Up Pompeii!

'A sort of Carry On Up The Forum' (Radio Times Magazine)

Up Pompeii combined saucy Carry On style comedy with elements of farce to produce a well-loved vehicle for Frankie Howerd, in the role of Lurcio, to 'tickle the fancy' of the entire British public.

Beginning with a 1969 pilot episode, running through 1970 and culminating in the 1971 film version, Up Pompeii was a runaway success. Fourteen BBC episodes were made, featuring a regular cast and guest stars such as Barbara Windsor, Pat Coombs, Geoffrey Hughes and Mollie Sugden. It is for Frankie Howerd's impeccably smutty delivery that the show is truly remembered, however, proving once again that there's always room on British television for plenty of sexual innuendo and camp capers.

The format of the show was simple but effective. Lurcio was the slave of government senator Ludicrus and his buxom wife, Ammonia. Every episode, despite its innocent beginnings, would expand into a complex, usually life (or at the very least job) threatening mess, from which Lurcio would escape only through the most ingenious wriggling. Howerd toyed with the role mercilessly, dropping in an out of character as he pleased, making mocking asides to the camera, playing along with the audience in his own distinctive way. Even the plot was subject to Howerd's good-natured mockery, as he'd call the viewer's attention to the implausibility of what was going on, questioning the standard of his fellow actors and the ability of the script-writers. Far from detracting from the comedy value, Howerd's presence made the show what it was, and was, in all probability, essential to the BBC being allowed to get away with the cheap polystyrene sets and dodgy-looking costumes. When they're pointed out to you by the star of the show and you're invited to laugh along, it's difficult to find anything to complain about.

The writers of the show, Talbot Rothwell and Sid Colin, were both writers for the Carry On series of films, which explains the smut and innuendo that found its way into Up Pompeii  Furthermore, the series itself owes much to the Sondheim musical A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To the Forum, in which Frankie Howerd had already taken two roles - that of Prologus and Pseudolus. Radio Times, in fact, accurately described Up Pompeii as 'a sort of Carry On Up The Forum'.

Following the success of Up Pompeii  the writers, along with Howerd, retained the format of the show but, in a move similar to that of the later Blackadder series, shifted to a different historical period. The film Up The Chastity Belt, 1971, featured the writing skills of comedy veterans Alan Simpson and Ray Galton in collaboration with Sid Colin, and repositioned Lurcio as Lurkalot, hapless serf in the Crusades. Up The Front, from 1972, pushed Howerd forwards as the under-footman Lurk. Back on the BBC, Whoops Baghdad attempted to set Up Pompeii in an Arabian Nights scenario, whilst a 1975 Up Pompeii special really signified the end of the franchise's success, though not the end of further cashing-in attempts.

There is no doubt, however, that Up Pompeii was, and indeed still is, a classic British comedy. With Howerd's larger than life stage presence, limitless supply of saucy catchphrases and an entire legion of risqué and witty names (Ambi Dextrus, Pussus Galoria, Scrophulus, Scrubba and Tittia are but five which spring to mind...), the show was pretty much bound for success, and well worth half an hour's hilarity out of anyone's busy schedule...

' As Cleopatra said to Marc Antony: if you liked it, tell your friends!' (Lurch)

Sources: BBC Website, IMDb, Beebfun

Black Hearts In Battersea

Hot on the heels of Joan Aiken's The Wolves Of Willoughby Chase comes Black Hearts In Battersea. Simon, the resourceful, heroic young boy from Willoughby Chase was, at the end of the first book, just getting into art. On his way now to London to study painting he, unfortunately, stumbles onto a plot reminiscent of the first book.

Wicked assassins are planning to overthrow King James and the Duke and Duchess of Battersea. A diverse and twisted plot ensues, featuring all the things children are sure to love: more wild wolves, excessive kidnappings, a shipwreck and a range of poisoned pies all make an appearance.

Bonnie and Sylvia have a minor role in the story, but most of it takes place in the company of Simon and Dido Twite, another of those waif-like children Joan Aiken seems to enjoy depicting so much.

Joan Aiken was born in Sussex, England, and her clear enjoyment of the English culture is plain: her subtle and gentle poking of fun at the English establishment works well as she continues to explore her alternate history where the Stuarts have retained the throne and a Channel Tunnel already exists. Those who have read The Wolves Of Willoughby Chase will undoubtedly wish to continue the experience; those who have not would do well to seek out Willoughby Chase, though each book will, of course, stand alone.

Short Back And Sides

The short back and sides is quite probably the best-known classic British hair style, particularly favoured for young boys as it was supremely easy for mother to maintain with appropriately brusque combings just after breakfast. It was especially common prior to the 1960s; following this popular influences such as The Beatles made it more acceptable for males to sport longer styles of hair, and the desire for a short back and sides decreased accordingly. This trend for longer hair continued through the 70s, eventually giving way to shorter styles through the eighties, including an increased trend for shaved hair styles.

The short back and sides ought to be awarded something in recognition of clear speech. In a world of bangs, ringlets and devilocks it's a refreshing change to come across a hairstyle with a plain, descriptive name. Upon requesting a short back and sides, one could expect the fringe to be trimmed to a respectable level, and the sides and back of the neck to be cropped to a rather severe length, usually with a razor of some description. Sideburns were optional, but usually extended to around the middle of the ear.

The short back and sides also forms a basis for some more outlandish styles. The Eton flop (or 'floppie'), for example, would feature a short back and sides with a long sweep of hair dangling in the eyes.

La Cage - Jean Michel Jarre

La Cage is a 1971 pastiche of scary musique concrete and experimental electronics, the very first single by Jean Michel Jarre, five years before Oxygene entranced listeners with its gentle, melodic ambience. It's a three minute fifteen second track, rather discordant, with clanging percussion and a jumpy, random-sounding bassline with ghostly screeches. It relies heavily on the electro-acoustic manipulation of audio tape, and is very, very different to any Jarre tracks you're likely to have heard.

Despite its 1971 release date, the single was actually recorded in 1969, and it says something that Jarre was unable to find anyone willing to release it until the record company Pathé-Marconi rose to the challenge two years later, releasing La Cage on 7" single with a b-side of Erosmachine.

The company's confidence was ill-founded; only one hundred and seventeen copies of La Cage were sold, and the remainder were destroyed. This, of course, makes the single fantastically rare, although the tracks (La Cage and b-side, Erosmachine) were released on a 1978 compilation, 'Made In France', and have popped up on various bootleg recordings.

Johhny, Remember Me - John Leyton

Johnny Remember Me was a number one hit in the UK for John Leyton. It's a thunderous sixties track that fits perfectly alongside the abject misery of The Shangri-Las in anyone's iTunes library, and also nuzzles alongside the track 'Telstar', but for a different reason. The Telstar association is Joe Meek, one of those legendary record producers once comes across every now and then.

John Leyton himself is interesting enough - an actor and singer, who made a great Ginger in a 1960s version of Biggles by Granada TV. But Joe Meek is where my interest lay when I found this track. In his time, Meek invented new production techniques; he was a wizard with a soundboard and a whole host of unconventional ideas. And yet, while Phil Spector is free to march the streets with outrageous hair, Joe Meek is dead, having blown his own head off after murdering his landlady.

The single is a lament and a half: nearly three minutes of abject misery as this poor chap remembers his dead girlfriend who calls to him from the wind in the trees, represented by ghostly girl vocals on the track. The guitars gallop along behind all this. Mist swirls, rain falls and the moors are dark and desolate. It's Wuthering Heights with extra ghosts and it's brilliant.

Johnny Remember Me was released in 1961 in the UK where it hurtled to the top of the charts. It features John Leyton on lead vocals with backing from The Outlaws. Joe Meek produced the record, and is merely one example of the sixties musical equivalent of the misery porn novels that populate supermarket bookshelves nowadays.