The surreal panel game, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue features some of the most outrageously disgusting humour all played out cunningly disguised by the civility and innocence of delivery by the venerable and sadly missed Jazz trumpeter Humphrey Littleton. It's like admiring Boris Johnson but not for being a Tory. I am uncomfortable with the idea of middle classiness but Radio 4 can't help it. Anyone who drives a car (a lot) and is not into a constant diet of music is eventually attracted to the sanity and comfortable middle classiness of Radio 4. If that last name isn't familiar to you then you are young (and your heart is an open book – and you wouldn't have got that reference either) and don't drive a car a lot. I get a kick out of Morris, the usual suspects of Python and Fawlty Towers, Bill Hicks, The Mighty Boosh and Humphrey Littleton. My funny bone (to grossly mix my metaphors) casts a wide net.
The existence of the outraged editorials made his point even more trenchantly than the programme itself. It was not a show about how funny paedophilia was but how paper-cuttingly hysterical our media's reaction was to it. But no printed media editorial rant 'got it'. His Brass Eye special on paedophilia was extraordinary – and fiercely funny. If you could have joined me in a Penzance B & B a few years ago, it would have been a bit cramped but you may have understood why I rate Chris Morris as unspeakably important to our humour landscape. Mitchell and Webb's sketches of 'Angel Summoner and BMX Bandit' have my son and I weeping and my partner stands there like Woody in Toy Story after he's flipped open Buzz's helmet. People stare at me, their faces contort into a "But how is that funny?" grimace. I have found myself in the humour minority more than once. But those who do are strengthened by their short bout of weakness, able to appreciate other frequencies of humour with a more open appreciation of its many byroads.
#Made marion game series
Maid Marion and her Merry Men is a solid example of a children's series with a twinkling ambition but one whose humour is very much rooted in its time, a pantomimetic (thank you Graham Chapman) prisoner of topicality. Over time, humour mutates into some very odd things from one decade to the next. I can't remember who said ".the trouble with instant gratification is that it takes too long," but that sums things up nicely if not as quickly as desired. Things change, tastes skew, we expect – nay demand – speed. I sat there muttering the word "Cut!" about four hundred times – and that was while watching a thirty minute documentary. I had the dispiriting experience recently of re-viewing work of mine (not such a problem if you sculpt marble but if you make films and TV, it's somewhat alarming). Miad Marion and Her Merry Men – Series 1 & 2 by Camus Since we wrote our coverage separately some 200 miles apart (and sometimes considerably more), there may be the occasional bit of repetition, but that's what happens when you get two reviews for the price of one. When it's not obvious who's providing the words I'll point it out. What follows is effectively two reviews stapled together – everything relating to the first two series is by Camus, while all talk of the third and fourth series is down to me.
A muse on humour and a two-part UK region 2, four series DVD box set review of MAID MARION AND HER MERRY MEN by Camus and Slarekįaced with four series and a Christmas Special, a sizeable collection of extra features and precious little spare time between us, Camus and I decided to split the task of reviewing this 8-disc box set by dividing it down the middle – the first two series went to Camus, the third and fourth stayed with me, and all four have been promised to Camus's son, whose love for the series nearly landed him a job as guest reviewer.
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