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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.

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  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. 

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Presents.

Film / TV Presentation

“I feel like movies are presents, and credits and fonts are bows and wrapping paper.”

Greta Gerwig, in conversation with Noreen Malone

I love the above quote. I love it partly because I’ve spent years trying to explain why I think title sequences and fonts and all that shit are important, and Greta manages to explain why in fifteen words. And not just with films. No more will I be at a loss to explain why that sitcom should have a proper title sequence, thank you very much. The channel shouldn’t rip off the wrapping paper for you, just because it saves a bit of time.

For that matter, it’s also why radio shows should start with a lovely sung jingle.

But I love it for more than that. The idea that what you make as a creative person is a present to your audience is such a simple, obvious idea, but it’s one which is so easy to forget. We can get lost in a spiral of grumpiness, annoyed that things don’t work, annoyed that the process is such a damn pain.

But the above makes it all worthwhile. You’re making a present. For millions of people, for just a few, perhaps even only for yourself, it doesn’t matter. In the fog of pain, it’s something to grab onto.

A present. The simplest, nicest gesture in the world.

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Read My Newsletter, Do It Now, Do It

Meta

“No, I don’t want your fucking newsletter, I want a proper website.”

— Me, 29th January 2019

Today seems a good day to be a PAIN IN THE ASS again and remind people that I’d love you to sign up to my newsletter.

It’s out once a month, I won’t spam you, and I think it’s quite good!

— Me, 18th August 2023

I find my Road to Damascus on the subject of newsletters to be a bit of an odd one. When I started one up for Dirty Feed back in January, it was done grudgingly at best. With Elon busy destroying Twitter – my primary source of traffic – and with no appetite to start again on another social network, I saw a newsletter as a forced life raft. A way of getting my stuff in front of people, sure. But I wasn’t going to enjoy it. I wanted to write here, on my actual site; doing a newsletter seemed a guaranteed way of reducing the available time for my efforts here.

Eight months in, I have to admit: I was entirely wrong, and should have started one years ago. It’s some of the most fun I’ve had with Dirty Feed in ages, and I’ve come up with a format which is entirely different to the main site.1 Indeed, writing the newsletter scratches a slightly different writing itch to my main stuff here on Dirty Feed full stop; the time I spend on the newsletter wouldn’t necessarily translate into extra articles here. I treat it a little like a worry stone throughout the month: every time I have a spare five minutes, I do a little work on the newsletter. It’s rather soothing, in fact.

So if you haven’t already signed up, please do so here. It’s only monthly, so I won’t spam your inbox. You’ll generally get one brand new piece of writing, a summary of the best recent things here on the main Dirty Feed site, and a bunch of fun links from around the web. The brand new piece of writing does usually make its way onto the main site after a few weeks, so you’re essentially getting an early look at what I’m working on.

Surely it’s got to be better than tickling Elon Musk’s balls.


  1. Inspired partly by Tom Scott’s newsletter, though it’s also become its own thing. 

“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

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

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Design.

TV Presentation

Recently, I enjoyed reading a piece by Cabel Sasser, “Fantasy Meets Reality”, on how so much design doesn’t really quite work in the real world. It’s well worth reading the whole thing, and he gives a number of fascinating examples. My personal favourite is the curved wall that caused so many injuries as people tried to climb up the damn thing, that eventually some brand new seating was placed at the base in order to stop people trying.

Cabel continues:

“But honestly, a lot of it, I think, is just that some designers are amazing at imagining things, but not as amazing at imagining them surrounded by the universe. That beautiful thing you’re working on, it lives in a window on your monitor tucked under a title bar, and that’s as tricky as it gets. What if you can’t imagine your thing in its final context? What if you aren’t great at predicting human behaviors other than your own? What if you push a worst-case scenario out of your mind because you like your idea so much that it’s “at least worth trying”? (I’ve done this!) Maybe you’ve forgotten how you would goof around with your friends to make them laugh way back when. Or maybe, a little bit sadly, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to experience the world as a kid. Not everyone will, or can, have these skills.

It almost seems like there’s a real job here for the right type of person. “Real World Engineer”? Unfortunately, the closest thing most companies currently have is ‘lawyer’.”

John Gruber, in reponse:

“Design is for humans, and needs to account for how people do behave, not how they should.”

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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.

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Loose Threads

Meta

It’s boring site admin time again, fans! For anyone wanting to follow this site on the various Twitter replacements, I’ve just added two new ones: Bluesky and Threads. So all the various places you can find Dirty Feed are as follows:

Yes, Threads wouldn’t let me have @dirtyfeed as a username. Yes, I find that incredibly annoying.

I’m still using all the above extremely gingerly; I’m posting site updates only, rather than the steady stream of bollocks that you can find on my @mumoss Twitter account, and I’m currently not following anyone either. Think of them as glorified RSS feeds. This might change in the future, but giving myself four timelines to get pissed off about instead of just one seems like an incredibly bad idea.

You can also subscribe to this site via individual post emails, a monthly newsletter, and yer actual RSS feeds; see the dedicated subscribe page for all of these collated in one neat handy place.

End of boring site admin. Well, it was a nice respite from the McWhirters, at least.

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Tangerine Knightmare

Children's TV / Music

Here’s a timely question. What’s the connection between William Friedkin, and Knightmare?

The answer isn’t to be found in anything which was actually broadcast. Because Knightmare had two unbroadcast pilots. One called Dungeon Doom, a 15-minute proof-of-concept recorded in early 1986, and the other, actually called Knightmare, which was a full episode recorded in January 1987.1

And the title music for that second pilot was “Betrayal” by Tangerine Dream: the main theme to Sorcerer, directed by Friedkin in 1977:

The music was also used in the trailer for the film:

It has to be said, what an absolutely wonderful choice of music that was for the Knightmare pilot. I wouldn’t trade Ed Welch’s incredible theme for anything, of course, but “Betrayal” perfectly captures the mood of the series: dark, foreboding, electronic. It could easily have been used as incidental music in the show proper.

But how do we know that second pilot used “Betrayal” for its main theme? Sadly, despite people’s hopes over the years, neither pilot has ever actually leaked online. Which is something that has become increasingly bizarre. The show has a still-active fandom over at Knightmare.com, and next January that site will have been going for 25 years. It’s something which feels like it should have made it out there by now… but hasn’t. Maybe one day. Preferably before I snuff it.

We do, however, have the next best thing. Back in 2010, Billy Hicks got hold of the script of that second pilot, wrote about it, and uploaded the full thing. And as part of that script, we’re told:

Title Music – Tangerine Dream ‘Betrayal’/E Froese, C Frauhe, P Bannman/MCA Records Inc/MCL 1646/Sd2/NV2

The script itself is fascinating, and not just because you can spot the differences between the pilot and Series 1. It’s close enough to the first broadcast episode of Knightmare that it really gives an insight into how the show was put together in those early years. The multiple responses needed by actors must have been absolute agony to learn.

So when you get a moment, give that script a read, and try listening to “Betrayal” in the background. It’s almost as good as actually watching that unbroadcast pilot for real.

Almost.


  1. See Tim Child’s How Knightmare Began for the full story. 

  2. As pointed out to me on Twitter, the script manages to misspell both Christopher Franke and Peter Baumann’s last names. 

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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.

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  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. 

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Bits & Pieces Of The Radio 1 Roadshow

Jingles / Radio

As you may have noticed, Dirty Feed is undergoing something of a quiet patch at the moment. I have – finally – decided to knuckle down and write the next part in my series about flash frames, and that involves burying myself in a slightly ludicrous amount of research.

So while I’m busy investigating Party Political Broadcasts from 1970, here’s something fun from me old mucker Duncan Newmarch: a beautiful celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Radio 1 Roadshow. Set aside an hour, and enjoy this summer trip around the UK’s coast.

Note in particular that the source of many of these clips is most certainly not a hissy off-air medium wave signal. So you’re hearing this stuff in higher quality than most people did at the time.

It really does feel like you’re there.