeze-Frame Gonna Drive You Insane, Part Two

TV Comedy

Part OnePart Two • Part ThreePart FourPart Five

It’s the 8th April 1970 at 9pm, and BBC1, BBC2 and ITV are all transmitting the same thing. It is, of course, a Party Political Broadcast: this one by the Labour Party, titled “What’s at Stake?”. It seemed pretty normal, on the face of it. I mean, the promise of MP trio George Brown, Anthony Crosland, and Robert Mellish might sound a bit too exciting, but I’m sure the country could keep itself under control.

The very next day, the papers were in uproar.

The Daily Mail is typical, in its piece “Complaints on Labour broadcast”:

“Both the BBC and ITV had callers last night complaining that the first one or two minutes of the Labour Party’s political broadcasting contained subliminal advertising.

The programme had been recorded and the BBC explained: ‘We are not responsible for the content of party political broadcasts, it is entirely up to the parties concerned. We provide the facilities.'”

Uh-oh. So what did Labour have to say about this?

“‘Subliminal advertising?’ said a Labour Party spokesman. ‘No, not really.

What happened was that we opened the programme with an anti-switch off factor to grab people’s interest. It went on for not more than 30 seconds with film shots and some raucous voice saying: ‘We don’t expect you to vote.’

I understand that the complaint is that the words “Labour Tomorrow” appeared twice very quickly, so quickly that they registered on the eye and not the brain.'”

Hmmmmm. Regardless of anything else, I would suggest statements like “registered on the eye and not the brain” are liable to make people more suspicious about what was broadcast, not less.1

Regardless of that, for a while it looked like nothing else would happen. The Daily Telegraph published the following on the 10th April, under “Subliminal advertising by Labour denied”:

“Neither the BBC nor the Independent Television Authority is to take any action over allegations that the Labour party political broadcast on Wednesday contained subliminal advertising.

Both organisations maintained yesterday that no such advertising was included in the programme. They said no action would be taken about complaints from viewers.”

But a week later on the 16th April, the front page of The Times reported the following, under “Investigation on Labour TV film”:

“The Labour Party political broadcast on television which used a quick flash technique and brought claims that subliminal methods were being used is to be investigated by the Director of Public Prosecutions.

The men behind the inquiry are Mr. Norris McWhirter and Mr. Ross McWhirter, the publishing twins.”

Oh, hello there. Well, we’ve been avoiding this topic for about as long as is practical. We need to talk about the McWhirters.

[Read more →]


  1. Some newspapers, like the Lincolnshire Echo, report this quote as “the brain and not the eye”, which actually makes more sense. But either way round, the quote seems ill-judged. 

Read more about...

, ,

The Teaching Room

TV Comedy

Welcome back to yet another article where I look at Red Dwarf‘s sets in mind-numbing and excoriating detail. And having already recently investigated some thrilling wall sections and the Captain’s Office, we turn to what might initially seem an unpromising avenue for spectacular revelations: the Teaching Room in Series 1.

I think, however, you may be surprised. Because telling the story of this set leads us into some rather interesting areas which I don’t think have been examined before. As ever, we don’t have the paperwork handy to be able to check any of this: we have to do some deduction, some guesswork, and leave some questions unanswered.

With that health warning, let’s take another trip through early Red Dwarf – as ever with these articles, in order of recording rather than broadcast.

[Read more →]

Read more about...

, ,

The Captain’s Office

TV Comedy

Hello everyone. Last time in the crazy world of Red Dwarf set analysis, we took a look at the history of three wall sections used at BBC Manchester in 1988. (You need to have read that to have a hope of following this piece.) How could I possibly top that majestic piece of writing?

Answer: with one of Series 1’s most famous oddities. Yes, it’s the disappearing and reappearing Captain’s Office. This article was intended to be a more general look at the Drive Room set, but believe it or not I have found enough to say about this single topic to make a full standalone piece. I am not dumbing down my material. It’s always been this stupid.

As before, we need to take this one in recording order, rather than broadcast order.

[Read more →]

Read more about...

, ,