Brandy For The Parson (1952)

Having being a fan of British comedy films for as long as I can remember (going back to the early seventies) it is a sheer joy to see something that is completely new to me. While I realise that there must be many films that have passed me by, there is a good chance that if it has had a few TV airings at some point during the last few decades I will probably have seen it. I even use to feign sickness to get off school if there was a particular film I wanted to see. I could be quite clever at that as well. On noticing in the Radio Times that that The Big Job was going to be on television the coming Friday I started making my plans early. By Wednesday I was ‘feeling a bit poorly’. On Thursday I was ill but still managed to get to school but by Friday I wasn’t well enough to attend; this being after setting the alarm clock for 2 am and 4 am so I could get up and pretend to be throwing up in the toilet, which helped my cunning plan to be allowed to stay off without any problems. Job done.

Anyhow, I digress. It is still a joy to come across something new, or at least haven’t seen before. And so it was that I sat down to watch Brandy For The Parson. The name in itself attracted to me to film. The title is taken from the Kipling poem ‘A Smuggler’s Song’:

“Five and twenty ponies,
Trotting through the dark -
Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk.
Laces for a lady; letters for a spy,
Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by!”

The film centres around a young couple who are planning on a holiday with some gentle sailing, but the run into, and sink, Kenneth More’s boat who, unbeknownst to them, was on his way to pick up some kegs of brandy from France. Through a sense of duty they help More pick up the brandy and when they find out the truth feel they have to see the job through as they are as guilty in the eyes of the law as More is, in fact more so. So they have to dodge the customs and try, with the aid of some ponies, get the brandy to its destination, but things don’t run as smoothly as they would wish.

The film is a gentle sub Ealing comedy that relies on charm rather than outright belly laughs. It is a reasonably early appearance for Kenneth More, whose youthful looks and twinkling, mischievous eyes instantly place him as a star in the making. He effortlessly steals every scene he appears in and would continue to do through most of his career. As the young couple James Donald and Jean Lodge equip themselves admirably, Jean Lodge in particular being very easy on the eye making me ask myself why this lady didn’t become bigger than she was. Supporting the main three there is a sizeable part for the legend that is Charles Hawtrey in a very (for him) understated role. For me Hawtrey is one of those faces that brightens up any film in which he appears and is a true legend in British Comedy.

An added bonus within this film is the truly sumptuous location filming that shows the Britain of yesteryear in its greatest light.

While it has to be admitted that Brandy For The Parson is a ‘light’ film, it is a highly enjoyable one and if you find yourself with a copy on a rainy Sunday afternoon there are a multitude of worse things to do than give this one a watch.

The Sitcom as Social History

One of the many interesting aspects of the comedies of yesteryear are the little glimpses of contemporary life as it was then. Little references that will bypass the more modern audience but jolt an older viewer into a nostalgic trip. Sometimes you come across references that you just don’t get and wonder why the audience are laughing.

I’m currently making my way through the complete George & Mildred - which I am enjoying immensely – but more of that anon. In the latest episode the Roper’s bed has collapsed (and not from marital overuse, much to Mildred’s chagrin) and so they set off to buy a new one. Later, when Mildred mentions that she has got rid of the broken bed George complains as he reckons he could have got a good price for it. Mildred then delivers the punch-line that she "only got a goldfish for it", cue audience laughter. Not, I initially thought, the funniest line ever; I simply didn’t get understand what was funny about it. Then suddenly the opening scene of the 1971 film ‘Melody’ (an absolute charmer of a film by the way, which is coming out soon on DVD) where the titular Melody is wanting a goldfish so badly that she pinches some of her mother’s clothes and gives them to the Rag and Bone man, who then gives her a goldfish sprung to mind. And then the penny dropped and the joke seemed to make made sense, if it was a common practice. Sure enough, a quick Google brought up the fact that the rag and bone men did indeed give away goldfish. Quite why I haven’t ascertained, obviously as an incentive, but giving them to kids is more like an incentive to pinch from their folks! Anyway it was interesting piece of information that I would still be ignorant of if it hadn’t been for George & Mildred.

After G&M I am planning to move onto Steptoe & Son and I shall be keeping a keen eye open for any goldfish that may be about!

Hylda Baker - She Knows You Know

I have just finished reading Jean Fergusson’s biography of Hylda Baker. Fergusson (who plays the man-hungry Marina in Last Of The Summer Wine) has turned into something of a Hylda expert having spent years researching her subject prior to writing and starring in a one-woman show to great acclaim. The show also transferred to radio and eventually she wrote this book, the only one I am aware. Prior to reading this I was aware of Hylda Baker but had never really had the chance to get to know more. I had caught bits and pieces of Not On Your Nellie on TV, but had no recollection of watching Nearest and Dearest, even though it is easily available, cheaply too.



I was aware of some of the opinions surrounding Hylda – that she was difficult to work with, that she and her Nearest & Dearest co-star Jimmy Jewel hated each other, that she died alone and forgotten and as it turns out, according to Fergusson, there is plenty of truth involved so there is credit to the author for not hiding the facts of the case which people can be tempted to do when writing about their heroes, which Baker certainly was to Fergusson. What Fergusson does is to explain Hylda’s life and offer up explanations as to why she was the way she was and also highlights the many positives about the diminutive comedienne to redress the balance. Was she a bossy woman? Yes she most definitely was but on her way to the top, she was a woman in a predominately male-orientated world. She wrote, produced, stage managed a string of shows from 1940 to 1955, taken them on tour up and down the country without the aid or promoters or impresarios. She did it all herself. Being in the business practically full time since 1918 she knew the business, her business as good as, or in most cases better, than anyone else so an element of bossiness was vital to keep the shows going. She just never learned to let go, she always thought she knew best, and where her performance was concerned she invariably did. She demanded perfection and was not quiet when she didn’t receive it. Pretty much the same as a multitude of other comedians then.



While it is obvious that Fergusson's main career is not the writing of books, she does a very creditable job and given that it is the only book out there about Hylda, it is most certainly worth a read. You may be lucky in finding a cheap enough copy to buy, it seems that most copies are selling for pretty high prices so I would suggest getting a copy through your local library. I'm sure you'll be as surprised as me at the extent of Hylda's very long career. I will be giving an airing to Nearest And Dearest and Not On Yor Nellie shortly and will give an overview right here.

Sid James - The Ooter Song

Here's a little goodie for you. Sid James singing The 'Ooter Song from 1961. Sod did as few songs back then and this one is probably my favourite.

Desert Mice (1959)

One of the better aspects of the humongous amount of satellite channels available is that very often the lesser channels pick up lesser British films and show them and although they seem to run them ad nauseam the important point is that they get to see the light of day. It’s a real shame that the bigger channels don’t pick these films up and thus improve their visibility but these days owe must be grateful of any viewing. And so it is that the small channel Film 24 comes to show Desert Mice now and again. Made in 1959 it centres around a troop of ENSA entertainers and the Commanding Officer who gets lumped with them, much to his chagrin.

This film has been much maligned over the years and I’m afraid I’m not really going to go against the general consensus much as it is a pretty shabbily made movie. It wears it’s low budget on it’s sleeve and some scenes seem have been inserted on an afterthought without much thought given to continuity. There isn’t even continuity in the quality of scenes. One second your on a realistic location, the next you have two actors stood in front of a ridiculously obvious back projection, which on occasion is wobbling to such an extent it looks to have more life in it than the actors! I should say in all fairness at this point that there is a scene where the village they are in is getting shelled and the director does manage to make it look realistic; it even threatens to be too realistic for the type of movie it is and gives the impression of being an altogether grittier affair – which it isn’t. Alfred Marks seems all at sea in his role as the wretched C.O. and looks as though he can never make his mind up how he is going to play his part, which is unfortunate given that it is he that is the lead. Which then leaves us the supporting cast to fall back on, and this is the saving grace for the film. Firstly, it features Sid James in a big role, a fact that therefore transforms the film into a watchable treat all by itself. Not only do we have the consummate Sid, but we also have the wonderful Dora Bryan, Reginald Beckwith (who gives such a delightful little speech about the ENSAS troops that I’m willing to bet that the writer was an ENSA member), Liz Fraser, Dick Bentley and Irene Handl all doing a splendid job in keeping Britcom fans on their seat in front of the telly. The more eagle-eyed viewers might even spot a very early appearance of The Good Life’s Paul Eddington amongst others in the uncredted roles.

So, although the whole affair is on the shoddy side, and the writing desperately needed a leg-up and an infusion of a few true rib-ticklers, the cast make this a film that is very easy to watch and not dislike. It’s rather ironic but the film gets by rather in the way the real ENSA did, with those involved battling against budgetary constraints and lack of talented helmsmanship to succeed against the odds entertain their audience.

Ian Carmichael 1920 - 2010

Sad to read about the passing of British film comedy stalwart Ian Carmichael. He will be forever remebered by film fans as the stuttering, nervous innocent or upper class twit in a strong run of films including Lucky Jim, I'm Alright Jack and especially School For Scoundrels, where he memorably turns the tables on rogueish cad Terry-Thomas and is a perennial favourite at Britcom Ltd. He was also the face of Bertie Wooster until Hugh Laurie usurped that particular crown and is probably still the best known Lord Peter Wimsey. He was a deserved recipient of an OBE in 2003 and leaves behind a legacy to be proud off.

RIP Ian .

First Post

Welcome to Britcom Ltd. For a first post I thought I would put up a stunningly 'not hugely apt' song from Mike Reid -Prisencolinensinaincuisol (Freezin' Cold In 89 Twoso) but, hey, he was a comedian! It's a pretty ridiculous song but ridiculously catchy all the same. I've only just come across it and apparently the original was a European hit back in the 70's by a chap I can't quite remember off the top of me noggin. Enjoy, it's 'triffiiic!