Television
Comics anonymous
Wendy Cope
omeone once pointed out to me that all women make the same noise when they see a donkey. It's a prolonged `Ah' with a dying fall, indicating that the woman thinks the donkey is sweet. This sound, of course, is a common response to cuddly innocence and I'm fairly sure I made it when Steve Murray brought out his little teddy bear on Cabaret at the Jongleurs (BBC 2). The teddy was called Suicidal Henry. He plunged into a tank that was said to contain a deadly piranha fish and emerged victo- rious a few minutes later. Any reader'with a nervous disposition should stop here because the next teddy was not so fortun- ate. His death-defying trick with a guillo- tine went wrong and one small furry head dropped quietly on to the table. 'He wasn't quick enough,' commented the beaming comedian. It was a very successful turn, which made the audience laugh at the same time as it raised uncomfortable questions about what really upsets us. Steve Murray can thank his friend John in Penge for the fact that I am able to mention him by name. If we hadn't hap- pened to have a mutual acquaintance, I wouldn't have had the faintest idea which of the names on the credits belonged to the performer with the teddy bears. Although the programme had a compere, few of the comedians were properly introduced. The other funny one was good on the subject of feigned enthusiasm at job interviews. `What first interested you about being a milkman?"Well, even when I was seven I used to draw the different kinds of bottles. When my friends went train-spotting, I went cow-spotting.' He wore a grey shirt and said he lived in Brixton. Future perfor- mers on this show are advised to wear large labels saying who they are.
If you want to appear on After Dark (Channel 4), you can try writing to PO Box 4000, London W3 6XJ. But unless the fee is colossal, I don't recommend it. The programme is very late, very long, and, if last week's offering is anything to go by, extremely boring. The advertised question was, 'What do women want from mar- riage?' The guests were Shere Hite, Naim Atallah, Mary Whitehouse, the writer Joan Wyndham, Julie Grant of the National Union of Students, James Dearden, author of the screenplay of Fatal Attraction, and Carol McMillan, described in her caption as 'mother'. I have to admit that I didn't watch every single minute of their con- versation — I taped it and sat through as many excerpts as I could stand. These are some of the things I learned: Naim Atallah sometimes helps with the housework. James Dearden thinks men are aware that they should at least try to help out. Mrs Whitehouse believes that there is very much more to marriage than sex. 'Sperm always come from men. They never come from women, in spite of all the advances in science.' This last gem was contributed by Ms McMillan, with an air of tremendous intellectual disdain. As platitude followed platitude, the participants seemed in- creasingly weary. Shere Hite, over here to promote her new book, was plainly ex- hausted before the programme began. Any viewers who stayed up to watch at the time it was broadcast probably fell asleep during the first ten minutes.
Actually I can't imagine who, apart from a television critic, would choose to tune in to a late-night discussion programme when they could be watching a movie. Recording After Dark meant I couldn't tape Brighton Rock, which went out at the same time on BBC 2. Earlier in the week I saw The Third Man (BBC 2) for the first time, but there is no need for me to tell the world how good that is. 'It's all right, Payne,' says Trevor Howard at one point, 'It's just a scribbler with too much drink in him.' Scribblers with too much drink in them featured prominently in the week's arts program- mes, with Arena (BBC 2) looking at Jack Kerouac and Review (BBC 2) including an item about Barfly, the new film based on the life of the poet Charles Bukowski.
Interviewed for the latter, Kingsley Amis said that drinking on the job doesn't help at all; Jeffrey Bernard spoke up for the opposite point of view. For myself I find that alcohol makes coherent writing virtually impossible. It has to be put aside until the wonderful moment when I have typed the last full stop.
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