Book review: A Shellshocked Nation: Britain Between the Wars, by Alwyn Turner. Published by: Profile Books. Available: now.
The time from the Armistice of November 1918 and the declaration of war in September 1939 was less than 21 years. For perspective, the same amount of time has passed between March 2005 and today. But the years between the wars were undoubtedly eventful ones which saw Britain change fundamentally forever.
Politically, the period saw the Liberals fall and Labour replace them as the main alternative to the Tories. In 1918, the last ever Liberal prime minister, David Lloyd George was still in Downing Street. By 1939, Labour had already been in government twice and would emerge from the 1939-45 conflict with a huge electoral mandate. Elsewhere, union membership rose and the year 1926 witnessed the nine-day General Strike. Music halls declined as cinemas flourished and radio audiences soared. Car use grew. In the 1920s, ‘Bright young things’ listened to jazz and danced to the Charleston. In the 1930s, life was increasingly overshadowed by the Great Depression and concerns over the rise of fascism and the growing threat of a new war. In 1935, King George V celebrated his Silver Jubilee, but expired the following year. His successor, Edward VIII, who was either, depending on your view, the ultimate romantic hero or an irresponsible Nazi sympathiser relinquished the throne forcing his reluctant brother, Bertie (George VI) to rule instead.
Happily, while first Italy and then, Germany and Spain succumbed to fascism, for all the political turmoil in Britain, we never really came close to rallying round the cause of Sir Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists or indeed, the other extreme of communism. As always, the excellent historian, Alwyn Turner has produced yet another compelling, insightful book about a fascinating and critical period in British history.
Why the comic’s 1989 debut was years ahead of its time…
Reading Ben Elton’s very enjoyable recent autobiography (‘What Have I Done?) reminded me of an often overlooked aspect of his work: his career as a novelist.
Ben Elton was pushing thirty and still close to the peak of his first wave of fame when his first novel, Stark was published in 1989. He was a very familiar figure, both as a smart-suited stand-up (Channel 4’s Friday and Saturday Live had recently finished), and as a stand-in, filling in for Terry Wogan on his holidays from his thrice weekly chat show. Elton was also known as a writer: he had co-written The Young Ones and the three good series of Blackadder, the last of which was soon to air. He had also earned the ultimate status symbol of 1980s fame: he had his own snazzily-dressed, miniature puppet on TV’s Spitting Image.
He was something of a trailblazer then. Comedians turned novelists are everywhere these days: look at Bob Mortimer, Graham Norton or Jo Brand. But in 1989, they were rare. Even Stephen Fry hadn’t written any books then.
The original cover of Stark showed a giant aerosol can flying through space. This was a symbolic way of showing the book had an ecological theme. There was a brief surge in interest in such issues at the end of the 1980s, described then as “the green revolution.” Aerosols and their perceived connection to the growing hole in the ozone layer was very much part of the discourse then in a way which they are not now. I don’t remember aerosols featuring much in the novel.
Spaceships did though. In envisaging a reality in which a malevolent cabal of billionaires plotted to abandon a doomed Earth in a fleet of ‘star arks’ (hence the book’s title), Ben was way ahead of his time. Stark was the first thing which ever made me realise that humanity’s environmental impact on the world might well end up having apocalyptic consequences. I was about 16 when I read it (in 1992 or 1993, in good time for the TV version I’d heard was coming) and the book’s downbeat ending genuinely shocked me.
I enjoyed the book with two minor reservations. As a reader of sci-fi comic, 2000AD, I didn’t appreciate Stark’s mockery of adult comic fans in general (though I was not yet an adult myself) and ‘Judge Dread’ (as it is misspelt in the novel) in particular. I also noticed a few passages were taken verbatim from Ben’s own stand-up routines. Given how much he was writing back then, however, perhaps we should cut him some slack.
I remember Clive Anderson asking Ben why his next two books (Gridlock and This Other Eden) also had an environmental theme. Why didn’t he write about something else, for a change?
At the time, I agreed with him. More than thirty years later, I think Ben Elton deserves credit for banging that particular drum, so much earlier than most.
There have been a number of different Kathy Burkes over the years. There is the best-known Kathy Burke, the much-loved comedy star who collaborated with French and Saunders and Harry Enfield and who starred in Kevin and Perry Go Large and in the sitcom, Gimme, Gimme, Gimme. Then, there is Kathy Burke, the genuinely great actress, best exemplified by her powerful turn as Valerie, the victim of horrendous domestic abuse in Gary Oldman’s harrowing directorial debut, Nil By Mouth (1997). Then, there is Kathy Burke, the accomplished playwright and theatre director. As this memoir is (I think) her first book, we should now add another Kathy Burke: author.
Fifty or sixty years ago, however, things looked far less promising. Born in Islington in 1964, her early life was blighted by two stark realities: the death of her mother when she was barely eighteen months old and the alcoholism of her remaining father, Pat. With her father’s drinking ensuring he could always be relied upon to be unreliable, Kathy was often effectively brought up by two older brothers or, as often or not, left to her own devices. This could lead to trouble – for example, when she ran into two nasty local boys (one of her brothers wreaks his revenge later after Kathy points them out to him) or when she innocently finds herself hanging around in a place which turns out to be a local drug den. But this is far from a bleak book and many of her memories of her impoverished childhood are undoubtedly happy ones.
Burke’s life is transformed forever by her decision to attend the famous Anna Scher theatre school in the 1980s. This leads directly to a part in the 1982 Borstal drama, Scrubbers (billed at the time as the female version of Alan Clarke’s acclaimed Scum) which opens doors all over the place. Soon, she is meeting her comedy hero, Rik Mayall, travelling to Nicaragua to film Alex Cox movies and making her first steps onto national TV appearing with Raw Sex on the early 1980s Jonathan Ross Friday night chat show, The Last Resort.
Although I read the hardback version of this, the content would undeniably be improved by hearing the audiobook delivered in Kathy’s own unmistakable cockney voice. Her absolute confidence permeates her entire history. There is never any sense of any sort of underlying career plan or even much ambition: she simply seems to have taken up opportunities as they’ve come along. She is generally vague about relationships. There do seem to have been some, but she generally only hints at them. There is little muckraking: although she does admit to finding director, Danny Boyle difficult to work with and describes actor, Kerry Fox as “a charmless prick.” She was deeply patronised by director, Shekhar Kapur, while filming the period drama, Elizabeth (1998) in which she played the Virgin Queen’s half-sister, Mary. She doesn’t seem to have enjoyed being famous much, which is why she took a decision to back away from the limelight around twenty years ago. This is also the point at which the book ends.
But this is a good read: a tale of a girl who broke out of poverty to become one of our greatest national treasures.
Book review: A Mind Of My Own, by Kathy Burke. Published by: Gallery Books. Available: now.
The world of cinema has attracted a multitude of different personalities over the years. Just over eighty or so major film actors are covered here in this collection of obituaries from The Times newspaper. Some of those included had good long lives (Katharine Hepburn, Kirk Douglas, Doris Day). In contrast, some were taken from us far too soon (Judy Garland, Steve McQueen, Marty Feldman). Some enjoyed getting married a lot (Liz Taylor, Rex Harrison, Charlie Chaplin), some, for a variety of reasons, never got married at all (Greta Garbo, Noël Coward). Some liked to drink (Richard Burton, Oliver Reed, Dennis Hopper), some came to sad ends (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Williams, Marilyn Monroe). Some swung to the right (John Wayne, James Stewart, Shirley Temple), some to the left (Gregory Peck, Kirk Douglas, Paul Newman). Some peaked early in their careers (Shirley Temple again, Greta Garbo, Marlon Brando), others put on a strong showing right to the end (James Earl Jones, Maggie Smith, Leslie Nielsen). You get the idea anyway. Often the older obituaries are less informative than the more recent ones. In the cases of both Marilyn Monroe (1962) and Peter Sellers (1980), for example, much of the most fascinating biographical material about them has emerged since their deaths, so their actual obituaries from the time are not so revealing. It’s also interesting to note, certain films e.g. Casablanca or It’s A Wonderful Life were not necessarily regarded as classics in the years immediately following their release. Some of the obituaries are also surprisingly rude about their recently deceased subjects: ““Physically he was the antithesis of the conventional film star, very short in build, with an ugly crumpled face (later softened by a beard) and a rasping voice which could really grate on the nerves.” (Edward G. Robinson) while Vivien Leigh is described as having started out “with nothing to commend her but beauty”. A few are undeniably sexist (there is much discussion of Jane Russell’s “assets” in her tribute). But, overall, this is a very good read and, once you’ve paid for the actual book itself, mercifully paywall-free.
Book review: The Times Lives Behind the Silver Screen: Era-defining obituaries of iconic film stars, by Edited by Nigel Farndale and Times Books.
This comes from Charlie Higson, who has written lots of books, but is probably still best known for his many roles in the 1990s TV comedy sketch series, The Fast Show (notably the car salesman, Swiss Tony or the lovelorn aristocrat, Ralph in the Ted and Ralph sketches). Put simply, the book is the story of all England’s kings and queens from the time of William the Conqueror and the Norman Conquest of 1066, across all the ensuing centuries, right up to the current reign of Charles III in the 2020s. Nearly a thousand years of royal history is thus condensed into one highly readable volume. The title refers to the beginning of a well-known poem which starts: “Willie Willie Harry Stee, Harry Dick John Harry three…” designed to help people remember the full list of monarchs (the CCBC show, Horrible Histories has produced a similar list in song form). Higson, in fact, recently fronted a podcast series on this subject, so my only mild warning about this is if you’ve already listened to that (and I haven’t done so), reading this book will probably inspire a strong sense of déjà vu. Otherwise, this is perfect reading for any casual reader wishing to top up their basic knowledge of the history of the monarchy. We get the bad (the malevolent and generally hopeless King John), the mad (notably Henry VI and George III) and the dangerous to know (definitely Henry VIII or perhaps Henry II). We learn about the Anarchy, the Black Death and the Crusades as well as the Restoration of the monarchy, the South Sea Bubble and the Napoleonic Wars. Although primarily about our heads of state, Higson examines whatever else was going on in society at the time, when relevant. It is not an academic book and is often quite funny but is also not an out-and-out comedy: its a full and proper history. While entirely original, it is similar in tone to David Mitchell’s Unruly (2023), though has a later start and end point. Highly recommended.
The occasional eccentric illustrations are by Higson’s friend and onetime onscreen collaborator, Jim Moir aka Vic Reeves.
Book review: Willie, Willie, Henry, Stee: An Especially Short History Of Our Kings and Queens, by Charlie Higson. Published by: Harper Collins. Available: now.
Lots of people don’t, you know. People on the Right tend not to like him because they see him as a Lefty, while those on the Left, condemn him for supposedly “selling out.” An ageing and apparently drunken Sir Robin Day once felt moved to physically hit him on air during a chat show while despite working with him on The Young Ones, Alexei Sayle gave Elton a hell of a lot of public grief for twenty years before conceding that he had been totally unfair and apologising to him privately. Elton’s comedy hero, Ronnie Barker once told Elton he didn’t like him on first meeting him, largely because of all the swearing he had done on TV, but was later won over (Elton had never actually sworn on TV at all at that point). Anne Robinson put him in Room 101, while Mark Steel, Jonathan Ross, Paul Merton and various participants on Never Mind The Buzzcocks have all given him a hard time for decades.
Personally, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with these people. Without Ben Elton, the world of comedy would have been immeasurably poorer over the last forty-five years. The Young Ones would not have existed in anything like its present form. Neither would Blackadder. Blackadder is one of my all-time favourite TV programmes. The only duff series of Blackadder was the first one. Do you remember that one? You know, the one Ben Elton had no involvement in? The other three series, all co-written by Elton and Richard Curtis, were literally brilliant. Doesn’t Elton deserve at least some credit for this, if nothing else? He didn’t just write all the knob gags.
I would also argue much of his stand-up was great, lots of his books have been well worth reading and series such as The Thin Blue Line and Upstart Crow have been frequently excellent. There have undeniably been missteps along the way too, as would be inevitable with anyone who has produced a lot of stuff.
So what is of interest in this new autobiography? There is a lot about Rik Mayall, for one thing. Mayall was an absolutely crucial figure in his life and career. Elton writes well about their friendship which began at Manchester Uni in the late 1970s. Elton was something of a prodigy and seems to have been writing plays almost constantly since his teen years. When the charismatic Mayall started to attract wider interest as a rising comedy star in the early 1980s, post-graduation, he naturally turned to his old friend to write the script for the new sitcom, the BBC wanted. Rik wanted it to be called The Young Ones and it would star Mayall, Ade Edmondson and Nigel Planer developing characters they had created on stage. Elton became the youngest ever person to write a BBC sitcom. There was some toing and froing: Rik and his then girlfriend, Lise Mayer also ended up being credited as co-writers.
Elton admits with some sadness that some tensions were created between him and Mayall as a result of the whole creative process. These were later exacerbated by Mayall’s alcoholism, though the two men never completely fell out. He also explains why some elements of The Young Ones simply didn’t work: notably Alexei Sayle’s character and the character of Mike. Elton originally envisaged Peter Richardson in the latter role. For a while, it seemed like Elton was going to play the role himself. This didn’t happen. Christopher Ryan was perfectly fine in the part, but the character just didn’t fly on screen.
There is plenty more of interest here. Blackadder was reportedly not much fun to film as so much time was spent endlessly debating the relative funniness of so many lines in the script. He admits actress, Gabrielle Glaister who played “Bob” in Blackadder II was his first (unrequited) love: he fell for her when they performed in a school production of Oliver! As an adult, he briefly fell in love with (and snogged) Emma Thomson, although soon got over it after and their friendship and professional relationship survived. He first met the woman who, in 1994, became his wife after travelling with her band during a tour of Australia. They reunited years later.
There are ups (his career writing musicals, which I admit I took little interest in) and downs: his long medical struggles with the skin condition, psoriasis and a horrendous ordeal at the hands of a stalker. We learn that he once save Stephen Fry’s life after he suffered a major asthma attack in the early 1990s, shortly after Fry had snorted some cocaine. Elton also retells the tale of Stephen Fry’s famous Cell Mates walkout, pointing out the oft-overlooked fact that Fry’s disappearance from the play also amounted to a major setback for Fry’s co-star, Rik Mayall. There are inevitably some showbiz anecdotes: he once played with two ex-Beatles and has lots of good-natured gossip about the cast of Kenneth Branagh’s Much Ado About Nothing.
He sets the record straight on a few things. He didn’t actually kill Benny Hill. His accent is not an artificially cultivated one but is a result of growing in Catford. Working with a known Tory does not in itself make him a sell-out. His support for Labour peaked during the 1980s (he maintains Neil Kinnock would have made a great prime minister) but is still firmly on the Left. He has never actually done a commercial for anything, unlike so many others. He acknowledges some of his output has been better than others, (the sitcom, The Wright Way and his directorial debut, Maybe Baby both stunk) but argues the negative response to much of his work has sometimes been disproportionate, for example, in precipitating the premature end of The Thin Blue Line. He admits to having some truly terrible plans for the stage and screen versions of Upstart Crow, which lucky for him, went unrealised.
Am I really arguing then, that as he enters his late sixties, Ben Elton should be reconsidered for national treasure status? I think I am, yes, though I don’t expect this to work. As Swift once wrote, “haters gotta hate, hate, hate, hate, hate…). In the meantime, enjoy this very engaging and compelling autobiography.
Book review: What Have I Done?: An Autobiography, by Ben Elton. Published by: Macmillan, October 9th 2025.
Welcome to the 18th century! It’s rubbish! Yes, if you think life in the 21st century is bad, try spending a few weeks in Georgian Britain, i.e. between 1714 and 1830. For almost everyone in Georgian Britain, life was significantly worse than it is today. Indeed, reading Kim Seabrook’s excellent short book on the subject, it seems astonishing that there was anyone left alive to celebrate the start of the Victorian era at all. To begin with, the public’s general state of health was appalling. One in four children could be expected to die before they reached the age of five and even then, the chances of reaching middle-age for anyone were slim. Any episode of Call The Midwife set in the 18th century would herald an even more depressing Sunday night’s viewing than usual, with one in four pregnant women expected to die in childbirth. Nobody really understood what germs were and dentists often doubled up as barbers. Food and drink was no better. According to Seabrook, “around 45 per cent of tea sold contained large amounts of dirt and and sand….foods were even infused with hallucinogens, while opium was used to water down beer.” We are also treated to grim accounts of a society in which “public floggings and executions were a popular form of entertainment, ” brothels and “molly houses” thrived and lawlessness ruled. Highwaymen such as Dick Turpin were far from the loveable rogues portrayed by Richard O’Sullivan and, more recently, Noel Fielding but were, in reality, cold-blooded and often brutal killers. The vast majority of the population were desperately poor and the ruling elite, unlike a good number of the later Victorians showed no signs of wanting to change society for the better. This is an eye-opening and readable book, the sort of thing which can be easily enjoyed by the casual reader without taking notes. Occasionally, the passages about the progress of England’s endless run-ins with Bonnie Prince Charlie or the long (and admirable) campaign to abolish the business of slavery read less like a guide on “how to survive in Georgian Britain” than as a straight historical account. But, ultimately, it’s all history at the end of the day and all relevant. An enjoyable and informative book about some truly horrible history.
Book review: How To Survive in Georgian Britain, by Kim Seabrook. Published by: Pen & Sword. Available: now.
This enjoyable novel from the reliable Elizabeth Day adopts the viewpoint of several individuals each of whose lives are linked in various different ways. We meet Serena, a semi-aristocratic beauty, all too conscious that her looks are fading as she enters middle-age and unhappily married to Ben Fitzmaurice, the minister for Energy and a rising Tory star who has set his sights on Downing Street. But Ben may face trouble from Martin, a university lecturer who has recently been cancelled after being accused of racism. Martin and Ben were once close friends, to the extent that Martin once took the wrap to save Ben from criminal prosecution over a tragic accident for which Ben was, in fact, completely to blame for. Then, there is Cosima, Ben and Serena’s teenaged daughter who is secretly an active member of an underground environmental movement, basically a cross between Extinction Rebellion and Just Stop Oil. Finally, there is Felicity or Fliss, Ben’s sister, bohemian, somewhat troubled and often treated as an outsider by the rest of the wider, powerful wealthy Fitzmaurice family. Elizabeth Day weaves these lives together expertly, producing a story which only proves dramatically satisfying but which satirises many aspects of British society in the 2020s.
Whatever happened to the Iron Lady? While most of us are fairly familiar with the first British woman prime minister’s 11 tumultuous years in office, the passage of her remaining 23 years , is a story less often told. A century after his birth, 50 years after she first became Tory leader and 12 years after death, Peter Just’s book covers the twilight years of Margaret Hilda Thatcher.
Thatcher was, in many ways, spectacularly ill-suited to post-Prime Ministerial life. A workaholic who thrived in the busy environment of Downing Street, she arguably never really adjusted to the shock of her brutal removal from power in 1990, soon after her 65th birthday. Moving to the House of Lords after standing down as an MP at the April 1992 General Election, she quickly became a nuisance to the Tory John Major government which succeeded her, much as Edward Heath became a burden to her own leadership after she ousted him.
Part of the problem was that she seems to have lacked the quality which Denis Healey described as a “hinterland.” She basically had no interests outside politics and thus often exacerbated the Major premiership’s already substantial problems, by attacking her successors for not adopting positions on such issues as Europe and the war in Bosnia which she herself would have recognised as unrealistic had she still been in power. Until ill-health effectively silenced her in the final decade leading up to her death in 2013. She arguably hindered the Tory Party’s progress during her later years, for example, by favouring Iain Duncan Smith for the leadership in 2001. It is perhaps no coincidence that aside from John Major’s surprise win in 1992, the Conservatives never again won a majority in a General Election during the remaining two decades of her life.
A minor criticism: this book is not particularly well-served by its title. ‘The Predicament’ tells us almost nothing about this novel’s contents and risks making it sound like a comedic farce, which it most certainly isn’t. However, don’t be put off. This is a perfectly enjoyable sequel to 2023’s Gabriel’s Moon. That book, set in 1961, saw travel writer, Gabriel Dax getting unwittingly drawn into a world of international espionage. This second book, picks up Dax’s adventures in 1963 as we see Dax facing more danger and excitement as he becomes aware of a new dastardly plot: a conspiracy to assassinate the popular US president, John F. Kennedy. Boyd is a never less than compelling writer and this follow-up book featuring Dax proves very nearly as engaging as the first. But the title is a mistake.
Few figures have come to personify the lively independent cinema of the Nineties more convincingly than Quentin Tarantino. But this book isn’t about him or, at least, it’s not just about him. Instead, author, Andrew J. Rausch examines the early output of a number of major cinematic talents who first broke through in the Nineties: notably Richard Linklater, Wes Anderson, David Fincher, the late John Singleton, Sofia Coppola and more, as well as Tarantino himself. It’s fascinating stuff. It’s easy to forget that Robert Rodriguez (Desperado, From Dusk Till Dawn) actually subjected himself to medical experiments to help raise funds for his early projects while the likes of Kevin Smith (Clerks) and Richard Linklater (Before Sunrise) encountered all manner of career hiccups even after wowing critics and audiences with their debuts. Given that filmmakers from a variety of countries are included, I was surprised to see that neither Danny Boyle (Shallow Grave, Trainspotting) nor Guy Ritchie (Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) were included on the list of filmmakers covered here. Both, after all significant directors who have (whatever one might think of Ritchie) made their mark since and both made their debut films (Shallow Grave and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) in the Nineties. Perhaps it’s asking too much to expect every filmmaker who meets these criteria to be included here. Christopher Nolan also does feature too, so it seems unlikely there’s any real anti-British bias at work here. This still offers a compelling insight into a fascinating decade in the history of celluloid,
No British Prime Minister has attracted such a wide a variety of sobriquet as Margaret Thatcher. To the tabloid press, she was always “Maggie,” a name she was never known by privately. Unsympathetic Tory MP Julian Critchley dubbed her the “Great She Elephant,” something which would have outraged the enthusiastic Tory politician and diarist, Alan Clark (who basically fancied her) to whom she was always, “the Lady.” To left-wing comedian, Ben Elton she was “Mrs Thatch” while John Naughton in The Observer, she was “Mrs Hackshaw.” To some, she was always “the milk snatcher,” a nickname that had dogged her since her time as Education Secretary. By her own admission, however, the Soviet Union unwittingly did her a massive favour by labelling her “the Iron Lady” when she was still Opposition leader. Intended as an insult, her most famous nickname undoubtedly boosted her, consolidating her anti-Soviet credentials while infusing her public image with a vital element of steely resolve.
It’s now been nearly thirty-five years since Britain’s first prime minister fell from power. This short, highly readable summary of her eventful life and career is pitched at the growing number of readers, mostly under forty who have no memory of her premiership at all.
The book is certainly decent, covering Thatcher’s early life and most of the key actions of her government ranging from the monetarist experiment, the war in the Falklands, the battle with the trade unions, her three General Election victories and her eventual downfall. The prolific Iain Dale is also not afraid to detail her failings; namely, her adoption of and refusal to drop the Poll Tax, a policy which was morally wrong and did her enormous damage politically. He also argues that she generally mismanaged picking her cabinets and correctly identifies a certain estrangement from reality during her final days in office, a tendency exemplified by her adoption of the royal “we” for public statements such as “we are a grandmother.” Dale also rightly takes the time to criticise her support for the homophobic Section 28, a policy which many conservatives tend to overlook or dismiss as unimportant.
He also dispels many myths about the period. Thatcher was not herself explicitly pro-Apartheid, for example. She would almost certainly not have been pro-Brexit and certainly never showed even the faintest sign of wanting to pull Britain out of what was then the EEC, when she was in office. She also did not win the 1983 General Election solely because of the Falklands War victory or due to the creation of the SDP (although both surely helped her).
Iain Dale is, nevertheless, conservative with both a small and a big “c.” I’d hesitate to recommend this book to anyone who wanted to find out more about Thatcher, simply because it has a clear pro-Conservative bias.
The book’s introduction is written by Penny (now Dame Penny) Mordaunt, a woman who came close to following in Thatcher’s footsteps by very nearly becoming, on different occasions becoming Britain’s third or fourth female leader. Mordaunt emphasises Thatcher’s sense of humour citing her 2001 reference to a poster advertising the film, The Mummy Returns in a speech as evidence. Given the fact that Thatcher almost invariably had to have any jokes in her speeches carefully explained to her and that the example Mordaunt gives of the former prime minister attempting to tell a joke in public didn’t really work, I’m not convinced the Iron Lady really had any normal sense of humour at all.
Dale himself ignores the devastating impact Thatcher’s policies and the brutal way they were enacted, had on Britain. Our schools suffered, the NHS suffered. Crime rose dramatically and levels of homelessness soared. He overstates Thatcher’s role in the Northern Irish peace process, ignores her destructive war on local government, attempts to dismiss criticism of her damning “no such thing as society” interview from 1987 and overlooks the critical role the discovery of North Sea oil played in helping the Eighties economy. He also takes Thatcher’s bold later claims over her role in the birth of New Labour at face value. In reality, Blair did many things which Thatcher would have hated. Blair isn’t a Thatcherite, simply because he didn’t reverse everything she had done, once he won power himself.
Admittedly, this is a short book and some things had to be left out. But, generally, the book’s problem is not its brevity, it is its conservatism
Margaret Thatcher, by Iain Dale. Published by Swift. Available: now.
Few Doctors can operate entirely alone and Doctor Who is no exception. Right from the moment of the famous Timelord’s very first outing in the Tardis back in 1963, he (or she) has always been accompanied by at least one, sometimes several human sidekicks. Some of the actors who have filled this role over the years such as Carole Ann Ford or Michael Craze remain largely unknown to all but the most dedicated Whovians even today. Some such as Bonnie Langford, Peter Purves or Billie Piper became famous in the wider world as their stint in the Tardis worked in conjunction with a few other roles (Langford was an ex-child star and dancer, Purves enjoyed a long run on Blue Peter while Piper had been a Nineties teenaged pop sensation). Others, such as Catherine Tate, Matt Lucas and Bradley Walsh were already household names when they joined the show anyway.. A potted history of the lives of all of them is included here.
This is clearly a book for fans written by a fan. Some of the biographies are accompanied by slightly gushing interviews with the actors themselves or people who knew them. Nothing bad is written about anyone: both John Barrowman and Noel Clarke escape entirely without criticism. Ultimately, the book does its job reasonably well, but in some cases, a bit more detail would have been nice.
Book review: Doctor Who: An Encyclopaedia of Companion Actors, by Dana Fox, Published by: Pen & Sword. Available: now.
Throughout the course of human history, the British have played a vital role in exploring the lesser known and furthest flung areas of the globe. With Devon geographically placed on England’s south-western coast, it is little surprise that with so many Devonians born into a world overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean to the south and west that so many have wondered what lay on the other side. No wonder either then, that of the many brave souls who have shed light on the unexplored corners of the world’s maps over the centuries, the people of Devon have perhaps made a greater contribution than most…
LEGENDS OF THE TUDOR AGE
The names of Sir Francis Drake (c.1540-96) and Sir Walter Raleigh (c. 1552-1618) are, of course, legendary in the annals of British as well as Devonian history. Both were seafaring knights of the Elizabethan era. Both have been hailed as heroes but also condemned as pirates and villains. Both are known for famous stories about them which may or may not be true. Both are often confused with the other one.
Drake is often remembered for refusing to let the approach of the Spanish Armada in 1588 end a game of bowls he was enjoying on Plymouth Hoe. The truth about the game of bowls is unclear but Drake who had been born in Tavistock, certainly played a major role as second-in-command in the famous defeat of the Spanish invasion force. He spent much of his career antagonising the Spanish, was present during massacres in Ireland and ultimately died of dysentery in the Tropics. But he achieved notable success as an explorer by leading an expedition to circumnavigate the globe between 1577 and 1580. He was the first Englishman to ever to do this and also the first person from anywhere to lead such an expedition from beginning to end.
Raleigh. meanwhile, is often associated with a story about him gallantly laying out his cloak to enable Queen Elizabeth I to walk across a muddy puddle. Whether it is true or not, Raleigh was forever falling in and out of favour with both the Queen . He particularly annoyed her by impregnating and marrying one of her ladies-in-waiting without asking her (that is, the Queen’s) permission. After 1603, he also often irritated her successor, King James I of England (James VI of Scotland). Raleigh found time to contribute to the fight against the Armada but, like Drake, behaved far less heroically in Ireland where he was involved in atrocities. Having been given permission to explore the New World, he tried and failed to establish colonies in Virginia but did claim to have located the mythical city of El Dorado. In the end, however, after his men provoked a diplomatic incident with Spain, he pushed James I too far. When he came back home, he was beheaded.
AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 WAYS
Drake and Raleigh were not the only Devonian sea dogs with an eye for exploration at this time. Here are some others:
Sir Humphrey Gilbert (c.1539-83). Born at Greenway near Galmpton, Gilbert died in his forties when his ship sank in a storm on the Azores. But as a soldier, explorer and even an MP, he packed a lot into his relatively short life and was an important early pioneer of colonisation in North America. Gilbert could probably have escaped his fate as he was seen on the deck of his ship just as the fateful storm started picking up. Resisting suggestions to move to the safety of another ship, he remained engrossed in a book, thought to have been Thomas More’s Utopia. Soon after the ship went down and Gilbert with it.
Sir Richard Grenville (1542-91) was also a ruthless, brave, brutal and reckless character, known for his terrifying often apparently suicidal behaviour on the high seas. But he was nothing if not well-connected. Born in Bideford, he was the son of the captain of the ill-fated Mary Rose, the cousin of both Walter Raleigh and Humphrey Gilbert and (though he never knew it) the grandfather of a future English Civil War hero. Like Gilbert, he also died off the Azores, dying of his wounds and cursing his men as “traitors and dogs” a few days after he and his ship, ‘Revenge’ suffered defeat at the Battle of Flores.
Finally, there was John Davis (c.1550-1605). Born in Sandbridge, Stoke Gabriel in Devon, Davis led several voyages to discover the Northwest Passage. His one big claim to fame was that he discovered the Falkland Islands in 1582. But as with all the Devon explorers listed here, he met a bad end: he was killed after being attacked by Japanese pirates off Bintan Island near Singapore.
HUMAN EXPLORATION: SOME KEY DATES
1000: Norseman Leif Erikson is thought to have visited continental North America around this time.
1271-1295: Marco Polo explores China.
1415:: Golden age of Portuguese exploration is encouraged by Prince Henry the Navigator.
1492: Christopher Columbus discovers the Americas.
1497: John Cabot lands on the east coast of North America.
1519: Magellan begins expedition which succeeds in circumnavigating the Earth for the first time. Also: Herman Cortes lands in Mexico.
1600: East India Company established.
1606: Dutch explorer, Willem Janszoon and his crew are the first to make landfall in Australia.
1770: Britain’s Captain James Cook is the first European to map the coastline of eastern Australia.
1871: “Dr Livingstone, I presume?” American Henry Stanley locates David Livingstone in what is now Tanzania.
1909: Robert Peary claims to reach North Pole. Also: Louis Bleriot becomes the first man to fly across the English Channel.
1911: Roald Amundsen reaches the South Pole.
1961: Yuri Gagarin becomes the first man to go into space.
1969: Neil Armstrong walks on the Moon.
DEVON-SENT: HEROES OF THE 19TH AND 20TH CENTURY
Some more recent Devon adventurers:
William John Wills (1834-61): Totnes-born surgeon, Wills helped lead the ill-fated Burke and Wills expedition which attempted to cross Australia, dying of heat and exhaustion on the way. He was 27.
Percy Harrison Fawcett (1867-1925) Often thought to have inspired the character of Indiana Jones, the Torquay-born explorer set off on a expedition to find a mythical and probably non-existent city in South America known only as ‘Z’. Nobody ever saw Fawcett and his team again. He may actually have lived long after 1925, we just don’t know.
Robert Falcon Scott (1868-1912). Although he achieved many successes such as being the first man to ascend the skies of the Antarctic in balloon, the Plymouth-born Scott is usually remembered more for his tragic end, dying with his team in the cold on the return journey after being beaten by Amundsen to the South Pole.
Frank (Francis) Bickerton (1889-1954) Born in Oxfordshire, Bickerton moved to Plymouth when he was a child before going onto a heroic career exploring the Antarctic and fighting in both World Wars. Of all the nine Devon explorers discussed on these pages, he alone managed to die peacefully of old age.
Chris Hallam is the author of Secret Exeter (with Tim Isaac, 2018) and A-Z of Exeter: Places, People, History (2019). Both are published by Amberley.
Back in 1963, the BBC launched a new TV series about a mysterious old man who could travel through space and time in a vessel disguised as a police telephone box (apparently a common enough sight in Britain at the time). Viewers liked the fact the machine was somehow magically much larger on the inside and loved the character’s enemies, the Daleks. The show became a hit. Cleverly, it was decided that the Doctor, who was an alien could ‘regenerate’ into a new version played by a different actor whenever the show’s star tired of the role, as usually happened after three or four years. By the late Seventies, the show was on its Fourth Doctor (played by Tom Baker) and at the peak of its popularity. A decade later, however, the show was flagging. It was never officially cancelled, it just stopped. In 1989, after seven Doctors and 26 years, Doctor Who came to an end.
Happily, after 16 years, the show triumphantly returned. Having been previously treated with scorn by the Beeb, Doctor Who now became a flagship show. Between 2005 and 2010, the series was bigger than ever. Since then, it’s popularity has diminished although it retains a strong following. If it continues beyond 2031, it will have outlasted the original version. This volume from Graham Gibson fills in all the blanks about the history of the show itself and all the mysteries of the Whoniverse. Which planet do the Daleks come from? Who or what was K9? Who were the villains in Blink? What did the Fifth Doctor dress like? Who played the Doctor on the big screen? What was Class? Find out by reading this book!
Or, if you prefer read the answers below…
According to Who mythology, the Daleks come from the planet, Skaro.
K9 is the little robot dog who followed the Doctor around for a bit in the late Seventies.
In the 2007 episode, Blink, the villains were Weeping Angel statues, who terrifyingly only moved when they were not being watched.
The Fifth Doctor (Peter Davison) basically dressed like a cricketer.
Peter Cushing played the Doctor in two big screen versions of the show during the Sixties.
Class (2016), was a short-lived Doctor Who spin-off set in a school.
Book review: Doctor Who: A Cultural History, by Graham Gibson. Published by: Rowman and Littlefield, May 6th 2025.
Joel Morris is a very funny man. With his writing partner, Jason Hazeley, he has written for Diane Morgan’s great comedy creation, Philomena Cunk. He also helped write both of the first two Paddington films, has written a book called, ‘Far From The Sodding Crowd,’ has contributed to adult comic Viz and co-wrote the hilarious series of Ladybird book parodies (e.g. The Ladybird Book of the Midlife Crisis) which were bestsellers a few years ago. Here, however, he does not really talk about himself but draws upon his vast wealth of experience and knowledge to provide a thorough and in-depth analysis of how comedy works. All of which makes this book sound a lot more pompous and inaccessible and a lot less fun and interesting than it actually is. How exactly do jokes work? What is an anti-joke joke? Why do so many situation comedies rely on similar formula for their set-ups and storylines? For example, both Only Fools and Horses and Father Ted use three main characters; one old man (Grandad/Uncle Albert and Father Jack), one more ambitious middle-aged man (Del Boy and Father Ted himself) and one young idiot or “plonker” (Rodney or the hapless Father Dougal) as their foundation. Other shows such as Friends are almost mathematically calculated to maximise their comedic possibilities by utilising the six main characters to best service the various storylines. Morris also dissects existing comedy scripts (such as the screenplay of animated comedy hit, The Incredibles and the episode of Peep Show featuring Mark’s disastrous wedding to Sophie) to examine the mechanics of the comedy in detail. Some may find it exhausting at times, but overall this is a very thorough and enlightening text which also finds the time to be genuinely funny in its own right.
Well over sixty years ago, the collective talents of director, Blake Edwards and comedy genius, Peter Sellers came together and created the Pink Panther films. The original 1963 film stared David Niven as the debonair thief of the titular diamond, but, in fact, it was Sellers who (as Niven ruefully acknowledged) committed the greatest crime of all: stealing the whole film with his winning comic performance as the bumbling French sleuth, Inspector Jacques Clouseau. Thereafter, the films were all about Clouseau and his ingenious disguises, increasingly bizarre mispronunciations and occasional battles with his assistant, Cato (Burt Kwouk). One other pleasant, unexpected by-product was the creation of the successful Pink Panther cartoon series which arose from the popular animated sequences which appeared during the films’ opening titles. These were all accompanied by Henry Mancini’s theme which alongside the James Bond theme and perhaps Ennio Morricone’s haunting score for The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, must be the most memorable movie theme to emerge from the Sixties or indeed any other decade. In time, the initial magic between Edwards and Sellers would fade, as the actor gradually revealed himself to have been one of the most difficult and temperamental leading men to have ever stepped in front of a camera. Alan Arkin stepped into the role for one film, without success. By the Seventies, both Sellers and Edwards were desperate for another hit and so reluctantly reunited for three more films. They struck comedy gold again: remember Clouseau’s frenzied battles with Cato (Burt Kwouk) and the confusion arising from Clouseau’s pronunciation of words like “room” and “bomb.” But on set, Sellers continued to be a nightmare, for example, taking violently against anyone who wore purple or green, colours which he considered unlucky. His death in 1980 did not bring the saga to an end. A further film, The Trail of the Pink Panther (1982) notoriously relied on unused footage of Sellers retained from the previous films and four more films were produced after that, one starring the future Oscar winner, Robert Benigni and two more in the 21st century starring Steve Martin. Really though, for all his eccentricities, only the five Peter Sellers films worked.
A fascinating insight into the series from Robert Sellers, an experienced film biographer, who is not related to Peter.
Book review: The Real Pink Panther, by Robert Sellers. Published by: Pen & Sword, 30th January 2025.
For seven glorious years between 2016 and 2023, Peter Morgan’s The Crown reigned on Netflix. It still does. Across six series and sixty episodes, audiences got to see the young Princess Elizabeth of the late Forties (played by the then rising star, Claire Foy) grow into the middle-aged Queen Elizabeth II of the Sixties and Seventies (Olivia Colman) before finally taking us up to the lioness in winter, as the series concluded with the elderly monarch (Imelda Staunton) attending the second marriage of her eldest son, Prince Charles (Dominic West) in 2005. Three very different actresses giving three very different excellent portraits of the same woman. But the story of The Crown was not just the story of the Queen and the Windsors, but the story of the UK itself. The series touched on many aspects of national (and, indeed, global) life ranging from the London Smog of the Fifties, Princess Margaret’s unhappy marriage, the Apollo 11 Moon landings, the Aberfan disaster, Lord Mountbatten’s murder, the rise of Thatcherism, the Cambridge Spy Ring and a lot – perhaps a bit too much – about the final days of Princess Diana. Some of it was better than others, but generally it’s a good show. If you’ve not seen it yet, check it out. This book is essentially a guide to every one of the show’s sixty episodes, with special attention being paid to the levels of historical accuracy achieved throughout. For while far from easy to dismiss entirely, it’s fair to say quite a lot of dramatic licence was taken. For example, did King George V really routinely eat breakfast with a parrot on his shoulder? Apparently, yes. Did Princess Anne narrowly escape being kidnapped? Famously, yes, although you wouldn’t know it as The Crown bizarrely never mentions this at all. Did Princess Diana really appear as a ghost to a grief-stricken Prince Charles? Obviously not, although, in fairness, the drama did not mean this to be taken literally). Did Margaret Thatcher really threaten to call an unnecessary General Election in a bid to prevent her own downfall? No. Did intruder, Michael Fagan really manage to access the Queen’s private bed chamber and wake the sleeping monarch? Amazingly, yes. Was Prince Phillip really obsessed by the Moon landings? Again, no. And so on. Ultimately, this is an excellent companion to a fascinating and excellent, but not always reliable TV series.
The Royal Family Vs ‘The Crown,’ by Catherine Curzon. Published by: Pen & Sword, 30th January 2025.
Kitty Collins isn’t evil. Not really. Admittedly, she does kill people, that’s true, but only occasionally and usually only when she feels she has no real alternative. And there’s one other thing. She does absolutely love the act of murder itself. For Kitty’s targets are not random or indiscriminate. They are all men, Specifically men who have used, abused or generally mistreated women in some way. And as she and many woman will know for themselves, there are many such men around, prowling around the streets and parks of our towns, skulking around our workplaces and offices and stalking our cities’ pubs and nightclubs. This is Katy Brent’s third novel and the second to feature the homicidal Kitty, a character who we were first introduced to in Brent’s fast-paced and funny feminist page-turner, How To Kill Men and Get Away With It (2023). This winning sequel sees Kitty adapting to her new life after the events of the first book, attending anger management classes in a bid to curtail her violent tendencies and desperately attempting to keep things going with her dream boyfriend, Charlie, who is totally oblivious to Kitty’s secret life of murder. Throw into the mix some extra anxiety about the approaching marriage of Kitty’s estranged mother in the South of France, not to mention the arrival of the Andrew Tate-like misogynistic social media influencer, Blaze Bundy and we have a fun-filled, violent, sexy sequel which is every bit as enjoyable as the talented Katy Brent’s previous two novels, if not more so.
Gabriel Dix has mice in his home but otherwise has a pleasant enough life. Admittedly, he has some tragedy in his background – his mother died in a terrible house fire when he was a young boy- but now it’s 1961, he’s about thirty, he has a sexy, working-class girlfriend girlfriend and a good job as a travel writer. But a mysterious woman, a seemingly straightforward overseas job and Gabriel’s mysterious brother are about to make his life a lot more complicated as he finds himself inextricably drawn into a network of Cold War espionage. A top notch thriller from one of Britain’s best novelists.
Chris Hallam's World View 