Roy Clarke

No laughing matter

Humour may, as the cliché has it, be the most subjective thing in the world, and one man's Sergeant Bilko may indeed be another's On The Buses. Mr Clarke must, however, be excused from the cliché, since he does not deal in humour at all. He deals in a branch of comedy known to Radio Times as "gentle", and in this context "gentle" is the standard euphemism for "not".

A Foreign Field is something seen in a rear-view mirror, so why does it feel as if it lasted two hours when it only ran for 90 minutes? It seemed a slight vessel over-burdened with the freight of famous faces.

The West is another country, they do things differently there. In The Sharp End (BBC1), if you default on the payments for your scarlet coupé, all that happens is Gwen Taylor repossesses it and drives rather jerkily away.

This series does not exist in time at all. The women look like William pears standing on their stalks and wear turbans with tassels which would give Boadicea pause. The men are little boys on a long, long holiday and always up to something.

A joyful return is Foggy Dewhurst (Brian Wilde) in This series (BBC1). It is not given to everyone to be able to act innocence. but Wilde can, and without Corporal Dewhurst, Compo and Clegg have been like a softly boiled egg without its soldiers.

And as This series (BBC1) trickles tickling down our throats, we say farewell for now to Foggy, Clegg, Compo and to Nora Batty of the erotic wrinkled stockings, so late in life and so unexpectedly the sweetheart of the nation.

Peter Cook & Co (LWT) was very funny in spots. So were Morecambe and Wise (Thames). The first episode of Flickers (ATV) was no funnier than an abcessed ear, but it might improve.

The first Flickers was rather too crowded for comfort but bear with it for it is by Roy Clarke, writer of that golden series This series, and it seems to shake into shape.

Compared to the mellow This series, Potter is bitter. He celebrates his retirement with chateau-bottled vinegar while his wife makes spirited inroads on a bottle of vodka. It is a scene remarkable for its silences, like an eternal breakfast. Potter is, you might say, no laughing matter.

It reminded me, oddly enough, of Last of the Summer Wine (BBC1), which has just ended its run. Foggy Dewhirst, Clegg and Compo, respectively an ex-officer, redundant lino salesman and a burden on the welfare state, are released by age from all that and spend the afternoons as if they were children. The afternoons because they's when the pubs close.