The Official Goodies Rule - OK! Fan Club Website

There will be great demand for these tickets so make sure you book early on the date the tickets come on sale. We are limiting the number of tickets any applicant may purchase to 4. This is partly so ensure more people on our mailing list are able to get tickets, and partly because in the past, people have been re-selling their tickets at a profit on eBay, which is very unfair on other mailing list members unlucky enough to obtain tickets themselves. Also - if you buy a ticket on eBay and the show is cancelled, the theatre can only refund the credit card used to pay for the ticket. We have arranged that all the theatres will keep the details of the first 30 callers to miss out on tickets, so those with tickets who suddenly find they can't attend, will be able to re-sell them at the theatre's box office to a deserving member of the mailing list.

* BBC 7 (www.bbc.co.uk/bbc7 ) recently was seeking suggestions for shows their listeners would like to hear again on the station's fifth birthday in December. Why not drop them at note at http://www.bbc.co.uk/feedback/ requesting "I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again", "Hello Cheeky", or other shows involving our favourite trio? "I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue" is part of BBC 7's regular schedule and is one of their most popular programs, so there's no need to request the show in general (though you might want to ask about series or specials they haven't previously aired).

Speaking of ISIHAC, according to BBC 7's newsletter fans can hear an extra episode this week this Saturday (22nd Sept) during "Comedy Controller: Tom Robinson". His selection is scheduled to include: Radio Active (19/7/1985) The Very World of Milton Jones (26/10/1999) King Cutler (8/2/1990) Round The Horne (15/2/1967) The Boosh - Jazz (23/2/2001) and I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue (12/6/2000). It airs at Saturday at 9am, 8pm and 3am and can be heard from BBC 7's website (the show will also be available for about a week after broadcast from Listen Again).

The article itself is a quote from Graeme which reads: "Now you can see how we get some of the sound effects that you hear on the show. I suppose it's what you'd call the 'visual' element of the show. We actually record two programmes at a time. We go through from 7:30-10:30pm and out of that you'll get two blocks of 30 minutes. I was asked recently how we managed to pack so much, er, filth into each show. The trick is that we still act as if there's a BBC censor waiting with his red pen. If you listen to a lot of shows on TV, they just go straight for bad language. But where do you go from there? If you listen to us there aren't any actual rude words. It's all innuendo and double entendre. That way, if anyone does complain about the show, I can say 'Madam, you must have a very filthy mind. That's not what we meant at all'"

Max Bygraves was born in London in 1922 and his career in light entertainment kicked off in the post-World War 2 years with various TV and movie appearances during the next decade and more notably a considerable number of Top 75 singles during the 1950's and ten high-selling SingalongaMax medley albums in latter years. However his "so-laid-back-it's-almost-comatose" crooning style has proved to be a prime target for The Goodies and indeed other comedians over the years. As Tim Brooke-Taylor mentions in one of his Q&A sessions for our fan club in 1997, "Everyone attacked Max Bygraves, quite rightly."

Des O'Connor also hails from London, being born there in 1932, and similarly carved out a post-war entertainment career mainly on television and stage, though he has also had a reasonable singing career, releasing numerous albums and having a handful of chart-rating singles as well. His singing ability (or perceived lack thereof) has often been mocked by other comedians, particularly by Morecambe and Wise, and he certainly wasn't spared a bit of a stirring by The Goodies either, though more for his mouldy old jokes than any shortcomings with his singing.

In the "Camelot" episode we see Bill fooling around in the castle, unloading dreadfully corny sight gags like a coat of arms (with several extra ones sewn on!), a length of garden hose (that is somewhat difficult to fit his legs into) and a packet of fishfingers around his waist (because he has run out of codpieces!) Graeme is appalled by this ("Good grief, does the preservation of Britain's national heritage mean nothing to you?!") and Tim only makes matters worse by re-entering as a jester and producing even more groansome jokes. After handing Bill a plank of wood and telling him that it's his "serf board", Tim gushes "Every one a valuable antique as originally writ in the 'Des O'Connor Book Of Medieval Jests!'"

Max Bygraves appears to have escaped the Goodies barbs until Series 5, although in my opinion they missed a prime opportunity to have a shot at him in the second-ever episode, "Snooze". Searching for a new name for the bedtime drink Venom, ("something sleepy, soporific, late night"), Bill suggests "Rolf Harris … (as he) … Sends me to sleep!" A cue to drop Max's name if ever there was one! I had also thought that the egotistical character of Maxie Grease in the "Superstar" special at the end of Series 3 was a send-up of Max Bygraves, but Graeme Garden kindly provided me with the following information: "Maxie Grease was based on Hughie Green, the host of talent show Opportunity Knocks, and had a very oily ingratiating persona - 'Welcome ladies and gentlemen, and I mean that most sincerely folks' etc." More on Hughie as a Goodies target on another occasion!

Both O'Connor and Bygraves score a mention in the same long rambling sentence in the "Wacky Wales" episode. Graeme is reading out an invitation from Reverend Llewellyn for the Goodies to attend the Llandlubber International Eisteddfod which is written partly in English, partly in Welsh and mostly in gibberish. One particular section reads "… guest of honour … Max Bygraves (producing a look of revulsion from Bill) y Des O'Connor y Rolf Harris …" and then trails on to include such diverse phrases as "get stuffed", "an unfortunate incident last year", "Clive Jenkins", "plate of wallaby stew", "all over the carpet", "police station" and "indecent exposure", with a bemused Tim finally asking "What was that all about?" Graeme's reply: "No idea!"

"Scatty Safari" also gives both Bygraves and O'Connor a decent serve. When the search is on for a main attraction to replace the gunned-down Tony Blackburn at the Goodies Star Safari Park, it leads to the following dialogue: Tim: "Can't you think of any really big draws?" Bill (cheekily): "Mrs Mills!" Tim: "You're just being silly." Graeme: "Max Bygraves?" Tim: "So are you!" Graeme (indignantly): "No! Max Bygraves is very popular." Tim (unimpressed): "Well, so he tells us … but how are we gonna capture him?" Graeme: "Simple. Now Max is doing a Palladium show this week, right? The three of us go to the theatre, Max comes out on the stage and he's doing his act. Then, when everyone's asleep, (motions), we creep up on him and we put a big bag …" Tim (interrupting dismissively): "No, no, no, no. No, we tried that with Des O'Connor and look what happened." Bill (matter-of-factly): "Yeah, we dropped off!" Tim (wistfully) "No, Max can never replace … Tony!"

Des O'Connor seems to do an escape act himself from the Goodies' sights from this point onwards, but Max Bygraves is still very much a target for their wit-laden arrows. In "Kung Fu Kapers" Bill sets out to prove that he "knows a thing or two about martial arts" by chopping Graeme's book neatly in half before Tim issues him with the ultimate challenge: "Hang on a minute, have a go at these" (as he produces a stack of about a dozen LPs) "Max Bygraves' latest. SleepalongaMax Volume 98." The disturbing thought of why on earth Tim would have a copy of them in the first place is rapidly lost in the imagery of Bill taking a huge swipe at the pile of horrible records and not being able to make the slightest dent in them, only to have the table underneath split perfectly in half a few seconds later. Motioning towards Bygraves' seemingly indestructable musical collection, Bill says "Tell you something mate. If I wanted to, I could smash those to smithereens" as a revolted Tim utters "Ooh, I wish you would!". But had it happened, it would have been with "an infinitely more subtle and superior Lancastrian martial art" than lousy old kung fu!

In "Lips Or Almighty Cod", the Goodies' attempts to annoy their fishy friends so that they would scare off the lurking Eskimos seem to have come to nought. Bill has waved a Nicholas Parsons mask at them ("Slime, slime, grease, grease! Slime, slime, patronise, patronise!"), Tim has insulted the low intelligence of the goldfish and Graeme has yelled at them via a megaphone that " The Radio Times is the biggest selling magazine in Europe!", all to no avail. Graeme decides to give up and relax with "a spot of soothing music" – Max Bygraves (or at least ISIHAC regular Barry Cryer impersonating Max) singing his 1958 hit "Tulips From Amsterdam". Suddenly there's action aplenty with annoyed fish thrashing around in their tanks all over the room, causing Graeme to ecstatically bellow "Of course! That's it! (smooch) Max Bygraves! Why didn't I think of it before!" Bygraves' singing is even enough to transform Graeme's previously camp cod into a Jaws-like "fearless killer of the deep", though once it has swallowed Graeme's gramophone, the thought of having Max eternally crooning away inside it eventually sees it come to grief in a shower of fishfingers after crashing into the oil and batter-laden pier.

"Alternative Roots" sees the Goodies' ancestors "delivered to their final terrible humiliating destination" – the BBC – and auctioned off to the producers of various TV shows. The call of "Anyone for Max Bygraves?" by the slave trader has all of the producers shaking their heads, so it's "No one for Max Bygraves". This occurs again throughout the auction until the slave trader finally yells triumphantly "And one for Max Bygraves!", with the Goodies left to console the poor distraught sod who has been drafted for Bygraves' show. Later in the same series, "Royal Command" has Graeme opening the second Royal Variety Show with "And who better to begin our return to the good old days than that paragon of perky patter and comical cantillation ... (loud murmurs from the crowd, but puzzlement from the royal box) ... He sings and tells jokes Ma'am! I give you your own, your very own, Mr Max Bygraves!" Footage is shown of Bygraves walking out onto the stage, but he only gets as far as saying "I want to tell you a story …" before he is unceremoniously dumped through a trap door to the rapturous cheering of the regal, but rather feral, audience.

According to "The Goodies Rule OK" book by Robert Ross, the scene in "Scoutrageous" where Graeme and Bill are attempting to earn their World Domination Badge was initially written with the bomb to be detonated under Max Bygraves if the world leaders handed over control to the not-so-Goodies, however they end up planting it under Oliver Reed instead. However there is one last dig at Bygraves in the final series that The Goodies made at the BBC in the "Saturday Night Grease" episode. Graeme is trying to teach Tim a trendy dance called the Disco Heave and the instructions start with "Imagine you're in a disco and somebody accidentally puts on a Max Bygraves record. You don't know which way to go to throw up!". This has Tim feigning throwing up to the left and the right which is the first of several moves in this brand new dance; the others including shaking melting ice out of his trouser legs and stepping on an electric lead with his wet feet. Funky!

The beauty of The Goodies sending up the likes of Des O'Connor, Max Bygraves and various other celebrities is that it doesn't matter if you've never heard actually Bygraves' boring singing or O'Connor telling corny jokes (which I'm sure was the case for most other Australian Goodies fans growing up watching the show during the 1970s and 1980s) – the fact that The Goodies found them appalling was ample reason enough for you to find them appalling as well. I can recall the tale of one of my sister's friends – a keen Goodies fan – whose grandfather was talking to her about his musical interests and casually mentioned that he liked Max Bygraves. "MAX BYGRAVES!!", my sister's friend blurted out in a mixture of shock, horror, revulsion and laughter, prompting an innocent but worried query of "What's wrong dear?" from her grandfather. What's wrong? … his music only annoys fish, puts people to sleep or makes them throw up, that's all! Just as Des tells lame jokes from the middle ages, gets jealous with Rolf getting all of the attention and makes people drop off as well. I guess that you've just got to be a Goodies fan to understand!

After pigging out on too much "Custard Pie" in their last review, Peaches Stiletto (aka Linda Kay) and Emperor Caligula (aka Brett Allender) got a little disoriented looking for "t'meditation room" after leaving the recording studio and have ended up lost in the Sahara Desert. (Hooray, I hear you say!) They're desperate for water, but just as they think they're about to die, they chance upon a village where market day is in full swing. They go to the first stall they see and ask if they can buy some water.

If your relationship stocks are racked with doubt and you'd like to stop feuding and herald a return to happier days, then here's a little not-so-"lute" song with a thumping guitar rhythm just for you. Don't merely go back in time to before the last argument or even a return to your first date – why not cast(le) your mind all the way back to the Middle Ages where the knights were bold (and the days were pretty saucy too, no doubt!), Des O'Connor was telling his jokes for the very first time, Nicholas Parsons was just a lad in short garters and Max Bygraves had barely started to croon out his debut album! The Goodies proved how much fun can be (Gala)had in those medieval days with a coat of arms and codpieces, so a banquet at the Wessex Working Burghers Club ("and right burghers they were too!") or a night out at an inn that serves sucking pigs (and anyone else with equally appalling table manners for that matter!) might be just the ticket for patching up that shaky modern-day romance. And if your once-fair maiden is still a real battleaxe afterwards, then a spot of witch burning at the end of your Goodies 50p Camelot tour might convince her that, like Joan of Arc, there's a lot more at stake than she realises!

As I attempt to review this tune it seems but a feudal endeavor . . . the longing for a simpler age berms in the best of us. But to be cauldron to bring back the dark ages really gets my groat. When Bing Crosby woke up to find himself inexplicably in Camelot, at least he could sing his way out of trouble. But it's hard to sing when one is suffering from the Black Plague (a factor Twain conveniently left out of his little tale . . . and who knew Twain even wrote musicals?) Joust you wait and see . . . I'm no lyre . . . this attempted medieval revival will dragon even longer than the era of serf music. Okay, so this is a peasant enough song, noble in its intent. Maybe not a tune I would give an armor leg for, buttress assured tithe rather take a page from Bill Oddie's historical longings than listen to most anything by Iron Maiden (heavy metal is for wearing, not for listening!) That's not to say the middle ages didn't have it's advantages. For one thing, chain mail wasn't something you had to send to ten of your friends on the threat of bad luck. And speaking of bad luck, I'm reminded of the story of a fair maiden locked in the high tower of an evil duke's castle who would swear a blue streak for help whenever any potential princes rode their steeds in the vicinity. Sadly for this damsel her pleas would go unanswered, as the evil duke would simply explain to the startled passing princes, "Ignore her . . . she's suffering from turrets syndrome." That said, if you feel this review has been rather pathetic, you may considering firing me. But seriously . . . can anyone truly de-scribe me?

Now jester minute! You moat think I'm a loony (mass chant of "You're a loony!") but armour gonna tell you that this crusade back to medieval times in search of old-fashioned lust has goth a (Lance)lot going for it. After giving it a bit of fort, it's an idea that if it court on, could earn its keep and is definitely worth an inquisition, especially when you consider some of the chat-up lines that were cannon fodder back in those days. In the spirit of Bill and Tim's "Once a knight, always a knight. Twice a night and you're doing alright!", one might like to try "A day just wouldn't be complete without a knight.". Or perhaps "I've just returned from the dungeon and my legs weren't the only thing that they stretched!" And one for the wenches: "Is that your longstaff or are you just pleased to see me?!" However "I'm Black Rod, but that's as far as the bubonic plague has spread!" is unlikely to turn anyone on; nor would "No Saxons please, I'm British!", so maybe I'm drawing a longbow after all. I might just have to settle for a novel Middle Ages pet instead like a dancing bear, a fighting cock, the aforementioned sucking pig, or how about a battering ram?! Looks like it's time for taking me back alright … to the Dark Ages of my padded cell in the funny farm where I can tune into Radio Goodies and take that nice Walk in the Black Forest over and over and over again!

Crack eggs into bowl. Beat eggs first with a wooden spoon held in center of bowl, then place bowl in center of the turntable of a record player and turn the machine on. Beat eggs well and set aside. Mold pastry into shape by banging it on the table or your leg, biting it or thawing it over indirect heat on stove. Place softened dough into bowl, flour slightly and shape into urn while spinning on the turntable. Dump egg mixture into urn and add one chunk of cheese. Pour onto average size dinner plate. Yield: Serves one 12 year old girl.

Still, even in a partisan crowd, most people won't remember much of this stuff. And the games are perfectly chosen. The tone-deaf Hardy sings an a capella Thank You for the Music. Garden and Cryer act out a scene from The Importance of Being Earnest as Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader. Brooke-Taylor performs the orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally on swanee whistle. Mornington Crescent is greeted like a beloved Number One single. And they end with one of their best-ever set-pieces, Quiz of Quizzes, which parodies every TV quiz going. Glorious.

After 35 years of radio broadcasts, "I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue" launched its first Official Stage Tour this year; the eleven dates sold-out ran from late August to early October. The tour was billed as "a kind of 'best of' show, featuring "favourite rounds from the past 35 years" which would not be recorded for broadcast on Radio 4. Guest panelist Jeremy Hardy joined regulars Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden, and Barry Cryer along with chairman Humphrey Lyttelton and pianist Colin Sell.

I've been fortunate enough to attend a handful of ISIHAC Radio 4 recordings over the years and wondered how the tour would differ. One difference was immediately apparent upon entering the theater – perched upon every seat was a brightly colored plastic kazoo. At the show in Brighton the theater staff had been careful to place the kazoos in alternating colors - there were red, yellow, and orange ones throughout the theater, creating a colorful and cheerful effect. (In the interests of full disclosure I'll note that I saw two people holding green kazoos after the event, so maybe there were more of these in a section I couldn't see.)

As I was seated about 15-20 minutes prior to the start of the show I had the opportunity to witness people's amused reactions as they arrived at their seats and found the kazoos. It was funny to hear people tootle away on the instruments, with little noises popping up throughout the theater as they tried to work out the right technique for mastering the instrument. During this pre-show time two women seated about 6 rows behind me spent several minutes doing kazoo duets, at one point accompanying the music being piped into the theater. It was wonderfully silly and perfectly in keeping with the spirit of ISIHAC.

At last it was time for the show to begin. It was obvious from the start that this was a great audience. As is the case for the radio broadcasts, longtime ISIHAC producer Jon Naismith did the warm-up. He explained that as this was a "greatest hits" show he was going to tell some of his least unsuccessful warm-up jokes from the past 16 years. The audience enjoyed them all, laughing rather heartily at most of them. Jon explained that the kazoos would not be used until the second half the show, leading to an "awww!" of disappointment from the audience. However, we were then given an opportunity to test out the instruments (which wisely gave everyone the opportunity to get it out of their systems for a while!)

Two big differences were evident in the singing and sound effects rounds. When it was time for the teams to sing, rather than sitting at their desks they instead made use of microphones on stands which had been placed at the front of the stage. This allowed each person (or team) to come forward and sing directly to the audience. Tim took particularly good advantage of the opportunity, doing a little dance each time he sang (to the delight of the audience). For the round in which one team tells a story and the other provides sound effects a table laden with props was wheeled on stage and placed next to the microphones. The team telling the story sat at their desk while the team making the sound effects came to the front of the stage and made use of the props or created the sounds vocally, amusingly acting out their attempts.

As I'd often witnessed during the Goodies' live tour, Graeme kept bringing down the house with his delivery. My favorite example was during a celebrity duets song round, which some of you may know from one of the early ISIHAC CDs. Barry & Graeme sing "Wandering Star", with Barry imitating Lee Marvin and Graeme playing Lee's hairdresser. The song had to stop at least 3 or 4 times - every time Graeme said a line there was a huge burst of laughter from the audience. Eventually even Barry started laughing heartily; twice he needed to regain his composure before being able to continue!

Among several rounds that clearly contained original material for the night was the composition of letters, with each team member providing one word at a time until Humph judged their letter was complete. In Brighton it was a letter between King George IV (due to his local connection from having built the Brighton Pavilion, which is located next to the Brighton Dome) and Beau Brummel (if I remember correctly). Both letters went on quite a while, with Tim & Jeremy's getting especially surreal (they even gave "Beau" an Archers-like accent). As they were getting desperate to finish (Humph had picked up his horn as if to stop the letter a few times but then put it back down, judging the timing wasn't quite right yet), their letter ended with a line to the effect of "please be helping us end this f*cking letter"!

Ah yes, the "f" word. The audience was definitely getting their value in paying for a "not to be broadcast on Radio 4" show. While the teams certainly weren't intending to use expletives just for the sake of doing so, the fact that they had to be less concerned with broadcast standards created a relaxed enough atmosphere for Jeremy to say 2 "f*ck"s, 1 "f*cking", and one "shit" (but all in appropriate context) over the course of the two hours, much to the audience's amusement. At one point Humph even said "bollocks", which Tim repeated with a straight face, during an explanation of the convention to be followed for that evening's round of Mornington Crescent. I probably should note here that after the show the others teased Jeremy over his language faux pas; he seemed genuinely embarrassed at having slipped up a few times.

The kazoos finally came into play in the second half of the evening. The audience was shown the name of a song they had to play, which the teams would then have to guess. The song selections did vary from show to show. I know that in Reading the audience was asked to play "Feelings" and "The Lonely Goatherd". In Brighton the songs were the appropriate "I Do Like to be Beside the Seaside" followed by "The William Tell Overture". The audience was obviously delighted with both choices, particularly the latter (as it was a fun one to attempt on kazoo). Even sitting in the audience, knowing what we were supposed to be playing, it was hard to pick out the melody. After several failed attempts on the part of the teams to guess each song Humph instructed only the ladies to play the first selection, with the second tackled by just the men (after the group effort failed). For some reason that seems to work, whether there's some actual scientific explanation or it's just a matter of pride for each gender to make the extra effort at clarity. With that in mind, you'll have to pardon my smugness in saying the women's rendition of "Seaside" was instantly recognized while it took the men two attempts before the panelists guessed their song. ;)

During "Pick Up Song", in which the panelists need to sing along with records whose volume is dropped and then be on time when the music returns, Jeremy again sang "Thank You for the Music" (the ABBA song), to the delight of the audience. Any time Jeremy is asked to sing there's a huge cheer from the audience, who appreciate not only his "unique" singing style but also his good natured acceptance at his difficulty in finding the tune. But we were particularly elated at this wonderful song choice which lead to Jeremy singing, somewhat off tune, lines like "But I have a talent, a wonderful thing, cause everyone listens when I start to sing" (true enough… ;). As at other shows in the tour, the audience clapped along. I'd also seen the show in Reading a few nights earlier - that evening it seemed to me that the audience was clapping too slowly, which threw Jeremy off; indeed, he was quite a way off when the song returned. However, in Brighton he got off to a good start and the audience picked up the tempo from him (not only clapping and stomping along but also singing quite heartily). When the music came back up Jeremy was *exactly* on time. He was *so* happy! He threw his hands up in victory, the audience cheered, several of the other panelists gave him a standing ovation, and Jeremy told the audience "you were here!!!". After the show I learned he'd been trying so hard all through the tour to come in on time, adding to his delight of finally accomplishing the feat at the final date.