British Comedy Guide

Chris Tarrant

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Harry Hill's been framed

Chris Tarrant's fall from grace; Charles and Camilla's love-blob... Harry Hill's oils are quirky snapshots of celebrity Britain. Here, he discusses inspirations and introduces four of his masterpieces

Cedar Lewisohn, The Observer, 30th May 2010

The phrase "celebrity roast" sounds like either an inspired idea for a bonfire, a romantic date with a footballer and his friends or some nightmare series, no doubt soon to be commissioned, in which minor soap stars share their favourite recipes. In fact, it refers to the practice whereby a group of comedians takes turns putting down a well-known entertainer as well as each other.

That's what the roast became in America, where it was popularised by Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. Last week, we got the British version, A Comedy Roast (C4), in honour of, respectively, Bruce Forsyth, Sharon Osbourne and Chris Tarrant. For reasons of national morale, it doesn't do to dwell on the difference between those two sets of names.

However, the thinking appears to be that what the show lacks in personalities, it can make up for in vulgarities. Sometimes, that tactic worked under the caustic stewardship of Jimmy Carr, who looked as demonically thrilled as a class clown given permission to swear at his teachers. Carr was responsible for most of the moments of comedy that produced not a laugh, but a gasp, including a joke about Tiswas being the second biggest thing that Lenny Henry had ever been in.

More often, the coarseness was cover for an overreliance on the autocue. As much as he sometimes struggled with reading lines, Dean Martin was never known to resort to the c-word on US TV and nor, come to that, did anyone ever accuse Sinatra of mistaking breast milk for "man gravy". A dry roast this wasn't.

Yet the biggest failing was that no matter how crude the insults served by Jonathan Ross, Jack Dee and a variety of comedians, no one, including the guest of honour, had heard of, none could match the flame-grilled indignity of taking part in the show. A roast that was all sauce and nothing to savour.

Andrew Anthony, The Guardian, 11th April 2010

And if we're looking to invent new words and phrases, how about "Crap as A Comedy Roast"? You'd use it to describe something that was as awkward and contrived and joyless as Jimmy Carr and chums spending an hour taking the p*** out of someone semi-famous sat opposite them on stage.

"Roasting" is an American tradition: being brutally but lovingly rounded upon by your peers while taking it all with benign grace - think: This is Your Life, You Stupid T***. The US TV version of this features some of the most staggeringly lewd, vicious punchlines I've ever heard, the enormous capacity of Pamela Anderson's vagina, for example, being a recurring theme on hers.

So what was in store for Bruce Forsyth, Sharon Osbourne and Chris Tarrant? Uncomfortable oddness, really. Jonathan Ross visibly rattled Brucey with some opening salvos: "He wasn't a pretty baby," he tells the audience, "but he did grow up to be a f***ing ugly adult." What else? Oh yeah: "When the dinosaurs died out, he was taken in for questioning." Arf! The weird thing was that most of the roasters were just typical gun-for-hire, Channel 4-type comedian fodder. Paddy McGuinness did a nervous Who Wants to be a Millionaire? skit on Tarrant, who looked so prickly throughout that you suspect Alan Partridge would have taken a roasting better. Jack Dee slagged everyone off and looked sadder than usual to be doing it. There was one quite funny joke about it being hard to believe the real Sharon Osbourne is here tonight, "because the real Sharon Osbourne is in a black bin bag round the back of a plastic surgeon's in LA!. And she took it all quite well, mainly because she just hooted like as sozzled nan the entire time.

Maybe everyone else loved it. It just seemed weirdly open and honest. I thought the whole point of being British is that we repress our true feelings, so that when they do pop out they're disguised, perhaps in the form of a witty joke or a song or a droll suicide note. Alternatively, we could just stick to slagging people off behind their backs so that we don't have to pretend to hug them in front of Jimmy Carr afterwards. I don't think A Comedy Roast suits us. If someone can work out a passive-aggressive equivalent, however, we may be in business.

Ben Machell, The Times, 10th April 2010

At first glance it'll stump anyone why Chris Tarrant agreed to tonight's comedy "roasting". Yet if you can stomach the childish smut there are some fabulous zingers, such as Jimmy Carr's joke about Tarrant's divorce: "Famous for his charity work, Chris recently gave £12.5million to a Norwegian single mother."

Vicki Power, The Telegraph, 9th April 2010

Sean Lock says that he was reluctant to appear on this show. "I knew I'd have to write jokes about Chris Tarrant," he says. "Can you imagine a more barren, uninspiring, emaciated topic than that? I'd rather perform an hour of new material about pylons to a submarine crew after the stripper had cancelled." But after he has set the tone at the start of the programme, there are some wonderful contributions during the evening. Jamie Theakston is unwittingly hilarious because of his inability to read an autocue and Terry Wogan (who says that Tarrant is "always drunk and nobody likes him") gives a masterclass in comic timing. Mind you, Tarrant gives as good as he gets. His performance at the end proves that you don't work in television for more than 30 years without developing impregnable self-assurance.

David Chater, The Times, 9th April 2010

Sean Lock begins by claiming he didn't want to be on because there's "no more tedious and emaciated subject for comedy than Chris Tarrant. I'd rather perform a set about pylons to a submarine crew after their stri p per has cancelled." Terry Wogan steals the show with one line, however.

TV Bite, 9th April 2010

It's a fate you wouldn't wish on your own worst enemy: Bruce Forsyth must have done something very bad in a former life to have his recent gruesome grilling by Piers Morgan, a man who insists on probing where no one wants to go, swiftly followed by the undercooked fawn-fest that was Bruce Forsyth: A Comedy Roast.

Starting with the dreaded words 'please welcome your host... Jimmy Carr!', a phrase guaranteed to have me instantly gagging (but not in a good way), C4's resident Smug MC, a ventriloquist's doll in human form, launched into his unique brand of makes-you-want-to-slap-him charm. 'A roast is like good-natured bullying,' he smirked. 'Good-natured in that it's happening to someone else, not you.' Unbelievably it was downhill from there, a gruesome selection of backslapping/stabbing blokes taking turns to out un-funny each other. Jonathan Ross started off with his tired effing and blinding routine, clearly miffed he wasn't talking about his favourite subject (himself). No, he was there to dishonour Bruczie, so what did Ross's rapier-like wit conjure up? No idea, it was instantly forgettable, other than setting up the night's weary theme: wow, Bruce Forsyth is, like, really old. He's done lots of dodgy gameshows. And he's got a chin. And a beautiful wife. Satire it wasn't.

Jimmy Hill's chin twin guffawed through gritted teeth throughout, taking it on the proverbial. But his lizard-like stare needed double-glazing to get through the kill-the-room combo of Bruno Tonioli and Arlene Phillips, whose contribution was up there with such classic double acts as Sam Fox and Mick Fleetwood and Rula Lenska and George Galloway for making you want to stab your eyes out.

All this crackling-free, toothless 'roast' proved was that the more people ho think they are funny there are in a room, the less likely you are to have a laugh. Only Sean Lock emerged with dignity intact but his best line - a dig about being surprised that Ross turned up in person instead of persecuting a national treasure by phone - was all over the trailers, so you'd heard it anyway. Next up it's Sharon Osbourne then Chris Tarrant - truly, C4, you are spoiling us.

Keith Watson, Metro, 8th April 2010

Although it might not sound it, a roast is the ultimate honour for any entertainer. First started at the New York Friars' Club in the 1920s and made famous by Dean Martin on his TV show in the 1960s and 1970s, a roast involves you sitting in a room with your friends, family and colleagues as they mercilessly take the mickey out of you - goodnatured bullying, as the host Jimmy Carr calls it. There are three roasts this week - don't miss Sharon Osbourne's on Thursday and Chris Tarrant on Friday - but first up is Mr Showbusiness himself, Bruce Forsyth. Lining up to pay mocking tribute are Jack Dee, Jason Manford, Bruno Tonioli, Arlene Phillips, Jon Culshaw, Barry Cryer and, best of all, Jonathan Ross. It may be sycophantic, but there are still some hilarious moments.

Mike Mulvihill, The Times, 7th April 2010

For fans of excruciatingly painful television, don't miss Channel 4's Comedy Roasts in which Bruce Forsyth, Sharon Osbourne and Chris Tarrant are ritually insulted by visibly uncomfortable guests including Jonathan Ross, Sean Lock and Jack Dee. A longstanding American showbiz tradition, these British attempts are stilted and embarrassing. The Osbourne edition in particular is like a glimpse into Hell.

Paul Whitelaw, The Scotsman, 5th April 2010

Chris Tarrant is ribbed by comedians at gala night

Chris Tarrant was given a "comedy roasting" at a special gala night dedicated to him. Comics including Jimmy Carr and Jack Dee laid into the divorced quiz show host.

The Sun, 12th March 2010

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