Sunday, December 28, 2008
DO NOT ADJUST YOUR SET
I'd say that my "favourite" (in other words, least bad) posts of 2008 were the Billy Joel post and the Bill Cotton post. Perhaps I should just write about blokes called Bill in future?
I wasn't aware of a Billy Joel documentary being shown over Christmas, but BBC2 gave over an evening to acknowledge the passing of Sir Bill Cotton.
We watched the documentary The Man Who Made Eric & Ernie.
As is usually the case nowadays, talking heads were drifted in to spout platitudes about Sir Bill.
In fact, there weren't any words from Bill Cotton himself. No old footage of him talking about his contribution to what's regarded as a golden age of TV, or indeed, his run ins with egotistical celebs (as mentioned in my post, hem hem).
Holy pause button, Batman! I should apologise to any Windsor Davies fans for obscuring the great man's face.
I wasn't aware of a Billy Joel documentary being shown over Christmas, but BBC2 gave over an evening to acknowledge the passing of Sir Bill Cotton.
We watched the documentary The Man Who Made Eric & Ernie.
As is usually the case nowadays, talking heads were drifted in to spout platitudes about Sir Bill.
In fact, there weren't any words from Bill Cotton himself. No old footage of him talking about his contribution to what's regarded as a golden age of TV, or indeed, his run ins with egotistical celebs (as mentioned in my post, hem hem).
Lining up to lavish praise on him were the likes of Michael Parkinson, Jimmy Perry and David Croft, Michael Grade, Eddie Braben and Ronnie Corbett (wearing a jacket with the sort of gilt buttons that only someone with Variety Club Of Great Britain and Water Rat connections could get away with).
Eddie Braben described Bill's "... wonderful smile ... his face was built for a smile. He'd got lovely chubby cheeks". I'm sure that all of the viewers shed a tear.
Bill's non-appearance gave him the aura of a friendly, avuncular ghost, presumably looking down from Heaven, remaining within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails ...
... or smiling with those lovely chubby cheeks.
We saw some TV clips that we'd seen a million times before. They were the right clips, but they weren't necessarily in the right order.
At least I was able to see Bob Swipe's point, made in a recent podcast, about the uncanny resemblance between Melvyn Hayes and Iggy Pop, which your correspondent has demonstrated here by the medium of crap photography and Sky Plus.
Holy pause button, Batman! I should apologise to any Windsor Davies fans for obscuring the great man's face.
Jimmy Perry and David Croft are starting to look very old indeed.
Ronnie Corbett's voice is getting deeper and deeper ...
... but not as deep as that of narrator Frances De La Tour, whose voice is now as woody, resonant and dark as an empty port barrel.
Michael Grade wasn't wearing any braces.
Soon, there will be nobody left from the Golden Age Of Television, and Simon Cowell will control all of our lives, whether we like it or not.
Blankety Blank.
Labels: Andre Previn, Billy Joel, Bob Swipe, Iggy Pop, James Joyce, Melvyn Hayes, Morecambe And Wise, Ronnie Corbett, Sir Bill Cotton
