Television
Nothing like a dame
Wendy Cope
Anice item at the end of ITN News on Sunday evening showed an American sena- tor called Joseph Biden delivering, with an air of grave sincerity, a speech that he had pinched almost word for word from Neil Kinnock. 'Why is it that Joe Biden is the first in his family ever to go to,university? Why is it that my wife . . .' and so on. Challenged by journalists, the senator claimed that he 'forgot' to acknowledge his debt to Mr Kinnock.
The next programme on ITV was the first episode of the comedy series The New Statesman. This, too, featured a politician who stole a speech, although here he got away with it. He also got away with murdering two of his opponents on the eve of the general election. Well, I wasn't expecting subtle and accurate realism from a series whose central character is called B'Stard and played by Rik Mayall. Farce is not my cup of tea but, despite the farcical plot, I did find The New Statesman funny,
at least in parts. I liked the scene where the chief constable had a quiet pint at the local with the Almighty (`Have a pork scratch- ing, saith the Lord') and learned that Charlton were going to beat Liverpool at home next Saturday. And I liked Mayall's unusually restrained performance as the new-style young Tory MP. The face handsome, wholesome, manic, calling to mind a slightly deranged but utterly com- mitted school prefect — seemed exactly right to me.
Two programmes that actually make me laugh add up to quite a good week. The other one was The Dame Edna Experience (ITV), although Dame Edna also makes me nervous. I worried about the guests. When Cliff Richard pranced on to the set wearing a pair of trousers held up with ribbon, I felt protective. But it was all right. The hostess made a remark about pyjamas, Cliff laughed, no harm was done. Dame Edna's guests are quite safe, as long as they don't try to step outside their roles as celebrity stooges. Mrs Mary Whitehouse took a while to grasp this and got the roughest ride.
I don't know what Mrs Whitehouse thinks about The Two of Us (ITV), a situation comedy about a young, unmar- ried couple who live together. Earlier this year I enjoyed several episodes. The ear- nest progressive in me approved of the way the woman (Janet Dibley) was shown to be more independent and less keen on mar- riage than the man (Nicholas Lyndhurst), although this would not have counted for much if the dialogue had failed to be amusing. Sadly, I never got around to reviewing it then, and, having made a special point of watching the first of the new series, I have to say that it seems to have gone off. Still, a sitcom that goes on being comic for one whole series is rare enough. The New Statesman may not achieve as much.
`Prams and Tigers' (BBC 2), the opening programme in a series called Seven Ages, was also a bit of a disappointment. I had gained the impression, perhaps wishfully, that the whole programme would consist of three- and four-year-olds talking to Ron Eyre about life, the universe and every- thing. There was a certain amount of this but there were also quite a few adults pontificating about childhood — worthy, dull, familiar stuff. Ron Eyre himself has a way with words and as much childlike charm as any of the children. He looked very sweet as they bossed him around, making him draw a teddy bear and then telling him it looked like a kangaroo. But his soppy attitude to childhood began to irritate me after a while. Why, he asked at one point, does a boy with a good home and sensible, loving parents still fear wolves and foxes and shadows on the curtains at night? The question was left unanswered, as if it were a complete mystery. In fact, it isn't a mystery at all it's to do with the Oedipus complex, which
arises from the sexual feelings little boys have towards their mothers. Quite normal, nothing to worry about, just one of those inevitable phases in the seven ages of man.
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