The True History of the Blackadder: The Unadulterated Tale of the Creation of a Comedy Legend

by J. F. Roberts

  For the final big push, an extra £10,000 had been spent on creating No Man’s Land in a separate studio, away from the audience who could only watch on the monitors. Lloyd remembers, ‘The actors were alone, in the dark, with a single assistant floor manager, and had to go over the top, with real explosions going off around them. After the first, shocking take, the studio audience and the production team were stunned into silence, but Richard Boden and I felt it could be done a bit better.’ Robinson says the polystyrene scenery was at least partly to blame, as each actor bounced as soon as they hit the ground. It was five to ten, and they had one last chance to get the shot right. John spoke into the floor manager’s earpiece, but the reply came from Rowan himself, in ‘shattered’ tones: ‘I’m sorry,’ came the voice, ‘b-but we can’t do another one, it’s just too horrible.’ ‘What do you mean, you’re not going to do it?’ ‘It’s really the most frightening thing I’ve ever done, and we’ve all agreed we’re not going to do it, and I’m very sorry.’ And with that, the line went dead.

  ‘It was one of the lowest points, I think, of my television career,’ John admits, ‘thinking, “The end of this amazing series, and I’ve just screwed it up!”’ Seeing the raw footage of the cast stumbling towards the camera, awkwardly striding towards eternity, it’s easy to see why the editing team had worries. However, John says, ‘Each person in that room, as I remember, made at least one contribution to the ending sequence.’ Chris Wadsworth was chief among them. ‘It was so obvious that we had so little material to work with, we had to really slow the pictures right down in order to stretch them in time, but that produced an incredibly good effect with the flashes which were going over on the right of the picture, and the debris that falls over Rowan. In slow motion, this suddenly achieved a grandeur which was not obvious in the full motion.’ ‘We didn’t know if they were supposed to die or not. It was meant to be ambiguous,’ Lloyd continues. ‘In the editing suite we played the tape of Howard Goodall playing the theme on a piano, recorded in a gymnasium; a liquid, lonely sound. Then the editor said, “What if we played this shot in slo-mo?” “Oh, that’s a good idea.” “And if the music’s slowed down as well it suddenly becomes stronger.” Someone then suggested taking out the colour, draining it out to black and white. And the production secretary said, “I know. We could have some poppies. I know where there’s a slide of poppies.”’ Boden had always hoped to end on a poppy motif, and helped to select just the right still of bucolic peace, while someone from sound selected birdsong to complete the effect. Wadsworth recalls the first time he mixed between the drained battlefield and the poppy field, and says, ‘It was a Yes immediately – this was a moment.’ So, John proudly says, ‘There were about five or six people contributing bits and when you put it all together, blow me down, it’s the most moving thing you’ve ever seen. It’s something no one person can claim credit for. It was a group effort, a well-knitted, bonded team of people who really believed in what they were doing. And luck, too. You watch it and it’s like being in church. There’s the sudden sense that you’ve touched something that isn’t usually touched. A kind of epiphany, I suppose. It’s extraordinary and to this day I feel a fantastic privilege that I was allowed, as it were, in the room where something as wonderful as that happened.

  ‘When I cut the last episode, I took it home to show my then girlfriend, now wife, Sarah. She watched it sitting with her back to me as I watched it in the kitchen of our little open-plan flat, watching over her shoulder. When the episode finished, the tape simply ran out, and she simply sat, unmoving. Fearing that I’d shocked or offended her (or worse, that she’d dozed off), I crept round to look. She was sitting silently, shoulders shaking, looking out into space, her face streaming with tears.’ Tim felt similarly moved. ‘I just cried. Partly because it was so beautifully done, it was as well done as any scene like that in a drama, and you’re also saying goodbye to your character at the same time, it was a very odd feeling … I thought it was a kind of groundbreaking thing for comedy.’

  And so, with the series beginning broadcast just as these final touches were being put in place, the team could breathe a sigh of relief that the Blackadder legacy would not be tarnished – but they couldn’t have predicted the unparalleled reaction Goes Forth would get from the British public, who hadn’t anticipated that the series would reach its apotheosis on such a note of pathos and sincerity. ‘I think it was always the idea that that last episode would be this kind of tragic thing, with all the colour draining out of it slowly,’ Lloyd says, ‘but I don’t think we ever decided that it would be the last series. And I suppose in many ways,’ he adds, ‘we still haven’t decided.’

  We Will Remember Them

  Richard Curtis had helped to prepare the public for Blackadder’s last outing by penning a special war diary ‘discovered’ by the Radio Times, setting the scene for episode one.

  September 1914 Arrived at the front today. Made contact with General Hogmanay Melchett – a very curious cove. To describe him as mad as a hatter would be to cast an unforgivable slur upon the mental state of hatters all over the world. He is accompanied by an irritating aide-de-camp called Darling. I have resolved to see as little of them as possible. Melchett’s idea of a good wheeze is walking slowly towards the German guns in broad daylight wearing a sign saying ‘Boo Sucks To You Fritz!’ The rumour is that the war should be over by Christmas. The rumour-mongers, however, neglect to tell us which Christmas. The only good news is that I am to be joined by a truly remarkable young batman. His name is Private Baldrick. I look forward to his arrival.

  October 1914 Sorry to note the continued existence of Private Baldrick … without doubt the least well-equipped human being on God’s earth. All I can say, to his credit, is that since this is the worst, ugliest, and vilest place on God’s earth, he is at least the right man in the right place at the right time. Must stop now. Rat stroganoff for dinner. With boiled potatoes. Or are they? The only light at the end of the tunnel is that I am to be joined by a splendid young lieutenant, the Hon. George Something-or-Other. Can’t wait for his arrival.

  December 1914 Just thought I’d grab a spare moment, away from the mindless chatter of George Blancmange-for-Brains. He is the definitive example of English inbreeding. If English aristocratic families don’t stop making a point of pointing their members at other members of the family, all will be lost …

  December 1916 Two years of war – and if I ever knew what we were fighting for, I’ve forgotten long ago. I’m now fighting for the right not to spend any more time with General Melchett, Captain Darling, Lieutenant George and Private Baldrick. Surely that’s not too much to ask?

  •

  Six weeks later, the same periodical was to reflect the astonishing audience reaction to Blackadder’s last push, with one of many letters speaking especial volumes – that the writer was one John Lloyd, the producer’s namesake from West Lothian, was pure coincidence: ‘It certainly touched the teenagers in the school where I teach, many of them were stunned at the sad ending to the characters with whom they empathised. This comedy, more than any serious programme they had watched on the Great War, affected them deeply. It was a great moment in television history. The impact on young people in “Poppy Week” can only be guessed at.’ It is true that a generation of youths now gazed up at World War I memorials with a new respect and curiosity, but the sacrifice of Blackadder touched a nerve with every age, right up to the last remaining veterans of the Somme. Elton concedes, ‘Clearly it is an absolute nonsense, but it has a certain historical integrity, and is done with a great love of British history. Blackadder does remind us that there is so much colour and splendour in our history, how filled with madness, love, hate and intrigue it is.’

  Over the years, videos and DVDs of the show have been used as teaching aids for History, English and Drama teachers, with episodes being shown as rewards or on the last day of term as a treat. Curtis says, ‘I think Blackadder is taught in schools, definitely the World War I series i
s. I think teaching might be a slightly rich interpretation of it; I think it is background atmosphere. I’ve got a feeling that when they do the Regency or the Elizabethan period, at some point after exams or a particularly hard prep, the DVDs go on. What is great is that they don’t think, “Oh, here’s a hideously old-fashioned thing with people with mullet haircuts.” They think, “Here’s some comedy I like set hundreds of years ago.”’ Blackadder surfaces in other areas of education too, Richard continues. ‘I was judging a poetry competition at my son’s school – they were doing, you know, Rudyard Kipling and Roger McGough and lots of other serious long poems – and then one of the boys stood up and said, “This poem is called ‘War’, by S. Baldrick,” and just said “Boom!” ten times. I felt very proud, I didn’t realise that I’d contributed to English culture in that way. Well, me or Ben or whoever came up with it. That feeling, that you’ve left something behind, that was a pleasure to do a long time ago, and it’s still rumbling on, is a nice thing.’

  The British press in the aftermath of the first broadcast of Goes Forth went into Blackadder overdrive, as news leaked out that ‘Goodbyeee’ really would be the team’s swansong. ‘I think we have gone as far as we can go with it,’ Atkinson told the Sun, ‘It’s a shame because the audience was enjoying it most when we were enjoying it the least. It’s like selling a car – the best time to sell it is also the best time to keep it.’ Thus began years of cajoling for the Adder alumni to regroup, and endless press speculation as to when the next series could be set. None of these would come to anything, but a year after Goes Forth, Curtis did unveil a new generation of the family, in an entirely new format, with the publication of the 1991 Comic Relief Comic.

  Now a precious collector’s piece, the comic was put together by Curtis, with a bizarre plot co-written with Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison and others, utilising the talents of the greatest comic artists, ensuring cameos from every Marvel and DC superhero imaginable, plus the stars of Dan Dare, Judge Dredd, Doctor Who, the Beano, the Dandy, Viz, Peanuts, The Simpsons, and even the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles, besides comic cameos from generations of comedy icons, including the Young Ones. In roughly connected absurd strands, the Red Nose trio Lenny, Griff and Jonathan were faced with the discovery that Griff had been taken over by evil Numskull-type spirits, ‘projections from the dark side of the human unconscious’, who feed on negativity and ignorance, while Ben Elton and Dawn French mutated into gigantic Godzilla-sized warring creatures (Ben becoming ‘Student Fridge Sausage Man’). The primary thread, however, was another Scrooging for Edmund Blackadder – in this case, ‘Mr Edmund Blackadder OBE’, a powerful contemporary businessman who begins by snidely pooh-poohing: ‘Comic Relief? I’d rather have a Rottweiler doing hunt-the-liver training inside my underpants than watch that. Hmmm. In two thousand years of recorded history, no Blackadder has ever given one badly forged farthing to charity. And I’ll be a scrofulous monkey’s somewhat embarrassing uncle if we’re going to start now …’ However, he ultimately saves the world from Griff’s misanthropic spirits by donating a splendid shining 50p piece to the charity (the Christmas bonus for a punky Baldrick in footman’s livery), thanks to the guidance of a disabled little girl who takes the selfish tycoon on a journey through the areas of society where the money raised on Red Nose Day brings the most relief.

  The press thirst for more Blackadder was natural, considering the official garlands rewarded to Goes Forth on top of the public applause – the BBC certainly saw the weight of awards taken home by the makers and, in great contrast to their rejection five years earlier, made it clear that the Blackadder team would have carte blanche to return with whatever historical escapade they could cook up. Curtis & Elton, however, would not be drawn, and had turned down a number of joint movie offers – which, as they were of the calibre of Police Academy: The London Beat, was a wise move.

  The 1990 BAFTA ceremony provided an embarrassment of richesfn14 for the collective trophy cabinet: in a fitting relay of triumphs, Warren Mitchell was the man to hand over the Best Comedy Award and – ten years after picking up the same gong for Not – Atkinson’s own golden mask for Best Light Entertainment Performance was presented by Frankie Howerd, Lurkio garlanding Blackadder with fitting ceremony. Atkinson was to pay especial tribute to Lloyd, who batted away the flattery, poured a drink and removed his tie with relief. ‘Then, in the background, I heard Princess Anne talking about someone whose career sounded a bit like my own. Suddenly I realised I was being given a Lifetime Achievement Award and nobody had warned me. I went up onstage in a most dishevelled state with no speech prepared, although in the end it seemed to go OK. Princess Anne was fantastic about it, although I felt impelled to apologise to her and her mother for Spitting Image.’

  On accepting the Desmond Davis Award, John proudly paid tribute to the BBC, announcing, ‘I’m very glad to have this totally unexpected opportunity to bore everybody stiff about the values that that great organisation stands for, and to have had the honour for the last ten years to have worked in the most innovative, most exciting, most honourable broadcasting organisation in the world.’ But by this stage there was already a feeling that his work was done at the corporation. Despite hosting the pilot for Hat Trick’s Have I Got News for You (then called John Lloyd’s Newsround), John was massively relieved to see Angus Deayton finally step into the spotlight by landing the job in his stead,fn15 and he similarly turned down an offer to present the Holiday show. Besides stepping in front of the camera for a South Bank Show comedy special, Lloyd had begun to move into directing commercials back in 1987, and indeed it was on the set of one madcap advert with Harry Enfield that he discovered he was going to be a father. Shortly after came the BAFTA. ‘I remember going home, BAFTAs held aloft, thinking, “I’m the happiest person alive.” Life couldn’t have been any better at that moment. I had everything I’d ever wanted: the wife, the family, the career, the house in London, the cottage in the country, the cars, the money, the awards. I’d won so many awards that people had actually started booing when I went up to collect them. But from almost the very next day, things started to go wrong … Then one Christmas Eve I was forty-two years old and the whole point of anything disappeared. It was just like somebody pulled the rug and I found myself feeling alone and terrified … as if some steel curtain had come down with the words “The Life of John Lloyd – that’s the end of the first part”. I woke up the next day and started the descent into a dark pit … it felt as though I was surrounded by poisonous snakes. I found myself thinking, “What’s the point of it all?” I’d achieved everything I’d set out to achieve. What was missing from my life was any sense of meaning.’

  Fatherhood and solid domesticity was in the offing for most of the Blackadder brethren, with Rowan and Sunetra marrying in the Russian Tea Rooms in New York one day after he picked up the Royal Variety Award for Goes Forth. With respect for Curtis’s wedding allergy, Stephen Fry was chosen as best man, and the groom told reporters, ‘I didn’t want a massive wedding – so I kept guests to just the one close friend. It was a very cosy affair and I’m absolutely delighted.’

  Despite the onset of family life for John, Richard, Ben, Rowan and Hugh, it was a birth of a very different kind which ensured that Atkinson and Lloyd’s comedic fortunes would be diametrically opposed in the new decade – only a few weeks after Blackadder went over the top, ITV aired the first ever sighting of the alien known as Mr Bean, on New Year’s Day 1990, and a new era began.

  fn1 He pitched one film about a nervous father and son called Four Eyes and Fat Thighs to a team from MGM who claimed to love it, but then tore the screenplay to shreds. And then there was the Hollywood producer who only saw Curtis because he thought he had written Gregory’s Girl …

  fn2 Lloyd made a similar dig in his one chart hit, Spitting Image’s ‘Chicken Song’ B-side ‘I’ve Never Met a Nice South African’, with the lyric ‘I had lunch with Rowan Atkinson when he paid and wasn’t late, but …’

  fn3 The first series�
� insane Messenger David Nunn also returned as one of his greedy charges, alongside Grange Hill icon Erkan Mustafa, and David Barber, who found fame as the ‘Fat Bloke’ in Harry Enfield’s Television Programme.

  fn4 (Fletcher’s career would flourish and she stayed true to sitcom, directing Dawn French in Roger and Val Have Just Got In and Jennifer Saunders in Jam & Jerusalem and Absolutely Fabulous)

  fn5 Such as Mr B’s original response to Prince George’s claim to love Charades: ‘I think you’re confusing it with strip rummy, sir.’

  fn6 In a strange twist, the actual holder of the post at the time, Nottingham’s first black Sheriff, was also called Tony Robinson.

  fn7 With Danny John Jules’s Rasta Barrington and Mike Edmonds’s Little Ron completing the merrie band.

  fn8 The original press release ran ‘In AD 123, Britain was a cold miserable dump populated by beer-swilling hooligans …’

  fn9 The team worked together to provide the military-themed titles, which were originally down as ‘War Artist’, ‘Court Marshal’, ‘Concert’, ‘Flying’, ‘Spy’ and ‘Over the Top’.

  fn10 The real red Baron was shot down in battle, aged twenty-five, in the spring of 1918, and had little interest in the mechanics of toilet humour.

  fn11 Nobody seemed to inform BBC Worldwide, however – the sketch is included in the Blackadder audio box set.

  fn12 The filmed flight sequence was expertly pieced together from stock World War I re-enactment footage by the editing team.

  fn13 As ever, the sitcom was drawing on dramatic forerunners – in this case, R. C. Sherriff’s 1928 play Journey’s End, another tale of time idly running out in the trenches.

  fn14 Tony also collected the gong for Best Children’s Series, for Maid Marian.

  fn15 Although he did jest, with reference to his one-time girlfriend Lise Mayer, that ‘Angus walked off with my life, my salary and my girlfriend’.