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Oft-forgotten gems from the Alan Partridge canon

Started by MoonDust, January 21, 2017, 08:57:22 AM

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gilbertharding

But people on here do think that IAP (especially, for some reason series 2) is shit.

I think they're wrong.

the

Quote from: gilbertharding on January 14, 2020, 01:34:27 PMBut people on here do think that IAP (especially, for some reason series 2) is shit.

I think they're wrong.

If by 'shit' you mean 'entirely shit' - who does?

I haven't seen anyone voicing that opinion in this thread. And if they now do, you'll be better off tackling their points directly rather than conducting half an argument with yourself and your imagined opponents.

madhair60

Quote from: the on January 14, 2020, 12:33:02 PM
There is a worrying trend on here lately to not understand how making critical points about something doesn't necessarily mean you're saying it's shit.

yes it DOES

the


chveik


madhair60


shiftwork2

Inspired by the IAP2 evangelists on here I did a rewatch at the weekend and, nah.  Nah.

The Dan episode is good - the oddly surreal visit to Michael's house by lost Alan, the arcade with its shitty zombies, and 'sex festival?'.  There's a sense of time and place that reminds me of IAP1.  The rest is just a confused mess.  A particular lowlight for me now (and at the time of broadcast) was the Dante's fires stuff.

Anyway, not really for the oft-forgotten gems thread.

PeasOnSticks

Quote from: the on January 14, 2020, 12:33:02 PM
No - he did that interview to promote series 1 of IAP, not series 2.

And we've talked at length about how his fly-on-the-wall explanation is a crap device to explain how Alan (a fictional character) can go on Clive Anderson's show and talk about the programme (a sitcom with him in it).


Yes, bit of a weak device. Another odd one was the IAP1 DVD commentary, where the conceit was something like that it was actors playing versions of the people involved, or the people themselves acting out scenes. Can't remember exactly - memory fucked.

Re: IAP 2 - I think it's very funny and there is enough character detail to keep it interesting. This may be because Partridge was such an absorbing character even at that time: the trajectory from KMKY to Travel Tavern to breakdown/Bouncing Back was good fun to follow back then. And yes, maybe it is a bit gurny and OTT, but part of the reason for that could be that, at this point on the trajectory, Alan is a bit full of himself - what with his new younger girlfriend and regular sex, new house being built, recovery from breakdown, conviction that he's bounced back, etc. It's a kind of desperate form of self-delusion masquerading as self-confidence, presenting as mania. Or something.

TTWAP and Alpha Papa are the low Partridge points - both disappointing given how otherwise brilliant the Gibbons' work on AP has been. I'd take IAP2 over the pair of them.  IAP1, MMM and Welcome to the Places of My Life are the high points. So now you know.

Cuellar

The whole 'big acting' criticism of IAP2 might well be true, but if it is then it DEFINITELY applies to pretty much everything POST-IAP2.

So if it bothers you in IAP2 and not in MMM then you are a goddamn hypocrite and should mend your ways.

Gurke and Hare

Quote from: PeasOnSticks on January 14, 2020, 06:28:10 PM
Yes, bit of a weak device. Another odd one was the IAP1 DVD commentary, where the conceit was something like that it was actors playing versions of the people involved, or the people themselves acting out scenes.

So Armando invented TOWIE?

the

Quote from: PeasOnSticks on January 14, 2020, 06:28:10 PMYes, bit of a weak device. Another odd one was the IAP1 DVD commentary, where the conceit was something like that it was actors playing versions of the people involved, or the people themselves acting out scenes. Can't remember exactly - memory fucked.

Again, that was another tortuous way to explain how Alan can be seen to be commentating on a fictional work with him in it. I get the feeling Coogan & Co. self-conciously invent these explanations with tongue in cheek, nodding to the viewer that they have to wriggle their way out of the unreality they've just created. But if you're a bit credulous you might be inclined to hear the explanation and think that that genuinely reveals the premise of the show. (Despite the show demonstrating otherwise.)

Quote from: PeasOnSticks on January 14, 2020, 06:28:10 PMRe: IAP 2 - I think it's very funny and there is enough character detail to keep it interesting. This may be because Partridge was such an absorbing character even at that time: the trajectory from KMKY to Travel Tavern to breakdown/Bouncing Back was good fun to follow back then. And yes, maybe it is a bit gurny and OTT, but part of the reason for that could be that, at this point on the trajectory, Alan is a bit full of himself - what with his new younger girlfriend and regular sex, new house being built, recovery from breakdown, conviction that he's bounced back, etc. It's a kind of desperate form of self-delusion masquerading as self-confidence, presenting as mania. Or something.

Interesting, I don't see Alan as full of confidence in IAP2 at all - possibly relieved that he's no longer overweight and is still on the radio after his breakdown, but he seems to be a more crumpled humiliated fart than the 'going through a rough patch but still having BBC meetings' Alan of 5 years previous.

Quote from: Cuellar on January 14, 2020, 08:16:24 PMThe whole 'big acting' criticism of IAP2 might well be true, but if it is then it DEFINITELY applies to pretty much everything POST-IAP2.

So if it bothers you in IAP2 and not in MMM then you are a goddamn hypocrite and should mend your ways.

Well that would only hypocritical if you think that the performance & delivery in IAP2 was the main problem with it, and that the performance & delivery in MMM is the same as in IAP2. (FWIW I don't on either count.)

Shoulders?-Stomach!

Not to repeat the same arguments but one of the key differences in IAP1 and IAP2 is that while both have a similar gag-rate the specific pathos is what makes it 1 a special all-time series and 2 just 'a series led by a funny character with lots of gags in', because the jokes have a meaningful backing which draws you in closer to the character.

Alan trapped halfway between London and Norwich in a travel tavern, acting like a scared teenage boy trapped in a middle aged man's body, a man whose dreams have been destroyed, surrounded by people he has no connection to, being psychosexually taunted by the hotel staff, finding comfort in the most banal aspects of life, yet no underlying satisfaction. Having sexually-charged vengeance daydreams. It's a beautiful conceit and could only have been done once, while Partridge was at that point in his career and while Coogan actually looked that youthful.

I enjoy 2 a lot but it's really more a post-breakdown Clarkson type character that struts around now he has a girlfriend and self-identifies as having 'bounced back' saying big phrases, being awful and occasionally being shown up but in kind of a threadless 'we are making this up almost as we go along' way, which is, as is verified on the DVD commentary, exactly what they were doing after the first few episodes. Plenty of laughs, but a mess.

Cuellar

"'wasn't he one of the goodies?', yeah, not anymore, now he's a baddie. Oddie is like a bearded Catherine wheel, scything through the crowd"


Cold Meat Platter

"...my foot was (and this might have been my imagination) audibly humming with germs."

Annie Labuntur

Quote from: Akabusi tho on February 03, 2020, 04:57:47 PM
"Remarkable!"

The last time I cried tears of laughter, that section. Could barely breathe when I heard the Smash Martians.

Shoulders?-Stomach!

Partridge on school bully Steve McCombe

Quote'Smelly Alan Fartridge! Smelly Alan Fartridge! He loves his mum, he lives in her bum. You think that's bad, you should smell his dad. Smelly Alan Fartridge!'

It was agony on so many levels. For starters, they were bellowing over the sound of English teacher Mr Bevin – academically suicidal given that mock exams were just weeks away, and a personal affront of Mr Bevin who, although timid and stuttering, knew his onions, English-wise.

For mains, it was the dunderheaded wrongness of what they were saying: I did not smell. I was a keen cleanser, diligently showering each day and making sure that my body, privates, face and mouth were stench- and stain-free. If I smelt of anything, it would have been Matey (now Radox) and Colgate.

And for afters, their catcalls were a depressing reminder of my own father's suffering. Having signed up to the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Norfolk Regiment in World War II (for my money the 'Great War'), he learned that a sloppy administrator had spelt his surname: PRATridge (my capitals). The consequent teasing and name-calling he received at the hands of his comPRATriates (my caps) cut him deep. The horror of war. Up there with trench foot and being attacked with guns.

Smelly Alan Fartridge. Say it to yourself a few times. Pretty annoying isn't it? About 3% as clever as it thinks it is, it's a piece of infantile wordplay that most right-minded abusers would dismiss as rubbish but which a small minority of backward Norfolk underachievers repeated again and again and again and again.

They were led by one child whose name I can barely even remember. In fact, his name was Steven McCombe. You won't have been able to tell, but I had to think for ages then, between the words 'name' and 'was', so insignificant is he in the roll call of people I've encountered.

McCombe – let's not bother with first names – was, and I'm sure is, a grade A dumbo. He could afford to lark around in class, so certain was his fate as a manual worker – the kind who'd never have cause to rely on school teachings unless it's for the tie-break round of a pub quiz (where the top prize is some meat).

McCombe didn't just squawk 'Smelly Alan Fartridge' at me a few times. His was a campaign of petty abuse that was awesome in its length and breadth. Between 1962 and 1970, McCombe – and again these are events that bother me so little my brain has filed them under 'Forget if you like' – waged an impressively consistent war on me. This frenzied attack on me and my rights took several sickening forms: he stole, interfered with, and returned my sandwiches; he mimicked my voice when I effortlessly answered questions in class; he removed my shorts on a cross-country run and ran off fast; he reacted hysterically when I referred to a teacher as 'mum'; he threw my bat and ball into a canal; he spat on my back; he daubed grotesque sexual images on my freshly wallpapered exercise books; and, in a sinister twist, he tracked the progress of my puberty, making unflattering comparisons to his own and the majority of my classmates'. This was psychological torment that few could have withstood. I withstood it.

One day, I decided enough was enough, so I plucked up the courage to confront him for an almighty showdown. It was 5pm on a wet Tuesday and I took a deep breath and went for it.

'Oi,' I said. 'McCombe.'

He hesitated. 'What?'

'Watch it, mate.'

A pause. The guy was rattled. 'What?'

'I said watch it. Watch what you say and watch how you say it, you snivelling little goose.

You might find you push someone too far one day and they unleash hell in your face.'

'What?'

'Stop saying "what". Listen to me. You're going to start showing me a bit of respect, buddy boy. Or you will reap a whirlwind. The days of infantile name-calling and sexually explicit graffiti are over. It stops. Right?'

'What? I can't hear you, mate.'

'I'm not your mate.'

'What?'

This was infuriating. I unwrapped my jumper from the mouthpiece. Oh, I forgot to say, this was on the phone.

'Just watch it, McCombe.'

'Who is this?'

'See you around.'

'Is this Partridge?'

I hung up. My point made. My parting shot – 'See you around' – had sounded particularly menacing. I would have said 'See you in school', but we'd both left a few years before. And 'around' sounded more threatening anyway.

McCombe had left school at the first opportunity, his mindless decision-making conducted almost entirely by a hormone-addled penis desperate to impregnate the first chubby cashier it could slip into. Sure enough, McCombe and Janice have a litter of four children, not much younger than they are. Way to go, guys.

McCombe worked for several years in the warehouse of British Leyland before a back injury scuppered his forklift-truck driving. He now lives on disability allowance in Edgbaston and has gained a lot of weight. No prizes for guessing which of us is the 'Smelly' one now.

Interestingly, McCombe's career-ending back complaint is so cripplingly debilitating, he can only manage the three games of tenpin bowling per week, a fact that may or may not have been documented and photographed by my assistant.

The dossier may or may not have been passed on to Birmingham City Council. And I may or may not be waiting for a reply, although this is the public sector so I shan't be holding my breath!

The divergence between our two lives (mine: successful, his: pathetic) is best illustrated in our choice of garden furnishing. I've enhanced my lawn with a rockery. McCombe has chosen a broken washing machine.

And what a pair he and Janice make. I spoke with her once, when she asked me what I was doing outside their house, and her language was appalling. Very aggressive woman.

McCombe rarely, if ever, strays into my consciousness now. But in some ways I thank him. The ribbing that he orchestrated – and to be fair there were probably others involved too – has given me a thick skin that has served me well. I grew a teak-tough, metaphorically bullet-proof hide, essential in the very real warzone that is broadcasting.

I could give you three examples right now of times that the 'Smelly Alan Fartridge' barbs have stood me in good stead. When Bridie McMahon (failed TV presenter who you won't have heard of) pointed out on air that an anagram of Alan Partridge is Anal Dirge Prat, sure, I wanted to shove her in the face, but had the self-discipline not to. When formerly significant TV critic Victor Lewis-Smith described my military-based quiz show Skirmish as 'a thick man's Takeshi's Castle', I wanted to hurt him physically, but had the restraint not to. I just left 60 abusive voicemails on his mobile (plus 12 on Valerie Singleton's for which I have apologised. She's above him in my contacts list.) There's probably a third example too. But the point is, the inane taunts from my school days had given me strength and perspective.

An addendum: in 1994, I was named TV Quick's Man of the Moment. At the same time, McCombe contracted glandular fever. Needless to say, McCombe, I had the last laugh. And I'm still having it.

Ferris

It seems asinine to pick a best bit of that, but the below always makes me laugh.

QuoteMcCombe – let's not bother with first names – was, and I'm sure is, a grade A dumbo. He could afford to lark around in class, so certain was his fate as a manual worker – the kind who'd never have cause to rely on school teachings unless it's for the tie-break round of a pub quiz (where the top prize is some meat).

bgmnts

Is there an unfunny line in either of the books?

Kryton

I can't remember exactly but it I think it was in I, Partridge (during his travel tavern days) when Alan engaged in a bit of pre-dragons den with some guy in his room. Alan is lay on his bed eating grapes and some guy gives a pitch. Something happens but the net result is Alan has about twelve new matresses in a lock up.

Kryton

Quote from: bgmnts on February 03, 2020, 11:43:16 PM
Is there an unfunny line in either of the books?

On a re-read Nomad is slightly less funny than I, Partridge which is highly re-readable.
Nomad gets better 2/3 of the way through but it felt a bit rushed?

Both great, but I, Partridge is better in my opinion.

bgmnts

Edmonds' "stupid Ewok head" might be one of the biggest laughs in entire Partridge canon.

Mobius

It's been said before but it's staggering how strong both books are. A laugh every second line more or less, some beautiful wordplay. It's nearly impossible to post a favourite line because you also want to post the 3-4 paragraphs either side of it!

QDRPHNC

She was certainly first in the queue when God was handing out breasts, mammary glands...

Ooh I'd love to have it off with her...

Urrrhgghhhh sex.


buttgammon

"Here is Eleanor Rigby, by Beatles."

It's all in the delivery.

Dogbeard

"I love you, in a way."

Always makes me laugh out loud when I think of it.

markburgle

Quote from: Kryton on February 03, 2020, 11:43:29 PM
I can't remember exactly but it I think it was in I, Partridge (during his travel tavern days) when Alan engaged in a bit of pre-dragons den with some guy in his room. Alan is lay on his bed eating grapes and some guy gives a pitch. Something happens but the net result is Alan has about twelve new matresses in a lock up.

Something to do with businessmen sleeping in their cars wasn't it? And he invests to the tune of about £500

mr. logic

'...and trust Mr. Professional to time the slaying so that it came at the end of the show...'

It's the pomposity of Mr. Professional (not to mention the absurdity of it applying to him) coupled with the frank brutality of 'slaying'. Coogan's delivery on this line is superb.

SteK

Quote from: markburgle on February 04, 2020, 03:35:17 PM
Something to do with businessmen sleeping in their cars wasn't it? And he invests to the tune of about £500

It was 900 quid and the idea was to remove the rear seats from reps cars and replace with a mattress, (still in lock up) and sell the rear seats as couches for poor people - or something like that.

Guy never got his money cos Alan had a lot direct debits coming out that month....