The Magic Roundabout

THE MAGIC ROUNDABOUT
Made by: BBC
Shown on: BBC
Years shown: 1965-77

The Magic Roundabout begun life as Le Manege Enchante, a French animated series created in 1965 by Serge Donat. The BBC bought the rights to show it in the UK, and handed it over to Eric Thompson (father of actress, Emma), to do with it what he could. Like every true Brit, Thompson, who also narrated, was highly suspicious of the French, and so he basically ignored Donat’s scripts, and rewrote the episodes based on what seemed to be going on in the animation.

He also renamed all the characters, including Dougal the sugarlump-loving dog, who the indignant French at first thought was named De Gaulle, and believed therefore that Thompson was making a judgement on their government. Others were less problematic: there was Florence, a little girl with a bad haircut, who seemed to be Dougal the dog’s girlfriend (see also Crystal Tipps & Alastair); Brian the snail; Ermintrude the cow, who could spin her head around 360 degrees, and was allegedly based on Thompson’s wife, Phyllidia Law - although maybe not because of the neck skills; Mr Rusty, who owned the roundabout; Dylan the guitar-strumming rabbit, named after Bob Dylan, who would be horizontal if he was any more laid back; and, of course, Zebedee, who, with his spring base, looked as though he’d escaped from being a jack-in-the-box. The irate Mr MacHenry was supposedly in charge of the whole thing. The stories were simple, and often involved the easily-confused Dougal having something basic explained to him by one of the others, usually Florence, so children could learn along with him.

Of course, everyone remembers The Magic Roundabout because of the popular theories that each character stood for one of the major drugs - Dylan’s relaxed state, for example, was put down to some non-PC reefer smoking. Eric Thompson is no longer with us, but his wife, Phyllidia Law remains adamant that his intentions were entirely pure and wholesome, and that The Magic Roundabout characters have earned their dodgy reputations unfairly. But then, Zebedee did always say, “Time for bed!” at the end of the episode, which was a little questionable, seeing as it was only late afternoon.

SQUARE EYES RATING: 6/10

Look and Read

LOOK AND READ
Made by: BBC?
Shown on: BBC
Years shown: 1967 - present

On a Tuesday morning, we would file upstairs to the television room, where it was dark and smelt of feet, and the techno-phobic teacher would spend ten minutes letting the TV ‘warm up’. Then we’d tune into BBC2 and would watch that clock with the disappearing seconds, while we waited for Look and Read to begin…I wouldn’t exactly say with excitement.

Look and Read was presented by the terminally-annoying Wordy (see picture), a floating orange being with the fridge-magnet letters of the alphabet stuck to him, whose sole ambition in life was to help under-eights with their literacy skills. He lived in a space lab orbiting earth, and was kept company by Colin, his tracksuit-donning human assistant, who had presumably been banished from earth for crimes against English lessons.

There were plenty of infuriatingly catchy songs, mostly by Derek Griffiths, and cartoons to help you remember your grammar. The Magic E song (long before any drug-connotations) went something like, “Tim is on time with me”, and was showing you the effects of adding an ‘e’ to the end of words. There was also, “Think big, big big at the beginning…and at the end of the sentence FULL STOP!”, demonstrating when to use capital letters and full stops, no less. The past-tense was also a preoccupation for Look and Read, and there was a cartoon construction worker, who encouraged you to “build yourself a word with ‘ed’, to say it happen-ED”; and I must make mention of the strange Dog Detective, who was always chasing ‘th’ for some reason.

There was a cartoon about a character called Rip van Twinkle, but the bit everyone was waiting for was the serialised mini-drama, which was also an exercise in learning new words and their contexts, but that was all secondary, really. These are just a few that they churned out during the eighties:

Dark Towers, 1981

Written by television writer supremo, Andrew Davies, Dark Towers starred Christopher Biggins and Denise Coffey, and was supposed to be a comedy, but I actually found it quite scary. It involved the ghoulish Tall Knight, and a load of ghosts trying to stop the mansion they haunt from being sold, by spooking the prospective buyers.

Fairground, 1983

“Fair’s fair in the fairground” sang Derek Griffiths in the title song, but Ossie thought something was not quite right about his mum’s friend, the fairground owner. As was always the case in these things, the kid was chided for spreading malicious rumours, but was vindicated in the end and had to be apologised to.

Badger Girl, 1984

Also written by Andrew Davies, this was set in Dartmoor, where a group of kids were at some kind of outward-bounds centre. The girl of the title was so-called because of the stripe of dye she wore in her hair, and she was accompanied by a pair of hapless lads, while they tried to convince the grown-ups that someone was running a pony-rustling scam. Or something. Anyway, the RSPCA got involved and all was right with the world.

Geordie Racer, 1985

Being cheeky northerners ourselves, this was the one my class particularly liked, as it featured a lot of locations we recognised, including the very local St Mary’s Lighthouse. Unfortunately, the stereotypes were out in force: the hero was Spuggie, who was a podgy pigeon-fancier for a start. There was something to do with stealing prize-pigeons - or maybe it was antiques - but the finale, when the crooks were caught in the act, took place at Delaval Hall, a stately home near where I lived at the time. What a thrill.

SQUARE EYES RATING: 4/10

(Thanks to www.trembirth.demon.co.uk for the borrowed pic)

The Krypton Factor

THE KRYPTON FACTOR
Made by: Granada
Shown on: ITV
Years shown: 1977-95

This was another show which was not aimed specifically at kids but, nonetheless, I think they made up a substantial part of the audience. The Krypton Factor had a reputation as the toughest quiz show on television, but it wasn’t really fair to call it a quiz show - it was five rounds of mental torture, physical exhaustion, and ritual humiliation. The idea sprung from the success of the 1977 Superman film, and the winner of the series would claim the title of UK Superperson. Gordon Burns was the host, just the right side of Jeremy Paxman in style and presentation; the contestants were members of the public who fancied themselves as hyper-intelligent, super-fit, or both. Almost all came a cropper.

Round one was the observation round, easing you in gently. The contestants were shown a short film clip, and were then asked questions: what colour were the socks worn by the man in the tweed jacket? Was the woman carrying a clipboard when she came into the room? How many cars passed by while the little boy was waiting? A bit like something you’d have to do at school, really. Early clips starred a barely-known Steve Coogan, and ‘comedy’ duo Hinge and Bracket, but a later, budget-blowing mini-serial called ‘Dead Ringer’ had an ensemble cast of Tony Slattery, Tony Robinson, Katie Puckrik and Linda Lusardi.

Round two was all about mental agility, some kind of IQ test with diagrams and a bit of spatial awareness thrown in. Ugh. Contestants had 40 seconds to answer as many questions correctly on something like a sequence of playing cards, or the construction of a sentence.

The next round always sorted the men from the boys. It was the dexterity round, where the competitors had to complete a 3-D puzzle, usually made of Perspex, which looked fiendishly hard. You could see the frustration on the face of Gareth from Tunbridge Wells as, three minutes in, he was still trying to figure out which bit was the base of the puzzle. To make matters worse, the sadistic Burns would conspiratorially whisper the answer to the audience, while his victims were sweating under the studio lights.

But those who flunked out in the earlier rounds often got their comeuppance when it came to the gruelling fitness round. Basically, it was a 400m army assault course in Bury, Lancashire, and it was inevitable that, during the show, one man would fall off the balance-beam or the rope-swing, and land in the mud; and the token woman would finish a distant last, despite the fact that the women were always given a head start. Lots of quality eighties sportswear on display.

After that, it was back to the studio for the general knowledge round, which always seemed like a bit of a relief. It was quick-fire questions, and to up the tension, the players were swathed in darkness and only illuminated when they were answering a question.

I was sorry when The Krypton Factor ended, because there was something peculiarly British about it - the contestants knew they had no chance in hell of winning, but they still threw themselves into it wholeheartedly. And everyone at home was just glad it wasn’t them tripping on that cargo net.

SQUARE EYES RATING: 8/10

(Thanks to the BBC News website for the borrowed pic)