“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.
No comments:
Post a Comment