Podcasts about That Was the Week That Was

Dennis McNally was the Grateful Dead's publicist in the mid-‘80s, one of many reasons why he's supremely qualified to write his new book about the birth of the counterculture in America's West and East Coast and Britain. ‘The Last Great Dream: How Bohemians Became Hippies And Created the Sixties', a celebration of music, beat poetry, radical thinking, free speech and artistic liberty, seems even more precious now in the light of recent events. All sorts are discussed here, these being some of the highlights …  … how the Summer of Love of ‘67 actually happened in the Fall of ‘66 in Haight-Ashbury. … “rigid, stagnant, terrifying”: early ‘60s America before the revolution.  … the three key cities that “experimented with freedom”. ... how San Francisco “cherished strangeness” and had a self-proclaimed ruler, Emperor Norton, who created his own currency. … how the Grateful Dead - “the ultimate example of the bohemian pulse writ large in music” – spent $1m building a sound system when they were earning $125 a week. … the influence of Private Eye, Beyond The Fringe and That Was The Week That Was on British culture. And of Lenny Bruce, the Hungry I club, Bill Cosby, Woody Allen and Mort Sahl in America. … how Rebel Without A Cause and the Wild One helped establish the West Coast as rebellious. … “there are two flags of freedom – one to make as much money as possible, the other to be as open-minded and thoughtful about everything”. … Eisenhower said “in God we trust!” But which God? … the entire security for the 25,000 crowd at the Human Be-In in Golden Gate Park was two mounted policemen. … “nothing is more fun than researching”. ... how the counter-culture was created with very little money or technology. Order the Last Great Dream here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Great-Dream-Bohemians-Hippies/dp/0306835665Help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Dennis McNally was the Grateful Dead's publicist in the mid-‘80s, one of many reasons why he's supremely qualified to write his new book about the birth of the counterculture in America's West and East Coast and Britain. ‘The Last Great Dream: How Bohemians Became Hippies And Created the Sixties', a celebration of music, beat poetry, radical thinking, free speech and artistic liberty, seems even more precious now in the light of recent events. All sorts are discussed here, these being some of the highlights …  … how the Summer of Love of ‘67 actually happened in the Fall of ‘66 in Haight-Ashbury. … “rigid, stagnant, terrifying”: early ‘60s America before the revolution.  … the three key cities that “experimented with freedom”. ... how San Francisco “cherished strangeness” and had a self-proclaimed ruler, Emperor Norton, who created his own currency. … how the Grateful Dead - “the ultimate example of the bohemian pulse writ large in music” – spent $1m building a sound system when they were earning $125 a week. … the influence of Private Eye, Beyond The Fringe and That Was The Week That Was on British culture. And of Lenny Bruce, the Hungry I club, Bill Cosby, Woody Allen and Mort Sahl in America. … how Rebel Without A Cause and the Wild One helped establish the West Coast as rebellious. … “there are two flags of freedom – one to make as much money as possible, the other to be as open-minded and thoughtful about everything”. … Eisenhower said “in God we trust!” But which God? … the entire security for the 25,000 crowd at the Human Be-In in Golden Gate Park was two mounted policemen. … “nothing is more fun than researching”. ... how the counter-culture was created with very little money or technology. Order the Last Great Dream here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Great-Dream-Bohemians-Hippies/dp/0306835665Help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Dennis McNally was the Grateful Dead's publicist in the mid-‘80s, one of many reasons why he's supremely qualified to write his new book about the birth of the counterculture in America's West and East Coast and Britain. ‘The Last Great Dream: How Bohemians Became Hippies And Created the Sixties', a celebration of music, beat poetry, radical thinking, free speech and artistic liberty, seems even more precious now in the light of recent events. All sorts are discussed here, these being some of the highlights …  … how the Summer of Love of ‘67 actually happened in the Fall of ‘66 in Haight-Ashbury. … “rigid, stagnant, terrifying”: early ‘60s America before the revolution.  … the three key cities that “experimented with freedom”. ... how San Francisco “cherished strangeness” and had a self-proclaimed ruler, Emperor Norton, who created his own currency. … how the Grateful Dead - “the ultimate example of the bohemian pulse writ large in music” – spent $1m building a sound system when they were earning $125 a week. … the influence of Private Eye, Beyond The Fringe and That Was The Week That Was on British culture. And of Lenny Bruce, the Hungry I club, Bill Cosby, Woody Allen and Mort Sahl in America. … how Rebel Without A Cause and the Wild One helped establish the West Coast as rebellious. … “there are two flags of freedom – one to make as much money as possible, the other to be as open-minded and thoughtful about everything”. … Eisenhower said “in God we trust!” But which God? … the entire security for the 25,000 crowd at the Human Be-In in Golden Gate Park was two mounted policemen. … “nothing is more fun than researching”. ... how the counter-culture was created with very little money or technology. Order the Last Great Dream here: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Great-Dream-Bohemians-Hippies/dp/0306835665Help us to keep the conversation going: https://www.patreon.com/wordinyourear Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The name may not ring too many bells today, but from the 1960s through the 1990s you just had to turn on your television or (hit up your local comedy record store) and you were sure to run into the work of Sandy Baron who rose from playing the Catskills "borscht belt", to improv and satirical shows (including the US version of "That Was The Week That Was), to becoming a fixture in Vegas, in movies, and on television talk and game shows. In 1984 Sandy was introduced to a new generation of fans with his a role in Broadway Danny Rose, Woody Allen's tribute to shtickmeisters (and struggling agents), then in the 1990s he had a juicy late-career triumph on Seinfeld as Jack Klompus who was a comic antagonist of Jerry's dad. As always find extra cuts below and thanks for sharing our shows. Want more Sandy Baron? We don't usually include other artists in an episode, but how can we fail to give you the whole Lou Rawls classic "A Natural Man" -- with lyrics courtesy of Sandy Baron. https://youtu.be/y9tS0loD3vQ?si=BkE-OA-wTpBUV701 Sandy had one shot at his own sitcom (Hey Landlord!) and it tanked after just one year. Being a great standup comic, Sandy was able to turn his pain to laughs in this routine from shortly after the cancellation. https://youtu.be/jdr0GcxAoQo?si=q-YB2UAcumQDJTdK Woody Allen's Broadway Danny Rose was a love letter to the shtickmeisters of the past (and their sometimes hapless agents). Much of the story is told in flashback during a gathering of comics at the Carnegie Deli -- and Sandy was right in the middle of it. https://youtu.be/mXIM1JXWjm4?si=ZViQ3NSLjeJ4R3-g Longtime fans were delighted when Sandy surfaced in the 1990s playing a pesky rival of Jerry Seinfeld's dad on the classic sitcom Seinfeld. Here are some of of the best "Jack Klompus" moments from the show. https://youtu.be/XLK1eqK2kEo?si=-9LZ0EwUQ1o4BDVw

This week we meet an architect of 1960s British Satire and a titan of 20th century media, Sir David Frost. From humble beginnings, David found his true course in college where he edited the school paper, edited the literary magazine, and for our purposes most importantly joined the Cambridge Footlights Society where he dove head first into the evolving British comedy scene. A genial presenter, David's first big break came as host of That Was The Week That Was, and he followed it up with more clever series including the Frost Report. Drawing on a writing and acting staff that included (among others) Roald Dahl, The Two Ronnies, and much of the Monty Python Troupe, Frost's shows were literate, topical, and very funny. Over time, David leaned into his interviewing skills (looking at you Dick Nixon) more than comedy, but his place in the comedy firmament is secure! As always find extra cuts below and thanks for sharing our shows! Want more Frost? This clip is over 60 years old -- it's a great bit from That Was the Week that Was back in 1963 -- a consumer guide to religion -- and in true British comedy fashion David and crew take the piss out of everyone! https://youtu.be/tRZWyfERiCc?si=-iX3n5lUM0wEKr-n David followed TW3 with The Frost Report, another brilliant series. Here's a sample episode looking at "trends". https://youtu.be/dnD1WP5wt4s?si=hu2aVAVkkJk6j-oc David specialized in satire, but he also could be silly as in this appearance by the Beatles on his show. He persuaded the lads to play a shaggy version of his theme and they oblige!https://youtu.be/bVI7UWa5K3E?si=NFRMvcDR-oPNKDBB

Episode six of Britcom Goes to the Movies marks the halfway point of the series and this week we're going all the back to 1970. Having said that the themes and satire from The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer are all too prescient in 2023. Guy and Rob are joined to talk all things Peter Cook, David Frost and of course The Rise & Rise of Michael Rimmer by writer, producer and host of the Best Pick Podcast Tom Salinsky. Tom's insights and political context for this episode were invaluable and he also wrote and hosted our quiz. Among other things, we talk about That Was The Week That Was, Goodbye Again, Frost/Nixon, and a sprinkling of Monty Python. We wouldn't always urge listeners to watch the film we're talking about (Lesbian Vampire Killers we're looking at you) but The Rise & Rise of Michael Rimmer is worth everyone's time, if not for anything other than Arthur Lowe. Could this biting satire challenge the top of our table, tune in and find out. Ned Sherrin introduces TW3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4e4R2038tfU Goodbye again – full episodehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfnrTdecoVc David Frost on his Nixon Interviews https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fpYu36q_tQ Arthur Lowe narrating the Mr Men https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2D1fDiSP_Y The Rise & Rise of Michael Rimmer – Full Movie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WT_prfYb6DE The Cadbury's Flake advert on which the Scorpio Humbugs commercial is based https://youtu.be/DqTPVvam1uY?si=cd9-uUyhmxPgpUN_ Harold Wilson and pipe exhibition https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0Ssw_WQ-y4 Monty Python – The Silly Party hold Leicester https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVI5ZOT5QEM

QNEWS -NOVEMBER 12 2023 - VK4 ON AIR ------------ DID YOUR CLUB TELL ANYONE ABOUT AMATEUR RADIO THIS WEEK? IPSWICH AND DISTRICT AR CLUB DID. As this bulletin goes to air in most locations on Sunday morning, Ipswich WICEN group is again providing safety communications to runners taking part in the rescheduled Mount Glorious Trail event. Following this event Ipswich WICEN will take a break until the next event next year being the Mount Glorious Trail on April 28, 2024. We might have set a record for approving new memberships at the club's October business meeting. A total of five were endorsed as new members. Welcome to the club, Paul VK4PMC, Brett VK4DSN, Alan VK4AJG, Mike VK4MAQ and Christopher VK4CAP. John VK4MUD will open the clubhouse on Saturday November 18 at 1400 hours for anyone who would be interested in using and working the club's HF transceiver and beam, and possibly working some local stations and DX stations as well. If you're new to amateur radio, call in and see what you can work. In other news from Ipswich – the Christmas BBQ will again be held at Kholo Gardens picnic area from 10 am on November 25. Members, friends and visiting amateurs are very welcome to attend. BBQs are available and it's BYO food, drinks and chairs. Reporting from Ipswich this is Allan, VK4HIT. Hello, I'm Geoff Emery, VK4ZPP, and I've been thinking. To re-use the old TV program title, well “That Was The Week That Was”. If you want to upset many amateurs you turn off the bands and when the CME-induced flare hit the HF Bands were placed in recess. I wonder how many of us have considered the benefits of incentives. I mean not only the awards, and contest places for those who are fondly known as paper hangers but to the average amateur whose interests lie in other areas of this wide cluster of pursuits. I know that we have a series of awards given out by the WIA but what about local recognition and providing an information stream to encourage people? At times I think we can be too parochial and restrictive in what is made available to people and we need to recognise that there are many more amateur radio operators than there are club members or members of the WIA. It is well and good to provide ways for club members to get recognition within the club and even to read the honours lists and be able to say, “Hey, she's one of us, she's a ham” when we see they have been gonged. However is there a way that we can do this and include all the local amateur cohort in the recognition? I think that being able to nominate others for recognition is important and being able to share with the community is of great benefit to our hobby as well. When it is within the boundary of a small organisation it may be less effective if the majority aren't embraced in the scheme. Should we be able to set up a way of recognising people and potentially put their achievements out to the local media, even get pictures of them receiving a token such as a plaque or a certificate which can feature in the local media and perhaps Amateur Radio magazine? Now I am not suggesting that this replace any methods of recognition that clubs give their members but can we do this as well? Many things can provide a sense of camaraderie and maybe a presentation of the Golden Sausage to the member who felt best supported the sausage sizzle fundraising is as worthy of praise as a President's award and maybe it would get more involvement in social activities amongst members. What I am trying to do is encourage the brainstorming that suits people locally and encourages participation in more facets of amateur radio. I think that is a good thing…. How about you? I'm Geoff Emery VK4ZPP

From music hall to Red Dwarf, pantomime to Absolutely Fabulous, we look at the history of British comedy, the names, shows, and historical events that made it what it is today. Like what you hear?  Become a patron of the arts for as little as $2 a month!   Or buy the book or some merch.  Hang out with your fellow Brainiacs.  Reach out and touch Moxie on Facebook, Twitter,  or Instagram. Music: Kevin MacLeod, Steve Oxen, David Fesliyan.  . Reach out and touch Moxie on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. Links to all the research resources are on the website. Podchaser: Moxie got me through 2,500 miles. I listened to every episode regardless of audio quality from the vault. I got my fix of facts with a personality that kept me entertained the entire time. I shared it with everyone I knew that would appreciate the facts, wit and hilariously subtle segues. Profile avatar 2 months ago byBoredatwork23 Book: David Nowlin 5.0 out of 5 stars Be prepared to be amazed at what you needed know, but did not. Reviewed in the United States on October 31, 2021 Great book. Read it cover to cover, but am planning to reread it again and again. It is so full of such wonderful pieces of information that I use to interject conversations whenever I can. Thank you Moxie for such a wonderful gift, and the book is great too Gift and merch “The story so far: In the beginning the Universe was created.  This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”  Thus begins Douglas Adams' Restaurant at the End of the Universe, sequel to his culture touchstone The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.  That's the book that gave us the answer to life, the universe and everything, though not the question.  Welcome to episode number 42, which I have decided to devote to [drumroll] the history of British comedy.  That means we're going to try to cram hundreds of years, thousands of performers, and a dozen mediums into a half-hour show.  But don't panic.  My name's Moxie and this is your brain on facts.    British comedy history is measured in centuries, from chase scenes and beatings into Shakespeare's comedies to the misadventures of Mr. Bean.  Even as times, tastes, and technologies changes, some themes are eternal.  Innuendo, for example, has been a staple in the literature as far back as Beowulf and Chaucer, and is prevalent in many British folk songs.  King Charles II was such a fan of innuendo that he encouraged it to the point that Restoration comedy became not only its own genre, but an explicit one at that.  The repressive Victorian period gave us burlesque, though not in the same form as the shows you can see today - more vaudeville than striptease.  Absurdism and the surreal had always been an undercurrent, which firmly took root in the 1950's, leading Red Dwarf, The Mighty Boosh, and Count Duckula.  Though the British Empire successfully conquered ¼ of the globe, but its individual people struggled and suffered.  Plagues, wars, poverty, class oppression, and filthy cities gave rise to, and a need for, black humor, in which topics and events that are usually treated seriously are treated in a humorous or satirical manner.  The class system, especially class tensions between characters, with pompous or dim-witted members of the upper/middle classes or embarrassingly blatant social climbers, has always provided ample material, which we can see in modern shows like Absolutely Fabulous, Keeping Up Appearances, and Blackadder.  The British also value finding humor in everyday life, which we see in shows like Father Ted, The IT Crowd, and Spaced, which also incorporates a fair amount of absurdity.   But there's nothing the Brits do better than satire and nobody does it better than the Brits.  “The British, being cynical and sarcastic by nature do have a natural flair for satire,” says BBCAmerica.com writer Fraser McAlpine.  “There's a history of holding up a mirror to society and accentuating its least attractive qualities that goes back hundreds of years...Sometimes the satire is biting and cold, sometimes it's warm and encouraging, but if you want someone who can say a thing that isn't true, but also somehow IS true in a really profound way. You need look no further.”  There are three principal forms of satire.  Menippean satire uses fantasy realms that reflect back on modern society.  Everything from Alice in Wonderland to the works of Terry Pratchett fit here, as would Dr. Who.  Horatian satire skewers cultural moments of silliness using parodic humor.  These are the kind of thing you tend to see most of in comedy TV shows, like The Office.  We're laughing at people being inept and harassed, but not evil.  Juvenalian satire skewers everything with abrasive, often bleak, wit.  If there's an element of horror at the topic being discussed, that's a clue that it's Juvenalian.  John Oliver is a fair hand with Juvenalian satire.  Most political cartoon and black humor fall under this heading.   Though comedy is as old as laughter, we're going to begin today's time travel with the music hall.  (FYI, the narrative today is going to overall linear, but there will be a fair amount of bouncing around.)  Music halls sprang up as an answer to proper theater, which was at the time heavily monitored and censored by the government.  It took place in humble venues like the backs of pubs and coffee houses.  By the 1830s taverns had rooms devoted to musical clubs. They presented Saturday evening Sing-songs and “Free and Easies”. These became so popular that entertainment was put on two or three times a week.  Music in the form of humorous songs was a key element because dialogue was forbidden.  Dialogue was for the theater and if you had speaking parts, you'd be subject to censorship.  The Theatrical Licensing Act of 1737 empowered the Lord Chamberlain's Office to censor plays; this act would be in force until 1968. So, no speaking parts, less, though still some censorship.  Music halls also allowed drinking and smoking, which legitimate theaters didn't.  As the shows became more popular, they moved from the pubs into venues of their own.  Tavern owners, therefore, often annexed buildings adjoining their premises as music halls.  The usual show consisted of six to eight acts, possibly including a comedy skit (low comedy to appeal to the working class), a juggling act, a magic act, a mime, acrobats, a dancing act, a singing act, and perhaps a one-act play.  In the states, this format was essentially vaudeville.  The music hall era was a heyday for female performers, with headliners like Gracie Fields, Lillie Langtry, and Vesta Tilley.  The advent of the talking motion picture in the late 1920s caused music halls to convert into cinemas to stay in business.  To keep comedians employed, a mixture of films and songs called cine-variety was introduced.     The other critically important tradition of that era was panto or pantomime, but not the Marcel Marceau type of pantomime you might be picturing, but a type of theatrical musical comedy designed for family entertainment.  Modern pantomime includes songs, gags, slapstick comedy, dancing, and gender-crossing actors.  It combines topical humour with well-known stories like fables and folk tales.  It is a participatory form of theatre, in which the audience is expected to sing along with certain parts of the music and shout out phrases to the performers.  It's traditionally quite popular around Christmas and New Years.  In early 19th century England, pantomime acquired its present form and featured the first mainstream clown Joseph Grimaldi, while comedy routines also featured heavily in British music halls.  British comedians who honed their skills at pantomime and music hall sketches include Charlie Chaplin and Stan Laurel.  The influential English music hall comedian and theatre impresario Fred Karno developed a form of sketch comedy without dialogue in the 1890s, and Chaplin and Laurel were among the young comedians who worked for him as part of "Fred Karno's Army". VODACAST   Hopping back to famous ladies of music hall, one such was Lily Harley, though her greatest claim to fame is having given birth to Charles Spencer Chaplin.  When Lily inexplicably lost her voice in the middle of a show, the production manager pushed the five-year-old Charlie, whom he'd heard sing, onto the stage to replace her.  Charlie lit up the audience, wowing them with his natural comedic presence.   Sadly, Lily's voice never recovered, and she was unable to support her two sons, who were sent to a workhouse.  For those of us who don't know workhouses outside of one reference in A Christmas Carol, think an orphanage or jail with indentured servitude.  Young Charlie took whatever jobs he could find to survive as he fought his way back to the stage.  His acting debut was as a pageboy in a production of Sherlock Holmes.  From there he toured with a vaudeville outfit named Casey's Court Circus and in 1908 teamed up with the Fred Karno pantomime troupe, where Chaplin became one of its stars as the Drunk in the comedic sketch A Night in an English Music Hall.  With the Karno troupe, Chaplin got his first taste of the United States, where he caught the eye of a film producer who signed Chaplin to a contract for a $150 a week, equivalent to over three-grand today.   During his first year with the company, Chaplin made 14 films, including The Tramp, which established Chaplin's trademark character and his role as the unexpected hero.  By the age of 26, Chaplin, just three years removed from his vaudeville days, was a superstar.  He'd moved over to the Mutual Company, which paid him a whopping $670,000 a year to make now-classics like Easy Street.   Chaplin came to be known as a grueling perfectionist.  His love for experimentation often meant countless takes, and it was not uncommon for him to order the rebuilding of an entire set or begin filming with one leading actor, realize he'd made a mistake in his casting and start again with someone new.  But you can't argue with results.  During the 1920s Chaplin's career blossomed even more, with landmark films, like The Kid, and The Gold Rush, a movie Chaplin would later say he wanted to be remembered by.  We'll leave Chaplin's story while he's on top because his private life from here on out gets, in a word, sordid.   Though Chapin was English, his film were American.  British cinema arguably lagged decades behind, but they began to close the gap in the 1940's.  Films by Ealing Studios, particularly their comedies like Hue & Cry, Whisky Galore! and The Ladykillers began to push the boundaries of what could be done in cinema, dealing with previously taboo topics like crime in comedic ways.  Kitchen sink dramas followed soon after, portraying social realism, with the struggles of working class Britons on full display, living in cramped rented accommodation and spending their off-hours drinking in grimy pubs, to explore controversial social and political issues ranging from abortion to homelessness.  These contrasted sharply with the idea of cinema as escapism.  This was the era of such notable stars as actor/comedian/singer-songwriter Norman Wisdom.  Beginning with 1953's Trouble in the Store, for which he won a BAFTA (the British equivalent to an Oscar), his films were among Britain's biggest box-office successes of their day.  Wisdom gained celebrity status in lands as far apart as South America, Iran and many Eastern Bloc countries, particularly in Albania where his films were the only ones by Western actors permitted by dictator Enver Hoxha to be shown.  He also played one of the best characters in one of my favorite and most hard to find films, “The Night They Raided Minsky's.”   There are few institutions in British history that have had such a massive role in shaping the daily lives of British citizens as the British Broadcasting Corporation, which for decades meant the wireless radio.  “For many it is an ever-present companion: from breakfast-time to bedtime, from childhood through to old age, there it is telling us about ourselves and the wider world, amusing and entertaining us,” says Robin Aitkin, a former BBC reporter and journalist.  The BBC solidified its place in the public consciousness from its beginnings in 1922 to the end of the Second World War in 1945 is of special interest because these pivotal years helped redefine what it means to be British in modern society.  This was especially true during the high unemployment of the 1920's, when other forms of entertainment were unaffordable.  The BBC was formed from the merger of several major radio manufacturers in 1922, receiving a royal charter in 1927, and governmental protection from foreign competition made it essentially a monopoly.  Broadcasting was seen as a public service; a job at the BBC carried similar gravitas to a government job.  Classical music and educational programs were its bedrock, with radio plays added to bring theater to the wireless.  The BBC strove to be varied but balanced in its offerings, neutral but universal; some people found it elitist nonetheless.  Expansion in offerings came slowly, if at all, in the early years.     Trying to bring only the best of culture to the people meant that bawdy music hall acts had little to no place on the radio.  Obscenity was judged by laws passed as early as 1727.  British libel and slander laws are more strict than in the US, so making fun of public figures was taboo even in forms that would have been legal.  And blasphemy?  Lord, no.  In 1949, the BBC issued to comedy writers and producers the Variety Programmes Policy Guide For Writers and Producers, commonly known as "the Green Book."  Among things absolutely banned were jokes about lavatories, effeminacy in men, immorality of any kind, suggestive references to honeymoon couples, chambermaids, fig leaves, ladies' underwear, prostitution, and the vulgar use of words such as "basket".  (Not an actual basket, the Polari word “basket,” meaning the bulge in a gentleman's trousers.  More on that later.)  The guidelines also stipulated that "..such words as God, Good God, My God, Blast, Hell, Damn, Bloody, Gorblimey, Ruddy, etc etc should be deleted from scripts and innocuous expressions substituted."  Where the independently tun music halls gave people what they wanted, BBC radio gave people what it felt they needed.  But comedy writers are nothing if not clever and there is always a way to slip past the censors if you try.   In the very beginning of radio, comedies lampooned the poor, because only those with money had radios.  As radio ownership grew, the topics of shows broadened.  First half-hour comedy program in 1938, Band Wagon, included musical interludes, was effectively a sitcom and set the stage for much of what came after.  By then, nearly every household had a radio.   WWII had an enormous impact on British comedy and entertainment in general.  Unlike WWI, which was fought on the continent, WWII was right on top of them, with the Blitz, blackouts, rationing, et al.  All places of amusement, which by their nature meant lots of people would gather and could be a target for bombings, were closed.  But the government soon realized comedy had an important role to play in helping its people to keep calm and carry on.  Bonus fact: The iconic 'Keep Calm and Carry On' poster was designed months before WWII began, but was never officially sanctioned for display.  It only achieved its prominent position in the public imagination after its rediscovery in 2001.  All the parody t-shirts still annoy me though.   Theater was allowed to continue, but television service was suspended.  This brought radio back to the forefront for communication and diversion.  The most popular show was It's That Man Again, which ran on BBC radio from ‘39-'49.  It's humor was a great unifier during the war, helping people to laugh at the things they were scared of.  People would often listen huddled around their radio during a blackout.  In its character archetypes, it offered a more comprehensive range of social representation than what had come before it, with characters ranging from east end charwomen to the upper class.  It was so universally popular that supposedly its catch-phrases, which is regarded as the first to really succeed with, were used to test suspected German spies.  If you didn't know who said what, they'd be shot.      During the war, Britain fought back against the Nazi propagandists' ferocious scaremongering with things like a song about the fact that Hitler may or may not have only one testicle, the other of which we were storing in a London theatre for safe keeping.  This attitude, combined with having had enough authority to last them a while, would extend to their own government at the start of the 1960's when Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Alan Bennett, and Jonathan Miller made fun of the prime minister in their stage show Beyond The Fringe, with the PM in the audience.  This would open the door for satirical news programs like 1962's That Was The Week That Was, grandfather to The Daily Show and The Colbert Report.  There was also The Frost Report, whose staff of writers included five names many of know well and you know we're going to get into more detail on - Chapman, Jones, Idle, Palin, and Cleese.   The war would remain subject to comedy, either as the primary setting or a recurring plot point for decades to come in shows like Dad's Army, Allo Allo, and even Are You Being Served?, one of my personal favorites.   If you've ever seen me at my customer service day jobs, I pattern my behavior on Mrs. Slocombe, though I don't reference my pussy as often. [clip]  Experiences in the war led to the prominence of absurdism/surrealism, because nothing could match what they men had been through.  One of the most famous example was The Goon Show, with Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe, and Peter Sellers.  The scripts mixed ludicrous plots with surreal humour, puns, catchphrases and an array of bizarre sound effects. Some of the later episodes feature electronic effects devised by the fledgling BBC Radiophonic Workshop, who also created the theme to Dr Who.  The Goon Show and other such programs were popular with those who were students at the time, seeding their sense of humor into the next generation.  Spike Milligan in particular had wide-reaching cultural influence.  The Goon Show was cited as a major influence by The Beatles, the American comedy team The Firesign Theatre, as well as, among many others, Monty Python.   PATREON   Do you remember how I said in episode #39, Short-Lived, Long Remembered that Jackie Gleason's Honeymooner's was the first TV sitcom?  I was mistaken and I don't mind issuing a correction.  Pinwright's Progress, which ran for ten episodes starting in 1946, was the first half-hour television sitcom, telling the tale of a beleaguered shop-owner, his hated rival and his unhelpful staff.  By 1955, ⅓ of British households had a TV.  That year saw the launch of ITV, I for independent, because it was *not run by BBC with its war vets with good-school educations, but by showmen and entertainers.  Where the BBC did comedies for and about the middle-class, ITV brought full-blooded variety to TV.  The BBC was forced to loosen its tie a bit to keep up.  ITV also had commercials, which BBC shows never did -a concept that is quite foreign to the American brain- so writers had to learn to pace their shows differently to allow for the break.  One stand-out was Hancock's Half-hour, which began on radio and moved to TV.  Fom 54-61, it pushed sitcoms with a focus on character development, rather than silly set-ups, musical interludes, and funny voices of radio plays.  Two writers on the show, Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, would leave to create Comedy Playhouse in 1961, ten half-hour plays.  One of these grew into the TV show Steptoe and Son (1962–74), about two rag and bone men, father and son, who live together in a squalid house in West London.  This was the basis for the American series Sanford and Son, as well as version in Sweden, Netherlands and Portugal.  For those not in the know, a rag and bone man collected salvageable rubbish from the streets, making it a bizarre name choice for a clothing company but oh well.    The tone and offerings changed considerably with the cultural revolution of the 1960's.  Rock music, the birth control pill, civil rights, everything was changing.  Round The Horne, which aired on BBC radio on Sunday afternoons was chock full of brazen innuendos and double-entendres.  Some of them were risque to the point of being ironically safe -- people who would have objected to them were not of the sensibility to catch the joke it the first place.  Their most remarkable characters were Julian and Sandy, two very obviously gay characters in a time when it was still illegal to be gay in Britain.  Julian and Sandy got away with the bawdiest of their jokes because they spoke Polari, a pidgin language made up a words from Romani, French, Italian, theater and circus slang and even words spelled backwards.  They might refer to someone's dirty dishes and the squares would have no idea that “dish” meant derriere.  Bonus fact: You probably use Polari words without even realizing it, if you describe a masculine person as “butch” or something kitchy as “camp,” even “drag” meaning clothes, particularly women's.    The Carry On Films, a franchise that put out nearly a movie a year for three decades and spun off a TV series, held up a cartoonish mirror to the depressed and repressed Britain of the 1950s and 1960s.  They blended the rapid-fire pace of music hall sketches with topicality and a liberating sense of directness.  Carry On also filled the gap left as music halls as an institution collapsed.   Monty Python's Flying Circus aired from 69-74 and enjoyed a unique watershed success not just for British comedy but also for television comedy around the world. Monty Python was unlike anything that had appeared on television, and in many ways it was both a symbol and a product of the social upheaval and youth-oriented counterculture of the late 1960s.  The show's humour could be simultaneously sarcastic, scatological, and intellectual.  The series was a creative collaboration between Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Michael Palin, and Terry Gilliam, the sole American in a group of Oxford and Cambridge graduates.  The five Brits played most of the roles, with Gilliam primarily contributing eccentric animations.  Although sketch comedy shows were nothing new, television had never broadcast anything as untraditional and surreal, and its importance to television is difficult to overstate.  Their free-form sketches seldom adhered to any particular theme and disregarded the conventions of comedy that writers, performers and audiences had been accustomed to for generations.  Even the opening title sequence didn't follow the rules; it might run in the middle of the show or be omitted entirely.  Over the run of the series, a *few characters recurred, but most were written solely for one sketch.  The show spun-off a number of feature films, like Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975), Life of Brian (1979), and the Meaning of Life (1983) and even a Tony Award-winning musical comedy Spamalot, first produced in 2005, as well as books and albums like Instant Record Collection.  Decades after the show's initial run, the mere mention of some dead parrots, silly ways, Spam or the Spanish Inquisition is enough to prompt laughter from even casual fans.  All the members who continue on to successful careers, but let's follow John Cleese to his next best-known project.  I put my favorite sketch in Vodacast; see if you can guess it before you look.  And tell me yours, soc med.   Fawlty Towers has been described as the sitcom by which other sitcoms must be measured, voted number one in the BFI's 100 Greatest British Television Programmes in 2000. Its main character, Basil Fawlty, was inspired by a seethingly rude hotel proprietor John Cleese encountered while filming abroad with the Monty Python team.  Cleese actually tested the character on another show in 1971, Doctor At Large, a comedy about newly-graduated doctors, based on the books of Richard Gordon.  The setting for Fawlty Towers was a painfully ordinary hotel that Basil constantly struggling to inject a touch of class into.  His escapades included trying to hide a rat from a hygiene inspector, keeping a dead customer hidden, and pretending that his wife Sybil was ill during their anniversary party, when in fact she's walked out on him).  Basil was the perfect vehicle for Cleese's comic talents: mixing the biting verbal tirades against his wife and guests with the physical dexterity utilised to charge about between self-induced disasters.  Part of the success of the show is arguably the fact that it ran for a mere twelve episodes, so never ran out of steam.  It's been remade in other countries, but those version never really capture the success of the original.  That's one of the key differences between British and American TV series.  A British show might have 2 writers for a season of 6-10 episodes, whereas an American show will have a team of writers for a season of 13-25 episodes.  Quality over quantity, I suppose.  In part, this is a reflection of the difference between the size of the TV audience in the two countries, and the economics of television production; for decades sitcoms on US television that delivered the highest ratings, whereas; in Britain the highest ratings figures were normally for soap operas.   The tone shifted again as the 60's gave way to the 70's.  The anger of 60's revolution gave way to a more comfortable feeling in the 70's.  One of the stand-outs of the decade, which continued into the 80's, was The Two Ronnies.  A sketch show starring Ronnies Barker and Corbett, it moved away from the long-standing comic and straight-man format.  It was the BBC's flagship of light entertainment, the longest running show of its genre.  If we're talking modern comedy duos, we need to talk about Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders.  Even in alternative comedy scenes, women had trouble gaining the same notoriety as their male peers.  A step in the right direction was 1987's French and Saunders, a sketch show that displayed the wilful amateurishness of much alternative comedy, but shunned both the violence and scatology or the strident politics that were staples of the big-name performers.  The duo's humour was distinctively female, but not feminist, and most of their jokes were at the expense of themselves or each other.  As audiences and budgets grew, the pair increasingly favoured elaborate spoofs of pop stars and blockbuster movies.  After the show French starred in The Vicar of Dibley and Saunders to the role she's probably best known for, Edina in Absolutely Fabulous.   And that's where we run out of ideas, at least for today.  Don't be surprised if this topic spawns a sequel.  I left out Punch and Judy, skipped right over literature, had to forgo luminaries like Morecambe and Wise, didn't get to the panel show format, and said nothing of Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, which may actually be a crime, I'm not sure.  Well, it's like they say in the biz, always leave them wanting more.  Thanks for spending part of your day with em.     Sources: https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/truth-behind-keep-calm-and-carry-on https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2016/feb/17/the-five-stages-of-british-gags-silliness-repression-anger-innuendo-fear https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Goon_Show https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norman_Wisdom https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hancock%27s_Half_Hour https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2008/apr/17/gender.filmnews https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Round_the_Horne http://www.screenonline.org.uk/film/id/1011109/index.html https://www.britannica.com/topic/Monty-Pythons-Flying-Circus https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galton_and_Simpson http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/fawltytowers/ http://www.bbcamerica.com/anglophenia/2014/06/history-brits-better-satire https://www.britannica.com/art/music-hall-and-variety https://www.biography.com/people/charlie-chaplin-9244327 https://cupola.gettysburg.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?referer=https://www.google.com/&httpsredir=1&article=1107&context=ghj https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U77CXPANrCc&list=PL9e1sByp65ixpMQlW9hpMMdomwSwGK9-Y

That Was The Week That Was revisits Robbie's obsession with an MMA legend's head. Former rugby international James Haskell rules out stand up comedy and world number 1 disability golfer Kipp Poppert joins Chris and Robbie.  See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

We get our heads round Merriam-Webster Dictionary's new words for 2021 including Fluffernutter and FTW. It's a Halloween horror film special in 'Off Script On Screen'. A crossword loving dad gets creative with his kids names in 'The Kickback'. And 'That Was The Week That Was' wraps the week up as only it can. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Making episode 14 of That Was The Week That Was, Was It? is a lot like making love to a beautiful woman. First, set a date and make sure your wife can join you both in the fun. Then, when you're both comfortable and ready, chat to the star and co-creator of The Fast Show, author of numerous books, producer of great television and all round lovely guy, Charlie Higson and ask him how his week was.Then, when you've finished gushing, exchange contact details and remember to request an invoice.Guest: Charlie Higson (@monstroso)Hosted by Alex Sievewright and Emi WebberAdditional Vocals: Hayley Pettitt@alexsievewright@krunchie_frog@pettit_hayley@Thatwastheweek1 https://www.patreon.com/twtwtwwi Our GDPR privacy policy was updated on August 8, 2022. Visit acast.com/privacy for more information.

Brooklyn Beckham destroys a breakfast butty live on breakfast TV, Chris McHardy's mouth writes cheques his body can't cash with Red Arrown Pilot Red6 Squadron Leader Jon Bond, and Producer Rog does his usual hatchet job summary of the last seven days in That Was the Week That Was. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Strange tales from the web in the Kickback including a man who help Police in the search to find himself, Producer Rog takes a sideways look at the last 7 days in That Was The Week That Was and things we found out in later life. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Dune and Bond with Dubai's film expert William Mullally, TikTok financial advice, Producer Rog reflects the last 7 days in That Was The Week That Was, and we shine a spotlight on the football aspirations of 61 year old Robert Brunswijck. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Episode 118 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at “Do-Wah-Diddy-Diddy” by Manfred Mann, and how a jazz group with a blues singer had one of the biggest bubblegum pop hits of the sixties. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a thirteen-minute bonus episode available, on “Walk on By” by Dionne Warwick. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt’s irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ —-more—- Resources No Mixcloud this week due to the number of tracks by Manfred Mann. Information on the group comes from Mannerisms: The Five Phases of Manfred Mann, by Greg Russo, and from the liner notes of this eleven-CD box set of the group’s work. For a much cheaper collection of the group’s hits — but without the jazz, blues, and baroque pop elements that made them more interesting than the average sixties singles band — this has all the hit singles. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript: So far, when we’ve looked at the British blues and R&B scene, we’ve concentrated on the bands who were influenced by Chicago blues, and who kept to a straightforward guitar/bass/drums lineup. But there was another, related, branch of the blues scene in Britain that was more musically sophisticated, and which while its practitioners certainly enjoyed playing songs by Howlin’ Wolf or Muddy Waters, was also rooted in the jazz of people like Mose Allison. Today we’re going to look at one of those bands, and at the intersection of jazz and the British R&B scene, and how a jazz band with a flute player and a vibraphonist briefly became bubblegum pop idols. We’re going to look at “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” by Manfred Mann: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Do Wah Diddy Diddy”] Manfred Mann is, annoyingly when writing about the group, the name of both a band and of one of its members. Manfred Mann the human being, as opposed to Manfred Mann the group, was born Manfred Lubowitz in South Africa, and while he was from a wealthy family, he was very opposed to the vicious South African system of apartheid, and considered himself strongly anti-racist. He was also a lover of jazz music, especially some of the most progressive music being made at the time — musicians like Ornette Coleman, Charles Mingus, and John Coltrane — and he soon became a very competent jazz pianist, playing with musicians like Hugh Masakela at a time when that kind of fraternisation between people of different races was very much frowned upon in South Africa. Manfred desperately wanted to get out of South Africa, and he took his chance in June 1961, at the last point at which he was a Commonwealth citizen. The Commonwealth, for those who don’t know, is a political association of countries that were originally parts of the British Empire, and basically replaced the British Empire when the former colonies gained their independence. These days, the Commonwealth is of mostly symbolic importance, but in the fifties and sixties, as the Empire was breaking up, it was considered a real power in its own right, and in particular, until some changes to immigration law in the mid sixties, Commonwealth citizens had the right to move to the UK.  At that point, South Africa had just voted to become a republic, and there was a rule in the Commonwealth that countries with a head of state other than the Queen could only remain in the Commonwealth with the unanimous agreement of all the other members. And several of the other member states, unsurprisingly, objected to the continued membership of a country whose entire system of government was based on the most virulent racism imaginable. So, as soon as South Africa became a republic, it lost its Commonwealth membership, and that meant that its citizens lost their automatic right to emigrate to the UK. But they were given a year’s grace period, and so Manfred took that chance and moved over to England, where he started playing jazz keyboards, giving piano lessons, and making some money on the side by writing record reviews. For those reviews, rather than credit himself as Manfred Lubowitz, he decided to use a pseudonym taken from the jazz drummer Shelly Manne, and he became Manfred Manne — spelled with a silent e on the end, which he later dropped. Mann was rather desperate for gigs, and he ended up taking a job playing with a band at a Butlin’s holiday camp. Graham Bond, who we’ve seen in several previous episodes as the leader of The Graham Bond Organisation, was at that time playing Hammond organ there, but only wanted to play a few days a week. Mann became the substitute keyboard player for that holiday camp band, and struck up a good musical rapport with the drummer and vibraphone player, Mike Hugg. When Bond went off to form his own band, Mann and Hugg decided to form their own band along the same lines, mixing the modern jazz that they liked with the more commercial R&B that Bond was playing.  They named their group the Mann-Hugg Blues Brothers, and it initially consisted of Mann on keyboards, Hugg on drums and vibraphone, Mike Vickers on guitar, flute, and saxophone, Dave Richmond on bass, Tony Roberts and Don Fay on saxophone and Ian Fenby on trumpet. As their experiences were far more in the jazz field than in blues, they decided that they needed to get in a singer who was more familiar with the blues side of things. The person they chose was a singer who was originally named Paul Pond, and who had been friends for a long time with Brian Jones, before Jones had formed the Rolling Stones. While Jones had been performing under the name Elmo Lewis, his friend had taken on Jones’ surname, as he thought “Paul Pond” didn’t sound like a good name for a singer. He’d first kept his initials, and performed as P.P. Jones, but then he’d presumably realised that “pee-pee” is probably not the best stage name in the world, and so he’d become just Paul Jones, the name by which he’s known to this day. Jones, like his friend Brian, was a fan particularly of Chicago blues, and he had occasionally appeared with Alexis Korner. After auditioning for the group at a ska club called The Roaring 20s, Jones became the group’s lead singer and harmonica player, and the group soon moved in Jones’ musical direction, playing the kind of Chicago blues that was popular at the Marquee club, where they soon got a residency, rather than the soul style that was more popular at the nearby Flamingo club, and which would be more expected from a horn-centric lineup. Unsurprisingly, given this, the horn players soon left, and the group became a five-piece core of Jones, Mann, Hugg, Vickers, and Richmond. This group was signed to HMV records by John Burgess. Burgess was a producer who specialised in music of a very different style from what the Mann-Hugg Blues Brothers played. We’ve already heard some of his production work — he was the producer for Adam Faith from “What Do You Want?” on: [Excerpt: Adam Faith, “What Do You Want?”] And at the time he signed the Mann-Hugg Blues Brothers, he was just starting to work with a new group, Freddie and the Dreamers, for whom he would produce several hits: [Excerpt: Freddie and the Dreamers, “If You Gotta Make a Fool of Somebody”] Burgess liked the group, but he insisted that they had to change their name — and in fact, he insisted that the group change their name to Manfred Mann. None of the group members liked the idea — even Mann himself thought that this seemed a little unreasonable, and Paul Jones in particular disagreed strongly with the idea, but they were all eventually mollified by the idea that all the publicity would emphasise that all five of them were equal members of the group, and that while the group might be named after their keyboard player, there were five members. The group members themselves always referred to themselves as “the Manfreds” rather than as Manfred Mann. The group’s first single showed that despite having become a blues band and then getting produced by a pop producer, they were still at heart a jazz group. “Why Should We Not?” is an instrumental led by Vickers’ saxophone, Mann’s organ, and Jones’ harmonica: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Why Should We Not?”] Unsurprisingly, neither that nor the B-side, a jazz instrumental version of “Frere Jacques”, charted — Britain in 1963 wanted Gerry and the Pacemakers and Freddie and the Dreamers, not jazz instrumentals. The next single, an R&B song called “Cock-A-Hoop” written by Jones, did little better. The group’s big breakthrough came from Ready, Steady, Go!, which at this point was using “Wipe Out!” by the Surfaris as its theme song: [Excerpt: The Surfaris, “Wipe Out”] We’ve mentioned Ready, Steady, Go! in passing in previous episodes, but it was the most important pop music show of the early and mid sixties, just as Oh Boy! had been for the late fifties. Ready, Steady, Go! was, in principle at least, a general pop music programme, but in practice it catered primarily for the emerging mod subculture. “Mod” stood for “modernist”, and the mods emerged from the group of people who liked modern jazz rather than trad, but by this point their primary musical interests were in soul and R&B. Mod was a working-class subculture, based in the South-East of England, especially London, and spurred on by the newfound comparative affluence of the early sixties, when for the first time young working-class people, while still living in poverty, had a small amount of disposable income to spend on clothes, music, and drugs. The Mods had a very particular sense of style, based around sharp Italian suits, pop art and op art, and Black American music or white British imitations of it. For them, music was functional, and primarily existed for the purposes of dancing, and many of them would take large amounts of amphetamines so they could spend the entire weekend at clubs dancing to soul and R&B music. And that entire weekend would kick off on Friday with Ready, Steady, Go!, whose catchphrase was “the weekend starts here!” Ready, Steady, Go! featured almost every important pop act of the early sixties, but while groups like Gerry and the Pacemakers or the Beatles would appear on it, it became known for its promotion of Black artists, and it was the first major British TV exposure for Motown artists like the Supremes, the Temptations, and the Marvelettes, for Stax artists like Otis Redding, and for blues artists like John Lee Hooker and Sonny Boy Williamson. Ready Steady Go! was also the primary TV exposure for British groups who were inspired by those artists, and it’s through Ready Steady Go! that the Animals, the Yardbirds, the Rolling Stones, Them, and the Who, among others reached national popularity — all of them acts that were popular among the Mods in particular. But “Wipe Out” didn’t really fit with this kind of music, and so the producers of Ready Steady Go were looking for something more suitable for their theme music. They’d already tried commissioning the Animals to record something, as we saw a couple of weeks back, but that hadn’t worked out, and instead they turned to Manfred Mann, who came up with a song that not only perfectly fit the style of the show, but also handily promoted the group themselves: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “5-4-3-2-1”] That was taken on as Ready, Steady, Go!s theme song, and made the top five in the UK. But by the time it charted, the group had already changed lineup. Dave Richmond was seen by the other members of the group as a problem at this point. Richmond was a great bass player, but he was a great *jazz* bass player — he wanted to be Charles Mingus, and play strange cross-rhythms, and what the group needed at this point was someone who would just play straightforward blues basslines without complaint — they needed someone closer to Willie Dixon than to Mingus. Tom McGuinness, who replaced him, had already had a rather unusual career trajectory. He’d started out as a satirist, writing for the magazine Private Eye and the TV series That Was The Week That Was, one of the most important British comedy shows of the sixties, but he had really wanted to be a blues musician instead. He’d formed a blues band, The Roosters, with a guitarist who went to art school with his girlfriend, and they’d played a few gigs around London before the duo had been poached by the minor Merseybeat band Casey Jones and his Engineers, a group which had been formed by Brian Casser, formerly of Cass & The Cassanovas, the group that had become The Big Three. Casey Jones and his Engineers had just released the single “One Way Ticket”: [Excerpt: Casey Jones and His Engineers, “One-Way Ticket”] However, the two guitarists soon realised, after just a handful of gigs, that they weren’t right for that group, and quit. McGuinness’ friend, Eric Clapton, went on to join the Yardbirds, and we’ll be hearing more about him in a few weeks’ time, but McGuinness was at a loose end, until he discovered that Manfred Mann were looking for a bass player. McGuinness was a guitarist, but bluffed to Paul Jones that he’d switched to bass, and got the job. He said later that the only question he’d been asked when interviewed by the group was “are you willing to play simple parts?” — as he’d never played bass in his life until the day of his first gig with the group, he was more than happy to say yes to that. McGuinness joined only days after the recording of “5-4-3-2-1”, and Richmond was out — though he would have a successful career as a session bass player, playing on, among others, “Je t’Aime” by Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin, “Your Song” by Elton John, Labi Siffre’s “It Must Be Love”, and the music for the long-running sitcoms Only Fools and Horses and Last of the Summer Wine. As soon as McGuinness joined, the group set out on tour, to promote their new hit, but also to act as the backing group for the Crystals, on a tour which also featured Johnny Kidd and the Pirates and Joe Brown and his Bruvvers.  The group’s next single, “Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble” was another original, and made number eleven on the charts, but the group saw it as a failure anyway, to the extent that they tried their best to forget it ever existed. In researching this episode I got an eleven-CD box set of the group’s work, which contains every studio album or compilation they released in the sixties, a collection of their EPs, and a collection of their BBC sessions. In all eleven CDs, “Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble” doesn’t appear at all. Which is quite odd, as it’s a perfectly serviceable, if unexceptional, piece of pop R&B: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble”] But it’s not just the group that were unimpressed with the record. John Burgess thought that the record only getting to number eleven was proof of his hypothesis that groups should not put out their own songs as singles. From this point on, with one exception in 1968, everything they released as an A-side would be a cover version or a song brought to them by a professional songwriter. This worried Jones, who didn’t want to be forced to start singing songs he disliked, which he saw as a very likely outcome of this edict. So he made it his role in the group to seek out records that the group could cover, which would be commercial enough that they could get hit singles from them, but which would be something he could sing while keeping his self-respect. His very first selection certainly met the first criterion. The song which would become their biggest hit had very little to do with the R&B or jazz which had inspired the group. Instead, it was a perfect piece of Brill Building pop. The Exciters, who originally recorded it, were one of the great girl groups of the early sixties (though they also had one male member), and had already had quite an influence on pop music. They had been discovered by Leiber and Stoller, who had signed them to Red Bird Records, a label we’ll be looking at in much more detail in an upcoming episode, and they’d had a hit in 1962 with a Bert Berns song, “Tell Him”, which made the top five: [Excerpt: The Exciters, “Tell Him”] That record had so excited a young British folk singer who was in the US at the time to record an album with her group The Springfields that she completely reworked her entire style, went solo, and kickstarted a solo career singing pop-soul songs under the name Dusty Springfield. The Exciters never had another top forty hit, but they became popular enough among British music lovers that the Beatles asked them to open for them on their American tour in summer 1964. Most of the Exciters’ records were of songs written by the more R&B end of the Brill Building songwriters — they would record several more Bert Berns songs, and some by Ritchie Barrett, but the song that would become their most well-known legacy was actually written by Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich. Like many of Barry and Greenwich’s songs, it was based around a nonsense phrase, but in this case the phrase they used had something of a longer history, though it’s not apparent whether they fully realised that. In African-American folklore of the early twentieth century, the imaginary town of Diddy Wah Diddy was something like a synonym for heaven, or for the Big Rock Candy Mountain of the folk song — a place where people didn’t have to work, and where food was free everywhere. This place had been sung about in many songs, like Blind Blake’s “Diddie Wah Diddie”: [Excerpt: Blind Blake, “Diddie Wah Diddie”] And a song written by Willie Dixon for Bo Diddley: [Excerpt: Bo Diddley, “Diddy Wah Diddy”] And “Diddy” and “Wah” had often been used by other Black artists, in various contexts, like Roy Brown and Dave Bartholomew’s “Diddy-Y-Diddy-O”: [Excerpt: Roy Brown and Dave Bartholomew, “Diddy-Y-Diddy-O”] And Junior and Marie’s “Boom Diddy Wah Wah”, a “Ko Ko Mo” knockoff produced by Johnny Otis: [Excerpt: Junior and Marie, “Boom Diddy Wah Wah”]  So when Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich wrote “Do-Wah-Diddy”, as the song was originally called, they were, wittingly or not, tapping into a rich history of rhythm and blues music. But the song as Greenwich demoed it was one of the first examples of what would become known as “bubblegum pop”, and is particularly notable in her demo for its very early use of the fuzz guitar that would be a stylistic hallmark of that subgenre: [Excerpt: Ellie Greenwich, “Do-Wah-Diddy (demo)”] The Exciters’ version of the song took it into more conventional girl-group territory, with a strong soulful vocal, but with the group’s backing vocal call-and-response chant showing up the song’s resemblance to the kind of schoolyard chanting games which were, of course, the basis of the very first girl group records: [Excerpt: The Exciters, “Do-Wah-Diddy”] Sadly, that record only reached number seventy-eight on the charts, and the Exciters would have no more hits in the US, though a later lineup of the group would make the UK top forty in 1975 with a song written and produced by the Northern Soul DJ Ian Levine. But in 1964 Jones had picked up on “Do-Wah-Diddy”, and knew it was a potential hit. Most of the group weren’t very keen on “Do Wah Diddy Diddy”, as the song was renamed. There are relatively few interviews with any of them about it, but from what I can gather the only member of the band who thought anything much of the song was Paul Jones. However, the group did their best with the recording, and were particularly impressed with Manfred’s Hammond organ solo — which they later discovered was cut out of the finished recording by Burgess. The result was an organ-driven stomping pop song which had more in common with the Dave Clark Five than with anything else the group were doing: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Do Wah Diddy Diddy”] The record reached number one in both the UK and the US, and the group immediately went on an American tour, packaged with Peter & Gordon, a British duo who were having some success at the time because Peter Asher’s sister was dating Paul McCartney, who’d given them a hit song, “World Without Love”: [Excerpt: Peter and Gordon, “World Without Love”] The group found the experience of touring the US a thoroughly miserable one, and decided that they weren’t going to bother going back again, so while they would continue to have big hits in Britain for the rest of the decade, they only had a few minor successes in the States. After the success of “Do Wah Diddy Diddy”, EMI rushed out an album by the group, The Five Faces of Manfred Mann, which must have caused some confusion for anyone buying it in the hope of more “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” style pop songs. Half the album’s fourteen tracks were covers of blues and R&B, mostly by Chess artists — there were covers of Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Bo Diddley, Ike & Tina Turner, and more. There were also five originals, written or co-written by Jones, in the same style as those songs, plus a couple of instrumentals, one written by the group and one a cover of Cannonball Adderly’s jazz classic “Sack O’Woe”, arranged to show off the group’s skills at harmonica, saxophone, piano and vibraphone: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Sack O’Woe”] However, the group realised that the formula they’d hit on with “Do  Wah Diddy Diddy” was a useful one, and so for their next single they once again covered a girl-group track with a nonsense-word chorus and title — their version of “Sha La La” by the Shirelles took them to number three on the UK charts, and number twelve in the US. They followed that with a ballad, “Come Tomorrow”, one of the few secular songs ever recorded by Marie Knight, the gospel singer who we discussed briefly way back in episode five, who was Sister Rosetta Tharpe’s duet partner, and quite possibly her partner in other senses. They released several more singles and were consistently charting, to the point that they actually managed to get a top ten hit with a self-written song despite their own material not being considered worth putting out as singles. Paul Jones had written “The One in the Middle” for his friends the Yardbirds, but when they turned it down, he rewrote the song to be about Manfred Mann, and especially about himself: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “The One in the Middle”] Like much of their material, that was released on an EP, and the EP was so successful that as well as making number one on the EP charts, it also made number ten on the regular charts, with “The One in the Middle” as the lead-off track. But “The One in the Middle” was a clue to something else as well — Jones was getting increasingly annoyed at the fact that the records the group was making were hits, and he was the frontman, the lead singer, the person picking the cover versions, and the writer of much of the original material, but all the records were getting credited to the group’s keyboard player.  But Jones wasn’t the next member of the group to leave. That was Mike Vickers, who went off to work in arranging film music and session work, including some work for the Beatles, the music for the film Dracula AD 1972, and the opening and closing themes for This Week in Baseball. The last single the group released while Vickers was a member was the aptly-titled “If You Gotta Go, Go Now”. Mann had heard Bob Dylan performing that song live, and had realised that the song had never been released. He’d contacted Dylan’s publishers, got hold of a demo, and the group became the first to release a version of the song, making number two in the charts: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “If You Gotta Go, Go Now”] Before Vickers’ departure, the group had recorded their second album, Mann Made, and that had been even more eclectic than the first album, combining versions of blues classics like “Stormy Monday Blues”, Motown songs like “The Way You Do The Things You Do”, country covers like “You Don’t Know Me”, and oddities like “Bare Hugg”, an original jazz instrumental for flute and vibraphone: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Bare Hugg”] McGuinness took the opportunity of Vickers leaving the group to switch from bass back to playing guitar, which had always been his preferred instrument. To fill in the gap, on Graham Bond’s recommendation they hired away Jack Bruce, who had just been playing in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers with McGuinness’ old friend Eric Clapton, and it’s Bruce who played bass on the group’s next big hit, “Pretty Flamingo”, the only UK number one that Bruce ever played on: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Pretty Flamingo”] Bruce stayed with the band for several months, before going off to play in another band who we’ll be covering in a future episode. He was replaced in turn by Klaus Voorman. Voorman was an old friend of the Beatles from their Hamburg days, who had been taught the rudiments of bass by Stuart Sutcliffe, and had formed a trio, Paddy, Klaus, and Gibson, with two Merseybeat musicians, Paddy Chambers of the Big Three and Gibson Kemp of Kingsize Taylor and the Dominoes: [Excerpt: Paddy, Klaus, and Gibson, “No Good Without You Baby”] Like Vickers, Voorman could play the flute, and his flute playing would become a regular part of the group’s later singles. These lineup changes didn’t affect the group as either a chart act or as an act who were playing a huge variety of different styles of music. While the singles were uniformly catchy pop, on album tracks, B-sides or EPs you’d be likely to find versions of folk songs collected by Alan Lomax, like “John Hardy”, or things like “Driva Man”, a blues song about slavery in 5/4 time, originally by the jazz greats Oscar Brown and Max Roach: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “Driva Man”] But by the time that track was released, Paul Jones was out of the group. He actually announced his intention to quit the group at the same time that Mike Vickers left, but the group had persuaded him to stay on for almost a year while they looked for his replacement, auditioning singers like Rod Stewart and Long John Baldry with little success. They eventually decided on Mike d’Abo, who had previously been the lead singer of a group called A Band of Angels: [Excerpt: A Band of Angels, “(Accept My) Invitation”] By the point d’Abo joined, relations  between the rest of the group and Jones were so poor that they didn’t tell Jones that they were thinking of d’Abo — Jones would later recollect that the group decided to stop at a pub on the way to a gig, ostensibly to watch themselves on TV, but actually to watch A Band of Angels on the same show, without explaining to Jones that that was what they were doing – Jones actually mentioned d’Abo to his bandmates as a possible replacement, not realising he was already in the group. Mann has talked about how on the group’s last show with Jones, they drove to the gig in silence, and their first single with the new singer, a version of Dylan’s “Just Like a Woman”, came on the radio. There was a lot of discomfort in the band at this time, because their record label had decided to stick with Jones as a solo performer, and the rest of the group had had to find another label, and were worried that without Jones their career was over. Luckily for everyone involved, “Just Like a Woman” made the top ten, and the group’s career was able to continue. Meanwhile, Jones’ first single as a solo artist made the top five: [Excerpt: Paul Jones, “High Time”] But after that and his follow-up, “I’ve Been a Bad, Bad, Boy”, which made number five, the best he could do was to barely scrape the top forty. Manfred Mann, on the other hand, continued having hits, though there was a constant struggle to find new material. d’Abo was himself a songwriter, and it shows the limitations of the “no A-sides by group members” rule that while d’Abo was the lead singer of Manfred Mann, he wrote two hit singles which the group never recorded. The first, “Handbags and Gladrags”, was a hit for Chris Farlowe: [Excerpt: Chris Farlowe, “Handbags and Gladrags”] That was only a minor hit, but was later recorded successfully by Rod Stewart, with d’Abo arranging, and the Stereophonics. d’Abo also co-wrote, and played piano on, “Build Me Up Buttercup” by the Foundations: [Excerpt: The Foundations, “Build Me Up Buttercup”] But the group continued releasing singles written by other people.  Their second post-Jones single, from the perspective of a spurned lover insulting their ex’s new fiancee, had to have its title changed from what the writers intended, as the group felt that a song insulting “semi-detached suburban Mr. Jones” might be taken the wrong way. Lightly retitled, “Semi-Detached Suburban Mr. James” made number two, while the follow-up, “Ha Ha! Said the Clown”, made number four. The two singles after that did significantly less well, though, and seemed to be quite bizarre choices — an instrumental Hammond organ version of Tommy Roe’s “Sweet Pea”, which made number thirty-six, and a version of Randy Newman’s bitterly cynical “So Long, Dad”, which didn’t make the charts at all. After this lack of success, the group decided to go back to what had worked for them before. They’d already had two hits with Dylan songs, and Mann had got hold of a copy of Dylan’s Basement Tapes, a bootleg which we’ll be talking about later. He picked up on one song from it, and got permission to release “The Mighty Quinn”, which became the group’s third number one: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “The Mighty Quinn”] The album from which that came, Mighty Garvey, is the closest thing the group came to an actual great album. While the group’s earlier albums were mostly blues covers, this was mostly made up of original material by either Hugg or d’Abo, in a pastoral baroque pop style that invites comparisons to the Kinks or the Zombies’ material of that period, but with a self-mocking comedy edge in several songs that was closer to the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band. Probably the highlight of the album was the mellotron-driven “It’s So Easy Falling”: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, “It’s So Easy Falling”] But Mighty Garvey didn’t chart, and it was the last gasp of the group as a creative entity. They had three more top-ten hits, all of them good examples of their type, but by January 1969, Tom McGuinness was interviewed saying “It’s not a group any more. It’s just five people who come together to make hit singles. That’s the only aim of the group at the moment — to make hit singles — it’s the only reason the group exists. Commercial success is very important to the group. It gives us financial freedom to do the things we want.” The group split up in 1969, and went their separate ways. d’Abo appeared on the original Jesus Christ Superstar album, and then went into writing advertising jingles, most famously writing “a finger of fudge is just enough” for Cadbury’s. McGuinness formed McGuinness Flint, with the songwriters Gallagher and Lyle, and had a big hit with “When I’m Dead and Gone”: [Excerpt: McGuinness Flint, “When I’m Dead and Gone”] He later teamed up again with Paul Jones, to form a blues band imaginatively named “the Blues Band”, who continue performing to this day: [Excerpt: The Blues Band, “Mean Ol’ Frisco”] Jones became a born-again Christian in the eighties, and also starred in a children’s TV show, Uncle Jack, and presented the BBC Radio 2 Blues Programme for thirty-two years. Manfred Mann and Mike Hugg formed another group, Manfred Mann Chapter Three, who released two albums before splitting. Hugg went on from that to write for TV and films, most notably writing the theme music to “Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?”: [Excerpt: Highly Likely, “Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?”] Mann went on to form Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, who had a number of hits, the biggest of which was the Bruce Springsteen song “Blinded by the Light”: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, “Blinded by the Light”] Almost uniquely for a band from the early sixties, all the members of the classic lineup of Manfred Mann are still alive. Manfred Mann continues to perform with various lineups of his Earth Band. Hugg, Jones, McGuinness, and d’Abo reunited as The Manfreds in the 1990s, with Vickers also in the band until 1999, and continue to tour together — I still have a ticket to see them which was originally for a show in April 2020, but has just been rescheduled to 2022. McGuinness and Jones also still tour with the Blues Band. And Mike Vickers now spends his time creating experimental animations.  Manfred Mann were a band with too many musical interests to have a coherent image, and their reliance on outside songwriters and their frequent lineup changes meant that they never had the consistent sound of many of their contemporaries. But partly because of this, they created a catalogue that rewards exploration in a way that several more well-regarded bands’ work doesn’t, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see a major critical reassessment of them at some point. But whether that happens or not, almost sixty years on people around the world still respond instantly to the opening bars of their biggest hit, and “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” remains one of the most fondly remembered singles of the early sixties.

Episode 118 of A History of Rock Music in Five Hundred Songs looks at "Do-Wah-Diddy-Diddy" by Manfred Mann, and how a jazz group with a blues singer had one of the biggest bubblegum pop hits of the sixties. Click the full post to read liner notes, links to more information, and a transcript of the episode. Patreon backers also have a thirteen-minute bonus episode available, on "Walk on By" by Dionne Warwick. Tilt Araiza has assisted invaluably by doing a first-pass edit, and will hopefully be doing so from now on. Check out Tilt's irregular podcasts at http://www.podnose.com/jaffa-cakes-for-proust and http://sitcomclub.com/ ----more---- Resources No Mixcloud this week due to the number of tracks by Manfred Mann. Information on the group comes from Mannerisms: The Five Phases of Manfred Mann, by Greg Russo, and from the liner notes of this eleven-CD box set of the group's work. For a much cheaper collection of the group's hits -- but without the jazz, blues, and baroque pop elements that made them more interesting than the average sixties singles band -- this has all the hit singles. Patreon This podcast is brought to you by the generosity of my backers on Patreon. Why not join them? Transcript: So far, when we've looked at the British blues and R&B scene, we've concentrated on the bands who were influenced by Chicago blues, and who kept to a straightforward guitar/bass/drums lineup. But there was another, related, branch of the blues scene in Britain that was more musically sophisticated, and which while its practitioners certainly enjoyed playing songs by Howlin' Wolf or Muddy Waters, was also rooted in the jazz of people like Mose Allison. Today we're going to look at one of those bands, and at the intersection of jazz and the British R&B scene, and how a jazz band with a flute player and a vibraphonist briefly became bubblegum pop idols. We're going to look at "Do Wah Diddy Diddy" by Manfred Mann: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Do Wah Diddy Diddy"] Manfred Mann is, annoyingly when writing about the group, the name of both a band and of one of its members. Manfred Mann the human being, as opposed to Manfred Mann the group, was born Manfred Lubowitz in South Africa, and while he was from a wealthy family, he was very opposed to the vicious South African system of apartheid, and considered himself strongly anti-racist. He was also a lover of jazz music, especially some of the most progressive music being made at the time -- musicians like Ornette Coleman, Charles Mingus, and John Coltrane -- and he soon became a very competent jazz pianist, playing with musicians like Hugh Masakela at a time when that kind of fraternisation between people of different races was very much frowned upon in South Africa. Manfred desperately wanted to get out of South Africa, and he took his chance in June 1961, at the last point at which he was a Commonwealth citizen. The Commonwealth, for those who don't know, is a political association of countries that were originally parts of the British Empire, and basically replaced the British Empire when the former colonies gained their independence. These days, the Commonwealth is of mostly symbolic importance, but in the fifties and sixties, as the Empire was breaking up, it was considered a real power in its own right, and in particular, until some changes to immigration law in the mid sixties, Commonwealth citizens had the right to move to the UK.  At that point, South Africa had just voted to become a republic, and there was a rule in the Commonwealth that countries with a head of state other than the Queen could only remain in the Commonwealth with the unanimous agreement of all the other members. And several of the other member states, unsurprisingly, objected to the continued membership of a country whose entire system of government was based on the most virulent racism imaginable. So, as soon as South Africa became a republic, it lost its Commonwealth membership, and that meant that its citizens lost their automatic right to emigrate to the UK. But they were given a year's grace period, and so Manfred took that chance and moved over to England, where he started playing jazz keyboards, giving piano lessons, and making some money on the side by writing record reviews. For those reviews, rather than credit himself as Manfred Lubowitz, he decided to use a pseudonym taken from the jazz drummer Shelly Manne, and he became Manfred Manne -- spelled with a silent e on the end, which he later dropped. Mann was rather desperate for gigs, and he ended up taking a job playing with a band at a Butlin's holiday camp. Graham Bond, who we've seen in several previous episodes as the leader of The Graham Bond Organisation, was at that time playing Hammond organ there, but only wanted to play a few days a week. Mann became the substitute keyboard player for that holiday camp band, and struck up a good musical rapport with the drummer and vibraphone player, Mike Hugg. When Bond went off to form his own band, Mann and Hugg decided to form their own band along the same lines, mixing the modern jazz that they liked with the more commercial R&B that Bond was playing.  They named their group the Mann-Hugg Blues Brothers, and it initially consisted of Mann on keyboards, Hugg on drums and vibraphone, Mike Vickers on guitar, flute, and saxophone, Dave Richmond on bass, Tony Roberts and Don Fay on saxophone and Ian Fenby on trumpet. As their experiences were far more in the jazz field than in blues, they decided that they needed to get in a singer who was more familiar with the blues side of things. The person they chose was a singer who was originally named Paul Pond, and who had been friends for a long time with Brian Jones, before Jones had formed the Rolling Stones. While Jones had been performing under the name Elmo Lewis, his friend had taken on Jones' surname, as he thought "Paul Pond" didn't sound like a good name for a singer. He'd first kept his initials, and performed as P.P. Jones, but then he'd presumably realised that "pee-pee" is probably not the best stage name in the world, and so he'd become just Paul Jones, the name by which he's known to this day. Jones, like his friend Brian, was a fan particularly of Chicago blues, and he had occasionally appeared with Alexis Korner. After auditioning for the group at a ska club called The Roaring 20s, Jones became the group's lead singer and harmonica player, and the group soon moved in Jones' musical direction, playing the kind of Chicago blues that was popular at the Marquee club, where they soon got a residency, rather than the soul style that was more popular at the nearby Flamingo club, and which would be more expected from a horn-centric lineup. Unsurprisingly, given this, the horn players soon left, and the group became a five-piece core of Jones, Mann, Hugg, Vickers, and Richmond. This group was signed to HMV records by John Burgess. Burgess was a producer who specialised in music of a very different style from what the Mann-Hugg Blues Brothers played. We've already heard some of his production work -- he was the producer for Adam Faith from "What Do You Want?" on: [Excerpt: Adam Faith, "What Do You Want?"] And at the time he signed the Mann-Hugg Blues Brothers, he was just starting to work with a new group, Freddie and the Dreamers, for whom he would produce several hits: [Excerpt: Freddie and the Dreamers, "If You Gotta Make a Fool of Somebody"] Burgess liked the group, but he insisted that they had to change their name -- and in fact, he insisted that the group change their name to Manfred Mann. None of the group members liked the idea -- even Mann himself thought that this seemed a little unreasonable, and Paul Jones in particular disagreed strongly with the idea, but they were all eventually mollified by the idea that all the publicity would emphasise that all five of them were equal members of the group, and that while the group might be named after their keyboard player, there were five members. The group members themselves always referred to themselves as "the Manfreds" rather than as Manfred Mann. The group's first single showed that despite having become a blues band and then getting produced by a pop producer, they were still at heart a jazz group. "Why Should We Not?" is an instrumental led by Vickers' saxophone, Mann's organ, and Jones' harmonica: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Why Should We Not?"] Unsurprisingly, neither that nor the B-side, a jazz instrumental version of "Frere Jacques", charted -- Britain in 1963 wanted Gerry and the Pacemakers and Freddie and the Dreamers, not jazz instrumentals. The next single, an R&B song called "Cock-A-Hoop" written by Jones, did little better. The group's big breakthrough came from Ready, Steady, Go!, which at this point was using "Wipe Out!" by the Surfaris as its theme song: [Excerpt: The Surfaris, "Wipe Out"] We've mentioned Ready, Steady, Go! in passing in previous episodes, but it was the most important pop music show of the early and mid sixties, just as Oh Boy! had been for the late fifties. Ready, Steady, Go! was, in principle at least, a general pop music programme, but in practice it catered primarily for the emerging mod subculture. "Mod" stood for "modernist", and the mods emerged from the group of people who liked modern jazz rather than trad, but by this point their primary musical interests were in soul and R&B. Mod was a working-class subculture, based in the South-East of England, especially London, and spurred on by the newfound comparative affluence of the early sixties, when for the first time young working-class people, while still living in poverty, had a small amount of disposable income to spend on clothes, music, and drugs. The Mods had a very particular sense of style, based around sharp Italian suits, pop art and op art, and Black American music or white British imitations of it. For them, music was functional, and primarily existed for the purposes of dancing, and many of them would take large amounts of amphetamines so they could spend the entire weekend at clubs dancing to soul and R&B music. And that entire weekend would kick off on Friday with Ready, Steady, Go!, whose catchphrase was "the weekend starts here!" Ready, Steady, Go! featured almost every important pop act of the early sixties, but while groups like Gerry and the Pacemakers or the Beatles would appear on it, it became known for its promotion of Black artists, and it was the first major British TV exposure for Motown artists like the Supremes, the Temptations, and the Marvelettes, for Stax artists like Otis Redding, and for blues artists like John Lee Hooker and Sonny Boy Williamson. Ready Steady Go! was also the primary TV exposure for British groups who were inspired by those artists, and it's through Ready Steady Go! that the Animals, the Yardbirds, the Rolling Stones, Them, and the Who, among others reached national popularity -- all of them acts that were popular among the Mods in particular. But "Wipe Out" didn't really fit with this kind of music, and so the producers of Ready Steady Go were looking for something more suitable for their theme music. They'd already tried commissioning the Animals to record something, as we saw a couple of weeks back, but that hadn't worked out, and instead they turned to Manfred Mann, who came up with a song that not only perfectly fit the style of the show, but also handily promoted the group themselves: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "5-4-3-2-1"] That was taken on as Ready, Steady, Go!s theme song, and made the top five in the UK. But by the time it charted, the group had already changed lineup. Dave Richmond was seen by the other members of the group as a problem at this point. Richmond was a great bass player, but he was a great *jazz* bass player -- he wanted to be Charles Mingus, and play strange cross-rhythms, and what the group needed at this point was someone who would just play straightforward blues basslines without complaint -- they needed someone closer to Willie Dixon than to Mingus. Tom McGuinness, who replaced him, had already had a rather unusual career trajectory. He'd started out as a satirist, writing for the magazine Private Eye and the TV series That Was The Week That Was, one of the most important British comedy shows of the sixties, but he had really wanted to be a blues musician instead. He'd formed a blues band, The Roosters, with a guitarist who went to art school with his girlfriend, and they'd played a few gigs around London before the duo had been poached by the minor Merseybeat band Casey Jones and his Engineers, a group which had been formed by Brian Casser, formerly of Cass & The Cassanovas, the group that had become The Big Three. Casey Jones and his Engineers had just released the single "One Way Ticket": [Excerpt: Casey Jones and His Engineers, "One-Way Ticket"] However, the two guitarists soon realised, after just a handful of gigs, that they weren't right for that group, and quit. McGuinness' friend, Eric Clapton, went on to join the Yardbirds, and we'll be hearing more about him in a few weeks' time, but McGuinness was at a loose end, until he discovered that Manfred Mann were looking for a bass player. McGuinness was a guitarist, but bluffed to Paul Jones that he'd switched to bass, and got the job. He said later that the only question he'd been asked when interviewed by the group was "are you willing to play simple parts?" -- as he'd never played bass in his life until the day of his first gig with the group, he was more than happy to say yes to that. McGuinness joined only days after the recording of "5-4-3-2-1", and Richmond was out -- though he would have a successful career as a session bass player, playing on, among others, "Je t'Aime" by Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin, "Your Song" by Elton John, Labi Siffre's "It Must Be Love", and the music for the long-running sitcoms Only Fools and Horses and Last of the Summer Wine. As soon as McGuinness joined, the group set out on tour, to promote their new hit, but also to act as the backing group for the Crystals, on a tour which also featured Johnny Kidd and the Pirates and Joe Brown and his Bruvvers.  The group's next single, "Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble" was another original, and made number eleven on the charts, but the group saw it as a failure anyway, to the extent that they tried their best to forget it ever existed. In researching this episode I got an eleven-CD box set of the group's work, which contains every studio album or compilation they released in the sixties, a collection of their EPs, and a collection of their BBC sessions. In all eleven CDs, "Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble" doesn't appear at all. Which is quite odd, as it's a perfectly serviceable, if unexceptional, piece of pop R&B: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Hubble Bubble Toil and Trouble"] But it's not just the group that were unimpressed with the record. John Burgess thought that the record only getting to number eleven was proof of his hypothesis that groups should not put out their own songs as singles. From this point on, with one exception in 1968, everything they released as an A-side would be a cover version or a song brought to them by a professional songwriter. This worried Jones, who didn't want to be forced to start singing songs he disliked, which he saw as a very likely outcome of this edict. So he made it his role in the group to seek out records that the group could cover, which would be commercial enough that they could get hit singles from them, but which would be something he could sing while keeping his self-respect. His very first selection certainly met the first criterion. The song which would become their biggest hit had very little to do with the R&B or jazz which had inspired the group. Instead, it was a perfect piece of Brill Building pop. The Exciters, who originally recorded it, were one of the great girl groups of the early sixties (though they also had one male member), and had already had quite an influence on pop music. They had been discovered by Leiber and Stoller, who had signed them to Red Bird Records, a label we'll be looking at in much more detail in an upcoming episode, and they'd had a hit in 1962 with a Bert Berns song, "Tell Him", which made the top five: [Excerpt: The Exciters, "Tell Him"] That record had so excited a young British folk singer who was in the US at the time to record an album with her group The Springfields that she completely reworked her entire style, went solo, and kickstarted a solo career singing pop-soul songs under the name Dusty Springfield. The Exciters never had another top forty hit, but they became popular enough among British music lovers that the Beatles asked them to open for them on their American tour in summer 1964. Most of the Exciters' records were of songs written by the more R&B end of the Brill Building songwriters -- they would record several more Bert Berns songs, and some by Ritchie Barrett, but the song that would become their most well-known legacy was actually written by Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich. Like many of Barry and Greenwich's songs, it was based around a nonsense phrase, but in this case the phrase they used had something of a longer history, though it's not apparent whether they fully realised that. In African-American folklore of the early twentieth century, the imaginary town of Diddy Wah Diddy was something like a synonym for heaven, or for the Big Rock Candy Mountain of the folk song -- a place where people didn't have to work, and where food was free everywhere. This place had been sung about in many songs, like Blind Blake's "Diddie Wah Diddie": [Excerpt: Blind Blake, "Diddie Wah Diddie"] And a song written by Willie Dixon for Bo Diddley: [Excerpt: Bo Diddley, "Diddy Wah Diddy"] And "Diddy" and "Wah" had often been used by other Black artists, in various contexts, like Roy Brown and Dave Bartholomew's "Diddy-Y-Diddy-O": [Excerpt: Roy Brown and Dave Bartholomew, "Diddy-Y-Diddy-O"] And Junior and Marie's "Boom Diddy Wah Wah", a "Ko Ko Mo" knockoff produced by Johnny Otis: [Excerpt: Junior and Marie, "Boom Diddy Wah Wah"]  So when Jeff Barry and Ellie Greenwich wrote "Do-Wah-Diddy", as the song was originally called, they were, wittingly or not, tapping into a rich history of rhythm and blues music. But the song as Greenwich demoed it was one of the first examples of what would become known as "bubblegum pop", and is particularly notable in her demo for its very early use of the fuzz guitar that would be a stylistic hallmark of that subgenre: [Excerpt: Ellie Greenwich, "Do-Wah-Diddy (demo)"] The Exciters' version of the song took it into more conventional girl-group territory, with a strong soulful vocal, but with the group's backing vocal call-and-response chant showing up the song's resemblance to the kind of schoolyard chanting games which were, of course, the basis of the very first girl group records: [Excerpt: The Exciters, "Do-Wah-Diddy"] Sadly, that record only reached number seventy-eight on the charts, and the Exciters would have no more hits in the US, though a later lineup of the group would make the UK top forty in 1975 with a song written and produced by the Northern Soul DJ Ian Levine. But in 1964 Jones had picked up on "Do-Wah-Diddy", and knew it was a potential hit. Most of the group weren't very keen on "Do Wah Diddy Diddy", as the song was renamed. There are relatively few interviews with any of them about it, but from what I can gather the only member of the band who thought anything much of the song was Paul Jones. However, the group did their best with the recording, and were particularly impressed with Manfred's Hammond organ solo -- which they later discovered was cut out of the finished recording by Burgess. The result was an organ-driven stomping pop song which had more in common with the Dave Clark Five than with anything else the group were doing: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Do Wah Diddy Diddy"] The record reached number one in both the UK and the US, and the group immediately went on an American tour, packaged with Peter & Gordon, a British duo who were having some success at the time because Peter Asher's sister was dating Paul McCartney, who'd given them a hit song, "World Without Love": [Excerpt: Peter and Gordon, "World Without Love"] The group found the experience of touring the US a thoroughly miserable one, and decided that they weren't going to bother going back again, so while they would continue to have big hits in Britain for the rest of the decade, they only had a few minor successes in the States. After the success of "Do Wah Diddy Diddy", EMI rushed out an album by the group, The Five Faces of Manfred Mann, which must have caused some confusion for anyone buying it in the hope of more "Do Wah Diddy Diddy" style pop songs. Half the album's fourteen tracks were covers of blues and R&B, mostly by Chess artists -- there were covers of Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Bo Diddley, Ike & Tina Turner, and more. There were also five originals, written or co-written by Jones, in the same style as those songs, plus a couple of instrumentals, one written by the group and one a cover of Cannonball Adderly's jazz classic "Sack O'Woe", arranged to show off the group's skills at harmonica, saxophone, piano and vibraphone: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Sack O'Woe"] However, the group realised that the formula they'd hit on with "Do  Wah Diddy Diddy" was a useful one, and so for their next single they once again covered a girl-group track with a nonsense-word chorus and title -- their version of "Sha La La" by the Shirelles took them to number three on the UK charts, and number twelve in the US. They followed that with a ballad, "Come Tomorrow", one of the few secular songs ever recorded by Marie Knight, the gospel singer who we discussed briefly way back in episode five, who was Sister Rosetta Tharpe's duet partner, and quite possibly her partner in other senses. They released several more singles and were consistently charting, to the point that they actually managed to get a top ten hit with a self-written song despite their own material not being considered worth putting out as singles. Paul Jones had written "The One in the Middle" for his friends the Yardbirds, but when they turned it down, he rewrote the song to be about Manfred Mann, and especially about himself: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "The One in the Middle"] Like much of their material, that was released on an EP, and the EP was so successful that as well as making number one on the EP charts, it also made number ten on the regular charts, with "The One in the Middle" as the lead-off track. But "The One in the Middle" was a clue to something else as well -- Jones was getting increasingly annoyed at the fact that the records the group was making were hits, and he was the frontman, the lead singer, the person picking the cover versions, and the writer of much of the original material, but all the records were getting credited to the group's keyboard player.  But Jones wasn't the next member of the group to leave. That was Mike Vickers, who went off to work in arranging film music and session work, including some work for the Beatles, the music for the film Dracula AD 1972, and the opening and closing themes for This Week in Baseball. The last single the group released while Vickers was a member was the aptly-titled "If You Gotta Go, Go Now". Mann had heard Bob Dylan performing that song live, and had realised that the song had never been released. He'd contacted Dylan's publishers, got hold of a demo, and the group became the first to release a version of the song, making number two in the charts: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "If You Gotta Go, Go Now"] Before Vickers' departure, the group had recorded their second album, Mann Made, and that had been even more eclectic than the first album, combining versions of blues classics like "Stormy Monday Blues", Motown songs like "The Way You Do The Things You Do", country covers like "You Don't Know Me", and oddities like "Bare Hugg", an original jazz instrumental for flute and vibraphone: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Bare Hugg"] McGuinness took the opportunity of Vickers leaving the group to switch from bass back to playing guitar, which had always been his preferred instrument. To fill in the gap, on Graham Bond's recommendation they hired away Jack Bruce, who had just been playing in John Mayall's Bluesbreakers with McGuinness' old friend Eric Clapton, and it's Bruce who played bass on the group's next big hit, "Pretty Flamingo", the only UK number one that Bruce ever played on: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Pretty Flamingo"] Bruce stayed with the band for several months, before going off to play in another band who we'll be covering in a future episode. He was replaced in turn by Klaus Voorman. Voorman was an old friend of the Beatles from their Hamburg days, who had been taught the rudiments of bass by Stuart Sutcliffe, and had formed a trio, Paddy, Klaus, and Gibson, with two Merseybeat musicians, Paddy Chambers of the Big Three and Gibson Kemp of Kingsize Taylor and the Dominoes: [Excerpt: Paddy, Klaus, and Gibson, "No Good Without You Baby"] Like Vickers, Voorman could play the flute, and his flute playing would become a regular part of the group's later singles. These lineup changes didn't affect the group as either a chart act or as an act who were playing a huge variety of different styles of music. While the singles were uniformly catchy pop, on album tracks, B-sides or EPs you'd be likely to find versions of folk songs collected by Alan Lomax, like "John Hardy", or things like "Driva Man", a blues song about slavery in 5/4 time, originally by the jazz greats Oscar Brown and Max Roach: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "Driva Man"] But by the time that track was released, Paul Jones was out of the group. He actually announced his intention to quit the group at the same time that Mike Vickers left, but the group had persuaded him to stay on for almost a year while they looked for his replacement, auditioning singers like Rod Stewart and Long John Baldry with little success. They eventually decided on Mike d'Abo, who had previously been the lead singer of a group called A Band of Angels: [Excerpt: A Band of Angels, "(Accept My) Invitation"] By the point d'Abo joined, relations  between the rest of the group and Jones were so poor that they didn't tell Jones that they were thinking of d'Abo -- Jones would later recollect that the group decided to stop at a pub on the way to a gig, ostensibly to watch themselves on TV, but actually to watch A Band of Angels on the same show, without explaining to Jones that that was what they were doing – Jones actually mentioned d'Abo to his bandmates as a possible replacement, not realising he was already in the group. Mann has talked about how on the group's last show with Jones, they drove to the gig in silence, and their first single with the new singer, a version of Dylan's "Just Like a Woman", came on the radio. There was a lot of discomfort in the band at this time, because their record label had decided to stick with Jones as a solo performer, and the rest of the group had had to find another label, and were worried that without Jones their career was over. Luckily for everyone involved, "Just Like a Woman" made the top ten, and the group's career was able to continue. Meanwhile, Jones' first single as a solo artist made the top five: [Excerpt: Paul Jones, "High Time"] But after that and his follow-up, "I've Been a Bad, Bad, Boy", which made number five, the best he could do was to barely scrape the top forty. Manfred Mann, on the other hand, continued having hits, though there was a constant struggle to find new material. d'Abo was himself a songwriter, and it shows the limitations of the "no A-sides by group members" rule that while d'Abo was the lead singer of Manfred Mann, he wrote two hit singles which the group never recorded. The first, "Handbags and Gladrags", was a hit for Chris Farlowe: [Excerpt: Chris Farlowe, "Handbags and Gladrags"] That was only a minor hit, but was later recorded successfully by Rod Stewart, with d'Abo arranging, and the Stereophonics. d'Abo also co-wrote, and played piano on, "Build Me Up Buttercup" by the Foundations: [Excerpt: The Foundations, "Build Me Up Buttercup"] But the group continued releasing singles written by other people.  Their second post-Jones single, from the perspective of a spurned lover insulting their ex's new fiancee, had to have its title changed from what the writers intended, as the group felt that a song insulting "semi-detached suburban Mr. Jones" might be taken the wrong way. Lightly retitled, "Semi-Detached Suburban Mr. James" made number two, while the follow-up, "Ha Ha! Said the Clown", made number four. The two singles after that did significantly less well, though, and seemed to be quite bizarre choices -- an instrumental Hammond organ version of Tommy Roe's "Sweet Pea", which made number thirty-six, and a version of Randy Newman's bitterly cynical "So Long, Dad", which didn't make the charts at all. After this lack of success, the group decided to go back to what had worked for them before. They'd already had two hits with Dylan songs, and Mann had got hold of a copy of Dylan's Basement Tapes, a bootleg which we'll be talking about later. He picked up on one song from it, and got permission to release "The Mighty Quinn", which became the group's third number one: [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "The Mighty Quinn"] The album from which that came, Mighty Garvey, is the closest thing the group came to an actual great album. While the group's earlier albums were mostly blues covers, this was mostly made up of original material by either Hugg or d'Abo, in a pastoral baroque pop style that invites comparisons to the Kinks or the Zombies' material of that period, but with a self-mocking comedy edge in several songs that was closer to the Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band. Probably the highlight of the album was the mellotron-driven "It's So Easy Falling": [Excerpt: Manfred Mann, "It's So Easy Falling"] But Mighty Garvey didn't chart, and it was the last gasp of the group as a creative entity. They had three more top-ten hits, all of them good examples of their type, but by January 1969, Tom McGuinness was interviewed saying "It's not a group any more. It's just five people who come together to make hit singles. That's the only aim of the group at the moment -- to make hit singles -- it's the only reason the group exists. Commercial success is very important to the group. It gives us financial freedom to do the things we want." The group split up in 1969, and went their separate ways. d'Abo appeared on the original Jesus Christ Superstar album, and then went into writing advertising jingles, most famously writing "a finger of fudge is just enough" for Cadbury's. McGuinness formed McGuinness Flint, with the songwriters Gallagher and Lyle, and had a big hit with "When I'm Dead and Gone": [Excerpt: McGuinness Flint, "When I'm Dead and Gone"] He later teamed up again with Paul Jones, to form a blues band imaginatively named "the Blues Band", who continue performing to this day: [Excerpt: The Blues Band, "Mean Ol' Frisco"] Jones became a born-again Christian in the eighties, and also starred in a children's TV show, Uncle Jack, and presented the BBC Radio 2 Blues Programme for thirty-two years. Manfred Mann and Mike Hugg formed another group, Manfred Mann Chapter Three, who released two albums before splitting. Hugg went on from that to write for TV and films, most notably writing the theme music to "Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?": [Excerpt: Highly Likely, "Whatever Happened to the Likely Lads?"] Mann went on to form Manfred Mann's Earth Band, who had a number of hits, the biggest of which was the Bruce Springsteen song "Blinded by the Light": [Excerpt: Manfred Mann's Earth Band, "Blinded by the Light"] Almost uniquely for a band from the early sixties, all the members of the classic lineup of Manfred Mann are still alive. Manfred Mann continues to perform with various lineups of his Earth Band. Hugg, Jones, McGuinness, and d'Abo reunited as The Manfreds in the 1990s, with Vickers also in the band until 1999, and continue to tour together -- I still have a ticket to see them which was originally for a show in April 2020, but has just been rescheduled to 2022. McGuinness and Jones also still tour with the Blues Band. And Mike Vickers now spends his time creating experimental animations.  Manfred Mann were a band with too many musical interests to have a coherent image, and their reliance on outside songwriters and their frequent lineup changes meant that they never had the consistent sound of many of their contemporaries. But partly because of this, they created a catalogue that rewards exploration in a way that several more well-regarded bands' work doesn't, and I wouldn't be at all surprised to see a major critical reassessment of them at some point. But whether that happens or not, almost sixty years on people around the world still respond instantly to the opening bars of their biggest hit, and "Do Wah Diddy Diddy" remains one of the most fondly remembered singles of the early sixties.

Alex Sievewright joins the regular crew (minus Dan!) for a special horror one-shot!A brand new crew of anti-heroes follow some troublesome noises down a well, leading to a much bigger mystery.Will this monstrous crew - and Barry No-Knees - save the town from the terrors within the castle walls? Or will they simply find their new home?Listen to find out.... IF YOU DARE!!!!Check out Alex's brand new podcast That Was The Week That Was, Was It? here on Acast or wherever else you get your podcasts.Alex also features on the latest comedy output by Jon Holmes, Cold Case Crime Cuts. Check it out here, or wherever you get your podcasts!Enjoy xVicky's World is broadcast LIVE on twitch.tv/VickysWorldRPG, facebook.com/VickysWorldRPG and our YouTube channel (Vicky's World RPG) every Thursday at 7pm BST.BECOME A TASTY SANDWICH! Head over to ko-fi.com/VickysWorldRPG to buy us a Natural 20 and gain some exclusive perks such as having your name incorporated into our adventure!If you like our show, please leave us a review and tell your mates. Support your favourite rollocking role-players!Our Instagrams:Vicky - @vic.hawleyTalal - @talalabanJon - @50_shades_of_graceyDan - @dansimpsonpoetBea Watts (Artist) - @pink.ink.artAMBA SDF (Logo) - @SoDamnFresh1Twitters:Vicky - @VicHawleyTalal - @talalabanJon - @JonGraceyDan - @DanSimpsonPoetSasha - @SashaKEllen See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

A decade before Saturday Night Live, a comedy show called That Was The Week That Was poked fun at politics and culture. Well, on Capitol Hill, they had a week that was. With a recap and what to expect next ,WTOP capitol hill correspondent Mitchell Miller.

This is Steve's penultimate podcast. One more and he's outta here. He explains why on his next podcast. But for now, Steve gets locked in Harry's Trunk. He also tries to find a last name for him. And Bobby Braddock, Spike jones and a song from That Was The Week That Was is played (probably a Tom Lehrer song).

If Vancouver Whitecaps are going to go to war in Major League Soccer next season, they've now got themselves a tank to help them in their battles.Lucas Cavallini has officially arrived in Vancouver. We look at what it means to the 'Caps and hear from the man himself after his introductory presser, along with some thoughts from Sporting Director Axel Schuster. From a Whitecap of the future to ones of the past, as we conclude our selection of the Whitecaps of the Decade with a look at the attackers. Which three players will make it in? We also look at some of the big talking points in MLS, the CPL, and North American soccer this past week. Plus Halftime Oranges are back in this week's Wavelength, The New Royal Family continue their residency as our artists of the month for December, and there's BC Soccerweb headlines. Here's the rundown for the main segments from the episode:06.40: That Was The Week That Was in North American soccer41.35: Cavallini cometh with audio from the man himself57.55: Axel Schuster talks about the Cavallini signing69.46: Canadian soccer news of the week and chat94.50: Whitecaps of the Decade - the attack120.32: Wavelength - Halftime Oranges - Zig Zag To The Onion Bag124.08: BC Soccerweb headlines - news stories from around the world of football

That was the week that was, it's over, let it go. So went the opening lyrics to the 1960s satirical BBC show That Was The Week That Was, or TW3 as it was more succinctly known. And it's been a quiet week in the North American footballing landscape. That gives us the chance to trial a new format I've been keen to try, combining two shows I love - TW3 and AIOTM on AFTN. What could go wrong?! We'll be breaking down the week's Whitecaps, MLS, and CPL news as the days played out, and throw in a few fun bits as well. Let us know if you like it. But we also continue our new section to pick our Whitecaps of the decade, looking at the defence and picking our starting right back, left back, and two centre backs. Let us know if you agree. Plus The Cockney Rejects are back in Wavelength, The New Royal Family begin their residency as our artists of the month for December, and there's BC Soccerweb headlines. Here's the rundown for the main segments from the episode:06.46: Monday - waivers, midfielders, and Jon Erice13.53: Tuesday - CPL awards, Champions League face offs, and top clubs in the world33.32: Wednesday - free agents, returning Whitecaps you'd welcome back, and Canada Soccer awards55.24: Thursday - giving thanks and Canada's Hex dreams65.40: Friday and the weekend - FA Cup and cup football in Canada, football streaming services, and future fixtures92.55: Whitecaps of the Decade - the back four121.15: Wavelength - The Cockney Rejects - Chapecocense126.35: BC Soccerweb headlines - news stories from around the world of football

Pictured: Eva Kor Matthew Bannister on Eva Kor who, with her twin sister, was the subject of experiments by the Nazi doctor Josef Mengele in Auschwitz. She later publicly forgave her tormentors. Christopher Booker, the founding editor of Private Eye and Telegraph columnist. João Gilberto, the Brazilian pioneer of bossa nova music whose hits included The Girl From Ipanema. And John McCririck, the eccentric TV racing pundit who was criticised for his sexist views. Interviewed guest: Alex Kor Interviewed guest: Penny Tierney Interviewed guest: Tim Stanley Interviewed guest: Robin Denselow Interviewed guest: Alastair Down Interviewed guest: Cornelius Lysaght Producer: Paula McGinley Archive clips from: Outlook, World Service 13/05/2015; Dirty Years Of Satire, Radio 4 06/10/1991; That Was The Week That Was, BBC One 19/12/1963; Today, Radio 4 04/07/2019; New Names Making News, Radio 4 18/12/1962; John McCririck Interview, Star Sports April 2018; Celebrity Big Brother, Channel 4 2005; Big Brother's Big Mouth, Channel 4 18/08/2006.

On Wednesday 3 July 2019, Christopher Booker, one of Britain’s very best journalists, died at the age of 81. Greg Lance-Watkins knew Christopher for more than 50 years. He reflects on Christopher’s remarkable life with Marcus Stead. Christopher led an extraordinary life – he was an integral part of the satire boom of the 1960s, as part of David Frost’s team on That Was The Week That Was, and he was the first editor of the magazine Private Eye. Christopher wrote about a broad range of topics, from jazz to cricket, but he was perhaps best-known for his investigative work, and for his deep understanding of the inner-workings of the European Union. Christopher’s final column in the Sunday Telegraph on 29 March was a masterpiece, where he reflected on his eventful life and provided a sad, but all-too-accurate analysis of the state Britain is currently in.

Why Algebra II should be banned; Obits: Michael Ansara (with great clip by Bob Scheaffer of CBS), David Frost (and That Was The Week That Was, the breakthrough show he hosted at age 23).

Why Algebra II should be banned; Obits: Michael Ansara (with great clip by Bob Scheaffer of CBS), David Frost (and That Was The Week That Was, the breakthrough show he hosted at age 23).

This is the second part of an in-depth interview with veteran Parliamentarian, Sir Gerald Kaufman MP. In this episode Gerald talks about how he came to write for the groundbreaking satirical show, "That Was The Week That Was"; about scandals such as the Profumo affair; and his thoughts on where the last Labour Government went wrong. For more details see the previous episode.

Waffle On about Political Satire on TV. Welcome to another edition of Waffle ON. On this episode Meds and Kell are joined by Pete Coleman and they discuss  programmes with a political satire link. We discuss That Was The Week That Was, Frost, Report, Python, Yes Minister, The Day Today, Brass Eye, The thick of It and a few more. Politics never had it so good.

Sue Lawley's guest this week is the veteran broadcaster Sir David Frost - the only British television presenter to have interviewed seven American presidents and six British Prime Ministers who has, over the past five decades, become a broadcasting institution. The presenter once known as a scourge of the Establishment has become something of an establishment figure himself, noted for his formidable contacts book, his star-studded parties, and for his gentle but revealing interviewing style. Born in 1939, the youngest son of a Methodist minister and his wife, David was football and cricket-mad from an early age but with a burning ambition to go to Cambridge University. He arrived there in 1958, and threw himself into it, joining Footlights and editing Varsity and Granta. After Cambridge, Ned Sherrin saw him performing a comedy act in a Mayfair bar and hired him up to present the iconic satirical programme That Was The Week That Was. Other successful programmes followed including Frost Over Britain and The Frost Report. Breakfast with Frost ran for twelve years until early 2005. David is not retiring though and is due to present a new interview programme for Al-Jazeera International which will begin next Spring, and will also conduct occasional interviews for the BBC.[Taken from the original programme material for this archive edition of Desert Island Discs]Favourite track: The Dam Busters by Eric Coates Book: London A-Z Luxury: Sunday papers

Sue Lawley's guest this week is the veteran broadcaster Sir David Frost - the only British television presenter to have interviewed seven American presidents and six British Prime Ministers who has, over the past five decades, become a broadcasting institution. The presenter once known as a scourge of the Establishment has become something of an establishment figure himself, noted for his formidable contacts book, his star-studded parties, and for his gentle but revealing interviewing style. Born in 1939, the youngest son of a Methodist minister and his wife, David was football and cricket-mad from an early age but with a burning ambition to go to Cambridge University. He arrived there in 1958, and threw himself into it, joining Footlights and editing Varsity and Granta. After Cambridge, Ned Sherrin saw him performing a comedy act in a Mayfair bar and hired him up to present the iconic satirical programme That Was The Week That Was. Other successful programmes followed including Frost Over Britain and The Frost Report. Breakfast with Frost ran for twelve years until early 2005. David is not retiring though and is due to present a new interview programme for Al-Jazeera International which will begin next Spring, and will also conduct occasional interviews for the BBC. [Taken from the original programme material for this archive edition of Desert Island Discs] Favourite track: The Dam Busters by Eric Coates Book: London A-Z Luxury: Sunday papers