Paul Whitehouse - Brilliant!!

“Suits you”, “Brilliant!”, “Where’s me washboard?”, “Lodda work for charidee”, “I was verrry….verry…..drunk”, “Jumpers for goalposts, isn’t it mmm?” If nothing else, Paul Whitehouse’s characters have bequeathed us a whole host of enduring catchphrases.   But of course there’s far more to the actor-writer than a few oft-repeated sayings.

For starters, he seems to be an incredibly loyal bloke. For the best part of four decades he has been writing and performing with the likes of Bob Mortimer, Harry Enfield and Charlie Higson. Unlike so many famous comedy collaborations, these owe nothing to Oxbridge privilege and the Footlights. Paul and Charlie did join forces at University only at the UEA in Norwich but their early shared stage interest was in punk rock. Working as plasterers-decorators in London, they met Harry in a pub and only started writing comedy after working at a presumably plusher gaff shared by Fry and Laurie. 

Even back in the mid-Eighties, Whitehouse was reluctant to hog the limelight. When Harry Enfield was signed up for Channel 4’s Saturday Live showcase for the new generation of comedians, Paul created the characters of Stavros and Loadsamoney, brought so brilliantly to life by Harry, and only really shared the stage in the guise of the gormless Lance, who (with Higson) even popped up in Loadsamoney’s backing band. Lance was one of my favourites well into the Nineties, too, His sticky-out ears and slack-jawed simplicity a perfect foil for the more boisterous Lee in numerous sketches alongside Harry Enfield. 

The Harry Enfield Television Programme was definitely one of my faves of the era, a devotion which continued undaunted by the show’s various rebrandings over successive years. Like many fans, I would try (and usually fail) to impersonate The characters including Tim Nice-but-Dim, You-Don’t-Want-to-do-it-Like-That, Wayne and The Old Gits but it was impossible to replicate the wonderful voices and expressions of has-been Fab FM DJs Smashie and Nicey. The fictional duo became so popular that they inadvertently became the catalyst for the infamous mid-Nineties clearout of Radio 1’s old-school roster of presenters. Enfield’s Dave Nice was the lead but Whitehouse’s impossibly chirpy yet vacuous Mike Smash was just as good. For a while they seemed bigger than the actors playing them and I confess I even bought their compilation CD entitled, naturally, ‘Let’s Rock!’ It was quite liderally poptastic. 

The series evolved into Harry Enfield and Chums, given the increasing prominence accorded to Whitehouse and Kathy Burke. Harry’s characterisations were peerless but Paul delivered some terrific parodies which still make me chuckle now. For starters, there were his stereotypically liberal Dutch cop and foreign football import Julio Geordio. Not even Harry could match Paul’s mock foreign accents. 

When the pair were reunited in 2007, Paul Whitehouse was quite rightly awarded equal billing. Ruddy Hell, It’s Harry and Paul did feature new characters like the intellectual scaffolders but they did indulge in a lot of long-form celebrity parody sketches such as the one of Dragon’s Den. At the time I rarely watched the nascent BBC2 hit so didn’t fully appreciate the impressions of Peter Jones and Duncan Bannatyne but I do now! I also loved their 2014 special, Story of the 2s, broadcast as part of BBC2’s fiftieth anniversary. BBC2 genres through the ages were lovingly lampooned, including the satirical panel quiz shows Mock the QI News for You, or something like that….. 

Yet Paul Whitehouse has not achieved comedy god status merely by being an on-screen buddy of Harry Enfield. He has appeared on all manner of sketch shows, from Horne and Corden to The Smell of Reeves and Mortimer. I’ve never been an ardent supporter of the North-East pair, perhaps a bit too offbeat and surreal for my comedy taste buds. However, my clear and fond recollections of early Seventies group Slade led me to like the idea of transporting the band into ordinary domestic family situations. Vic and Bob snared the most obvious Noddy and Dave but Paul offered solid support as Jimmy Lea. 

However, Paul secured even greater cult status with BBC2’s The Fast Show, which ran concurrently with his Harry Enfield collaborations. There were only three series plus assorted specials but the rapid-fire sketches generated even more lasting catchphrases than the Harry Enfield shows. Indeed, some of the sketches were so brief they would consist of just the one phrase or even a single word. Thinking about it in the cold light of day, there were very few actual jokes. The humour grew organically from the familiar faces and phrases. It was an ensemble project, too, but Whitehouse portrayed some of the most memorable characters. 

As a football fan, I loved ‘Ron Manager’ wistfully nostalgic streams of consciousness whenever asked about the current match (“Isn’t it, hmmm?”). I think he was even granted his own spin-off, as was Charlie Higson’s ‘Swiss Toni’ but such endeavours rarely work as well as in two-minute sketches. The bitter-sweet ‘Ted and Ralph’ special was an exception. However, if anything, it’s Paul’s joyfully optimistic lad striding around the world saying how “Brilliant” everything is which epitomises The Fast Show. It’s not funny per se but just makes me smile. 

In the Noughties, he also wrote and appeared in a couple more slow-burn comedy series. I failed to appreciate Happiness and really ought to have given Help more attention if only to enjoy Chris Langham’s portrayal as a therapist treating Paul’s sundry patients. One day I’ll rectify that omission. One day…. Paul’s TV career hasn’t all been comedy either. He was in David Copperfield then in 2000 relished this rare action sequence in an episode of Higson’s reboot of Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased). 

That very enjoyable series starred old mates Reeves and Mortimer, which brings me onto Paul Whitehouse’s latest BBC2 hit. Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing held a mixed appeal for me. The first part of the title sounded great, but the second proved too much of a deterrent. It was only in the third series this autumn that I finally caved in to curiosity and iPlayer reeled me in. The actual angling element still left me cold but the gentle riverside and pub lounge banter between two slightly grouchy sixty-somethings recovering from major heart surgery proved surprisingly relaxing. 

At the end I couldn’t really recall what was said or whether they actually caught anything, and yet, amidst a TV diet consisting largely of thrillers and football, it was a soporific half-hour to calm the mind. It seemed so old-fashioned but, realising that the two participants are only a few years older than me, that was its USP. With neither laughter track nor blatant signals to encourage waterworks whenever mental health issues were discussed, Gone Fishing was in its own way highly entertaining, but then with Paul Whitehouse on screen it could hardly be anything else.

Val Singleton - from elephants to economics

For all the cartoons, drama serials and quiz shows, nothing epitomises my age group’s children’s TV more than Blue Peter. Many of my primary school classmates were in the ITV Magpie camp but, being a predominantly BBC household, it was for Catherine and me Blue Peter every Monday and Thursday before tea.  John Noakes may have been the headline-grabber action man, but it was Valerie Singleton who for years was the most reassuring studio presence. 

As with Doctor Who regenerations, my most memorable moments were supplied by new additions to the Blue Peter presentation team. I definitely remember Christopher Trace handing on the baton to Peter Purves in 1967 (I was six) but John and Val provided the continuity that we youngsters craved. Those three were all trained actors which presumably helped with script-learning and taking direction but on live telly anything can happen. Everyone is familiar with John taking a tumble in Lulu the elephant’s pee and poo but few remember Val looking so cool amidst the chaos. 

By this time, all three hosts were well into their thirties, positively ancient in the modern era of ‘Kids’ TV’ but if Blue Peter presenters were supposed to represent older siblings nobody consulted me. Who cared? John was Yorkshire through and through, Pete hailed from Lancashire and Val was born in Hitchin so they weren’t all middle-class Establishment figures, and I lapped it up, especially the recorded segments; even the traditional lighting of the Christmas advent candles. 

Val’s more unruffled demeanour and mellifluous voice were also ideally suited to reporting and narration. She could hobnob with royalty, as she did in 1971 with Princess Anne, and front numerous Blue Peter Special Assignments throughout the Seventies, despite ceding the regular gig to the livelier Lesley Judd. She also interviewed assorted various ‘VIPs’ in ’73 and ’74. With hindsight, the most famous celebrated meeting was with the then whiny-voiced Education Secretary who pronounced there’d not be a woman Prime Minister in her lifetime. Her name was, of course, Margaret Thatcher, who entered Number 10 just six years later. 

Singleton was too great a BBC asset to be isolated in children’s hour. She featured frequently on Nationwide, be it handling consumer items or interesting filmed reports, and continued her grown-up current affairs career on The Money Programme.  This wouldn’t normally by my kind of show but, after leaving university in the early Eighties, I tried to supplement my ICMA accountancy lectures with extracurricular reading and viewing about business and economics in the real world. Finding Val in the presenter’s chair was a bonus. 

Her new-found gravitas also lent itself nicely to send-up in a 1986 Comic Relief sketch with fellow Treasure Geoffrey Palmer while her wonderful voice and live broadcasting skills were ideally matched to some of Radio 4’s schedule staples like Midweek and PM. In ’94 Val also encouraged us to donate for victims of the shocking civil war in the former Yugoslavia as part of the DEC Appeal. 

But, even almost five decades after leaving regular presenter duties, Val Singleton is inextricably linked to Blue Peter. I may have grown out of the show many moons ago but apparently she still rocks up for various anniversaries, nostalgia clip shows or occasional celebrity panel game or quiz. Let’s face it; she could marry Prince Charles but her obituary would still lead with the pirate ship and Jason the cat!

Cop or Robber - Robert's the best Glenister

In the past decade or two, Philip Glenister has risen to become one of Britain’s most popular TV actors but for longevity and range I rate his older brother Robert even more highly. For starters, it’s hard to pigeonhole him. Is he a posh politician, a down-at-heel detective, soldier, shopkeeper or just an ordinary bloke? Well, he is a talented actor so the answer, of course, is all of the above – and more.

He first demanded attention in the early Eighties as a toothsome teenager portraying Peter Davison’s gobby, thorn-in-the-side little brother in Alex Shearer’s comedy Sink Or Swim. I quite liked the series, and considered Glenister’s layabout Steve the best thing in it. As well as getting the most laughs, his Northern accent seemed far more authentic than Davison’s, although I later learnt that both hail from the London area. As a rather naïve, little-travelled undergraduate myself, I was hardly the best judge of regional linguistics, but hats off to Mr Glenister! 

A few years later he was being rather more helpful to Peter Davison, this time in the latter’s final Doctor Who adventure, The Caves of Androzani, although you never remember the good guys, only the monsters. Step into the Tardis and fast forward thirty-six years to – er- nineteenth-century USA and there was Robert Glenister again. Instead of withstanding an android attack, this time it was more convincing alien robo-scorpions. Being 2020 it was a more educational affair, exploring the commercial rivalry between Glenister’s mega-rich Thomas Edison and the aspiring inventor Nicola Tesla with the help of Jodie Whitaker and chums. Electrifying stuff (sorry!). 

Back to the 1980s and 1990s, and I caught Robert Glenister in a few other programmes. He wore glasses in an ITV adaptation of PD James’ Cover Her Face and a military moustache in Soldier Soldier. Thanks to the chart career of Robson and Jerome, forged on the programme, I wasn’t a regular viewer, but almost certainly saw a few episodes in which he portrayed Colour Sgt Ian Anderson. I definitely watched the 1992 Only Fools and Horses Christmas special but had forgotten Robert’s part in inadvertently inspiring Del-Boy’s moneymaking scheme to market Peckham Spring Water. 

Into the twenty-first century, and broadcasters began to invest in crime drama which suited my own unadventurous tastes. Like so many actors, Glenister found himself playing cops of varied rank, class and shiftiness. I know I watched Marks and Gran’s 2000 comedy-drama Dirty Work but can’t for the life of me recall Robert’s character or indeed anybody else’s. It’s so forgettable it doesn’t even warrant a Wikipedia page. He also had a recurring role opposite David Jason in A Touch of Frost, as a rather mixed-up DS Terry Reid, and in 2016 played by far the most interesting character in ITV’s thriller Paranoid. Although in his fifties, he was only a DC, a solid copper but pushed to the edge. 

I guess the more mature actors find roles as active whippersnappers somewhat less hard to come by. With a receding and greying hairline, Glenister has increasingly appeared as more Establishment figures. In 2008, he was cast as a rather unpleasant Special Branch Commander in Inspector George Gently and around the same time played the Home Secretary in several episodes of Spooks. It made a change to see our heroes’ political master depicted not as an egotistical ambitious bully but an intelligent, honourable minister who understands the MI5 standpoint – most of the time. In last year’s Cormoran Strike mystery Lethal White, Robert Glenister was back in Government, albeit demoted to Culture Secretary. With the name Jasper Chiswell, he could never be an angel, but it was he who hired private detective Strike to investigate a blackmailer in a rather convoluted story. 

However good he is at playing upmarket figures of dubious personality, I do prefer Robert Glenister as a more ordinary bloke. In the middle of the first Covid lockdown in May, he starred in one of ITV’s short but sweet Isolation Stories: Ron and Russell. He played a middle-aged man bedridden with the Coronavirus, being nursed by his ne’er-do-well son. Made in compliance with social distancing, the latter was played by his real-life son Tom, while Robert’s wife proved highly adept behind the camera. It was a moving but very funny piece, beautifully acted. 

But what really elevated Robert Glenister up the ranks of TV actors was his role as Ash in BBC’s Hustle. He appeared in all 58 episodes as the main fixer of the team of likeable, Robin Hood-ish conmen. Despite the presence of Adrian Lester, Marc Warren and Robert Vaughan, for me it was Robert who created the programme’s heart and soul, a salt-of-the-earth Londoner able to play any part and devise all manner of ingenious tricks to rid baddies of their dosh. It showed Glenister at his best: not a leading man but a stand-out member of any ensemble cast.

Sofie Grabol - the new Great Dane

When I first began compiling my list of potential Treasures, this established star of Danish stage and screen was considered briefly then discarded. After all she’d been in only two shows that I’d watched. However in 2020 she has cropped up in at least two more quality productions, raising a celebratory cheer in our house. If that doesn’t make her a bit special, then what does? 

It all started just a decade ago. Mum began extolling the qualities of BBC4’s new Danish drama serial, The Killing. My interest piqued, I then began noticing the media buzz about its star Sofie Grabol and her natty line in chunky jumpers. She and her knitwear even merited a cameo in Absolutely Fabulous! 

But I didn’t watch. After all, there’s no point joining a thriller serial halfway through its run. Furthermore, a Saturday night twenty-parter demands commitment I was reluctant to give, and then there’s the issue of subtitles. I was notorious for multi-tasking while viewing telly, behaviour totally unsuited to a foreign language programme which requires you to use your eyes constantly and cast aside any distractions. Broadcast on BBC4 there weren’t any adverts offering a loo or drink break. No pause options in those days. 

And so it was several years before I spotted DVDs of the first two series, As Angie and I shared an enthusiasm for crime drama, we decided to make time to watch in some quiet evenings at our place in Saundersfoot – and we became hooked. By this time, the Americans – unable to trust most of the population to engage with actors from Europeland - had made their own version, so I ensured we were watching the original, entitled Forbrydelsen. We swiftly became hooked on the plot, following Copenhagen detective Sarah Lund investigating a murder which leads her into the murky world of Danish politics. Risking any unseemly spoilers, she returned in two (shorter!) sequels which were almost as good. Apparently Grabol had a different role in the US remake, just to confuse matters. 

BBC4 had helped cultivate the new TV subgenre, Scandinoir. Again at Mum’s urging I had enjoyed the even bleaker Swedish Wallander, millions of English-language readers lapped up Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy and the stream of excellent thrillers has continued to flow across the North Sea. I still have The Bridge to catch on iPlayer, The Tunnel on DVD and Iceland’s Valhalla Murders to finish on BBC4 while Denmark’s Under the Surface and recent DNA have introduced the secondary pastime of spotting former cast members of The Killing . There’s always at least one. 

As for Sofie Grabol, apparently she was known in her home nation for her emotional character roles, in sharp contrast to her more earnest Sarah Lund. However, her popular acclaim for Forbrydelsen inevitably led to similar parts in UK, US or multinational productions. Unbeknown to me at the time, she was at first unable to capitalise thanks to a cancer diagnosis requiring surgery and chemo but thankfully she pulled through and has subsequently worked on numerous projects around the globe. 

Like all Danes I know, she has the advantage of speaking near accentless English, which also comes in handy in series like Forbrydelsen. Any dialogue involving different nationalities is always spoken in English. In the next series in which I saw her, Sofie played a Norwegian governor in the bleak fictional Arctic Circle fishing town of Fortitude which also played host to Russian seamen, British scientists and assorted others. Without a special New Year deal on Sky Atlantic, we’d never have watched it but dark winter nights in Pembrokeshire were ideal for binge-viewing this bewildering psycho-horror saga of prehistoric wasps, mad polar bears and even madder humans. It became increasingly daft but Grabol’s was apparently the sole sane character in the whole shebang. From Dennis Quaid and Ken Stott to Michael Gambon and especially Richard Dormer, most seemed to have at least one screw loose, and the body count grew steadily. Sofie Grabol was great in it. 

In the second half of 2020, she also shone in supporting parts. In the much-hyped HBO whodunit The Undoing, she played a distant second or third fiddle to stars Hugh Grant, Nicole Kidman and Donald Sutherland but her prosecution lawyer Catherine Stamper nonetheless was a crucial character in the defining final episode courtroom scene. I’m not sure if she was supposed to have an American accent. If so, it was unconvincing, but I for one was egging her on as she grilled the main protagonists in the witness stand. 

But my favourite Sofie Grabol performance comes not as a cop, mayor or lawyer but an intelligent divorcee in BBC1’s delightful series Us. It was a poignant drama, with Tom Hollander prompting both laughter and waterworks trying to save his marriage and find his runaway son on a once-in-a-lifetime tour across Europe. When he meets the likeminded Freja in Venice, she seemed his perfect companion but it was surely destined not to be: right place, wrong time. She wore no furry anoraks, cosy jumpers or sharp suits. Nevertheless, I felt her beautiful acting capped an already captivating adaptation, and I’m sure she’ll continue to work such magic.

Oh, Alan, Alan Alan - Davies

When your head is crowned by a mass of unruly curls, anonymity in a public place is impossible. But that‘s enough of my one year-old self! But seriously, I was only too aware of Alan Davies queuing behind me in the BBC canteen one lunchtime in 1999. The hair also betrayed him when our paths crossed on escalators, despite his wearing a crash helmet. Back then he seemed to be everywhere: dramas, panel shows, stand-up venues, you name it. 

I can’t remember when this fellow son of Essex first appeared in my living room but there are a few contenders. The most likely was a 1995 edition of Have I Got News For You, in which a fresh-faced Mr Davies was teamed with Ian Hislop. In the final edit, Ken Livingstone was probably the funnier, but the producers were sufficiently impressed to invite him back the following series and the rest is history, As, indeed, is Ken Livingstone. 

As a likeable laidback comic able to think on his feet, Alan appeared in all manner of comedy quizzes in the late nineties. There he was alongside Phill Jupitus on Never Mind the Buzzcocks and with David Gower on They Think It’s All Over. He even hosted a Britpop-era episode of Top of the Pops, which featured amongst other acts a rival set of distinctive curls on Cast’s lead singer John Power. At least it wasn’t Mick Hucknall… With his fervent allegiance to Arsenal, Alan also boasted the perfect laddish credentials to appear on a few Nineties episodes of Fantasy Football League. 

I have to say I didn’t anticipate the success of his first major role in a drama series. As Jonathan Creek, Davies played a magician’s creative consultant who used his own ingenuity to solve seemingly impossible crime mysteries. Writer David Renwick may have created the clever riddles but it was scruffy Jonathan, living in a remote windmill who in his unique laconic style, with some assistance from female colleagues and friends such as Caroline Quentin and Sheridan Smith, who used his deductive powers to solve the ‘howdunit’s. It wasn’t exactly serious acting but Alan possessed just the right amount of light-touch charisma to carry the programme, which became popular Bank Holiday evening fare right up to 2016. I wouldn’t bet against further specials either. 

The new millennium brought more comedy-drama performances. I didn’t see Alan Davies star in Russell T Davies’ Bob and Rose but did give the BBC infidelity sitcom, A Many Splintered Thing a go. It was refreshing to see him play a relatively unsympathetic character but a few years later he was in more familiar territory in the witty suburban comedy The Good Housekeeping Guide. He was also reassuringly engaging in 2004’s Roman Road, one of those comedy caper road trips so beloved of schedulers at that time. His unconventional tousle-haired persona also made him a hot favourite with the tabloids to become the Time Lord in the Doctor Who reboot, gossip he was happy to deny on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross. Instead he sported a much smarter hairdo as a defence barrister in ITV’s The Brief, during his Jonathan Creek hiatus. It was quite good but not particularly memorable. 

To be honest I’ve never been totally convinced by Alan Davies as actor. Like Frank Skinner and Harry Enfield, he seems to me far better suited to the stand-up/panel game career which made his name. I can’t believe it’s two decades since I watched Stand Up with Alan Davies, an entertaining documentary blending his own life on tour and conversations with other comic headliners including Dave Allan and Eddie Izzard. In some ways it may come across as a period piece but, once Covid eventually releases its gruesome grip, I’m sure we’ll see Alan on the road again. 

Whatever, there’ll always be new, or repeats of QI to enjoy. I was amazed to read that since 2003 Alan has appeared in a massive 262 episodes. Admittedly I haven’t watched many chaired by Sandi Toksvig. No disrespect to her – I think she’s great – but it’s the good-natured relationship between the genial intellectual Stephen Fry and his regular naughty pupil sidekick Davies which endures. Just about every British comedian of note has played a part on the BBC2 show. Even Jimmy Carr appears likeable and funny. However, QI comes into its own when Alan receives a humbling put-down from Fry or buzzes in with an obvious but incorrect answer, or two, or three. Despite ending up with a negative points tally in most programmes, he has been named the winner surprisingly often, and he’s certainly no fool, although he’s happy to play it!

That’s the great thing about Alan Davies. He can try different things but as an engaging Essex boy with an effortless line in wry humour he has few peers.

X-Filer with the X factor

In the past few weeks, Gillian Anderson has been the subject of keen debate. Her performance as a hectoring Margaret Thatcher in The Crown has split the public, presumably along political lines. While I know exactly where I stand on the subject of the former PM, I won’t be joining this particular conversation because I always steer well clear of any programme concerning the Royal Family, drama or documentary. They are invariably featured on the News every day, which is enough coverage for me. 

What I can take for granted is that Anderson would be good in it. She’s no stranger to playing British characters, including those forged in fiction. In 2005 I made a rare dip into Dickens out of curiosity to hear her impeccable English accent in Bleak House. I gather she was also cool and aloof as Miss Haversham in Great Expectations but rather more warm and human playing herself and an eighteenth-century character in Michael Winterbottom’s clever film A Cock and Bull Story. In it, much to Steve Coogan’s jealous dismay, Rob Brydon is smitten with her, and who could blame him?!

I hadn’t realised it at the time but the perfect English tones were not merely the result of many hours listening to tapes or studying videos of Helen Mirren. She actually spent much of her childhood in London, and the family residence there prompted further stays, making the switch from American to the Queen’s English effortless. 

More recently she has again nailed the detached, sophisticated, inscrutable blonde in BBC2’s The Fall. We tuned into the first series six years ago expecting a superior, slow-burning thriller but it turned into something far deeper, and absolutely unmissable. Anderson portrays an English senior detective brought over to Belfast to lead the hunt for a sadistic serial killer (Jamie Dornan). In phone calls, he taunts her, flirts with her and clearly unsettles her and when the cops finally manage to arrest him, the face-to-face interview in series two crackles with sexual tension. Maybe Gillian channels her wayward youth into the complex Stella Gibson, with her lesbian encounter and simultaneous infatuation with Dornan’s equally cool Paul, but this was a psychological crime drama like no other. I couldn’t fathom why a cop could fall for such a calculating rapist but Angie understood the attraction which formed the heart of each series. She clearly wasn’t alone because Dornan’s performance led to the 50 Shades movie gig and Anderson merely cemented her reputation as one of the finest TV actors of her age. 

However, for me – and millions of others around the world – it all started with The X-Files. Originally tucked away on BBC2 I didn’t watch the early episodes, but word-of- mouth recommendation led me to give it a go some time in 1993, and I became hooked. None of the cast were familiar to me but the basic premise of a passionate paranormal investigator being teamed with a disbelieving medically-trained FBI agent to look into unusual cases across America was easy to follow. Fox Mulder’s willingness to accept the existence of aliens or other paranormal activity led to constant clashes with Dana Scully’s preference for a perfectly logical explanation, however forceful the evidence. Mind you, on occasion even Anderson’s character had to accept the impossible given the seriously weird shit happening to her! 

This being mainstream sci-fi telly, the leads had to be attractive and offering the potential of – er - getting it on. While both Mulder and Scully were ultra-professionals, it seemed only a matter of time before David Duchovny’s easy-going patter would wear Gillian Anderson down, but it took several series to happen and, even then, the writers didn’t make it simple or obvious. There were comedic moments, such as when Scully was drugged, and serious, emotional scenes as when she mysteriously contracted cancer, plus others where she wondered whether Mulder was actually involved in the alien-governmental conspiracy which provided a storyline arc throughout its Nineties heyday, two feature films and the recent revival. 

Like most programmes spanning more than two hundred episodes, The X Files had its share of duffers but when it was good it was brilliant. It was also refreshing for me to see someone with reddish hair (Anderson) in a starring role! The programme was more than a mere TV diversion. OK, so it may have stirred the dust concealing the crazy Roswellian conspiracy theorists (though I still haven’t seen any ghosts or alien spacecraft) but it gave us a chart hit for the suitably spooky Mark Snow signature tune and the title for Catatonia’s biggest single. As a cultural phenomenon it also spawned its own spoof on The Simpsons voiced by the actual stars. As for Gillian Anderson, her career has continued undiminished and her character’s groundbreaking scientific credentials inspired a generation of girls to pursue careers in law and medicine. As long as they don’t expect to chase aliens every week….