Summer Winos»Archive for January 2017

Archive for January 2017

Series 9 Episode 1: Why Does Norman Clegg Buy Ladies' Elastic Stockings?

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In which Norman Clegg… buys ladies’ elastic stockings…

Bob: Oh, this is an unusual opening shot! We start with a static shot of dried ferns in a jar, and we pan across to Compo’s bedside table. And what a fascinating insight into his character; there’s a GNER mug, clearly half-inched from some long-forgotten railway journey, an ashtray from the Huddersfield Hotel, a copy of The Ferret Fancier magazine (does this actually exist?) and – tantalisingly – what looks like a vintage Betty Grable record. It’s a throwaway shot, but these half-glimpsed objects are immaculately chosen. Does Compo strike you as the kind of man who would pinch ashtrays from a posh hotel, and harbour forty-year old fantasies about the leggy, ‘Forces Sweetheart’ film star of his youth? Of course he does.

I’m now fascinated as to exactly which Betty Grable record is propped up at Compo’s bedside. It looks like the title is something along the lines of ‘Loving Tonight’, but I can’t find any evidence of her having recorded anything with a title that’s even similar to that. Are my ageing eyes letting me down here? Is it even Betty Grable on the sleeve? Can anyone help?

Andrew: I’m afraid I can’t help you with that one, but I can sadly confirm the demise of The Ferret Fancier, if indeed it was ever an actual periodical and not just a comic invention. It pleases me, however, that one can subscribe to Ferrets Magazine. Surely that’s the sort of publication in which we should be taking out an advertisement?

Bob: Good to get our regulation Wally and Nora scene in early! Nora is ‘swilling’… which takes me back. For the first twenty-odd years of my life, I was frequently woken up by the sound of my Mum throwing buckets of water over the back patio, and swilling it around with a good, stiff broom. It’s a very reassuring sound. Although I’m now filled with an overwhelming feeling that I’ve still got geography homework to finish off.

Andrew: I love the rare bit of courage we glimpse from Wally at the end of this scene.

Nora: What are you; a husband or a parrot?

Wally: (with glee) Who’s a clever boy then!

Cue a good thwacking from Nora!

S9E1bBob: Clegg has proper teacups! I want some. I like his world-weary grumbling to Howard, as well… ‘At a time when little southern girls are playing with their dolls, the girls around here are practicing lie recognition and unmarked wedlock’. Peter Sallis and Robert Fyfe make a good double act, actually…two incredibly meek characters who, together, find refuge from an intimidating world.

Andrew: They do make a nice pair. What I especially like is Clegg’s confidence around Howard. As you say, Clegg has grown into a particularly meek character over the course of the series, but even he can’t help coming across as an alpha dog when confronted with the pathetic Howard. There’s the sense of a friendship there, but also an undercurrent of contempt on Clegg’s part. See, for example, his reaction to Howard’s attempt at a guilt-free smile – ‘You look like a little Nazi surrendering at the end of the war.’

Bob: Is it me, or does Pearl not really trust Edie? Our new regulars are pairing off into odd combinations in this episode, and there’s definitely a bit of spikiness between these two. ‘Where’s the virtue in looking like you’ve just come back from a serious operation?’ asks Edie, clearly a dig at poor Pearl’s dowdy appearance. It’s curious how, for the first twelve years of the series, the scripts were very male-dominated… we generally just had Nora and Ivy on the sidelines, acting as foils for the main, male trio. But Roy Clarke seems to have suddenly discovered the delights of writing female dialogue, and he’s an absolute master at it. The show has never had such a feminine feel; there are huge chunks devoted to various combinations of Edie, Pearl and Marina.

Andrew: I don’t think Pearl trusts any other woman. The addition of Pearl and Howard also strengthens the series’ suggestion that all men of a certain age regress regress back to childhood, while women remain maternal.You’re bang on; there’s absolutely a sense of Clarke playing with his new characters. Pearl and Ivy are both newcomers, but he’s obviously keen to see if they can carry a scene on their own. It’s ages into the episode before our trio unite and I wonder if that’s partly due to the fact that, despite having been part of the series for over a year, Seymour has yet to appear in a non-special episode of the show – for the benefit of casual viewers, he has to be eased in to the narrative.

Bob: Clegg is shopping in a very 1980s-looking supermarket! It’s on film, so do we assume this is a genuine location? I’m sure some sort of Supermarket Reform Act must have come into play sometime around 1990, because they suddenly became very spacious, airy places, filled with the fresh smell of baking bread. Before that, they looked like this… narrow aisles, low ceilings, and groaning shelves overladen with stacked-up tins and packets. And they smelled FUNNY. They bloody did… there was one in my hometown that absolutely stank of cats. Good to see an advert for ‘beefburgers’ as well. Not just ‘burgers’, but ‘beefburgers’. Is the ‘beefburger’ actually different to the ‘hamburger’? And when did they all just become ‘burgers’?

S9E1cAndrew: Pre-1990s supermarkets basically looked like large corner shops, didn’t they? Actually, what’s that one around the back of Stockton High Street called? That looks like it was caught in a time bubble at some point during the 1980s.

Bob: Boyes! It’s part of its ineffable charm. Anyway, I’m going to advance a daring theory here, and brace yourselves – because some of you aren’t going to like it. Here goes… Clegg actually DOES fancy Marina. When he spots her working on the supermarket check-out, he freezes on the spot, blushes, and then fills his basket with all kinds of unnecessary tat (including the ladies’ stockings of the title) in an attempt to ward off the suspicions of the store detective. These aren’t the actions of a man who just wants to avoid an undesirable acquaintance… they’re the actions of a man who’s IN LOVE, and is too embarrassed to admit it – even to himself. He’s like the infatuated schoolboy who turns into a beetroot-red, stammering simpleton every time the object of his desire comes within twenty yards. I’m running with this. CLEGG FANCIES MARINA.

Andrew: I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s in love, but I think there’s certainly something to your theory! In the world of Summer Wine, there haven’t been any female characters for Clegg to show an interest in, have there? Marina occupies a previously vacant space between battleaxe and some bloke’s niece. She isn’t there to mother, and she’s not looking for a father figure.

Bob: The last few episodes have had some lovely material for Jonathan Linsley to work with, and I like the way that Crusher is slowly growing into his role as a café assistant. In his earliest episodes, he clearly didn’t really want to be there, and was only doing it to placate either Ivy or some unseen mother, desperate to get him out of the house… but look at him now! He’s got a steak and kidney pie in the oven, and he’s pacing around like an expectant father! It’s a very subtle and nicely-done character progression.

Andrew: Compo (and Bill Owen) makes up for his limited screen time with a high-octane entrance to the cafè. While we’re on the subject of the series entering a new era, the Compo we see here has now completely transitioned into the persona of a harmless imp. He may accost a female customer of the café and make a grab for Ivy, but there isn’t the slightest suggestion that he’s leering, or really out of bounds in any way. He’s just a hyperactive child. I also don’t get the impression he’s supposed to be half as physically horrifying as he was in the series’ earliest episodes – he’s scruffy, but he’s not fag-ash-in-a-doorstop-sandwich revolting.

S9e1eI love Edie’s banning of Wesley from the kitchen. It’s a running gag that will go on for years and years, and it certainly made me cackle when I was a kid watching in the 1990s. Again, although they are taken to their extremes, there is something very recognisable and identifiable about this pairing. My Dad is in the process of building himself a new shed – his justification being that if he doesn’t do it now he never will, as ‘this’ll be me last shed’ – and my Mam and sister just look on, both confused as to why he wants it, but relieved that he’s got something to do outside of the living room.

Bob: ‘This’ll be me last shed!’ That’s worthy of Roy Clarke! I can imagine Stephen Lewis saying that, with a screwdriver in his hand.

Don’t be fooled into thinking the home-made warning signs on the approach road to Seymour’s house are in any way exaggerated for comic effect… if anything, they’re toned down. I’ve done a lot of moorland walking past remote farmsteads, and seen some terrifying sights; from ‘TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT – I MEAN IT’ to rows of rotting, dead moles pegged out on electric fences, presumably as a warning to similarly wayward members of the local mole community. Away from the cities, towns and villages, there still are some truly odd and eccentric loners living very insular and unconventional lives up on the hills; even in 2017. I think Seymour’s house and lifestyle, plotting insane schemes in ramshackle outbuildings, are a nod to those people. At heart, he’s a loner; and it’s hard to imagine scenes like these – with him aggressively turning away a Yorkshire Electricity Board meter-reader from his country house – being played out with either Blamire or Foggy.

Andrew: Thinking I recognised him from somewhere, I looked up the actor who plays the ‘Meter Reader’ on IMDB. It turns out he also played ‘Our Kid’ Colin in Getting Sam Home and will appear as other characters in further episodes to come, but far odder than that is that his last credited role was in a 2007 episode of Life on Mars… where he played the character of ‘Meter Man’. Think of the possibilities! Are they the same character? Does this mean Life on Mars and Last of the Summer Wine are part of the same fictional universe? Is Norman Clegg mad, in a coma, or back in time? And if he can work out the reason, can he get home?

Bob: Amazingly, we’re twenty minutes into the episode before we see our main trio together.

Andrew: The structure of this one is rather strange. The point at which Clegg and Compo arrive at Seymour’s place very much feels like the opening of a new episode.  Are we actually being treated to two mini-episodes here?

Bob: I can’t shake the suspicion that Seymour’s string of insane inventions exist purely for the purposes of getting Bill Owen into some bizarre contraption every week! This week it’s a mobile drilling unit, powered by a rather roughly-converted bicycle, and intended to search the Holme Valley oilfields for Black Gold, Texas Tea, etc. Although what would be the West Yorkshire version of Texas Tea? Tadcaster Tea? That actually sounds like genuine tea, though.

Anyway, this exchange made me laugh a lot:

Seymour: It’s not an important bit…
Clegg: That’s what Melvyn Carcroft said when the swelling started.

S9e1gHe also makes Compo and Clegg swear to secrecy on two books: The Principles of Financial Management and Biggles In Africa. Yet again, I can’t find any sign of the former being a real book… but the latter is very definitely the genuine article, published in 1936. My faith is restored!

Andrew: Before the possibility of striking oil is raised, Seymour is certain that people need holes, and that his is the device to provide them. That’s an insane idea that I can get behind, and I love the fact that it’s actually a familiar-sounding music cue from Ronnie Hazlehurst that suggests the direction the story is about to take, before anybody in the episode catches on.

When Compo finally gets around to testing Seymour’s drilling machine, it isn’t long before something goes amiss. Spying a film of oil on the top of his duck pond, Seymour theorises that there is a vast untapped source somewhere nearby.

Bob: Yes, Ronnie Hazlehurst is on FIRE at the moment! As Compo and Clegg half-heartedly drill for oil in Seymour’s front yard, we are treated to a sensational hybrid of the Summer Wine and Dallas themes. It’s absolutely masterful, and there’s something magnificently strange about hearing those bombastic tones swelling as we watch two pensionable gentlemen pedalling furiously outside a Yorkshire country house. It’s almost subversive. I wonder if Roy Clarke ever gave suggestions for musical cues in any of his scripts, or whether Hazlehurst just had a wild, musical imagination, and was given free reign to use it? I guess the latter is more likely; any man who can create a TV theme tune by tapping out the title of the show in Morse code is up there with Mozart as far as I’m concerned. Don’t believe me? It’s Some Mothers Do ‘Ave ‘Em. Seriously. It’s extraordinary.

Andrew: On the other side of town, Howard and Marina seize what little time they can get together. The sexual longing that Robert Fyfe somehow manages to squeeze into the phrase, ‘I’ve been sent to fetch two prawn curries… and a sweet and sour pork’ is a wonder to behold.

Of course, it isn’t long before our trio’s dream of striking oil is dashed by a water main, and the episode comes to a moist conclusion. Bell has a great eye for silent comedy direction, with the entirety of the gang’s realisation being played out in a series of shocked close-ups, contrasted with widescale angles of destruction.

That was a lovely episode. My only qualm is that we don’t get to hear nearly enough of that magnificent Dallas take–off. They should have used it over the closing titles. I also wonder if this is the point at which the series began to develop its reputation as being almost entirely about physical comedy. There are some absolutely perfect character comedy exchanges throughout this instalment, but the drilling for oil sequence is the only one I’ve ever seen made use of as a clip in a documentary or a chat show. Drilling for oil is what I bet people remember this one being about, despite the fact doing so takes up about two minutes of the episode’s duration!

Bob: That was our most whimsical episode for a little while, and it passed by very pleasantly, like a light daydream on a summers afternoon. Now… Betty Grable, anyone?

Christmas Special 1986: Merry Christmas, Father Christmas

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In which a two-fingered salute prompts festive chimney fondling…

Andrew: It’s worth pointing out that, if I had gotten my act together, we would have published this entry in time to mark the episode’s 30th anniversary on the 28th of December 2016. Then, it snagged 16.3 million viewers! Still, it wouldn’t really be Summer Winos if I had pulled my finger out.

Three decades may have passed, but the bookshop, Daisy Lane Books, seen in the background of this Christmas special’s first scene is, remarkably, still trading and looks pretty much the same! We’d been visiting Holmfirth for years before we noticed this little gem of a place, tucked away in a cobbled passage just off Towngate. I can’t vouch for the fact that the toyshop the trio admire was ever actually a toyshop, but today the building houses the thematically-named Daisy’s Nails and Beauty.

Bob: What are we waiting for? It’s time for my traditional New Year pedicure! And hey, you know you’re in for a classy Summer Wine when the opening line is an inexplicable non-sequitur. They used to be Foggy’s exclusive domain, but Clegg seems to have inherited them now. ‘He said it was part of his mid-life crisis,’ he ponders. ‘Left him with this yearning for Salad Cream’. Marvellous.

Anyway, what the hell is going on here? Not only is this a very Christmassy Christmas special, actually set at Christmas, but there’s snow on the ground too! Is it real, do you think? Usually, when fake snow is pressed into service for sitcom Christmas specials, the BBC props boys (warehouse coats, flat caps, jam-jar glasses) go overboard and spread the stuff everywhere. But these sparse fringes of snow, clinging desperately to the grass verges and pavements, look like the real deal to me.

Andrew: Exactly! It does look very convincing – mainly because it’s quite patchy and paltry looking! Surely if you were to cover the landscape in fake snow you’d do a more even job than that? What we need is access to the production paperwork and some detailed records from the Met Office.

Bob: It’s curious that we didn’t get a Summer Wine series in 1986… meaning that Seymour’s first two episodes are two Christmas specials, almost exactly a year apart! Do we assume that a year has passed in Summer Wine world as well? I’d like to think so, because – despite having a somewhat frosty relationship in Uncle of the Bride – Compo, Clegg and Seymour are now clearly as thick as thieves, giggling away merrily together. The latter in particular has noticeably softened since his prickly and pompous debut appearance, and seems full of genial Christmas spirit. He’s almost a different character.

mcfc4Andrew: The whole episode seems imbued with Christmas cheer for a change. Maybe it’s because the characters can actually hear Ronnie Hazlehurst’s lovely, sleigh bell-coloured score? That’s what’s doing it for me! He really gets into the spirit for this one, with some lovely quotations from Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas and Good King Wenceslas.

As for the missing year between specials, who knows what our trio have been up to? If this was Doctor Who, several thousand books, comics, and audio plays would have been written to fill this continuity gap… and it would all be utterly mental.

Bob: This is the first time that one of the main trio has had their family featured regularly in the show, isn’t it? It’s only their second episode, but Barry, Glenda and Edie already feel like part of the Summer Wine furniture. Roy Clarke’s blending of them into the usual mix has been effortless; and you’re right with what you said in our Uncle of the Bride review, too… the fact that they’re also closely related to an established character – Wesley – has helped a lot. These characters aren’t just suddenly being foisted onto us out of nowhere… we’re just getting a wider glimpse of an already existing world.

Anyway, I like the fact that Edie’s house is festooned with balloons. Do people still put common-or-garden balloons up at Christmas? She can on put her posh voice as much as she likes, balloons on the walls are a sure-fire sign of a working class upbringing. You couldn’t move in our house for Christmas balloons; those and about forty miles worth of paper chains, all held together with my juvenile spittle.

Andrew: Yes, the set dresser has really nailed the Christmas decorations. They aren’t overdone, and they stem from character, rather than simply what looks good on camera. See also the tatty, folded Santa Claus poster in the Café window!

While we’re on the subject of Edie’s house, I’d like to once again highlight some interesting direction from Alan Bell. At the start of the scene, we can hear Edie’s voice for a moment as the camera dollies in on the empty, sitting room doorway. It’s a very simple move, but also strikes me as very unusual for a multi-camera sitcom. This continues throughout the episode. I’d say this is a sign of a director who is trying his best to make the videotaped studio sequences as dynamic as those he is able to execute on film – a medium in which he clearly loves working.

Bob: There’s a poster in the café advertising a ‘Carol Service, St Agnes Church, 20th December 6.30pm’. Is St Agnes Church real? Can we go there and sing carols one year?

Andrew: There’s a St Agnes Church in Leeds… but I suspect we may be thirty years too late for the advertised event.

Bob: And, just to give us the flipside to this Christmas piety, Seymour’s smutty ‘I shall have to take your diction in hand’ warning to Compo gets an absolute roar from the studio audience. #festivefilth

Andrew: Not to mention Compo’s earlier question – ‘Can you have a normal fairy?’

mcfc7Bob: I keep saying it, but I genuinely can’t fault the seamless way in which the new cast members have been weaved into the Summer Wine narrative over the course of – let’s face it – only a handful of episodes. Here we’ve got Crusher being interrupted in the café by Marina, who gives Clegg a present to pass onto Howard, away from Pearl’s prying eyes. And it all feels utterly natural. There have been eight major new characters introduced since the start of Series 8, but it doesn’t feel at all contrived.

Mind you, there’s a whiff of Nurse Gladys Emmanuel and Granville about the way Marina clasps Crusher to her heaving bust here! It had been a couple of years since Open All Hours ended, so maybe Roy Clarke was pining for a decent bosom scene. Actually, I’ve decided to do this review in hashtags now, as it’s long overdue that this blog moved with the times. #bosomscene

Andrew: I love the fact that Marina’s Crusher crush has been carried over from Uncle of the Bride. We said at the time that it would be a shame if that dynamic was forgotten about. It also means I can stop writing all of that slash fiction… I was developing carpel tunnel.

Bob: I’ve absolutely no idea what carpel tunnel is. Is he in the new Star Wars film? Anyway, Drew… a little straw poll here. What was the name given to the beardy Christmassy bloke in your house when you were little? And if you say Noel Edmonds, I’ll clobber you. He was always ‘Father Christmas’ in our house, never ‘Santa Claus’. I’m turning this review into a #festiveclasswar, actually… I’ve always thought there was a hint of middle-class affectation about ‘Santa Claus’. So I’m glad to see that the slightly skew-whiff looking figure that our main trio pass in the street is very firmly referred to by them all as ‘Father Christmas’.

Or, to give him his full title, ‘Jackie Pilsworth’. #namesdatabase

Andrew: I beg to differ on this one. He was always Santa Claus to us, and it’s actually ‘Father Christmas’ that strikes my ears as a little… poncier. Subjectively, I think this is actually more of a generational thing. Father Christmas is the more British of the two terms, with a lineage that goes back to Pagan festivals, wheras Santa Claus has his roots in the Sinterklaas of Dutch tradition. Dutch settlers carried that tradition over to the American colonies, which in turn led to Santa Claus becoming the dominant nomenclature there. As the latter half of the 20th Century moved along, British Christmas traditions became more and more entwined with those of America; particularly in terms of popular culture. Holiday films, television specials, and pop songs far more frequently featured ‘Santa Claus’, and so – by the time I was growing up in the early 1990s – I would say naming him as such was pretty much the norm. Basically, blame Dudley Moore.

Bob: Do High Street shops still have a resident Father Christmas in a grotto? Drew? You strike me as the kind of intrepid young person who actually leaves the house during the Christmas period…

Andrew: Fenwick’s department store in Newcastle certainly does. Not that I went this year…

Juliette Kaplan plays Pearl wonderfully in the scene in which Clegg attempts to covertly deliver Marina’s present to Howard. She delivers perfect menace, but you can’t help but be on her side. And it’s just occurred to me that this instalment still isn’t exactly about Christmas, but rather the intense preparations that lead up to the day. The decorations, the shopping, the strategic gift giving – Roy Clarke is still complaining!

mcfc2Bob: Our trio next retreat to a tinsel strewn pub. A great line from Seymour here; ‘You put a couple of schoolboys together and they start fermenting’. He’s got a much more of an acid wit than Foggy, hasn’t he? He can be very cutting and acerbic.

Wally and Nora. Wally and Nora. #wallyandnora. I can’t say any more about these little scenes, Drew… they’re perfect, I’ve exhausted my superlatives. I’ll leave you to quote Wally’s killer line here!

Andrew: You mean, ‘I don’t know whether I can stand the excitement of getting our Desmond a shirt?’ It’s obviously a wonderfully delivered line, but I think it’s topped by Nora’s ‘And don’t let me hear you thinking what I think you’re thinking!’

Bob: Can we edit all of Wally and Nora’s recent self-contained scenes together, and make a half hour sitcom? Come on… what else have we got to do that’s more important?

Andrew: I’ll have a Christmas special prepped for 2017!

Back in the pub, Seymour can’t help but intervene in what I would nominate as one of the most poorly-choreographed bar-room brawls in television history. Two extras giving each other some very gentle shoves while standing silently and puffing their cheeks.

Bob: All pub fights are like that! And oh blimey, listen to this:

Edie: Are you happy, love?
Glenda: Oh, we’re fine. He’s a good, steady lad.

It’s heartbreaking, isn’t it? I mean, I don’t doubt for a second that all of these Summer Wine married couples actually love each other… it’s just the ‘anything for a quiet life’ acceptance of the aching dullness of it all. The endless days eating their dinners and trudging around shops and wrapping their Christmas presents with the telly on, without a single breath of excitement to spice things up. And yet the fact that Edie even asks the question suggests that she might just pine for something more. Something more than a husband who spends every daylight hour under the bonnet of his car, and sits on sheets of newspapers in his overalls every night. The unspoken melancholy of all of these relationships is just so bittersweet.

Andrew: They’re real people. Clarke sometimes gets stick for the lack of plot in his work, but so frequently it is during these side scenes that the most human moments sneak into the dialogue.

Bob: Let’s cut to the Christmas crux #christmascrux. Seymour is determined to ‘put the magic back into Christmas’, and wants Compo – dressed as Father Christmas – to stride around the town’s chimneytops, giving it as much ‘ho ho ho’ as he can muster. And so we have a dry run on Seymour’s roof, with poor Compo shoved to the highest point with a long, padded ‘thingummy’ administered by Wesley and Barry. And do you know what? I’m definitely claiming this wintry landscape as real snow. I’ve spent enough afternoons trudging around the moors in December to know real snow when I see it. Those yellowy-grey skies are positively bulging with the stuff as well… I bet Holmfirth was under a beautiful blanket the following morning. Insert your own Marina joke here.

mcfc10Andrew: I don’t know about you, but nothing quite says Christmas to me quite like Bill Owen shagging a chimney pot.

Bob: Good grief, Compo does indeed appear to be having a somewhat intimate relationship with Seymour’s chimney! No wonder Nora is keeping her distance if that’s how vigorous his romantic attentions can be…

When Roy Clarke is on form, he writes dialogue worthy of Alan Bennett. We’ve got Nora, Ivy, Pearl and Edie on the steps here discussing their respective husbands; and it’s glorious. No wonder Roy Clarke ended up incorporating having those regular ladies’ coffee mornings; they’re the perfect vehicle for these brilliantly catty exchanges: ‘Mrs Nuttall saw hers getting off a bus in Halifax with a man,’ nods Edie, knowingly. Nora has little sympathy, though. ‘That Emmy Nuttall wants to mind her own affairs,’ she harrumphs. ‘She can’t make mince pies. She’s very heavy-handed with the fat’.

Andrew: Prolific stuntman Stuart Fell can be spied in long shots that require Compo’s full body to be seen astride a roof in the town centre, but Bill Owen was also clearly willing and able to climb up as well. The closer, full-bodied shots reveal him to be clowning around on what looks like an actual rooftop. I’ve studied it as closely as a Standard Definition DVD will allow, and as far as I can tell it isn’t a mocked-up roof, and it certainly isn’t making use of CSO.

Bob: Stop sitting so close to the telly, your eyes will go all funny and you’ll need to wear glasses when you’re older.  Still I can confirm that’s definitely the real Kathy Staff giving one of her little semi-smiles as Compo dangles from the rooftops and declares his festive feelings for Nora! Staff is magnificent at ‘that look’… it’s barely a twitch, but there’s such affection in it.

Andrew: There’s also a lovely little throwaway moment during the credits, where Seymour rewards Compo for his efforts with some bottles of beer produced from beneath Father Christmas’ robes. There; I said Father Christmas. Happy?

Bob: I’m always happy. That was a really sweet and fun little episode; possibly one that gets overlooked a bit, falling so oddly between Uncle of the Bride and Seymour’s first full series. But I liked that a lot, it made effortless work of a tough job, getting the new characters further bedded in. And you can insert another Marina joke of your choosing here, if you like. Go on, it’s Christmas.

Andrew: Keep your filthy mind to yourself, spotty little person; it’s January. Anyway, this was very enjoyable. It’s silly Christmas fluff for the most part, but sometimes that’s exactly what the season calls for.

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