Last of The Summer Wine (2 page)
Blamire and Compo go into the library to look at a photo exhibition. Compo takes out one of his doorstep-sized sandwiches.
BLAMIRE: You know, if ever one of those came up in the middle of the North Sea, there’d be an international incident to decide who was entitled to stick a flag into it.
COMPO: Come on, let’s go call on Clegg.
BLAMIRE: Just a moment. Just a moment. I’m studying contrast and tone. I used to exhibit myself, you know.
COMPO: You mucky old devil.
BLAMIRE: In the 14th Field Signals Regimental Camera Club, I won the Mrs. Colonel Langford O.B.E. Award for my interpretation of a soldier’s farewell at F11 in 1/60th of a second. Of course, the equipment has improved since those days.
COMPO: (
Sadly
) Mine hasn’t.
BLAMIRE: It’s marvellous what you can do with a close-up lens.
COMPO: Well, hurry up and do it and let’s go and get Clegg.
BLAMIRE: You’ve no cultural interests at all, have you?
COMPO: I’ve got me ferrets.
BLAMIRE: Didn’t you take any advantage of the army’s further education schemes?
COMPO: Well, we had this army film show once about social diseases. My mate fainted. (
He approaches the display
) Well it’s all a lot of rhubarb this, innit? Look at this—a tatty bit of wood. Who wants to take a photograph of a photograph of a lump of wood?
BLAMIRE: It’s a study in texture.
COMPO: I bet that bloke had a dolly bird sitting on there.
BLAMIRE: So what?
COMPO: And he clicked his shutter and she fell off. (
He has a good chuckle
)
BLAMIRE: You’ve no idea, no idea at all.
COMPO: Hey up! (
looking very closely at a picture
) Hey, look at this ’ere “September Morn”.
M
EMORIES
…
‘Duncan Wood recognised the comic element in my ITV series, The
Misfit
, and wanted me to try a sitcom. What threw me, though, was he required something for three old men—a dreadful idea, I thought. It left me cold and after playing about with it intensively for a couple of weeks, I couldn’t make it work. It bored me. Then, out of desperation, I thought that if they were all footloose and free, they were in the same position as adolescents at the other end of the scale. The minute I saw them as kids, it worked.’
ROY CLARKE
’Working with John Comer [Sid] was a joy. He was a stand-up comedian and wonderful at delivering the lines. He was very popular.
JANE FREEMAN (Ivy)
Foggy and Clegg are sat in the café. Ivy, in hat and coat, is at another table, gripping her handbag and looking stern. They’re waiting for Compo to arrive, also Gordon with his minibus.
IVY: Are you sure you locked the back door?
SID: Thirty-three times you sent me to lock that back door. I’ve been up since six o’clock just locking the back blasted door.
IVY: Yes. Leave me to do all the packing.
SID: Packing? It’s more like unpacking. ‘You can’t take
them
,’ she keeps saying. ‘I’ve no room for them. I haven’t an inch of space’. Then she opens her mouth.
IVY: I heard that.
SID: And I’ve been hearing that (
indicating her mouth
) for nearly 30 years. Have a rest woman, you’re on holiday.
M
EMORIES
…
‘Jimmy Gilbert offered me Ivy after seeing me play a dreadful landlady in
The Fishing Party.
I’ll never forget recording the pilot because immediately afterwards I went on my delayed honeymoon to Greece. We had to catch a 10pm flight and with little time to prepare I went off resembling Ivy, with my normally curly hair greased down flat!
‘I used to get aggressive people come up to me in the street, complaining about how I mistreated Sid; and people, usually men, would approach my poor husband, saying, “She must be hell to live with!” My late husband, director Michael Simpson, knowing the soppy me, got upset because he didn’t care to be regarded as a henpecked husband.
‘It’s been an honour saying some of Roy Clarke’s lines. In the early days, though, I thought the show was chauvinistic and questioned whether to carry on. But then Enid [Roy Clarke’s wife] said to me: “You’ve got to remember, Ivy is me, and she’s a powerful woman—she’s a compliment.” I didn’t mind so much after that.’
JANE FREEMAN (Ivy)
Ivy and Sid are holidaying in Scarborough. They’re sat in deckchairs on the beach. Sid is dozing in his chair making light snoring noises. Ivy is deeply involved in a women’s romantic magazine. Sid snores and reality kicks in. She belts him with the magazine as she compares her husband to the hunk in her magazine.
SID: (
Startled
) What’s up?
IVY: Talk to me.
SID: What.
IVY: You never talk to me not even when we, well you know…(
in a low voice
) not even when we make love.
SID: There’s not much to talk about, the rate we go at it. You still do it as if your mother’s watching.
IVY: It’s you, you’re not thoughtful enough.
SID: Thoughtful enough? I do far more thinking about it than actually getting it.
IVY: That’s your fault, you should…(
looking to ensure no one’s in ear shot
) You should try and rouse me more.
SID: Rouse you more? (
Shouting
) You’ve being playing roasting hell with me all day as it is.
IVY: Will you shut up shouting, that’s all you’re good at, barging in with two feet. It’s the same when you get that look in your eye. I always know when you feel like messing about.
SID: Messing about, that’s a lovely way of putting it, isn’t it? That puts it on a high spiritual plane doesn’t it?
IVY: Oh, where do you put it with your smart sophisticated romantic approaches? I get a smack across the backside, a dig with your elbow, one boozy wink and that’s supposed to throw my senses in a whirl.
SID: Well, it’s a waste of time trying it gentle. Do you remember the last time I decided to give you a squeeze in bed?
IVY: Will you keep your voice down.
SID: Not quite, but something very similar.
Compo, Clegg and Foggy are paying their respects to their old friend Murdock, at the side of his coffin.
COMPO: (
To Clegg and Foggy
) Just one thing. When I’m dead, will you make sure that
nobody
as scruffy as me comes to my funeral?
D
ID YOU KNOW?
Jean Alexander, alias Hilda Ogden in
Coronation Street
, made her debut in 1988’s Christmas Special, ‘Crums’. Expecting her appearance to be a one-off, she returned the following year and later became a regular.
In the café, Foggy has reassured Compo that they’ve got him a Christmas present.
COMPO: Well, I hope it’s not useful—I
hate
useful presents!
‘M
Y WIFE RAN OFF WITH A CHUFFING POLE.’
(C
OMPO
)
SID: I only ever get useful presents. I remember one year, our lass gave me thermal underwear. You don’t half know where you stand fascination-wise, when your wife buys you thermal underwear!
M
EMORIES
…
‘I wanted a social battle for the conflict. With someone like Blamire and Compo, who’d be so far apart they wouldn’t seek each other’s company, you needed Clegg in the middle forming the anchor, bringing the two extremes together. Michael Bates was a lovely man, an ex-Ghurkha officer and right wing, whereas Bill was a socialist from way back. While making the pilot, Michael and Bill got into a political argument during the first night’s dinner. Sparks were flying so Jimmy Gilbert had to whip them out to calm things down.
‘It was a different series in the early days, a lot more talking heads, dialogue, and longer scenes. But you learn and some physical stuff went down well, so a lot of visual humour was introduced. It was a slow starter and wasn’t until about the third season that it started picking up a better audience.’
ROY CLARKE
After hearing a minor road collision, Foggy goes rushing to the rescue.
CLEGG: I bet there’s 14 dead.
COMPO: Hey-up, it were only a shunt.
CLEGG: What do we need with 14 dead, when we’ve got the Town Council?
Compo, Clegg and Foggy are in a pub. Foggy is wearing a red-cross tabard as Wally enters.
WALLY: I thought I might find you in here.
M
EMORIES
…
‘I was very lucky to get Clegg. When the first script arrived, I liked the comfortable feel of the idea. I hadn’t worked with Bill Owen but had with Michael Bates. It’s my favourite job, with a marvellous author and great directors—what more could you ask for.
‘Filming had its worrying moments at times, though. One scene involved me in a canoe—and I can’t swim! Before we did the scene, I was standing on the river bank. The water was moving pretty quickly and there were dark patches. When I enquired about these, I was told that’s where you can’t see the bottom, which made me even more nervous. When the canoe turned over, it was every man for himself. I managed to get leverage on Bill Owen’s head and lift myself out of the water.’
PETER SALLIS (Clegg)
COMPO: How do, Wally.
WALLY: (
Sees Foggy’s tabard
) What’s this then? Have I missed something? Is it National Swiss Week?
FOGGY: Sit down, if you’re stopping.
WALLY: I might, if you’re not going to start yodelling. He’s not going to start yodelling, is he?
FOGGY: Sit down. Nobody’s going to start yodelling.
WALLY: Oh, they do, you know—they yodel. You can see it on television. They’re not there two minutes before they start yodelling.
COMPO: (
Dropping the hint to Foggy
) Well, er, hang around Wally, if you’ve got the time, we
might
get a drink.
WALLY: (
Referring to Foggy
) Keeps it in a little barrel round his neck, does he?
Compo, Clegg and Foggy are relaxing on a hillside, as Foggy explains why he remained a bachelor.
CLEGG: How did you manage to avoid holy wedlock in that cunning manner, Foggy?
COMPO: Yeah. He were terrified.
FOGGY: It’s just one of the sacrifices you have to make. No little woman waiting by the cottage door. Never the patter of tiny feet. Not being able to go browsing round Mothercare. These are just some of the snags of being a professional killer.
COMPO: Tha were a Corporal sign-writer.
CLEGG: Yes. But you should have seen him sharpen his pencil.
M
EMORIES
…
‘I’d worked on a drama with Peter Sallis and wanted him as Clegg. The other actors had to be old enough to be retired. We got Peter and then Jimmy Gilbert called suggesting Bill Owen as Compo. I thought it was an awful idea because I’d only seen him play cockney characters in films. But Jimmy had seen him playing northern parts in theatre and talked me into it—I’m glad he did.’
ROY CLARKE
‘I inherited the programme from Sydney Lotterby and had always been a fan. It was refreshing to have a series which wasn’t studio-bound. It was like winning the lottery, the nicest thing that had happened to me.’
ALAN J W BELL (Producer/Director)
‘Kathy Staff and I got so fed up with Compo showing us his little matchbox that we asked how many more times we had to leap in the air with surprise. We’d screeched our way through five years so must have been accustomed to it by now. After that, he started showing it to people who hadn’t seen it-what-ever it was he kept inside!’
JANE FREEMAN (Ivy)
Sid and Ivy are in their café’s kitchen, trying to open a crate.
IVY: Open it carefully.
SID: I am opening it carefully!
IVY: Well, I don’t want it scratching before we even start.
SID: You’ve started already.
IVY: Yes, well you can’t just go digging in like a lunatic, with that screwdriver.
SID: Well, pass me something sharper- like your tongue.
Compo, Clegg and Foggy are with Wally, enjoying tea and walnut cake, in Nora’s kitchen. Clegg becomes uneasy on seeing Nora beckoning to him through the window.
CLEGG: (
To Foggy
) Do you ever stop to wonder if there are other beings watching us from out there?
FOGGY: I think it’s highly unlikely.
CLEGG: Oh, I wish I was as sure as you are.
FOGGY: Well, it stands to reason. Well, if there was anything out there it would be doing its best to communicate with the more intelligent among us—and I’ve never heard a word.
CLEGG: Then you don’t think that there are strange forms of life, beyond our comprehension, watching every move us humans make?
FOGGY: (
Chuckles
) No.
CLEGG: Well, in that case, I think your wife wants you, Wally.
WALLY: (
Nervously
) You think…Would you like to make sure? I should hate to go if it’s not necessary.
Compo, Clegg and Foggy are out walking when Compo stops to sit down.
COMPO: Hang on a minute, I’ve got something sharp in my welly.
FOGGY: It would have to be sharp to survive that.
Compo removes his welly to reveal a very bright pink sock.
CLEGG: Wow! It’s sharp alright, is that.
FOGGY: My god! You could frighten peacocks with a sock like that.
COMPO: They was reduced.
CLEGG: Well, I’m glad to hear it. I wouldn’t like to see them on full-power. What are you going to do when your battery stops?
COMPO: They’re not electric.
‘H
E WHO WALKS WITH DANGER.
’ (F
OGGY
)
FOGGY: They are from here.
Compo peers closely into his welly.
FOGGY: (To
Clegg
) I don’t know how he can do that without anaesthetic.
After Compo, Clegg and Foggy have been thrown out of the café, Sid reminds them how lucky they are.
SID: It’s alright for you lot. She just throws you out. Me, she keeps.
M
EMORIES
…
‘Although it was midsummer the light was fading fast. We were in a steep, wooded glade and this was the last shot of the day. It had been a long one and everyone was tired and looking forward to packing up and going home after the final scene was safely in the can.
‘This looked increasingly unlikely in the gathering gloom. The camera crew were looking down at us from on top while I waited with the three actors—Peter Sallis, Michael Bates and Bill Owen. We were standing in a stream hoping for a change in the weather when suddenly a shaft of sunlight came through a gap in the trees, lighting the scene as if by magic.
“‘Stand by, everyone,” I shouted. Then, seconds later, “Action!” We were only able to shoot the one take before the sun went back in again for the day, but it was enough. It was perfect. “OK, it’s a wrap!” I called.
‘A voice came from the trees high above. It was Enid, standing beside her husband, the writer Roy Clarke. “I think God is looking after you, Jimmy.”
‘Maybe, but as things turned out, he was looking after Roy as well. We were making the pilot of a new series called
Last of the Summer Wine
that would be seen all over the world, make millions and still be running 36 years later.
‘The script, then titled
The Library Mob,
had been submitted to the BBC and landed on my desk in the spring of 1972. I’d just been to Australia directing a feature film out in the Bush and had found a fantastic freedom using real locations and wide open landscapes—unrestricted by the confines of a television studio. When I read Roy’s script, I was bowled over by the originality of the dialogue, the gentle quirky characters and the atmosphere of the Yorkshire countryside. I wanted to direct it in the same way as I’d done in Australia, making the scenery an important part of the series. The scripts were brilliant and if we got the casting right, I felt we were in with a very good chance.’
JIMMY GILBERT (Original director and later Head of Comedy)