The year was 1972.
June, 1972.
A small party of us left Television Centre in London in a minibus.
We were heading for this marvellous West Yorkshire countryside.
In the bus, was the director Jimmy Gilbert, three actors - Michael Bates, Bill Owen
and Peter Sallis, a small very crew...
But what we did have was an absolutely wonderful script.
I read the script in bed. I got about halfway through
and I rang Jimmy Gilbert. "What do you think?" he said.
I said, "It's pure gold. Count me in!"
It happens sometimes in an actor's life,
if you're very, very lucky,
that something special turns up.
When I read Last Of The Summer Wine, I thought, "This is IT."
He's still calling for me in broad daylight! Say he doesn't belong to you,
you're just looking after him for somebody!
I was at home, watching a series called The Misfit - a show which was a drama,
but with comedy undertones.
I thought the phrasing of the writing, and the whole style of it,
was worth pursuing. The writer was a guy I'd never met, Roy Clarke.
When Duncan invited me to come and see him,
and would I be interested in having a crack at sitcom,
the answer was... I nearly bit his fingers off! Yeah, sure, I wanted to have a go at sitcom.
The BBC seemed to have in their mind, at that time,
an idea that they had a requirement for a series, a comedy series, based around three old men.
'For a long time, I struggled with this idea
'to try and get some enthusiasm about it, and I had none. I had none at all, really,'
until almost at the point of turning it down,
it occurred to me
that if these three old men were totally free,
they had no responsibilities,
no ties, they each lived alone,
they were...
unmarried or widows,
they were unemployed or retired,
'therefore, they were able to wander about
'in the same way that young adolescents can do.
'That pulled it out of the fire for me. I saw these, not as old people,
'just kids that happened to have got a bit older.'
Your left-hand oar! Your left-hand oar! Starboard, do you mind?!
'Because this story was going to be about older people,
'I wanted to emphasise that summer was still around.
'It might be the last of summer, but it was still summer as far as they were concerned.'
And so that's why I called it Last Of The Summer Wine -
to emphasise the summer as against the autumn.
And it was never well received.
It was taken for granted that I'd change it. It'd be a working title, till we got a better one.
One of the alternatives was The Library Mob
because, in the first series,
they used to visit their library and sit in the reading room,
leafing through the newspapers and chatting.
He's been useless all his life! You only say that cos it's true.
As kids, WE'd go for a swim and HE'd go for a dip in his mam's handbag!
There weren't nowt in it, though. We was poor.
We can see how far you've come(!) It's our family tradition.
It used to be a tradition here, if you were hungry, you could knock on any door and, without hesitation,
they'd slam it right in your face!
Fortunately, it was abandoned... just before the show went on air.
We reverted to Last Of The Summer Wine.
After we'd done the pilot,
I had a deputation of the three actors who said,
"We don't think this is going to work as Last Of The Summer Wine. Nobody will remember it."
The characters came fairly easily with Compo coming first,
because Compo was a composite of...
of people I knew in my own environment,
'in my own area, who lived that totally feckless, but quite cheerful, existence.
'Always wore wellies!'
Having got him, then it made obvious sense
to go straight to his opposite,
'who was regimented,
'straight up and down,
'authoritarian.
'So you got the two extremes...'
Now you wait here.
It's not only me City & Guilds, it's the social chasm between us.
Hey, Cyril! Give us a fag. I'll give you a sniff of me socks!
'..which left a nice slot for Clegg in the middle,
'who'd take the blows and balance the three out.'
'I wanted Peter Sallis for Clegg from the word one, if he was free.'
I'd written it very much with Peter in mind.
The other two,
I had no fixed ideas about
and left it to Jimmy Gilbert.
I thought that Bill Owen would be right
because I'd seen him play a Compo-like character
in a play with Spike Milligan called Oblomov.
I'd seen him in Davie Storey's play, The Contractor, where he played a tough northerner.
Putting the two together and having seen him in comedy, he seemed to be the perfect casting.
This went down like a lead balloon,
because I was raised on film
and I remembered Bill in all his films,
always the cockney airman,
the cockney AC2, or whatever,
and I couldn't see Bill as Compo.
Oh, hello, sir. Hello, Sergeant.
Sorry about making a clot of myself.
What do you mean? That landing? Ta.
I've seen worse! Old Bill Thompson was my pilot till he bought it.
He did some real shakers. Broke every bone!
It's only when I saw Bill on screen
that I realised what a wonderful physical clown Bill is.
His movements...
when he does odd walks.
Bill is magical, physically.
'There's no question about it.'
The next one I met was Peter Sallis.
I hadn't seen him since we were at drama school together, at RADA, 20 years before.
When I saw him coming in with this rather battered jacket on, and a cardigan and ill-fitting trousers,
I thought, "Poor old Peter. He's down on his luck."
But as he left, he said, "I think this would do for Clegg, don't you?"
Well, it was a suit that I'd had for...donkey's years.
I was very fond of it.
But I thought, "Yes, this would do for Clegg."
It was a sort of library-lounger's suit.
Anyway, what I didn't realise was that was that it was going to run, the programme, for 20 years!
And after about 20 years, the suit was falling to pieces.
What the BBC wardrobe department did, which was cunning of them,
was that they took a small amount of the cloth to a local mill
and they asked them to run them up a whole roll of the stuff, which they did.
So they were able to make me a new suit and one or two other suits,
just in case they were needed by the, um, stand-ins.
I felt it should be in a small market town,
surrounded by beautiful countryside,
and preferably with valleys.
I was speaking to Barry Took about this
and he said, "Why don't you try Holmfirth?"
I went there when I was a young comic. It sounds exactly what you're looking for.
I rang up Roy and went to Holmfirth. We stood on the hill, looked down on the town and said, "That's it!"
And that was it.
When it first appeared on the screens, as a situation comedy,
Last Of The Summer Wine was something of a breakthrough,
in visual terms, for a sitcom.
Certainly, it wasn't studio-bound.
You did get outside. You got outside with a purpose.
You saw that scenery and, from the beginning,
that's been a major element, I think, in its success.
'When Michael Bates sadly died,
'Brian Wilde was brought in
'to play a modified character and put the series back on track.'
The view. The grandeur. The valley spreading out beneath us,
lacking only one thing which we are going to supply.
I don't think that's all that funny! Come on! I know you're there!
Right! God knows - I try to raise the tone of our activities!
Who introduced you to astronomy? ..Right!
Who brought you out here one night and taught you how to navigate by the stars
And had to get a taxi back from Clayhidon?
Well, I'd just finished Porridge
and they asked me to be in Last Of The Summer Wine.
I said I'd love to read the scripts. They sent them and I read them.
They were quite different to anything I'd read.
Foggy was a lovely character.
He was different to Mr Barraclough, who dithered.
Foggy was positive. Positively incompetent!
Steady there...
Easy...
Sneaky old Napoleon!
Ow!
We were very delighted, may I say even proud,
when we read in the press that the Queen's favourite TV programme was Last Of The Summer Wine.
This brought back memories to me...
of Foggy with illusions
as the royal corgi walker
to Her Majesty, the Queen!
And, one day, it's going to happen.
The phone's going to ring and it's going to be THEM.
Them?! The royal corgis.
On the telephone?!
Not in person, no. You know what that means?
Sharp teeth in the ankles?
It means the royal warrant! "By appointment" on our letterheads.
In with a chance of the OBE! I like it!
WC Dewhurst, OBE...
Mr WC Dewhurst, OBE... Sir Walter Dewhurst,
OBE.
Of course, privately amongst the Household, I'll be known as Foggy.
"Has Foggy come back with the corgis yet?" "No, ma'am."
"They've never been so healthy!"
When Brian Wilde chose to leave the series, Michael Aldridge joined us, happily,
and played Seymour and, again, put us straight back on track.
The door remains closed to strange voices, even when they are in possession of the codeword.
The reason is, of course, that a person's voice print
is as distinctive as a set of fingerprints.
This genius little beauty which simple justice
demands should make a bob or two.
It is programmed to obey the commands of his master's voice only.
I don't care who stands shouting at this door, it'll never answer.
Codfingers!
You have to get the pitch exactly right!
Codfingers!
HE VARIES THE PITCH Codfingers! ..Codfingers! ..Codfingers!
C-od-fin-gers...
Codfingers!
It's me, you stupid door!
One of the great reasons for the change of direction in Last Of The Summer Wine
from less film to more film was the arrival, many years ago now,
of the still current producer, Alan Bell.
Alan is, by instinct,
a film man
and quietly behind the scenes, whether we realised it or not,
the moment he arrived, we moved towards more film.
When we were doing Uncle Of The Bride, the episode that introduced Michael Aldridge -
he played the uncle -
we had the scene where we were leaving his house and going to the church for the wedding.
Everything was ready. The house
'and the lovely pond beside it,
'the car with the camera mounted on it, and I was to be driving.' Put her in reverse!
Unfortunately, Peter got a little over-excited.
It was probably the thrill of it all. Or he forgot what he was doing!
He put his foot hard down on that accelerator and we backed, boy, right into the middle of that pond!
The car began to sink.
The water was coming in all through the doors and we were sinking.
Then a voice was heard from the director.
"Save the camera!"
I replied. I can't tell you what I said.
The BBC don't allow it.
Even then, when we got on the shore,
he said, "That was wonderful! We'll do it again in a long shot."
He turned to us. We weren't there. We were in our caravan. He got the shot, but not with us.
Here we go, then. ENGINE REVVES
BUBBLING
Well, you said reverse...
Hi. This, you see, is the inside of the cafe,
where we've had many an incident with the tin tray.
Like the other sets, it's been made in the film studios at Shepperton.
It's through this that I used to keep my eye on the customers.
See they behaved themselves!
It's in here I played many a romantic scene with that marvellous actor, John Comer.
Do you remember? He played my husband, Sid.
Open it carefully! I am!
I don't want it scratching before we start. You started already!
You can't dig in with a screwdriver!
Pass me something sharp - like your tongue!
Will it work? In my experience of technology, it doesn't always work.
I thought that were men.
First electricity, then electronics.
My Barry's most accomplished on his mobile.
There's no need to tell everybody!
We established a pattern first, I think, of, in odd episodes,
having a guest character appear as a one-off and then disappear.
And this worked very well.
But some come and are so attractive you're reluctant to let them go.
'For instance, Thora Hird.'
Start the engine.
Clutch down. Clutch down.
Into first gear. Into first gear... GEARS CRUNCH
Final check in the mirror. The mirror...
Handbrake off, clutch out and gently accelerate.
Handbrake off, clutch out and gently accelerate...
ENGINE ROARS AND GEARS CRUNCH
Sometimes, she does that...
ENGINE ROARS
Sometimes, she does that!
I still look at her on screen and think of the Thora I sat in the cinemas watching,
or the theatres watching,
and it's a great, warm feeling for me
to think I closed that circle between being a fan and being involved with a professional.
It's been a great pleasure.
The funny thing about it is when I'm stopped in the street,
it's always about something simple.
You know without me telling you. People laugh at things THEY do.
And when I put newspapers down for Wesley to step on,
the number of women who stop me in places like food stores
and say, "When you put the papers down! I did that as a child."
Did you want me?
Alan Bell, our producer-director, was very clever. Very lucky.
He managed to get hold of Gordon Wharmby, who was a wonderful character actor,
to play the part of Wesley Pegden, who was married to Edie.
Between the two of them, that is Wesley and Edie,
they gave us some interesting insights into marital bliss.
What are you looking at?
I am just making sure that, under all that grime,
I am not talking to a stranger!
I'm busy. What is it?
When are you going to fix that dripping tap?
I fixed it first thing this morning.
Now you're acting like a stranger!
I've got to go. I'm onto something up at the shed. It'll be terrific. Don't forget where you live!
I shan't forget. It's the only house in the street with paper on the floor(!)
Everyone will remember Thora Hird's scenes in Last Of The Summer Wine
as some of the funniest. I'll remember her as a fine professional.
Michael Aldridge, for family reasons, had to leave the programme
and we were lucky to get Brian Wilde to come back
and get us involved in some more Foggy escapades.
Are we ready, then?
Ready! I think so.
I told you I'd get us out. ..We're ready.
Off you go!
Oh, Howard...
Oh, Marina...
Oh, 'eck!
What I particularly like
is the development of this eternal triangle,
because, hopefully, the way that we play it doesn't make it tacky.
It could be tacky, but the director makes sure it isn't because we play it for comedy.
Everybody knows that Howard's not going to do anything.
But what I like, as Pearl, is just knowing enough
to present him with just that little threat.
I didn't know Norman Clegg was one for the women!
It's always a surprise, isn't it, who's a one for the women?
I keep telling you, love. I don't know how the note got there.
I think it was planted on me. Mmm...
I must have enemies.
There's me, for a start.
One of the exciting things
about each year's batch of new scripts
is to find out where Howard and Marina will meet.
We do meet in some wonderful places.
Ah! A-ah!
'There was one episode where Compo had a home-made submarine...'
It's so difficult to find places
where you can REALLY be alone.
I know.
I think you've cracked it here, Howard.
I have, haven't I?
Sheer genius...
If only we had a bigger boat!
If only...
Still, as long as we are alone...
My God!
It's Pearl in a submarine!
I was delighted to be asked to do a Christmas show.
The following year, I did another.
Two years later, I was thrilled when they said, "Would you be a permanent character?"
'And it's such fun to be in.'
Time-wasters! "Could they have a look round?"
"Course," I said, but it's a different game when you charge a shilling!
You'd think you were asking for the earth! I suppose you'd all like a nice cup of tea?
ALL: Oh, aye! That'll be 10p each!
One of the problems we had
was finding the right location for Auntie Wainwright's shop.
We were lucky. We stumbled on just the right thing.
It was a period shop and looked absolutely right.
And so we filmed it, and it was great.
Unfortunately, when we came back a year later...
..it was somebody's house!
But our inventive designer, Stefan Paxi, solved the problem.
He simply built a facade of a shop
and bolted it onto the front of the house.
For obvious reasons, the camera can't show you what is actually inside the house.
Since I came to this programme,
I've met so many people I've admired for so many years.
And one, in particular is... He's dear Danny O'Dea who plays Eli.
He creases me every time he opens his mouth!
Eli!
Listen. What's up?
Lend us a quid. No problem!
No problem at all...
Ely!
CRASHING
They want to put something round these holes!
The contribution of the music to the series...
..has got to be recognised.
Firstly, it's got to be recognised what a ground-breaker this was
at its time, 25 years ago.
Sitcom music was funny music,
more or less declaring, "Watch me, this is going to be funny."
Who'd have expected the beautiful melody that Ronnie came up with for Last Of The Summer Wine?
MUSIC: "Last Of The Summer Wine"
'And with the larger orchestra, the Summer Wine theme
'was given an extraterrestrial feel.'
Me brakes have gone! Help!
Ah! Ohh...
Welcome to Earth!
It makes you wonder what sort of planet they come from!
Stars appearing in the series
for the odd episode -
very satisfying. Very pleasurable for me,
in terms of people like Ron Moody.
I wasn't in the business
when I saw Oliver and that wonderful performance as Fagin.
Then, it's almost the completion of a little dream
when you see someone like Ron Moody appearing in a major part,
even if it's only in one episode, it's very pleasurable.
I have this weak heart.
Weak heart?!
Yes, I'm afraid my life is dated,
circumscribed by the palpitations of a faulty ticker.
I have the satisfaction of knowing that I overstrained it in the service of humanity,
but you can understand why I couldn't risk hunting for treasure.
I couldn't stand the excitement.
What about the barmaid?
It wasn't like that.
The good woman merely reminded me of the lady...
who was once my wife.
LOUD SNORT
RESOUNDING CHORDS
When Alan Bell said, "Cut!", which is the end of the scene,
and he rushed over, "Are you all right, Norman?"
I looked up at him, "Yeah, I think... Course I am!"
Sometimes you do hurt yourself, but I think of the money and I'm all right!
Just before I started filming, I picked up a minor ailment which would stop me filming.
They had to recast and I suggested Frank Thornton.
I remember Alan Bell was talking to me on the phone. I was in the kitchen. I can see it all now.
He said, "It's a great pity about Brian Wilde having to leave us,
"but we've managed to get Frank Thornton."
And I said, "Spot on!"
Stay calm! I'm on my way.
If there are any smokers down there, this is not a good time!
Just stay there! I'm coming down no-o-ow!
Oops!
Is this yours?!
I was only due to make about six episodes
as a sort of temporary stand-in for Brian.
But due to the fragmented nature of filming - a bit here, a bit there -
and problems with Brian's availability,
it was impossible for him to come back and I made all 11 episodes.
Leave this with me. I can handle policemen.
In two minutes, they'll be asking for autographs.
Now, then, constables. It's your lucky day.
How often do you meet Truly of the Yard?
Thou made a big impression there(!)
They've been up all night. They're in a bad mood.
I have been invited to go back.
Perhaps one day I will. I'm relieved not to have to climb those hills!
'In 1999, when we were filming the millennium special, we were in France.'
What's this, then? Your coffee.
I ordered a drink, not a bath!
Where's the basin?
'Bill confided in me that he wasn't feeling very well.'
And when we got back to England,
I insisted that he get in touch with a specialist, which he did.
And, sadly, he was diagnosed to have terminal cancer.
Bill wanted to finish filming. He wouldn't give up.
We only got him for the location scenes
shot in Yorkshire.
We then had the problem of having £1.5 million-worth of unfinished programming,
so I was forced to take liberties with the script, put doubles in
and take scenes of Bill that were shot earlier and electronically drop them into the finished films.
I think we got away with it. I don't think anyone noticed.
We were able to see Bill in his final performance.
MUSIC: Final notes of "Taps"
Those of us who were connected with the programme, most of us,
thought that that was the end of Last Of The Summer Wine.
And then, quite extraordinarily, Roy Clarke, our author,
wrote, in the passage of three weeks,
three episodes
which he called Elegy For Fallen Wellies.
They were the most touching,
the most moving,
most hilarious programmes
that I've ever seen on television!
# ..Start by admitting From cardle to tomb
# It isn't that long a stay
# Life is a cabaret, old chum
# Only a cabaret, old chum
# And I love
# A cabare-e-e-et! #
Once again, gals. From the top!
'Nora in fishnet tights
'had proved too much for Compo.'
I wonder what put the smile on his face. Never you mind!
'The final scene with 200 pairs of painter's overalls
'broke all records for letters from viewers to the BBC...' There!
'..saying how touched they were.'
See ya, Compo.
Bill Owen had made Compo into one of TV's most popular characters.
I thought, "How can they replace the irreplaceable
No-one would have accepted another actor playing Compo,
but Alan and Roy came up with the idea of having Bill's real-life son Tom
playing Compo's long-lost son Tom.
I'm looking for a Mr William Simmonite.
Now's your chance. Tell him.
Father!
Oh, no! Not me!
'The problem was solved! We had a link with dear old Bill.'
I recognise the ears!
Daddy!
I'm not your daddy. I'm a retired policeman!
Some years ago, Stephen Lewis joined for one episode
to play a man in hospital,
but he was so well liked that it was decided, eventually,
to keep him on as a regular.
'He's provided hours and hours of unsmiling pleasure.'
I want you to judge the performance. See if you can see the lips moving.
My name is Waldo. A funny thing happened on the way to the kennel.
What are you waiting for?
To hear what the funny thing was on the way to the kennel.
I haven't written it yet! Did my lips move?
Yes! He was moving his lips all the time.
Not him, me! Did you see MY lips move?
I wasn't watching your lips. HE was the one that was speaking!
And a few years earlier, Billy Hardcastle had joined our company.
'Billy Hardcastle, distant relative of Robin Hood, played by Keith Clifford.'
It will penetrate steel, will this.
I'm really going to enjoy this. Somebody keep that sheriff quiet!
On my sitcoms, even though now
we do Summer Wine entirely all on film,
we still show that finished film to an invited audience
and we record their laughter.
The BBC go to some considerable trouble to ensure the audience have a good night out.
# U make my life complete V means you're VERY sweet
# W-X-Y-Z... #
I don't like to see the shows going out without hearing any laughter.
It alters the atmosphere completely.
I don't want canned laughter, but I don't want no laughter at all.
I enjoyed it. People don't think it is for young people. I think it is.
It's the best show on the air! Worth the licence fee.
Wonderful. It really was... Wonderful!
And what of the future?
Who would have thought that we would have happened upon a Chinese electrical engineer from Hull?!
What's your name? It's on the van.
Electrical?! Entwistle!
Don't think I'm being nosey, just because I am,
but how come you've got a name like Entwistle?
I changed my name, didn't I? From McIntyre. I was forever being mistaken for a Scot!
What are you, then? A Yorkshireman, what else?!
TRANSLATION:
Now I will interpret.
I am delighted to be doing Last Of The Summer Wine.
And what of poor old Nora Batty?
She never thought she'd wake up one morning
and find an Alvin living next door to her in Compo's old house.
What's he smiling at? You do me good, love.
Reminds me I used to be married to one of them. Can't believe me luck!
I have watched Last Of The Summer Wine,
man and boy, for 30 years.
It is a great pleasure and privilege to be asked to join the company,
because many of the actors are old colleagues and friends.
But I have to tell you that for many years I had a dragon of a wife called Mildred.
It is with great trepidation that I am going to have to face up to an even bigger dragon in Nora Batty.
Just in time for tea, ladies! You'll have us all on fire.
I don't think you'd burn, old asbestos breeches!
If it begins to slide,
then it wants burying peacefully, with great fondness,
but if the audience is still out there,
I'd love to do another one.
Subtitles by BBC - 2003