Classic Heartbeat
19th September 2001
Original transmission date; 19th November 1995 (18.67 million viewers....eh? This can't be right, can it?)



Sorry, we really couldn't be bothered to write a synopsis of the whole episode, mainly because we can't be bothered to watch the whole lot again, it was bad enough the first time.
Basically the main story of this episode is that Greengrass is digging the foundations of Alf's new home (why, I doubt even the writers could fathom) and discovers an unexploded WWII bomb. Greengrass is stuck on top of the said bomb so everybody's favourite actor (when portraying a London policeman who has relocated to a Yorkshire village) Nick Berry calls in the army bomb disposal unit.

Amidst a rousing chorus of the theme from the "Dambusters", an army landrover appears with none other than Mr Martin Barrass at the wheel. Nothing is said although George does direct them to the bomb, you'd think being trained professionals they would be able to recognise a bomb but there you go. Oh, yes, we have to remember that they are just actors, we keep forgetting. Martin's next appearance is in the very next scene. He seems to have adopted the stance of a cricket fielder and is stood surveying the bomb from a safe distance (a sensible policy in the webmasters' humble opinion) as his superiors, the bloke from "Playing the Field" (the one with the alarmingly deep voice) and another actor, which we recognise but can't quite place, have a gander at the scene. Apparently it's a bomb. At least that is the analysis given by these representatives of her majesty's bomb disposal unit. We can't say that that brims us with confidence in our military bomb disposal experts, as we doubt even a six year old would fail to recognise it was an explosive device. Note; they're just actors. We really ought to get a grip.

As Blaketon arrives (however, disappointingly, it is without sidekick Basil Brush. Never more so than now, given the conclusion to this gripping epic, is the catchphrase "Boom, boom" more ironic) we get a close up of Martin's face. He is listening to the bomb via a pair of headphones several yards away (not being familiar with the method of bomb disposal in the early 1960's, having opted out of that particular A-level course, we cannot really be more specific than that. However, if anyone is well educated on the subject please drop us a line). Given the look that Martin adopts on his face and the speed with which he scrambles up and towards the party looking at the bomb (full marks to the YTV props department by the way) we can surmise that he has something pretty important to announce. His first line of this fantastic performance is an absolute corker, an essential one to note down for further use at office parties or gatherings. If you can't quite get to the buffet, this one will ensure you have a direct path to the vol-au-vents. "Get back everybody, she's ticking". Obviously Martin's fine delivery of this line prompts decisive action from the bomb surveying party who scuttle away pretty sharpish. What's that? The director told them to do it? Damn it. However, his superior's reaction to this news is not so good, "What the hell does he think he's doing?" he asks. Acting...obviously, hadn't he read his script? The Lieutenant severely reprimands Martin's character, Sapper Smith, saying if he doesn't pull himself together he will be out of his force. Be fair, he was only trying to warn the civilians.....Sir.

Later Sapper Smith provides some kind of device to do something to the bomb (did we ever claim to have degrees in bomb disposal? We're doing our best to be informative but really there are only some many things we can say...). After a quick chemistry test, Martin returns to the background of the shot as Corporal Fisher asks Lieutenant Scott if he can "make it snappy". Apparently Smithy wants to go out "bopping tonight" (a tell tale sign of his fate expressed here in one sentence, we ALL know he won't be going bopping). Not surprisingly, the term "bopping" has to be explained to Lieutenant Scott. Presumably, Berwick Kaler and David Leonard were not invited. Probably best, we all know that David Leonard's dancing and hip thrusting motions could be classed as offensive. Anywhooo, "bopping" means "dancing" but either way the Lieutenant is not impressed and gives Martin a dirty look as he walks away. Martin looks unhappy as, inexplicably, the background music changes to "Run rabbit run". Why?

As Martin asks the bloke from "Playing the Field" if he can go and have a go at the bomb, we can hear everyone at home saying "No, don't do it," but alas, Sapper Smith feels he has to prove something to Lieutenant Scott (who at this point is bent over a landrover, doing a great line in fake coughing and spluttering). And so, Martin, with handkerchief over mouth and eyes watering sets about spooning what looks like treacle on a wooden spoon from an appallingly fake looking bomb as Phil Bellamy looks on. The things actors have to do, eh? Martin seems to adopt a rather macho tone (intentionally or not, that is the question) as he address PC Ginger Curlylocks, "What are you trying to do? Get yourself blown up?" No, Smithy, that's what you're trying to do (it's page 26 if you're interested). One last glimpse of Martin before the YTV special effects department get to work and there is a huge explosion.


In the immortal words of the HRH The Biscuit Maiden, "Oh Dear!".

People come running from all around and Maggie (the district nurse), Phil and Blaketon approach Martin, but only his hand is visible and it appears to be covered in rather gory looking stage blood. Firemen seem to be rushing about, but there is actually no sign of a fire, we can only surmise that the special effects budget has been exceeded. Obviously, an extra couple of pounds for a box of matches to create a few little fires would mean YTV would have to lay off Lisa Riley. How could the nation cope without "You've been framed?". Answer, we surely couldn't. This fine isle would surely descend into anarchy? Anyhow, Maggie shows why she is not short-listed for District Nurse of the Year (and without even a mention in the first aiders category) as a she promptly leaves a man in quite clear need of medical attention when she realises that cockney copper Nick is missing. Oh Lord, no...just a hint of sarcasm on the webmasters part there. Sorry. Just in case you were at all anxious, just let the webmasters assure you, Nick lived and so did little Colin (played by an even littler Andy from Emmerdale). They appear completely unharmed despite being buried under a shed and a ton of stolen railway memorabilia, don't tell us it's never happened to you. We won't believe you. And what of Sapper Smith, we hear you cry. Well, mutter at any rate. Okay, so you're not at all interested but we're going to tell you anyway. The bad news is that he wasn't so lucky as Phil later explained in the Aidensfield Arms to Maggie (in an extraordinarily bad piece of acting), "That young sapper died in the ambulance". Maggie looks on thoughtfully before she returns to dressing Nick's tiny little scratch. As well she might be in a reflective mood, Smithy might have lived had it not been for her incompetence (it's only tv, it's only tv, it's only tv....) Obviously when she took the Hippocratic oath, she was lying.

What a fantastic hours entertainment, and we didn't even have to leave the comfort of our own homes and it was free, all free!!!

If you didn't see it shame on you, you know they'll never show it again; it probably caused a power surge on the national grid. Never fear, we now have plenty of screen grabs (and there really are some cracking moments) thanks to the webmistress' friend Jimmy (There may even be more to come...). We suppose we really ought to thank Yorkshire Television too. So thankyou YTV.



We all know what happens next but just because we love this jpg so much we're going to show it again.



Coming Soon...

Hopefully, we will soon have some sound clips from this marvellous episode as soon as we've finished playing pass the videotape. M'eh.

Now for a solemn moment. The webmasters feel they ought to issue a statement of public service advice, "Get back everybody, she's ticking..."

The Three Musketeers
28th August 2001

The webmasters enjoyed a pilgrimage to the theatre last night to see our God, Martin Barrass, in action in The Three Musketeers. He played two characters in the play, Grimaud and King Louis XIII. To prove we were there (and that cost was no object) we've scanned in one of our tickets. Some of the details have been deleted to protect our anonymity! (The webmasters adopt whiny, pathetic voices...) If they know who we are, they might never let us in again!

A full report on our fantastic evening is available below...



28th August 2001. Yes, the Biscuit Maiden's birthday, but most importantly the day of our first pilgrimage to one of Martin's plays (besides the glory of the pantomime). The webmistress was deciding what to wear when she received a text message from the webmaster, he was walking to the train station and he was excited. The webmistress was worried that the webmaster might get over-stimulated, as was the case when we were watching a Rainbow video a month ago. Well, mind you, who wouldn't get over-stimulated at the sight of a large bear, a very camp pink hippo, a thing with a zip and a very strange man with an alarming taste in appalling multi-coloured knitted tank-tops performing their own very personal rendition of Rumplestiltzkin. I digress...

We met outside York Station. Although nothing was said, we could both sense the anticipation in the air, only one and a half hours to kill before we had to pick up our tickets. The idea of watching both entrances to the Theatre was discussed just in case we should catch Martin arriving for the performance. The webmaster would take up position at the bus-stop, across the road from the stage door. A large newspaper, a Mac (no, not a computer to coincide with the webmaster's obsession with Mac and hatred of anything Windows, I do of course mean a coat as modelled by Columbo) and a very large, if not highly amusing, false beard and moustache would be needed if the plan were to be successful. The webmistress would wait around the corner watching the other entrance pretending to be an American tourist, "Gee is that the Minster?"(Apologies, that was an in-joke), whilst keeping a watchful eye on the door. Walkie-talkies would be required to keep in contact. In essence it was a brilliant plan. It only fell down in 3 crucial areas:

1.) We didn't have a large newspaper (and very few shops were still open besides Woolies, but that's always open, just in case anyone should feel the urge to buy a bag of pic n' mix or a talking potato head at three o'clock in the morning. Actually, perhaps, that's not so implausible after all...)
2.) Nor did we have a Mac or a false beard and moustache. Nor, a pair of walkie-talkies. What do you think we are, professional stalkers?
3.) After much discussion it was decided that Martin, being a professional actor, would have arrived at the Theatre long before the performance anyway, so indeed he would already be in the building. Short of driving through the stage door in a JCB or making a hoax bomb threat so the building is evacuated...(this is just a joke, the webmasters wouldn't actually do this, we don't know how to work a JCB) there seemed little else we could do to catch a glimpse of our favourite panto star until curtain up. Damn it.

One hour later...the time 7 o'clock ish. The webmistress hacked off that she didn't set the video for Emmerdale (oh well, nothing ever happens anyway. It's more of a panto than a Berwick Kaler production; perhaps, he is a director of YTV soaps when it is not the panto season? Mental note; check credits next time...). Amid immense excitement, we picked up the tickets and headed into the bar area. It seems to have doubled as an IKEA showroom since last we were here. Unnerved by the stark Scandinavian look the powers that be appeared to have plumped for we decided to sit outside to feast on the stodgy chocolate thing the webmaster felt obliged to buy so that we could occupy one of the IKEA seats. Anywhooo...after a few minutes we decided to transfer to the bar upstairs. After a quick dash to the loo for the webmistress (God, isn't this sounding like the commentary when they do the "supersweep" on Dale's Supermarket Sweep? Not that the webmasters watch it or anything...honest... The webmaster's got himself another drink and a programmes going in the trolley too...Oh, what's that, it appears there are lots of old panto costumes dotted around). Okay, enough of that now, you get the impression. Note; must write angry letter to York Theatre Royal, where are Martin's costumes? Still, we know of someone who'd appreciate the David Leonard costume, but enough said on that score the better.

Into the auditorium (why do they call it the auditorium, answers by e-mail please!?). Maybe it was just the webmasters hearing but it seemed to us that they were playing French rap music? Answer, yes they were. Why do the French even bother writing songs? None of their words ever rhyme. It was at this point that the webmasters were quite glad not to have requested the company of the Biscuit Maiden on this trip of wonder. The French music would be enough to set her off for the whole evening. Good seats, with a great view of the stage. Intrigued by the hay that seemed to have been scattered around, the webmasters concluded that that was a serious set dressing ploy to convince the audience that we were indeed in 17th century France. As if the music and the general theme of the play weren't enough to do so, there's nothing like emphasising your point. Disappointingly, there was no sign of that old favourite, "The Safety Curtain" yet. Still its appearance was even more warmly greeted at the interval. Also, there seemed to be some hay at front of the stage, where at Christmas time, the band would sit. Where was Uncle Euan? Had they hidden him in his clavinova until the festive period? I'm sure his union could do something about that. After much nervous flicking through the programme, the anticipation overwhelming, as the lights began to dim...

We didn't have to wait long before our Lord Martin Barrass appeared from stage right (or left, depending on whether the director was working from the audience's view or not). We would have whooped and cheered at his appearance, if theatre protocol had allowed it, but sadly alas, we weren't going to risk being thrown out. He seemed to be wearing an early 20th century "Sherlock Holmes type" costume, but perhaps that was just the lighting? Indeed he even seemed to be smoking a pipe. A quick check at the front of the programme confirmed that it was "The Three Musketeers". Had we wondered into the shantyness of the Royal Opera House (with their primitive pantomimes starring former Gladiators and ex-Emmerdale stars? Actually, the ex-Emmerdale stars are probably more than qualified to star in a pantomime...)? No, the rest of the cast appeared to be wearing 17th century, swash-buckling Musketeer outfits. Had Martin arrived late at the Theatre Royal for the costume fitting and all they had left were the costumes from the 1992 production of "The Hound of the Baskervilles"? Perhaps not, afterall...

One of the other actors addressed Martin's character (at this point it should be noted that Martin is playing the character of Grimaud). Martin made a shrug of the shoulders style gesture and as the scene went on, it became more and more apparent (thanks to Martin's excellent array of body movements and facial expressions) that the part of Grimaud appeared to be non-speaking. How disappointing. Still, his very presence on the stage lightened up the performance no end. Grimaud, seemed to be a cross between Father Dougal from Father Ted and Manuel from Fawlty Towers (without the pidgin English, of course). He seemed to stand around an awful lot, and hand things to the main characters and he also seemed to scuttle around quite a bit, which was nice.

However, it was Martin's appearance as the king, which really delighted us. He was wearing the same costume as for Grimaud except with the addition of a gold cape type thing (to prove beyond reasonable doubt that he was the King, or else he can afford to shop at French Connection). However, most alarmingly, Martin seemed to be sporting the pantomime wig of Dame Berwick Kaler. Now, the webmasters are all for cost cutting, but surely the wig of Dame Berwick is sacrosanct? It is a pantomime relic that should only be allowed out of its glass cabinet at the beginning of December and put straight back in again in the middle of February. Actually, forget all that, Martin is just as good as Berwick and he should be entitled to wear the wig. How were cheered (albeit inwardly, but we can assure you it was nevertheless heartfelt) when Martin had a practice sword fight with the cardinal, when he donned an elephant mask for the anniversary ball, and when as Grimaud he appeared to be having difficulty lifting a bench to take off-stage. Incidentally, the cardinal appeared to be played by a mixture of Matthew Kelly and the baddie panto king David Leonard, which was a little disconcerting. Especially as, at some points there was a lot of smoke, I expected him to say, "Tonight acting live, Martin Barrass is Grimaud..." If you could get past the ever-present threat of the appearance of a cliched ITV catchphrase, you could see the actor himself was quite good as were most of the cast.

To conclude, the webmasters would give this play 5 out of 5. It was truly a glorious performance by Martin and all. We had an immensely pleasurable evening. And to Alfred Hickling of the Guardian newspaper; you're oh so right, Martin is the King.



And now for something more professional, "The Guardian" review of the play. Apparantely Martin camps it up as King Louis XIII, but we could see no evidence of that...

Theatre

The Three Musketeers

Theatre Royal, York
Rating: ****

Alfred Hickling
Guardian

Thursday August 2, 2001


Alexandre Dumas's hoary old novel offers theatre directors plenty of scope for flashing blades and flouncy shirts. But Damian Cruden has decided to steer his production away from adult pantomime and do more with Dumas than one might have thought possible.

Richard Hurford's adaptation provides a serviceable means of getting from A to B via plenty of fencing, but Cruden builds on this to craft stage pictures of real style and imagination. He is brilliantly aided by Dawn Allsopp's design, in which a stern Parisian facade crumbles to become a blasted provincial battlement. Billowing red curtains and Christopher Madin's propulsive music keep time and place in perpetual motion. Wayne Dowdeswell's sombre, gun-metal lighting oppressively hangs over proceedings like a pall, as silhouettes of angry citizens break through the mist. It's like Les Miserables minus the guillotine.

Cruden's most audacious touch is to emphasise the story's prophetic echoes of the revolution. The Musketeers are less the jolly rogering roisterers of old than a slightly embarrassing spent force.

From this interesting psychological platform, Cruden coaxes some arresting performances from an excellent cast. As the original three musketeers, there are poignantly menopausal performances from Tim Welton, Oliver Boot and John Paul Connolly as Athos, the melancholic one, Aramis, the religious one, and Porthos, the one who ate all the pies. John Kirk is engagingly wet behind the ears as the ambitious D'Artagnan, while Matthew Rixon's Cardinal Richelieu is a sinister study in scarlet. Only Martin Barrass's petulant Louis XIII camps things up - but he's allowed to because he's king.

The most complex performance of the evening comes from Dumas's most intriguing character. Phoebe Soteriades has an ice-queen's hauteur as the enigmatic Milady de Winter, the branded whore in duchess's robes with sidelines in swordsmanship and poison. Her defiant death-speech is a shattering climax given the force of a historical turning-point. She may be about to be skewered by four vengeful swordsmen, but we are left in no doubt that seedy royalists in frilly sleeves will be first for the chop when the revolution comes.

Until September 1. Box office: 01904 623568.


Below is Martin's blurb from the programme, with a new picture (where he looks very refined). Many apologies for the poor quality of the photograph, the webmistress' scanner is a bit crap and the webmaster is too tired to do it, he doesn't get back from the pub until very late (Don't be alarmed, he works there).