Tyrone_Smollox

When the BBC's prize-winning and audience-charming comedians Morecambe and Wise left the corporation in the late seventies, the search was on for a replacement, and by signing up Syd Little and Eddie Large, they were certainly settling for less. Although they were, in essence, two rather likable jolly jokers who wouldn't have been out of place in the theatre at the end of a seaside resort's pier or any boozy British nightclub, they were hardly a substitute for Eric and Ernie. They were scarcely even a 'proper' double act - Syd wasn't so much a straight man as a gormless stooge, whilst Eddie did poor impersonations (always of Deputy Dawg, for some reason) and attempted to sing the odd ballad. The overall effect was embarrassing rather than funny, and when this lame ruse failed they fell back - with disconcerting regularity - on such politically incorrect ploys as boxing kangaroos, 'funny foreigners' and topless girls (seen from the back only) which might have been charming in more skilled hands, but which only served to underline the desperation of this cut-price televised cabaret. Little and Large vanished from our screens back in the nineties, but they're still around and if this kind of thing is your bag, catch them at a caravan park near you.

In this 1975 Christmas special, the Goodies decide to become rock stars (art imitating life, since the team had recently cracked the pop charts with some fun novelty singles including the glam rock-tinged 'The Inbetweenies' and the silly but danceable 'Funky Gibbon') by copying the trademarks of several existing stars, taking Elton John's glasses, the Rubettes' caps and so on. Although my memories of this episode are rather hazy (it was a long time ago!), I certainly can't forget the sight of the Goodies being chased around a maze by a giant Dougal (of Magic Roundabout fame) and newsreader Michael Barratt interviewing the mute children's puppets Sooty and Sweep. Also, the show felt a bit too long. The Goodies always worked best as a half-hour miracle, leaving you wanting more, and however good the gags and stunts were, stretching the running time invariably stretched this viewer's attention span. Nonetheless, this is largely classic stuff and a DVD release wouldn't go amiss.

Nothing about this weird addition to the Hanna-Barbera canon made sense. The bears had an invisible motorbike, which they hopped on seemingly at will. As a child, I found this confusing and weird, and not very funny at all. The inside of the bears' cave was spartan and 'realistic', until buttons were pressed and it turned into an ultra-modern pad with a fridge, a TV and lavish beds. This wasn't funny either, just a bit of contrived 'hi-tech' business that now seems so embarrassingly dated, as passe as jet-pack travel and monorails. One set piece I remember was one of the bears holding a switched-on vacuum cleaner in the air, explaining "this is my solution to the pollution", before one of the keepers jammed the nozzle on his nose. But his nose didn't stretch, it turned into a spear-shaped appendage which he then used to pick up rubbish. WHAT?! The bottom line is, this series was a ragbag of surreal ideas and low-brow comedy that didn't gel, let alone make one single scrap of sense. Nobody's finest hour.