The two things I hate most about Christmas are a) Advertland showing me how sparkly and joyous my home and bright-eyed kids are at this time of year, and b) the Doctor Who Xmas special telling me that if only I can open my heart and put cynicism aside, then I too can enjoy a mash-up of Dickens, C.S. Lewis and the Brothers Grimm, where daleks with tinsel round their guns exterminate the spirit of Scrooge as laughing children come pouring from the Ice Queen’s dungeon and something nice happens on a London housing estate. Or similar.
That’s what was so great about We’re Doomed! The Dad’s Army Story (BBC2, 22 December). With all the season’s comfort and joy but none of the mawkishness, it dramatised the delightful, cocklewarming story of how two middle-aged has-beens called Jimmy Perry and David Croft triumphed over adversity to create the greatest British sitcom of all time.
Well, I say ‘adversity’. I think if you’d been scripting it as fiction you might have come up with obstacles a bit more insuperable than the ones here: Jimmy being cruelly denied the chance to play the part he’d written for himself — spivvy Private Walker; BBC controller and ex-para Paul Fox being a bit sniffy about their use of the war for comedic purposes; somebody you’ve never heard of not taking the part that went instead to Arthur Lowe…
But the feebleness of the ‘jeopardy’ (as it’s known in the trade) was all part of its amiable charm. You really didn’t mind that Croft (Richard Dormer) and Perry (a perma-mugging Paul Ritter) had it so easy because they were clearly such likable fellows — the former a slightly crusty, well-organised major, the latter, a cheeky chappy ex-sergeant — and also, though little did they realise it at first, such comedy-writing geniuses.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in