The Count's fraught history at the BBC
Buoyed up by the positive reaction to his radio and
television
series, Count Arthur Strong continues to draw large audiences for his
somewhat more chaotic, and far less predictable, stage appearances.
The Man Behind the Smile is our beloved Count's most outrageous show yet, a 72-minute
anarchic extravaganza in which he spills the ever so slightly rancid beans
on his doomed-from-day-one career on BBC television. If only the esteemed
Count had taken the precaution of wearing the correct protective eyewear
when interviewing Sir Laurence Olivier of Arabia (sic) he might have had
a chat-show career to rival that of Melvyn Hayes-Bragg (very sic). Sir
Larry may be a great actor, but he's a menace to unsuspecting interviewers.
Further misfortunes befell our hero when he was invited to host the pilot
episode of that bafflingly popular quiz show
Ask the Family.
Again, the Count fell a cropper when one of the contestants had the temerity
to be a deadringer for Ronnie Corbett. It didn't help that he had a
full head of hair, which is why the institutionally hairest Beeb then gave
the job to a baldy. Arthur's ran of bad luck can be traced back to
an early episode of
Dixon of Dock Green, in which he made a disastrous
TV debut as a desk sergeant. If only the series had been played for
laughs things would have been very different. As ever, this trip down
memory lane ends in complete disaster as the Count and his friends attempt
a live re-enactment of that television classic,
Robin Hood. Things
like this never happened to Richard Greene.
With an eye to posterity, the noble Count had the foresight to have his live
show transcribed onto the new ultra-modern medium of DVD
(which, sadly, cannot be played on electric toasters picked up at car boot
sales, unlike videos). This includes rare and totally unseen footage
recently unearthed from the television archives (or, more likely, a communal
plague pit near Highgate). This blast from the past shows the Count's
ignominious and totally undeserved fall from grace, which continues to this
day with the help of his loyal acolyte Malcolm, who continues to assist Arthur
with unswerving devotion (like a one-man horse of the apocalypse or, worse,
a BBC programme scheduler) in ruining his own show about himself.
There is also a nice bonus feature in which the Count puts on his deerstalker
and finally reveals the identity of Jack the Ripper (this time without the
aid of an ice cream van). It's all totally, totally bonkers, but irresistibly
funny. Count Arthur Strong is such an effective tonic for depression, hangovers,
morning sickness, bubonic plague, piles and death that he should really be
available only on prescription, with a signed doctor's certificate. Enjoy
him while you can - before the health service reforms kick in. Afterwards,
treat yourself to the Count's long-awaited tribute to a Hollywood classic,
The Sound
of Mucus.
© James Travers 2019