Porridge. Richard Webber

liked the pilot, it contained some wonderful material. It’s only a three-hander but the contrast between Fletcher, Mackay and Barrowclough is very strong. There are two moments that are particularly funny: the first where Fletch pees into the gas tank – and I can still remember the laughter from the studio audience going on for a long time – and the second when Fletch escaped on the moors, runs around all night before breaking back into the hut he’d left in the first place.

      ‘Ronnie’s reaction, when he discovered where he was, was classic. I remember thinking what a genius he was then, because he was able to make that laugh go on and on. In hindsight, Fletcher wouldn’t normally be the kind of person who’d try escaping because it would cause too many repercussions when he was caught. But you could argue it was an impulse decision: he suddenly saw an opportunity and took advantage of it. The main thing is, we thought it was funny and his reaction to it was better than anything anyone could have imagined on the page. Overall, the pilot was a great success.’

      DICK CLEMENT

      Barrowclough discusses his wife.

      BARROWCLOUGH: Well, she sees a future of frustrated ambitions stretching before her. She doesn’t like what I do or where we live. So over the years she’s grown bitter and unsettled, full of restless urges, which have manifested themselves in various ways like bad temper, spots and sleeping with the postman. And there were liaisons with other men. We got to rowing all the time. Things went from bad to worse. Eventually we went to see the marriage guidance counsellor.

      Did you know?

      The gatehouse seen in the opening credits once marked the entrance to St Albans’ Prison before, later, being acquired by the local council and becoming a depot for the highways department. Now, the building acts as headquarters for a mineral-water company’s sales and marketing department.

      FLETCHER: That help, did it?

      BARROWCLOUGH: It helped her! She ran off with him.

      FLETCHER: Oh well, you’re well out of it, aren’t you, mate. You’re well out of a slag like that.

      BARROWCLOUGH: She’s come back.

      FLETCHER: Oh I see … well, people change.

      BARROWCLOUGH: I blame myself, I’m a failure. I’m only hanging on to this job by the skin of me teeth. I got so depressed I thought I’d take advantage of the prison psychiatric department. See them about my inferiority complex. Well, it’s not a complex really – I am inferior.

      Memories …

      ‘Barrowclough may have become a slightly one-note character, but he was a wonderful foil. When we spoke to people about prison life, there always seemed to be the hard bastard and the soft touch; there are comparisons in the army or the air force. Everybody knows the ones you can’t mess with and those in whom you can see a weakness that can be exploited. Mackay and Barrowclough represented both sides.

      ‘We deliberately set out to have a modernist and traditionalist; having Mackay as the old hard-liner and Barrowclough the new, relatively liberal screw created conflict and that’s the life of our comedy.’

      DICK CLEMENT

      ‘I had lots to do in the pilot, whereas in other episodes I wasn’t given so much. In the actual series, Barrowclough wasn’t as important, which was sad. But we had a good company. You can’t spend a lot of time with people without either falling out bitterly or getting on; fortunately we all got on well together.’

      BRIAN WILDE

       B

      ‘NEW FACES, OLD HANDS’

       Fletch and Godber discuss prison life.

      GODBER: First time for me. Don’t know how I’ll get through.

      FLETCHER: Cheer up. Could be worse. State this country’s in, could be free. Out there with no work and a crumbling economy. Think how ’orrible that would be. Nothing to do but go to bed early and increase the population.

      FLETCHER: My beloved Isobel. The little woman. Well, she ain’t so little. I said to her the other day, ‘Isobel, I’ll never get over you, I’ll have to get up and go round.’

      Memories …

      ‘In those days, before computers, we wrote in longhand on whatever was handy and then got it typed, correcting the text afterwards, if necessary. My handwriting is more legible than Ian’s so it was always me who wrote everything down; when we moved onto computers it was still me, which was fine because I preferred it that way.

      ‘One episode, “A Night In”, was written one evening at the Midland Hotel, Manchester. We were in rehearsals with our play, Billy. Other times, we wrote around my kitchen table, surrounded by dogs and children, and with lots of interruptions. Sometimes I went to Ian’s, other times he came to me. But wherever we were, it was always very chaotic.’

      DICK CLEMENT

      Memories …

      ‘Writing for Ronnie was the greatest fun we ever had, in terms of just the feedback. He possessed a writer’s brain as well as an actor’s and suggested the odd line or little ad-lib from time to time. He’d often do something and ask, “Is that alright?” After we’d stopped laughing, we’d reply, “Yes, Ronnie, fine.” I don’t think there was ever a moment when Ian and I looked at each other and said, “No, Ronnie, you can’t do that.” His instincts were spot on.