GRcade

rinks wrote:The early series (the ones with Grandad) were good. They should have stopped there. Buster strawberry floating Merryfield's untalented hamming was one of the most abysmal set of performances I've ever seen on TV. I detested the later series, partly because of him.

Lucien wrote:

~Earl Grey~ wrote:

Lucien wrote:Stewart Lee also looks far too much like this annoying ITV kids show presenter... can't remember his name though. He does some other presenting for ITV and gosh, I hate him.

Morrissey presents kids' TV now?

Stephen Mulhern

Beans wrote:I found them funny at the time, but a bit like Simpsons and friends, if has been repeated so many times it's hard to laugh anymore.

TornadoShaun wrote:

Beans wrote:I found them funny at the time, but a bit like Simpsons and friends, if has been repeated so many times it's hard to laugh anymore.

Are you shitting me? I'd wager I've seen every episode a number of times and they still bring a wry smile out as much as they did the first time, the side splitting scenes like the chandelier falling off the ceiling and Trigger constantly calling Rodney 'Dave' still have me in stitches every time. For me there's no other comedy, the Simpsons runs it closest but I love only fools.

I've been quite enjoying 'not going out' recently as well, although I can't see it being as watchable/ rememberable a few years down the line like fools and horses is.

D_C wrote:I was brought up on it, because my Dad's a big fan of it. It still holds its own today I think.

Buffalo wrote:Blackadder was better.

Michael McIntyre has described how he felt "awful" after fellow comedians made jokes at his expense at the British Comedy Awards.

The Britain's Got Talent judge said that there was "an amazing amount of hostility" towards him - from comedians such as Stewart Lee - following his 'Best Male Comic' win. "Quite a few people were making jokes at my expense and it just made me feel awful,"

McIntyre went on, on Desert Island Discs, to say how his attendance at the 2009 British Comedy Awards was ruined by comedians making fun of him, and how sad it was because his wife had bought a new dress, and he had won after all, beating me and Frankie Boyle for some spuriously defined gong. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there. I went once in 1992 and I’ve only been invited once since, when I was working anyway. It’s not my bag. I saw it on TV once and there was a big, frightened, unhappy snake writhing around on stage, and loads of drunk TV twats were laughing at it as it flailed miserably towards their coke-flecked tables.

Nevertheless, Monday’s Metro carried the following headline; ‘Michael McIntyre has told of his upset after fellow comedian Stewart Lee insulted him at the British Comedy Awards.’

I wasn’t at the British Comedy Awards, as I say, but by now the story seems to suggest that, in the moment of McIntyre’s triumph, I jumped up, banged the table with my fists, shouted something about diarrhoea, and tore his wife’s dress.

I wasn’t there, and yet I’m continually quoted as the focal point of the rudeness that upset him. Is there no-one who was actually there who could be named instead? Jonathan Ross mocked him from the Comedy Awards podium and Lee Mack had recently called McIntyre a ‘skipping banana split’ on stage in Canterbury. Why don’t they mention them instead?

For the record, I have met Michael McIntyre four times. In the Spring of 2005 he was hosting a show at the Tattershall Castle where I went to near silence, as I often did at circuit gigs, and he seemed keen and confident. A few weeks later I saw him in the street in Kilkenny, where he said he’d been ‘telling everyone how marvellous’ I was, like he was the Mayor or something. That summer, in Edinburgh, I stood near him and Jimmy Carr in a courtyard, but I don’t think we spoke. And at the BAFTAs last year, where you get a better class of TV cokehead, I shook his hand and wished him luck, even though his flamboyant manager, Addison Cresswell, had just whispered under his breath to me the half-serious threat: ‘Stop making fun of my boy or you might find your career peaks too soon.’

These days I mainly meet other comics at the 60 or so unpaid charity benefit shows I do every year, and I never see McIntyre at any of these, so I don’t know him. I don’t know anyone who knows him. I don’t know anything about him. I don’t want to. I want to keep him in my imagination as a phenomenon. David Baddiel has warned me, in an unsolicited e-mail, that I am now too well known to do jokes about people because I will meet them and find they are all right, really. He has underestimated the full extent of my anti-social nature.