Oh, What a lovely chicken (1994)

Book Review from the November 1994 issue of the Socialist Standard

Ha Bloody Ha — Comedians Talking 
by William Cook. (Fourth Estate 1994. £8.99)

This book is largely a transcript of interviews with thirty or so of Britain’s top "alternative" stand-up comedians and is a welcome insight into the lives of these highly unusual workers. Stand-up comedy is one of the most stressful and cut-throat of professions and few do it successfully. Jack Dee claims that stand-up is the natural profession for those with a personality defect, and by that reckoning capitalism should produce plenty willing to risk humiliation in front of a live audience. Indeed, this book suggests that the numbers seeking success in this arena appears to be on the increase — perhaps that’s telling us something.

Several "political" comedians feature, including Jeremy Hardy who has regularly done spots for the SWP and Mark Thomas, a vociferous lefty who has appeared on TV with Jonathan Ross and who is a former member of the Socialist League. But the best insights often come from those who less ostensibly have an axe to grind. Lee Evans, manic impressionist, comic and working-class-lad-made-good, who does no overtly political material, is a fine example of this, commenting on his most memorable gig:

"I did a big ball at Trinity College at Cambridge University. It was seventy pounds a ticket and I was performing to them. They had it all set up for me, and they treated me like a lord. I couldn’t believe it. It was very classy. They had spotlights across the river, they were punting, the girls looked beautiful in their ball gowns, and the guys were very smart — and they were eating shit-hot food. I nearly cried. As I was walking out, with my bag over my shoulder, I thought 'Fucking hell, man! This is it! This is brilliant! This is how it should be for everybody.”

Compared to Lee Evans's wide-eyed innocence there is a certain self-righteousness about overtly "political" comedians that can be grating — as anyone who has ever seen Ben Elton will testify — and the trend in recent years has moved away from them. The best alternative comics are invariably those whose comments on capitalist society and its manifold absurdities go deeper than taking the piss out of Thatcher's mad glare or Major tucking his shirt into his underpants, which has only ever been one step up from making fun of teacher — and is where most comedians, it has to be said, appear to have started without ever having moved on much.

"Alternative" comedy, by definition, aims to take an alternative approach to comedy to that taken by the mainstream, which has long been a repository for scapegoaters of all kinds. It has not been an unqualified advance, however, and when the racism and sexism of the mainstream is not replaced by schoolboy classroom posturing, it is often replaced by tokenism and inverse snobbery instead. One of the best lines on this comes from Eddie Izzard: "Being white, male and middle-class is useless if you're a comedian — so thank God I’m a transvestite."

Budding socialist comedians — or indeed performers of any kind — would do well to read this book, personality disorders permitting. The chapter on heckling is to be particularly recommended and for whimsical leaps of logic. Harry Hill’s favourite put-down still can’t be beaten: "You may heckle me now, but I'm safe in the knowledge that when I get home, I've got a lovely chicken in the oven." Nice one, Harry. 

Dave Perrin

Happy Sundays (1995)

'Hello, is that the SPGB?'

TV Review from the December 1995 issue of the Socialist Standard

The flagship programmes of the Autumn schedule have come to an end and Sundays on BBC 1, in particular, are not quite the same. Last of the Summer Wine and Keeping Up Appearances have both finished their runs and left a bit of a sitcom vacuum. Anybody who could bring themselves to stay awake past Songs of Praise will have noticed that they complemented one another effortlessly.

These two programmes have much in common. Both are situated in what appears to be the more picturesque parts of the country, with most characters recognisably from the north of England. Both contain formidable and domineering middle-aged women (Hyacinth Bucket—pronounced “Bouquet" in one, almost the entire female cast of the other). Both have hen-pecked husbands to add to the list of stereotypes (Richard Bucket and Howard, respectively). Both feature amusing though work-shy lumpen-proletarian slobs (Compo and Onslow) on the male side and tarty nymphomaniacs on the female side (Marina and Rose). Furthermore, both programmes—while certainly funny in parts—are incredibly formulaic, so much so that it is almost possible to set the clock according to the order of the scenes.

Perhaps it is not so surprising that the programmes have such obvious similarities though. They are, after all, written by the same scriptwriter. Roy Clarke is a privileged man indeed to have had two sitcoms broadcast within two hours on the same day, week in, week out.

There is of course much to criticise in these two sitcoms, not least of all the rampant stereotyping which was also evident in Clarke's earlier—and rather funnier effort—Open All Hours. But Last of the Summer Wine and Keeping Up Appearances are two of the most watched and loved programmes on British television. Is it simply because they are the funniest? Almost certainly not.

Yorks Branch of the SPGB trying to do a paper sale. 

This charming man

Roy Clarke has a talent for giving the uninteresting if not downright boring an allure and appeal that other scriptwriters do not achieve. Consider this—hysterical though he may be, few would want to spend any time in the leisure centre of Gordon Brittas from The Brittas Empire, but they flock to Holmfirth in Yorkshire to visit the houses and cafes frequented by Compo, Foggy and Clegg. And it is not just the scenery that attracts them either, it is the entire sense of cosy working class community and solidarity which many aspire to in real life but few attain because of the ruthless nature of the capitalist system. It is a similar phenomenon to that which makes Coronation Street so popular, a phenomenon previously noted in this column. The characters in these sitcoms that do not conform to this image are always the least content—Hyacinth Bucket, or for instance, the miserable sniping Pearl in Last of the Summer Wine.

One of the most amazing features of these sitcoms, however, is something which never receives comment in the newspaper reviews. This is odd, because it is a feature which is both obvious and attractive to most viewers. It is the fact that hardly any of the characters are employed. Some have no visible means of support whatsoever, yet go about their daily tasks as normal without any sense of great loss. Though there are a couple of shopkeepers, not a single character in Last of the Summer Wine has a job. Since Richard retired in Keeping Up Appearances not a single member of the extended Bucket family appears to be employed, either. No wonder the we find these programmes so appealing! In addition, most noticeably as far as Last of the Summer Wine is concerned, there are no bosses and unions, no apparent money troubles and no crime. Everybody gets on with their own business without too much interference from outside forces while still inhabiting what is identifiably a real community. Halcyon days indeed!

With these sitcoms and Coronation Street the bourgeois escapism of Dallas and Dynasty has been replaced with a sore of working class utopianism. Characters who are concerned with riches and status are derided while the true stars are those who shun this more conventional approach to life and yet still live in some degree of apparent happiness. It is a world away from the City of London and the monotonous grind of the production line.

While human existence can never be one big sitcom, it is clear that many workers identify with a situation where people seem to live without the intrusions of money, status and profit into every aspect of life and where those concerned with such things are laughed at or pitied. Such workers who identify with a lifestyle of solidarity instead of competition without the intrusion of wage slavery are ripe for change. And it is about time the idle escapism was turned into an active reality.

Dave Perrin

Changing the System (2005)

From the March 2005 issue of the Socialist Standard 

If you have no freedom to change your life you may as well be in prison. Workers in capitalism get more porridge than empowerment.

In the comedy show Porridge the drama takes place in Slade prison. There are prisoners and warders; the warders have varying personalities, from the ‘hard but fair’ MacKay, to the liberal Barraclough, and a selection of lesser unsavoury screws. The prisoners also have their various characteristics, all of them in their varying ways trying to make the best of their lot.

Here, then, we have the prison system. As a prisoner you would, by and large, prefer to have Barraclough to MacKay, and MacKay to the more sadistic screws, especially when trying to obtain some kind of favour, or minor change to prison routine such as a film showing every week. Barraclough might do it, MacKay might not. But on the subject of imprisonment itself, all of the screws are united in upholding the prison system, the idea of prison, and the wider social idea of just imprisonment. There is no negotiation that can take place for the prisoners to release themselves, convert the prison to an open one, or otherwise interfere with the prison’s core function of imprisonment.

Imprisonment is a social fact, harder than the walls and bars that are erected on its foundation (though of course mutually reinforced by them). Without a system of imprisonment, there can be no prisons. In the same way capitalism’s own prison has its own rules, its areas of compromise, and its areas that are non-negotiable. The leaders of capitalism can change how capitalism works, within limits, but cannot change the fact of capitalism.

Capitalism as a social fact is written into every one of our lives, every moment of the day, and we reinforce it every time we work for a wage and pay for our own goods with those wages. Even if a leader were to want to change matters they would be trapped by our own resistance to change. If there is to be change it must come from us.

It is sometimes thought that socialists have a conspiracy theory regarding the state and leaders – that they are all plotting to do us in, regardless of political colour. In fact, all we have to say is this: that they are bound to observe the system which they find themselves in. Some, of course, are corrupt bastards. Others can cut various deals with each other, and specifically can join in the fight between capitalists over whether finance or manufacturing capital is to do better from the current administration, or decide whether to maximise profit in the short, medium or longer term, but all must maintain the production of profits from us, the subject class, and defend those profits against all comers, whether it be us (by using the police) or capitalists of other states (with the armed forces).

So, appeals to leaders are not the answer, on a matter so integral to capitalism as the defence of profits. You may as well ask for more liberal laws on shoplifting. There is, however, the possibility yet to be considered of a popular ‘political’ movement without an attack on the economics of capitalism. Again, this falls as flat on its face. Let’s return to our prison example. The prisoners decide to bypass the screws and hold a meeting in the prison yard about how bad prisons are. If the meeting is about entertainment, for example, the screws may be intimidated into providing something, even unasked for, such as a prison library; but discussion of liberty will bring out the truncheons. Prison riots don’t provoke early release: they provoke savage repression, beatings and subsequent lockdown. Imprisonment is non-negotiable, because it is fundamental to the prison itself, and you would have to attack the social structure of prisons and imprisonment to make any change. In the same way, any movement to change a fundamental feature of capitalism, as with disarmament, must address the basis of the system itself rather than engaging in wishful thinking.

Thinking about it, the very word ‘Defence’ should be sufficient clue as to how much input we are meant to have with the issue. We are not even allowed to call it what it is. Not ‘attack’, not ‘bands of hired killers’, not ‘death factory’, not ‘organised murder’, but defence, something which we are to be forced to accept as an integral part of our lives. In the same way, we are expected to be glad of a job rather than resentful of our exploitation, and happy to be protected by the police rather than disturbed by the presence of blue-clad armed thugs defending their masters’ ill-gotten profits from us at the bank and at the supermarket.

So, while there is leeway in capitalism for change on minor issues, there is little or none for its basics of profitmaking and defence of those profits – the extraction of wealth from us and the defence of this wealth against all comers. Bodies of armed thugs and killers are basic to private property itself, even in previous epochs, not just its latest manifestation in capitalism. Any appeal to the goodwill of our masters, or the leniency of their foremen, is futile.

In short, the making of profits out of us, the subject class, and defending these against us, their rightful owners, and fighting over these profits between themselves – all these things are non-negotiable, social facts as solid as iron bars and prison walls, and cannot be changed by appeal to leaders or by political action that does not address the fundamental problem from which warfare springs – class society, where social wealth is a private thing, spoils to be fought over rather than shared. Whilst wealth is private property, to be fought over, it will be fought over, and preparations for these conflicts will continue apace.

What, then, as they say, is to be done? As mentioned, the basis of the system in which we live and are currently trapped is the making of profits from us, the working class. Our time at work not spent reproducing our own existence – building modest houses, growing food, producing light and power to keep our machines and computers humming into the night – is a social surplus, appropriated by the capitalists through their waving deeds of ownership, stocks and shares, pieces of paper and the like. Everything that we make, over and above that required to keep us coming back through the factory gates or the office door on a Monday morning for another week of drudgery, is appropriated and turned to the following purposes: reproducing the factories and offices in which we work; reproducing the class structure of police, prisons, cash tills and banks, to keep us in our places; defending their ill-gotten gains against other capitalists at home and abroad, with government and warfare; and only then can what remains be spent on gin-palaces, cocaine and, soon, day trips to outer space.

The way to stop these expenditures should be obvious: take back the surplus! We produced it, after all, if anyone is feeling legalistic. Put the wealth in our hands! Whilst there is a structural reason for capitalists to prepare for and go to war against each other, we have no reason to fight each other – maybe individually over some resentment, but to put a million men a side into trenches drenched in poison gas or drop fire on children from the sky takes capitalism. Every fraction of social wealth that is returned to our hands is wealth not put to slaughter or to extravagant capitalist consumption.

We in the Socialist Party stand for such a position. We address the problem of disarmament, along with other unpleasant effects of capitalism, by looking to their root, in a class-divided society, which divisions create the institutional misery of war and arms production, as well as overwork, alienation and suicide, and the starvation of millions around the globe who in any sane society would be given the resources to realise their potential, not as an act of charity but from a simple sense of solidarity and a self-interest in every member of society being able to fully contribute.

All you will get with an appeal to the rich and supposedly powerful, to end arms production and spend money on the poor, is empty promises, disdain, and probably a sense of relief that once more the slaves are not yet powerful enough to rebel against their masters and must still beg for crumbs for themselves and their fellows.

If you think that the appeal to these leaders is rational, the answer will come back, perhaps sotto voce: “This is rational!” War is the logic of the capitalist state, just as policing is the logic of the class struggle at home, and the starvation and physical deprivation of more than a billion is likewise part of the logic of capitalism where if you do not produce a profit you cannot enter the economy and thus must starve.

No, we must work for ourselves, and we must address the problem at its root. The problem lies with capitalism, not with one of its features, and can only be resolved by grasping this root and tearing it from the ground.

SJW

Proper Gander: Branded Comedy (2016)

The TV Review column from the July 2016 issue of the Socialist Standard

Labelling a show as a ‘sitcom’ can make us assume that it’ll be throwaway or shallow, however watchable. But some of the most well-known situation comedies have said something interesting about society and how we cope with it. Perhaps the sitcom with the most ambitious ideas was The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin (1976 – 1979, 1996). In each of its series it explored the alienation of being a middle-aged middle-manager, the hollowness of consumerism, communal living and a government takeover by senior citizens. Butterflies (1978 – 1983) followed a housewife feeling trapped in the role she’s been pushed into. Its author, Carla Lane, also penned the once-huge, now-forgotten Bread (1986 – 1991) about a family’s dodgy deals to find enough money. The same theme was the basis of the even more popular Only Fools And Horses (1981 – 2003). Yes Minister (1980 – 1984), Yes Prime Minister (1986 – 1988, 2013) and The Thick Of It (2005 – 2012) sent up the games played by politicians, civil servants and government advisers. Twenty Twelve (2011 – 2012) and W1A (2014 – 2015) satirised the corporate culture behind the London Olympics and BBC. Their mockumentary style was influenced by The Office (2001 – 2003), which had something to say about workplace hierarchies and dynamics, as did Getting On (reviewed in the December 2012 Socialist Standard). In this series, Jo Brand’s character, Kim, worked in a geriatric ward of a NHS hospital. She and the other nurses had to wade through the swamp of market forces and stifling procedures to care for their patients.

Getting On’s sequel, Going Forward (BBC4) revisits Kim when she’s working as a domiciliary carer visiting elderly people in their own homes. The fictional company she works for, Buccaneer 2000 (‘We care about your healthcare’), is on the shoddier end of the market, its clients often left waiting for carers that don’t turn up. When Buccaneer 2000 stops caring about your healthcare and abruptly closes its domiciliary division, Kim loses her job and already-unstable income because she’s on a ‘zero hours’ contract. The show doesn’t dwell on how this type of employment is even more vulnerable and unfulfilling than other kinds. Nor does it explore the other problems commonly facing carers, such as the impossible pressures to adequately change someone’s dressings, wash them, make food for them and perhaps even chat with them within a 15 minute appointment.

Instead, the programme’s emphasis is more on how money and the lack of it shapes the lives of its characters. Kim’s ageing mother has to move to a care home after suffering a stroke. Her bungalow is sold and its proceeds are split between Kim and her neurotic sister, Jackie, played by Helen Griffin. Several months later, Jackie has spent her share, and the sisters realise that they won’t be able to afford their mother’s care home charges. When her health deteriorates further, she crosses the threshold of qualifying for those charges to be funded through the state. The series ends with Kim accusing Jackie of being happy about their mother being more unwell because of its financial upside.

This is one example among many in the show of how money wraps itself around our lives. As well as distracting the sisters from their mother’s wellbeing and pushing a wedge between them, money weighs heavily on the mind of Kim’s husband. Portrayed by Omid Djalili, Dave works as a chauffeur with an income considerably less than those he drives around. His wide-boy colleague Terry tries to steer him into taking a driving job in Iraq, arguing that the high wages justify any risks. They also talk about another driver who received a £100 tip and now runs his own business. Throughout, getting money is associated with getting kudos, security and comfort, even though it is the money system which puts these at risk. The same point was also made in Bread and Only Fools And Horses, but with a brashness completely different from Going Forward’s bittersweet, naturalistic style.

Despite Going Forward being billed as a sitcom and ‘dark comedy’, it’s more of a drama which uses wit to lighten up its otherwise grim themes. At times, it feels like a Mike Leigh play in the way they both find humour in otherwise sad or prosaic experiences, and with more emphasis on characterisation than plot. The characters in Going Forward are brought to life by a talented cast making the most of its intelligent, perceptive script. While its sister-series Getting On blatantly criticised the circumstances the NHS finds itself in, Going Forward’s focus is more subtle and personal – how capitalism’s rationing of resources affects how we care for and relate to other people. Unfortunately, the series only ran to three episodes, presumably due to a lack of budget rather than ideas.

Mike Foster