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| Great British Bake Off’s Paul Hollywood went in search of his ‘genetic structure’ |
HOORAY for Hollywood. Well, if only. More like boo hoo for Hollywood, as blubbing baker Paul introduced us to his ancestry in the first episode of a new series of Who Do You Think You Are? (BBC1, Thursday).
Within five minutes, the judge from Great British Bake Off was desperately trying to induce himself to weep, as is the wont of most celebrities that appear on this show, even when there is absolutely nothing to cry, or crow, about.
The first 45 minutes were particularly uninspiring as we heard about Hollywood’s grandfather on his mother’s side who had fought in the Second World War, just like millions of others.
The baker had the wrong idea about the show entirely. “I want to find my genetic structure,” he told us.
What? That would be a DNA test, Paul.
This is the show where we discover most of your relatives were paupers and/or drunks, rather than a dissolute viscount languishing in a large pile in Yorkshire.
He began in Tunisia standing on the actual ground where his grandfather, Norman Harman, commanded an anti-aircraft battery.
Hollywood was told by the resident historian that his job had been to peer into the skies looking for German aircraft.
“I’ve always been interested in the sky. I wondered where I got that from,” mused Hollywood, in an insight that was the equivalent of a soggy bottom on a Victoria Sandwich.
He was standing on Banana Ridge, as named by the Army unit, because of its shape.
That was indeed the closest we came to food in an entire hour based on the ancestry of the country’s most famous baker.
No, not Gregg’s.
WE JOURNEYED then to the Italian coast where again a choked-up Hollywood, living up to his name, walked around in circles telling the producer not to film because he was about to cry, not that “blokes from the Wirral” would do such a thing.
His grandfather was undoubtedly brave, with definite echoes of Hollywood as he critiques a contestant’s indifferent Madeira cake (“bit on the dry side”).
Finally we found someone of interest, three generations back, who lived in Scotland and was a “post runner”.
Donald Mackenzie’s job in the Highlands was to run, literally, a return journey of 120 miles a week across lochs and mountains.
Hollywood was genuinely incredulous, as we all were. Paul, that really is a “technical challenge”.
Still in the wonderful Highlands, there is a new sitcom called Mountain Goats (BBC2, Friday).
Why are we still making sitcoms? It is TV’s law of diminishing returns.
This new creation was Cheers meets Early Doors meets Last Of The Summer Wine.
Indeed, the lead character, Jimmy (yes, you can make it up), was like Compo in a kilt.
He had been thrown out of his accommodation and had taken up in the pub’s freezer.
Because expectations are so low now, Mountain Goats was funny enough. They got away with it.
I have not watched a scene with a man in a fridge-freezer before, so it wins a plaudit for that.
The odd thing about the show was the lack of a single mountain rescue. One character slept in a tent.
As compelling as that was, will they not be visiting the great outdoors again?
Imagine the fun they could have with crampons. How we would laugh.
At one point, a character quips, “it’s not the Muppet Show”. No, sadly.
Actor Dennis Waterman gave us Gerry Standing’s swansong last week in New Tricks (BBC1, Tuesday).
The former Minder and Sweeney actor spent an hour with a mood on.
Well, he was accused of murder.
There were tones of, “We’re the Sweeney and we haven’t had our dinner!”
Difficult to follow at points, the plot dealt with Standing’s former police team, who, excluding himself, and one other (Larry Lamb) were as corrupt as they come. How we miss the 1970s.
Two things annoyed me about this episode: unimaginative and annoying ring tones on identical iPhone 6s, in a product placement coup for Apple; second, Nicholas Lyndhurst’s character, who was formerly involved in diplomatic protection (an outrider?).
He was meant to be a genius but was no less a plonker than Rodney from Only Fools, but only half as entertaining.
A wildly successful show, New Tricks is hanging up its truncheon after the original cast signed off.
We shan’t want for repeats.
FINALLY, what do you do when you do not have a new format for Saturday night? Show some clips from the old ones. It is easy running a TV channel.
As a clips show goes, The Saturday Night Story (ITV, last night) was actually quite entertaining.
This was because the programmes themselves had some very funny moments, unlike ubiquitous talent shows, which can be anything but.
The best clip was from the long-running hit Beadle’s About when a “spaceship” landed in a woman’s front garden, only for her to believe the whole thing and ask the emerging alien if he/ she/it would “like a cup of tea”.
Just to prove there is nothing new under the sun Ant & Dec were asked about their inspiration for Takeaway.
Dec said they had “borrowed” parts of Game For A Laugh.
“No, we didn’t,” insisted Ant. “We nicked ’em!”
Their best advice when conceiving a show?
Make a show the BBC could never make, so they gave away the products in the ads as a competition prize. The rest is TV history.
Stephenson’s Rocket
IT WAS lovely to hear Caroline Aherne in such good voice, but her narration was the highlight of Pound Shop Wars (BBC1, Wednesday), which, improbably, has returned for a new series.
Lord Reith said “educate, inform and entertain”.
This series was a perverse form of “discount Reith”. I gave it precisely 12 minutes. Why so long?
I was feeling generous after a week away. Stop making shows about shops, BBC.
Is it based on the premise that we all go shopping? That’s a revelation.
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