You couldn’t see the join

It’s become something of a cliché to say how great Morecambe and Wise were. If you’re of a certain age you know that they were the greatest double act of all time. If you’re not of a certain age you probably think Newman and Baddiel or French and Saunders are the best. I pity people with such opinions and they have obviously missed out on the magic of John Eric Bartholomew and Ernest Wiseman. It IS magic. It defies logical analysis in the way that truly glorious comedy does. The intangible factor which makes the insane ranting of Basil Fawlty wonderful and the insane ranting of Alf Garnet merely pathetic.

People always praise Eric and ignore Ernie. Ernie was the straight man. Anyone could’ve done it. He was riding on the coat tails of Eric. Balls. I spent ages trying to rationalise Ernie’s importance to the double act and finally I got it. Eric is Pike, Fraser, Walker, Jones, Godfrey and Wilson but Ernie is Captain Mainwaring. Dad’s Army could never have worked without Mainwaring just as Morecambe and Wise could never have worked without Ernie. He was more than just the straight man – he was the tonic that balanced the gin. Eric on his own could’ve been another Tommy Cooper. Cooper was great in small doses but try to watch a full hour of him and it becomes samey and overpowering.

Part of the appeal of Morecambe and Wise is the warmth that is on screen. Eric and Ernie were best friends and had been (almost) since their youth. My often unreliable memory tells me they were in their teens when they met for the first time. The war came along and they were separated but to our eternal benefit they found each other again and decided to become a professional duo. So Eric could insult Ernie and we never felt uncomfortable because we knew it was all just part of the act. There was no simmering resentment between them. The barbs never took on a personal quality. There was no rivalry either. They worked together for the good of the partnership, the good of the show and the good of the audience.

But the warmth didn’t just extend from Eric to Ernie, the guests too shared in the glow. Most guests on light entertainment shows are there to make money, promote their new project or raise their profile. Guests on the Morecambe and Wise show were there to enjoy themselves. They were there because they wanted to be. Des O’Connor suffered years of insults from Eric and Ernie and was still a regular guest. He joined in the fun (the three were good friends off screen) because he knew that was all it was. It wasn’t ironic, it wasn’t post-modern, it wasn’t two faced – it was fun for all concerned.

“His name is Des – it’s short for ‘Desperate’”

“This the best LP Des has ever made – there’s nothing on it.”

“I got it from Boots – I needed a prescription.”

“Deaf O’Connor”

“If you want me to be a goner, get me an LP by Des O’Connor”

And he still came back for more. Whatta guy.

Morecambe and Wise were the last of the old school entertainment acts to be popular. The curtain which was the backing to their banter was a throwback to their theatrical roots, the big musical numbers would be replaced by clever but not very funny spoof songs (such as those performed by the Two Ronnies) and the innocence which underpinned bedroom sketches was a bubble waiting to burst. You see it never occurs to the viewer that there is anything seedy about them sharing a bed. It’s not glossed over, it’s not any kind of statement, and it’s not a subtext. It’s entirely innocent. Children’s literature is forever being injected with subtexts – both positive and negative – but Morecambe and Wise remains untarnished.

The writing was excellent. Ernie Wise used to tell a story that Eddie Braben – their greatest writer – told them he couldn’t write sketches. He was a gagman, plain and simple. Eric and Ernie told him “Give us six gags set in a doctors and we’ll turn it into a sketch for you”. With this simple formula they ensured their longevity. They weren’t dependant on one man’s writing – men like Barry Cryer were able to replace Eddie Braben as the gag-man – because they understood their characters and their strengths and could fashion a show out of raw material. Unlike Hancock – who spurned his writers and bullied their inadequate replacements – Morecambe and Wise didn’t need every word spelling out. Their comedy had rough edges, fluffs, corpsing and ad-libs. There was no suspension of disbelief called for. This is why they never made good film stars – film has no live audience, it has retakes, it puts a barrier between the viewer and the stars. It was too slick, too smooth, too professional and too cold. Morecambe and Wise didn’t learn lines, they knew what was funny and delivered it.

I can’t do them justice of course. You know how great they were, what they did, what they didn’t do and how fabulous it all was. You know about the twenty eight million viewers. You know about the institution that was the Morecambe and Wise Christmas Show. You may even be old enough to remember the national mourning that accompanied Eric’s death in 1984. Eric and Ernie weren’t just comedians that people watched on telly, they were to comedy what the Beatles or Elvis were to popular music. They were two men working as one and you really couldn’t see the join.

12th November 2003