The Mice That Roared

I've been reading Steven Fielding's fascinating book A State of Play: British Politics on Screen, Stage and Page from Anthony Trollope to The Thick of It as preparation for my papers and hopefully book on politicians' novels (in the post this week: Mary Agnes Hamilton's Murder in the House of Commons and Folly's Handbook, and Joe Ashton's Grass Roots). It's a great survey of creative media attitudes towards the political process. I'm familiar with the more recent films and TV series, and quite a few of the novels from the 1880s on, but there are plenty of surprises.

One of those surprises is He Snoops to Conquer (excellent title) from 1944. I knew George Formby was politically sound: he refused to play segregated audiences in South Africa. His wife and manager Beryl was great too: When Malan threw them out of the country in 1946 after she hugged a black girl, she told him to 'piss off, you horrible little man'. He Snoops, according to Fielding, is Formby's call for a land fit for heroes, explicitly endorsing Labour's call for a mass house-building programme to counter the machinations of corrupt councillors and house builders. All done with the aid of a banjolele:



George, despite a happy-go-lucky persona that wouldn't get him a screen-test for Chinatown, plays an odd-job man who helps a reporter exposing dodgy dealings by an idle and corrupt local councillor and their mates in corruption. George gets tangled up in all sorts of shenanigans as the old guard fight to retain their privilege, before getting elected as a tribune of the people in the kind of popular uprising that resulted in the 1945 Labour landslide. (The other thing it's notable for is that some of George's songs aren't about voyeurism for a change). Here are the opening few minutes:



I've always liked those British films aimed at the 'provincial and industrial class' as Fielding puts it: Gracie Fields is another favourite, and the Boulting Brothers are also excellent though slightly reactionary film-makers. Fielding mentions Passport to Pimlico which I've loved ever since watching it with my grandmother. It's sweet and funny take on the post-war reconstruction. Annoyed at not getting their fair share, the people of Pimlico discover that they're actually a remnant of the vanished (real) Kingdom of Burgundy, and declare independence. Thus they get to make a lot of jokes at the expense of the technocratic government from a 'little people' perspective - it's the small-c conservatism of a people suspicious of the technocratic and bureaucratic state after the privations of war and rationing.



A few years later came a similar film, The Mouse That Roared starring Peter Sellers ('an hilarious new personality') in multiple roles.



Based on a series of comic political novels, the tiny Duchy of Grand Fenwick decides that it wants Marshall Aid and a voice in the corridors of power…so it invades New York with a band of archers intending to lose badly and therefore qualify for aid, but instead the 'army' acquires a devastating weapon from the Yanks (who haven't realised they're at war) and ends up dictating a new world order of peace and diplomacy to the major powers. Wish-fulfilment of the most delightful kind until you notice the film's sharp points about realpolitik and Cold War attitudes.

And on that note: time to go. I'm back here again for an Open Day tomorrow, the second weekend in a row I've been at work. Could be worse: it's better than watching Wayne Rooney's angry loser face on TV. Ho hum. Have a good weekend.

Recipe for the perfect night in

Sometimes, you just need to switch off completely. The other night, the perfect evening consisted of a bottle of home-brewed beer by my friend Pritpal (we're calling it Pritpale), a CD of George Formby songs (amazing how many of them are about seeing people naked or being seen naked: I'm sure there's a conference paper in there somewhere) and a volume of Calvin and Hobbes strips. One of the greatest pleasures anyone can have is introducing other people to such things and spreading the pleasure a little.

Here's a taste of all these delights… other than the beer, thanks to this antiquated internet, restricted as it is to text, images and sounds.

Calvin isn't very Calvinistic, but Hobbes does have episodes of Hobbesian philosophy, as in this strip. He's also been know to describe humanity as 'a good source of protein' and express a love of fast food ('surprised and running' is how he likes it). Calvin is perceptive, sometimes charming, and massively egotistical - which is fine for a six-year old. His Snow Art is both witty and disturbed, his views on academia and the art world are cynical and highly informed, and his snowmen are acutely aware of mortality… especially the suicidal ones.

As for their author, Bill Watterson is a quiet genius. Liberal and often bewildered by the speed, selfishness and shallowness of consumerist society, his strip calls for a Thoreau-esque re-evaluation of the way we live. He lives his principles too: refused to allow Calvin and Hobbes merchandise and retired to paint when he decided he had nothing further to say. Admirable. You may need to click some of these to enlarge.

The duo also has much to contribute to academic writing: we've all felt this way… sometimes about our own contributions, even if it is a reactionary attitude:

He also understands why dumb-asses like Romney sometimes seem more dynamic and attractive than thoughtful politicians:

And of course Calvin is a post-modernist historian:

I'm also beginning to understand where Blair got the idea for his downloaded Iraq War 45 Minutes To Doom Dossier (a trick many students still try to pull):

Anyway, you'll have to read the others for yourself. Meanwhile, you'll be needing some George Formby to go with your reading:

This one's the uncharacteristically minor-key (though still saucy) The Lancashire Toreador:

More in character is With My Little Stick Of Blackpool Rock. There's something sinister about Formby's voyeurism/scopophilia but it's all played for laughs in true Music Hall style, and he's the kind of light entertainment celebrity I find acceptable: he was famous for being good at what he did and left it at that. Mind you, his wife Bessy (by all accounts a formidable character) dealt with a racist South African prime minister by telling him to 'piss off you horrible little man', so I'm inclined to like them. While we're on the subject, I'd also recommend Gracie Fields, Max Miller (too filthy to be recorded, apparently), Two Ton Tessie (a Welsh Irish banjolele player) and a whole host of 30s/40s entertainers. They're virtually all from Lancaster - the combination of a culturally confident working class with little interest in metropolitan taste-making, plus Blackpool's power as the biggest holiday resort in Britain meant that there was little pressure to refine accents and tastes… until film and TV came calling.

This is the famous 'When I'm Cleaning Windows' - again, voyeuristic sauce!

Here's some fairly innocuous Max Miller:

and some Tessie O'Shea - check out her playing:

and finally Gracie Fields' 'What Can You Give A Nudist For His Birthday?'

Intermission music

While I'm away, a selection of big band tunes, starting with Big Ben's Banjo Band (we played one of their songs at Cynical Ben and Jo's wedding).





Florence Desmond was a leading purveyor of double-entendre filth. Here she is fairly demurely with George Formby.

Gorgeous George

I'm a George Formby fan. He doesn't play the ukelele, by the way - it's often a banjolele. If you listen to a whole album, you soon get the idea that he's deeply disturbed - almost every song is about voyeurism: either seeing other people naked or being seen naked.

He's the epitome of British music-hall entertainment - cheeky, witty and fun. We'll all need more of this in the dark years to come. While I'm at it, have some Gracie Fields too - another Northern entertainer who kept the music hall tradition alive on film - I love 'What Can You Give A Nudist On His Birthday?' and 'Looking on the Bright Side' seems perfect for today… Gracie had an odd life - sharing her marital home with husband and his mistress, early cervical cancer, a tense relationship with her public, partly because her second husband was Italian: they stayed in the US during WW2 because he'd have been interned in Britain. A vanished world…