Outtake TV.

I see little point in watching outtake TV programmes these days. There are too many of them. They spread the available material so thinly that 90% of what is purported to be ‘funny’ wouldn’t make a hyena look twice, let alone laugh.

Take 1: Actor fluffs lines. Actor swears. Canned laughter.

Take 2: Actor fluffs lines again. Actor swears. Canned laughter.

Take 3: Actor fluffs lines yet again. Actor swears. Canned laughter.

It was different when they first began. Several decades of untapped resources meant that the archive was full of hilarious potential. I have two favourites.

Sir Compton McKenzie had died and his body was being returned to his native island somewhere in the Hebrides. A posh and plumby BBC reporter typical of the old school was sent to cover the event. He asked a local man:

‘Tell me, my man, why do you think Mr McKenzie’s body was brought here today?’

The little islander gave the BBC man the look he deserved and said:

‘Because he died.’

And then there was the little girl who was being asked about the things she liked doing. She said she liked watching ‘the grand pricks.’ The interviewer corrected her, saying that it was pronounced "Gran’ Pree."

‘Well somebody spelt it wrong, then,’ said the child indignantly, ‘because it said grand pricks.’