Seemingly functioning purely on the basis that most people hate their jobs, Friday night saw the launch of a brand new game show from Channel 4, I Don’t Like Mondays.
The premise is simple: get about 100 hyped-up contestants who want to quit their job, chuck in a few zany games and a handful of celebrity guests, and at the end give one of the hopefuls a year off work with their salary paid – and a little more besides, if they’re lucky. Perhaps even pepper the show with a few Surprise, Surprise-esque family reunions or ‘dream-come-true’ moments, and you’ve got yourself a fun-filled Friday night entertainment bonanza.
Or have you?
I have to confess that from the outset, I didn’t have high hopes for this one. Always on the look-out
for a new game show to apply for (Tipping Point, Friday 4th May – just saying), I came across I Don’t Like Mondays some time last year. I read the premise and immediately it didn’t appeal to me. Of course, the year off work on full pay did seem attractive, but the show itself just felt too niche. Too concept-driven. It was clearly one of those ‘TV by committee’ jobs, created by a group of telly people all vying to come up with the next big thing – something that’s never been done before and blows its predecessors out of the water. Gone are the days of trying to win your Bendy Bully and a tankard, now it has to be spectacular and life-changing. Like £40,500 and a forced resignation.
Despite my reservations however, I Don’t Like Mondays wasn’t quite the car-crash I’d anticipated. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not going to go down as a game show classic – there’s no danger of being bombarded with repeats of this on Challenge in years to come – but there was some fun to be had in and amongst all the padding and largely attention-hungry, OTT contestants. The ‘Celebrity Executive Board’ sketches, featuring the likes of Sir Trevor McDonald, Dawn French and Miranda Hart were quite funny, even if they did highlight the comparatively feeble bookings of studio guests Amanda Holden and Shaun ‘Barry off EastEnders’ Williamson, and the quiz questions – of which, admittedly, there were only five across the whole hour – lent themselves to being played along with at home.
My main grumble with I Don’t Like Mondays, though, is that throughout the whole show I just couldn’t shake the feeling that Alan Carr deserves so 
much better. What happened to him being Channel 4’s golden boy, freeing himself from the shackles of his Justin Lee Collins partnership to be one of the most trustworthy names in comedy? Since the shelving of Chatty Man, Channel 4 seem to have handed him dud after dud. The Singer Takes It All – dumped after one series. 12 Stars of Christmas – sank without trace. Alan Carr’s Happy Hour – confined to the annals of history. He always makes a decent fist of what he’s given, and his pithy ad-libs and natural rapport with an audience are well suited to a show with a party atmosphere like this, but with his offerings in recent years, is it really any wonder that he’s starting to branch out from Channel 4 and beginning to develop ideas with ITV and the BBC? It’s all too easy to see Alan as just another camp comic – he makes what he does seem easy but his jokes are so sharp and I think that his use of language surpasses that of most other mainstream comics I see on TV, and if Channel 4 aren’t careful, they’re going to lose him.
So, while the format leaves a lot to be desired – as does the sanity of a lot of the contestants, given they have to resign from their job (many of them in teaching or nursing) live on air – I suppose it’s a canny little show. That’s not really good enough though is it? Alan Carr has coasted for a few years now on mediocre formats like this, and there’s a danger of him becoming known for it. Perhaps a move to ITV or Auntie is for the best.
I Don’t Like Mondays is on Fridays at 8pm on Channel 4.
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‘mandate’ to a date with a man, and the other pointed out, quite simply, that Donald Trump is orange. My heart sank. I didn’t hold out much hope for improvement when I watched the show in full, and lo and behold, my expectations were met. The topical gags – of which there were far fewer than one would expect from a show called Host the Week – were nothing more than recycled Twitter puns. We know that Ryanair’s not very good. We also know that Andy Murray’s dull and his mum’s domineering. These are clichés that have been exhausted time and again on shows like this, and it’s the mark of an uninspired writing team when they’re churned out in this way. I found myself hankering for some originality – just a little excitement – but none came.
unjustly as she’ll be first in the firing line for people’s criticism. The blame for this mess should not lie with her, though – rather, it should be put on the script she was being fed. Due to the nature of the show, she was helpless – completely unprepared and entirely at the mercy of the writers, who, even when one allows them leeway given it was the first episode, could and should have done so much better. This show is brought to us by 2/3s of the brilliant Pappy’s and can boast a writing team with credits like Cats Does Countdown, Not Going Out and Murder in Successville. Even without that pedigree, the strength and frequency of gags in this show should have been so much higher, but with it, it’s unbelievable. If one also takes into account that some of the writers have previously been involved with Have I Got News For You, Charlie Brooker’s Wipes, and The News Quiz on Radio 4, it’s surely inarguable that the number of fresh topical references across the hour ought to have been drastically increased, particularly given this is a show that purports to celebrate ‘the week’.
Bishop felt; as recently as last year, Porridge was voted the fifth best-loved British sitcom by the public, proving that our affection for not only the series but the character of Norman Stanley Fletcher, too, was as strong as ever. So, even if he wasn’t playing the same role as Ronnie Barker, as the protagonist in Porridge Bishop had huge shoes to fill and high expectations to meet. I doubt anyone truly expected it to surpass or even meet the standards of the original series, but I found this episode to be poor even on its own merits.
70s. For example, while Barker’s Fletch was banged-up for attempting to steal a lorry, Bishop’s incarnation has committed a string of cyber crimes – because it’s the 21st century, so obviously his imprisonment’s something to do with computers. Then, within the first few post-titles scenes, there are references to gluten-free food, Sepp Blatter and Wikipedia, because those things weren’t around in the 70s but they are now, in 2016, and of course everyone’s dropping them into casual conversation. There was even a young character calling Fletch ‘bro’ – because that’s what all the youth say nowadays, you see, and Clement and La Frenais are so ‘down’ with that. Oh, and they then have a character tell Fletch that he ‘smoked some lethal crow last night’ and ‘was well-blunted’ – you know, just in case you were in any doubt as to whether this was still set in the 70s. ‘Bro’.
Are You Being Served?, which came from the pen of Benidorm creator Derren Litten, following David Croft and Jeremy Lloyd’s deaths in 2011 and ‘14, respectively. So, with the creators and writers having passed away, and only one original cast member surviving, many were sceptical as to whether the new Are You Being Served? could match its predecessor. Of course, deep down everyone knew that it never would – but I doubt I’m alone in being surprised that Litten came closer than anyone imagined.
had its moment in the spotlight, what the audience were left with was a pleasing script with moments of genuine brilliance, delivered by a cast of sitcom regulars who pitched their performances just right; distinguishable from their predecessors while also instantly familiar. Jason Watkins’s Mr Humphries (pictured, left) was a particular delight, providing proof – if proof were needed – that he is an actor of supreme talent. Few spring to mind who could portray Christopher Jefferies, the former teacher who was falsely accused of the murder of Joanna Yeates in 2010, with such sensitivity and authenticity, then slip into the kitten heels of the limp-wristed Mr Humphries – yet seem entirely suited to both.
Executive Producer is Stephen McCrum, the man who was responsible for bringing Mrs Brown’s Boys to the BBC (whether or not you think that that is something to ‘boast’ about is, of course, down to you). So, Josh has numerous established, successful comedy names working both on- and off-screen. That begs the question, therefore, why on earth did it fall so flat? The answer appears to be quite simple: the script wasn’t of the quality that it should have been. This was the implication within the twenty seconds of this episode, when a vignette clearly designed to establish Josh and Owen’s statuses as ‘unlucky with the ladies’ ended with a predictable whimper, and set the tone for the subsequent twenty eight minutes.
as a ‘baby-faced Victor Meldrew,’ which is annoying for two reasons: firstly, David Renwick’s scripts were funny; and secondly, a ‘baby-faced Victor Meldrew’ is an incredibly apt description of Josh Widdicombe himself. There seems not to have been any distinction made between the character and the comedian, which gives the episode an air of being merely a stand-up routine about chlorine allergies, the annoyances of ‘reply all’ emails and the inability to swim, brought to life. Of course, it would be ridiculous for the two Joshes to be poles apart – but they shouldn’t be carbon copies of each other like this, either. Hence, they just need to be similar – it’s what’s necessary for the sitcom to feel like a sitcom. For instance, we all know that Miranda Hart is probably capable of walking down the street without falling over or making innuendo with a complete stranger, unlike ‘Fictional Miranda’, so we can set the two versions of her apart. Likewise, all fans of Not Going Out know perfectly well that Lee Mack isn’t a feckless layabout – despite what we see of ‘Fictional Lee’. Josh Widdicombe taking his awkward, pedantic, quietly irritated stage persona and creating an awkward, pedantic, quietly irritated character called Josh, however, just didn’t seem to work.
Image credit: Thanks to Des Willie, ©BBC
Kynaston, pictured right) and his struggles to navigate his way through adolescence during the early- to mid-70s while also living at home with his rather eccentric family – and they don’t come much more eccentric than his dad, Fred. Known to all as Spud, Danny’s dad is a loud and proud docker, with a penchant for a scheme or two but overarching love of his family.
portrayed as one of reckless youth for Baker and strong domestic unity for the nation as a whole. Rather, the problem seemed to arise from characterisation – or lack thereof. Other than Danny himself, the only character that the audience was given time to become familiar with was Spud, his father. By the end of the episode, we understood that he was something of a Del Boy character; boisterous and crafty but with a strong love and appreciation of his family. If I were being particularly harsh, however, I would suggest that Spud only stood out among the rather more ‘beige’ characters because he was both played by Peter Kay and easily comparable to that familiar ‘Del Boy model’. Portrayed by a less well-known actor and distanced from any kind of stock characteristics, I expected he’d fade into the background like everyone else.
Still Open All Hours and Count Arthur Strong, all of which have been received warmly by viewers, if not always by critics, and proven that there is indeed still a market for ‘family-friendly’ comedy, if it’s funny. However, there have also been the less successful programmes; the ones that have died a slow, painful death in the make-or-break 10:35pm slot. I’m thinking of The Wright Way, Father Figure and all three of the 2014 Comedy Playhouse pilots – one of which, unsurprisingly, was Mountain Goats.
want to like sitcoms such as this. The trouble is, nowadays people are all too ready to turn their noses up at such traditional, studio-based comedy – they dismiss it without giving it a fair go – so, not wanting to jump on that bandwagon, I was desperate to unearth the funny in Mountain Goats but I failed to find it simply because it failed to deliver it. In fact, not even appearances from Doon Mackichan and My Mad Fat Diary’s Sharon Rooney (pictured, left) brought it salvation. 
All images thanks to BBC Pictures and Alan Peebles, ©BBC 
airs.
house, Teams Summit and Tenacity set out across London in the hope of finding a range of items featured in the previous nine series of the show – but in the hope of spending the least amount of money, not the most. A bit like Supermarket Sweep in reverse.
arguably higher than that of Alan Carr and Jonathan Ross. Many use this argument as a case for Graham’s show being in some way better than his contemporaries’ but I disagree: calibre doesn’t always equal entertainment in my opinion, and I often prefer to see British performers on such shows rather than big Hollywood types, who are no doubt sick of the seemingly endless queue of interviewers wanting to find out about their latest role.
reality TV fans: Andrea McLean competed on the first series of Dancing on Ice; Ian ‘H’ Watkins (the ‘H’ is very important nowadays) has been a Celebrity Big Brother housemate; Emma Samms, as well as being one of the less recognisable faces from Dynasty, was a contestant on Celebrity Scissorhands; and Peter Duncan has been on The Games and Let’s Dance for Sport Relief – as has Carl Froch. That’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with the celebrities – they seem a perfectly amiable bunch – but they’re largely typical reality TV fodder, and are therefore often as disengaging as the training videos in which they feature and routines they perform.
They’re all gymnasts and all are disengaging. I mean, say what you like about Jo Brand’s right to be on the Splash! panel but at least she cracks a few gags and brightens up the mood after her fellow judges have commented on a ten-second belly flop with far more scrutiny than is necessary, or even appropriate, for a Saturday night celebrity competition. Tumble doesn’t even have a Jo Brand figure, though, meaning that the only person who rises above the tedium of his peers is Craig Heap, whose desperate emulation of Strictly’s Craig Revel Horwood is painfully obvious and threatened only by mild conceit.
tumbles. There’s a reason why the public love shows like You’ve Been Framed and It’ll Be Alright on the Night, and in the past have voted week after week for Todd Carty and Joe Pasquale to stay in Dancing on Ice, and Ann Widdecombe and John Sergeant to endure on Strictly: rightly or wrongly, we love to see failure and accidents on TV. It entertains us as a nation! So, when a show like this comes along, which doesn’t involve something that viewers have at least a smidgen of knowledge and can pass judgement on, like singing or dancing, we long for the accidents – the eponymous ‘tumbles’ – and when they fail to come, it makes for quite a boring show, as Tumble proved to me to be.
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