Bottom - Series 2

Sean Hughes, 1965-2017....

"Anyone got any paracetamol?"

I have to confess that here at Brawlty Towers we're (un)fairly hardy and that the world of celebrity "departures" never really makes much of an impact, Star Men and Star Women simply blink out, here today, gone tomorrow, yours to own on CD or DVD forever.... but.... I probably wouldn't be typing this were it not for Sean Hughes who, courtesy of an introduction via my friend Meeks, blew the bloody doors off our teenage selves when in secondary school. I can clearly remember another good pal, Warky, coming into geography one lesson and reeling off all these weird one-liners, and wondering exactly what was up. It wasn't entirely out of character - Warky was easily the sharpest and funniest of us all - but the slightly abstract content was definitely unusual. Of course, it transpired the jokes were nabbed wholesale from the Live And Seriously Funny VHS that was presently doing the rounds, a video that myself and my brothers watched twice in a row the evening it eventually stopped by our house....

"That sock still isn't dry...."

Then there was the charmingly chaotic and joyous Sean's Show (courtesy of Channel X, who had brought us the equally anarchic Vic Reeves Big Night Out only a few years earlier). It's always quite difficult to go back and watch something that made such an impression on you as a youngster, but I'm pleased to report that actually, on a recent rewatch, Sean's Show, ahem, stands up pretty well (and far better than I had honestly expected, given its' limited 90's production values). Similarly the second series, which I remembered being fairly poor at the time, was equally enjoyable as the, um, first, er, the second time around...? That, plus Sean's Shorts - he visits Mull! ....and Manchester! - can be found on Sean's own Youtube channel here (as for some reason S2 was never released on DVD nor added to All 4's box sets)....

"I wish that owl would shuttup!"

To top it all off the same group of us saw him live around this (peak) period. Though, hands up, I'll be honest and state that it wasn't perhaps the greatest gig.... It lasted for around 2 and a half hours (on stackable poly chairs!), with the "help me, I'm a vegetarian..." routine dragging (intentionally, I'm sure) on and on (across the stage floor), while the second half's opening salvo was a lengthy Brookside routine that was likely better appreciated if you were a regular viewer. Mind, I'll admit that I was also probably just a bit too young (i.e. a teenage idiot) to appreciate Sean's more sensitive leanings, and can recall Warky's copy of Sean's Book being mocked - especially the bleak poetry - just as much as it was prized....

After Sean's passing I read a fairly astute observation online that he made comedy look so very easy that everyone thought they could have a shot, and I'll admit I was no exception, ambitiously penning The Potter's Guide, my very own (it was an average idea, spread very thinly, at the time) sitcom response to Sean's Show before wising up and, together with Warky, having a fair go at sketch writing for BBC Scotland and The Comedy Unit in the late 90's - a career quite possibly killed by endlessly rewriting the same sketch(es) to no effect, as well as putting our best creative energies into a show that eventually parted ways with our (enthusiastic) script editor (and ourselves by association).  The pair of us tackled stand-up comedy for a spell then too, putting on a (best of the worst!) award-winning show at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2000, which I then followed up with a year or so's worth of torture, er, I mean gigging in and around Glasgow....

Sean on set with Dennis Pennis and Roland from Grange Hill....

What followed for Sean was his pair of novels - they were definitely better at the time, but slipped down the rankings considerably as I became better read - and his stint as a team captain on Never Mind The Buzzcocks (a programme about which I have positively nothing positive to say at all, sorry)*. Meanwhile my own comedy ambitions crumbled under the weight of trying to say too much and not really being all that funny - I was a simple gagster, afraid to break out and express my real self (which was too meek and weak to project anything). I suppose this lack of narrative focus is what lead me once again to trying comics, the crafty "a picture is worth a thousand words" helping to get things back on some sort of (not having to die on my arse in front of, hmm, 23 people) track (er, please sit down, Elexender Browne). Sean, on the other hand, graduated to ever loftier heights, being granted parental approval - "that Irish bloke you like...." - as Mod in The Last Detective....

*I take that back. There was a great joke of Sean's in the (inevitable) cash-in book - thumbed through in a charity shop, of course! - about Karen Carpenter being so thin that latterly she used to fax herself to gigs....

Then, to bring things full circle Warky, Meeks and myself caught Sean live in Glasgow for his 'The Right Side Of Wrong' show in 2007 and then (there were two!) again in Edinburgh in 2009 for 'What I Meant To Say Was . . .' and 2010 for 'Ducks And Other Mistakes I've Made'.

Around this time - imagine, if you can, a glorious period when Myspace was a genuinely viable social media networking platform - I was lucky enough to receive a few short messages from Sean in response to a few encouraging things I'd written on his, er, 'wall'? Or is it 'feed'? We certainly communicated after I picked up a copy of The National's High Violet (this week's album of the, um, week) having read in an interview it was his favourite album of that year. After that (and then there was one!) I didn't unfortunately see him live again - there must be a joke in there somewhere about the fact that it's quite obvious that the only person who should be going to a stand up gig on their own is the act....

I'll not lie.... These later efforts were hardly the tightest or funniest stand up shows I've seen simply due to the fact that Sean matured into a more rounded raconteur, his ever-present thoughtfulness, the smallness of the big picture, coming well to the fore. You'd find yourself wincing as much as laughing as he mercilessly prodded and probed, picking shamelessly at (his) life's scabs. It would be hard to imagine him tackling something like 'Live At The Apollo' with his random and profound (and bleak) stream of consciousness approach, the slow-build jokes scattered here, there and everywhere. But there was something deeper there, the three of us, now bumped about by life, our school selves (and ambitions) half a lifetime ago, watching Sean rattle on down the dark path ahead of ourselves, sending back suitably grim reports....

Of course, the beauty of these shows, and Sean's real skill, was how he would begin to slowly tie all the disparate (and often desperate) comedy threads together at the end, making for a genuinely satisfying, er, (emotional) climax. Some of the reviews I read from punters online at this time were pretty rough, but I could easily see why folk would be disappointed with an overweight (and somewhat perpetually defeated) Sean huffing and puffing his way about the stage, taking sly swipes at Stephen Fry and Michael McIntyre and getting slightly narked when punchlines failed to land. Hardly the stuff (thankfully!) we've come to expect/accept in today's more easily interchangeable, quick quip, routine-based comedic climate....

Unlike Sean, however,  there's no clever or well thought-out denouement (unless, you count my using a very fancy word just there?) to this blog. No tying things together in a way that'll have you leaving the auditorium with a jolly spring in your step (and perhaps a slight lump in your throat.... c'mon! I said throat!). I'm not even sure I'm making much of a passionate case for what Sean meant to myself (and to Warky, to whom he probably meant just as much, if not more, but in as many different ways). I suppose that's the trick, if I could truly pin down what made Sean Hughes "Sean Hughes" then it wouldn't make him quite nearly so unique, so inspiring and so special would it...?

"Bye bye! Bye bye! Bye bye!"

(....and he never did adverts, so there you go....)

Bottom - Series 1

The Very Best Of Goodbye Again

You Seen The Set, Part Three: Cheers....

"Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got...." (Especially the world of goddamn, bleed 'em dry comics!) Which is why, of course, a trip to Boston  - or should that be "Bahhston"? - just wouldn't be complete without sinking some swill in the one place "Where everybody knows your name!". (Just to clarify, that's the Cheers bar and not SCCAM....)

Hmm, I wonder. Y'reckon this is Cheers...?

Guess so. Looks like it....

Cheers, The Wilderness Years....

"First you look so strong...." What a Friday night flashback this proved fer Agent Rob, taking him all the way back to his early teens, the family gathered round the One-eyed-god 'fer to watch' Sam Malone and his regulars provide their, er, regular dose of 22 minutes of wholesome chuckles. Who'd've thunk that one day Rob'd be lucky enough to descend those iconic stairs - it's the sound of the authentic underground actually going underground via the seriously overground, innit...? "And then you fade away...."

"One small step for man...."

"Norm!"

"Indian rope man sees the times...."

"Kiss him quick, he has to part...."

"You seem to come and go...." This is the interior of the Bull & Finch pub on Beacon Hill, the original 1982 inspiration for Cheers (presumably after the producers had heartily swilled their way around Boston and the US on a big, fat TV corporation meal-ticket). No such form of the divine clattered Agent Rob, sadly, and he and Miss Moneypenny downed their respective half litres in exhausted silence, watching the perpetual throng of enthusiastic tourists. There's even a replica of the TV bar upstairs for those who fancy warming Norm's seat in his absence. One-liners not included. "I never seem to know...."

The Bull & Finch's actual bar.... 

"You are a vapour trail...." Close enough, as this is in fact The Cheers Trail, which takes you past eleven historical landmarks as you walk from (er, the other official) Replica where the bar - if not the decidedly airy surroundings complete with, um, street conservatory - is again modelled loosely on the show's television set. This, and a sizeable souvenir shop, which at the very least is underground, is located at Fanueil Hall in downtown - or should that be "dahhntahhn"? - Boston. "In a deep blue sky...."

"Pass through different times, leave them all behind...."

The (other) replica bar's, er, replica bar....

The Cheers bar actual, um, TV bar....

"There's a moose loose aboot this hoose...."

Branded swill glass....*only $8!*

Branded napkin....

Brande- Alright already! We get the idea!

Tourist trapped! "I'm with stupid...."

"If seeing is believing...." As if all this schlepping around and swilling wasn't hard enough on the soul and soles, somebody thought to bang a Newbury Comics in Faneuil Hall Sq. - approx. 3,033 miles by drone from Agent Rob's present location, just so ya know - where there was nothing for it but to stump up and shell out $11.88 for RIDE's (rather fine) new album, Weather Diaries - in a "limited edition embossed mini-gatefold sleeve", just so ya know. "Believing is not seeing...."

Braw Books not available at time of writing....

"Sun is up and the day goes right for me...."

Hmm, not quite my recollection of Cheers, but still....

RIDE - Cali

You Seen The Set, Part One: Naeturvaktin....

Another year and yet another James Bond-ish excursion for Agent Rob and Miss Moneypenny - both now gamely trying to ignore the fact that it seems a transAtlantic return trip cancels out 20 years of diligent recycling! - as they visited Iceland for a 'st-hopover' en route to the US. Of course, no time for bobbing at the Blue Lagoon or swooning at the spectacular sweep of the Game Of Thrones locations, oh no! As soon as rubber skelped tarmac(!) it was time to head out and hit Laugavegur 180 to see the setting for Naeturvaktin (The Night Shift), the cultra-obscure Icelandic sitcom....

The series first aired on BBC4 in 2011 - where it was a massive hit with 7 people - and is best described as something of an Office-y type affair. The principal character, Georg Bjarnfredarson, is a David Brent/Basil Fawlty hybrid - though far angrier and less likeable than that pair combined - who manages (rules!) the night shift of a city centre Shell petrol station with an iron fist (a decidedly rusty, politically incorrect one, mind), subjecting his fellow staff, the hapless Olafur and nervous Daniel, to all manner of psychological and physical abuse....

Georg Bjarnfredarson, employee of the month....

"hddg!"

Staff meeting of the night shift underway....

On a recent rewatch prior to this blog there's no denying that after 3 enjoyable opening episodes the 4th and 5th take such a relentlessly bleak turn over their 25 minutes - Georg's persistent pursuit and acute assassination of Olafur's character/dreams are painful to watch - that it'd be hard to blame the casual viewer for not persevering. Of course, the 6th episode is an absolute belter and was Rob's turning point (of no return) in his affection for the show....

Olafur Ragnar hitting the salt....

Shell of a station. Shell of a guy.... 

Daniel not Samuel....

The petrol station (now franchised/owned by ORKAN) hasn't changed too much since the series. The staff were pretty amazed when told of our reason for visiting, surely among the first ever fans from Scotland/the UK/Europe/anywhere to do so. The interior's obviously been upgraded and remodelled somewhat in the past 10 years but the, er, 'iconic' spiral stair and toilet (for customers' use only, of course!) remain and you can still buy a "hddg" from the counter if you wish (though after much searching Rob settled for a far more affordable Conga Xtra)....

Here. Stair. Here. Here stair here....

Welcome to shell....

B & E the bog par for the course....

'Shunker 5'. Note the garage now partitioned off....

Conga! Cheap as (expensive) chips....

Periodically, quite exhausted and confused by Georg's merciless persecution, Olafur and Daniel will wander off into the chilly night to visit Ylfa and, in an attempt to do the same himself, Rob discovered the producers had cannily made use of the petrol station's drive-thru rear window to give the impression of another location. Though you wouldn't guess it from watching the show Ylfa's not in another building nearby, but actually sitting hidden in behind the main counter. Cunning....

Awrite, doll...?

Ylfa looking suitably (un)impressed with Olafur's chat....

A quick wander round the side and you can spy the workshop/garage where Olafar spends most of his time idling away the long nights, tending to his dilapidated jeep, cowering in hiding from Georg's wrath. Of course, this absence doesn't entirely spare him from being accused of or roped in as an unwitting (or indeed, 'dimwitting') accomplice in many of the show's unfortunate and comical misunderstandings'.... 

Hippa to da hoppa....

Now this, ah, misunderstanding....

It's no secret that you need more than a faith and pocketful of Miss Moneypenny to get by in Iceland - 8 quid for a half litre of swill, erk! - but that didn't stop us visiting the amazing Lucky Records (from where Rob purchased the bulk of his Naeturvaktin, Dagvaktin, Fangavaktin and Mr. Bjarnfredarson DVDs on ebay) on the return journey to the city centre. Therein he duly puzzled the staff with his obscure request for Hlemma Video - a post-Vaktin-trilogy effort from Petur Johann Sigfusson (Olafur) - and further perplexed them with his 'lost-in-translation' wit. Defeated he finally opted to pick up a (genuinely) cheap DVD of the Dagvaktin sequel series for a fellow convert back home....

Very lucky records....

Bargain! Approx. £8.80 + flippin' shippin'....

The final piece of the Laugevegur puzzle was to visit the (loosely affiliated with The Brian Jonestown Massacre and Glasgow School of Art) Dead shop. Unfortunately, 'lucky' was against us and it was closed at the time, so we were unable to peruse the strange art(ifacts presumably) on sale inside. Seems to be a major construction work going on just next door - this leery painting disguising a treacherous void, a cavernous opening in the ground presumably awaiting a new 'development'.... else perhaps it's some giant troll grave/excavation....

All the above are within easy walking distance, the ORKAN petrol station (@180) about 1/2 an hour's walk from the City Square straight along the main, er, strip of the Laugavegur, with Dead (@29) and Lucky Records (@Raudarastigur 10) both on the way....

Ach, cheer up, Oli. We'll be back....

Bjork - Violently Happy