Skip to main content

We interrupt our Christmas carol service to bring you an important announcement. The world will end at 12 o’clock.

The Goodies
7.6: Earthanasia

Christmas Eve. What better time to contemplate ending it all? If the Goodies of 1977 had written an irreverent take on 2020, would it have turned out very differently to Earthanasia? Governments of the world collectively coming together – albeit in an act of implicit complicity rather than explicitly – and agreeing to destroy the world. In tandem with taking jabs at a media eager to milk every last drop of hype from the situation.

Graeme: I’m going to enjoy this Christmas if it’s the last thing I do.

Naturally, this makes Christmas a big downer. Not that Graeme and Bill are embracing the most considerate, compassionate, sharing vision of the festive period even before the announcement. Bill, in the spirit of “tearaway youth”, speeds into the office on a skateboard – a gift to himself – bowdlerising the Christmas tree in the process. Graeme responds with “a little gift to myself” in the form of a skateboard destruction kit. Which consists, in order, of a hammer, a handgun and a detonator. Twitcher Bloddie then tops off the introduction by blowing away a robin.

BBC Announcer: World leaders have been meeting in Washington over the past week to consider the ever-worsening problems of inflation, overpopulation, racism, pollution… you name it, they’ve considered it. They’ve come to the conclusion there is no point in going on.

Such seasonal mischief is abruptly truncated as the BBC spoils everyone’s fun. The official list of media-promoted ills of humanity (variously engineered, invented, exacerbated and expressly driven) makes for, on the face of it, a fairly compelling case. Which is, of course, what they want you to think (we deserve what’s coming, as expressed by Prince Phillip wishing to come back as a virus in order to wipe out great swathes of us vermin; here, the Queen conveys a message of sympathy to everyone… before we learn that the Royals have been seen leaving Sandringham… in a rocket. Which sounds about right). Indeed, after the initial shock – Graeme: Well, that’s a bit of a blow – Bill is convinced this is an extremely good idea (“The world is a mess…” and it would be best to “put it out of its misery”). Then practicality takes over: Graybags calls the insurance company (“It might be worth claiming”).

BBC Announcer: It is their unanimous decision that, in a final act of unprecedented military cooperation, the world will be blown up. BBC Radio will be covering the event.

Earthanasia is essentially a redux – in form, if not absolutely in theme – of their earlier Season Five classic The End. There, the trio – and their office – are encased in concrete. Possibly The Goodies’ version of mudflood. That one makes capital from the extent and extremes of their ongoing situation; here, the compressed narrative of “thirty minutes until the end of the world” leads to something of the opposite – What are you going to do before you die? – but with a number of shared themes arising. Admittedly, mostly those of sex and death. And a routine in which Graeme points out how much time Bill is wasting talking about what he will do rather than doing it (“I want to go on an odyssey – get it?”)

Faced with the prospect of a reset by the powers-that-be (“This is not a hoax”), it makes perfect sense that Bill should be the most direct and resolute about having a good time while it lasts (he never actually succeeds in getting away for a lusty twenty-five minutes). This enables some well-honed plays on their established characters, including the necessary reference to Doris Newbold and Graeme explaining that “I’m not a creature of the flesh like you. I’m a loony scientist”. Before reeling of his list of his greatest accomplishments that include “Eddie Waring impressions”. It’s easy to find Oddie a touch undisciplined and grating at times in The Goodies – it seems he was commonly cited as the most popular at the time – but much as this may be his natural disposition, it’s entirely essential to the comic tension between the trio: the analyst, the anarchist and the authoritarian. Albeit, obviously, Tim is the wettest conceivable authoritarian, by way of his royal-boosting, flag-waving delicacy.

Tim: I want to die with my shiny shoes!

We’re ten minutes into the episode before he makes an appearance – wearing a “The end of the world is night” placard with “Tim’s nuts are nicest” as it’s secondary edict – and the conversation by this point is revolving around how best to tell him. Which Bill does brutally (“You might have broken it to him gently”). Consequently, much of Earthanasia revolves around Tim and tacking his psychological issues. It’s perhaps not the most inspired direction they could have gone in, which means this one is never quite as resplendent as The End, which runs the gamut. Nevertheless, it’s still up there with the series’ greatest achievements.

Tim: Confess your sins!

There’s much seamless riffing on jokes/ideas we’ve seen before, but which feel fresh in context; as proof the end is coming, Graeme shows Tim a copy of the Radio Times with entirely blank pages after Christmas Eve. Tim, in the episode’s briefest of getting down to brass tacks, urges his friends to seek atonement: “We’ve got to think about our sins!” Bill has briefly exited at this point, but Graeme proceeds to do so, Garden rendering a hilarious bout of self-amusement as he cogitates over all the immensely satisfying wrongs he has done.

Tim: Pare away my externals?

Tim’s meanwhile, are expectedly innocuous (“He tucks his shirt inside his underpants… In the bath, little bubbles… They come up between your knees?”) And slightly unnerving (“It’s an a-string” – Tim has a belly button hang up). The mockery of psychology allows Graeme to don his customary professorial pose to amusing effect (“Then there’s aversion therapy... I don’t know, I’ve been put off that”). He implores Tim to “Reach out and touch Bill”; Bill resorts in less than kind. He also regresses Tim, with Bill posing as Brooke-Taylor’s mother… and turns out to be a good likeness (“It’s not my fault I didn’t grow up big tough and hairy like me ma”).

Graeme: It worked! I released his inhibitions through anger and violence. My work is at an end. I can die a happy man.

The best part of this, though, and the highlight of the episode, is Graeme shattering Tim’s illusions about the Muppets: “Muppets are just dollies”. Graeme then offers note-perfect renditions of Kermit (“Look, Kermit the Frog is a green sock”), Miss Piggy and Fozzie Bear before delivering a rendition of “Halfway up the stairs…” Tim’s response – launching an oven at Graybags – elicits the classic retort “You shouldn’t have hit me with that! You’ve ruined the cake!

Graeme: As we pluck we shall sing.

Graeme’s success leads to several reversals in the closing stages, as Tim becomes uninhibited while Bill reveals his true self, bald (hitherto disguised due to a long-haired Peruvian gerbil) and beardless (even more alarming than Tim’s a-string). I’m not sure the reversal works as well as it might, since neither can quite pull the other’s authentic “class”. But Graeme’s on hand – as Santa – to suggest they pluck the turkey and exchange presents with just minutes to go. Tim gives Bill the socks off his feet – “My gift to you is my socks. They’re not to be sniffed at”; “No socks, please. We’re British” – and they generally come up blank when it comes to goodwill (“Can’t we think of anything nice to say to each other before we go?”)

Graeme: Your little faces!

There are several other great gags. The BBC announcement that “Eager shoppers are fighting over bargains in the Harrod’s closing down sale” is absurdly perfect, while the final reveal that the world isn’t going to end at midnight… because Graeme “put the clock forward about half a minute” makes for a marvellous false dawn.

Garden, recounting the episode and related in Andrew Pixley’s The Goodies DVD File, noted “We were expecting something like Sherlock Holmes – that people would jam the telephone switchboards saying ‘Don’t finish the Goodies – they must come back, but nobody really tended to notice very much… I suppose we should take heart that nobody jammed the switchboard saying ‘Thank God that’s over’!” It wasn’t quite over, although it’s probably correct to see this as their last peak moment. As expected, Tim becomes a teapot at one point during the proceedings. In real life, he passed away this year at the age of 79, having succumbed to a PCR test. Merry Christmas everyone, and enjoy the Earthanasia.








Popular posts from this blog

You were this amazing occidental samurai.

Ricochet (1991) (SPOILERS) You have to wonder at Denzel Washington’s agent at this point in the actor’s career. He’d recently won his first Oscar for Glory , yet followed it with less-than-glorious heart-transplant ghost comedy Heart Condition (Bob Hoskins’ racist cop receives Washington’s dead lawyer’s ticker; a recipe for hijinks!) Not long after, he dipped his tentative toe in the action arena with this Joel Silver production; Denzel has made his share of action fare since, of course, most of it serviceable if unremarkable, but none of it comes near to delivering the schlocky excesses of Ricochet , a movie at once ingenious and risible in its plot permutations, performances and production profligacy.

He’ll regret it to his dying day, if ever he lives that long.

The Quiet Man (1952) (SPOILERS) The John Wayne & John Ford film for those who don’t like John Wayne & John Ford films? The Quiet Man takes its cues from Ford’s earlier How Green Was My Valley in terms of, well less Anglophile and Hibernophile and Cambrophile nostalgia respectively for past times, climes and heritage, as Wayne’s pugilist returns to his family seat and stirs up a hot bed of emotions, not least with Maureen O’Hara’s red-headed hothead. The result is a very likeable movie, for all its inculcated Oirishness and studied eccentricity.

Well, something’s broke on your daddy’s spaceship.

Apollo 13 (1995) (SPOILERS) The NASA propaganda movie to end all NASA propaganda movies. Their original conception of the perilous Apollo 13 mission deserves due credit in itself; what better way to bolster waning interest in slightly naff perambulations around a TV studio than to manufacture a crisis event, one emphasising the absurd fragility of the alleged non-terrestrial excursions and the indomitable force that is “science” in achieving them? Apollo 13 the lunar mission was tailor made for Apollo 13 the movie version – make believe the make-believe – and who could have been better to lead this fantasy ride than Guantanamo Hanks at his all-American popularity peak?

No one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

The Matrix  (1999) (SPOILERS) Twenty years on, and the articles are on the defining nature of The Matrix are piling up, most of them touching on how its world has become a reality, or maybe always was one. At the time, its premise was engaging enough, but it was the sum total of the package that cast a spell – the bullet time, the fashions, the soundtrack, the comic book-as-live-action framing and styling – not to mention it being probably the first movie to embrace and reflect the burgeoning Internet ( Hackers doesn’t really count), and subsequently to really ride the crest of the DVD boom wave. And now? Now it’s still really, really good.

Haven’t you ever heard of the healing power of laughter?

Batman (1989) (SPOILERS) There’s Jaws , there’s Star Wars , and then there’s Batman in terms of defining the modern blockbuster. Jaws ’ success was so profound, it changed the way movies were made and marketed. Batman’s marketing was so profound, it changed the way tentpoles would be perceived: as cash cows. Disney tried to reproduce the effect the following year with Dick Tracy , to markedly less enthusiastic response. None of this places Batman in the company of Jaws as a classic movie sold well, far from it. It just so happened to hit the spot. As Tim Burton put it, it was “ more of a cultural phenomenon than a great movie ”. It’s difficult to disagree with his verdict that the finished product (for that is what it is) is “ mainly boring ”. Now, of course, the Burton bat has been usurped by the Nolan incarnation (and soon the Snyder). They have some things in common. Both take the character seriously and favour a sombre tone, which was much more of shock to the

You think a monkey knows he’s sitting on top of a rocket that might explode?

The Right Stuff (1983) (SPOILERS) While it certainly more than fulfils the function of a NASA-propaganda picture – as in, it affirms the legitimacy of their activities – The Right Stuff escapes the designation of rote testament reserved for Ron Howard’s later Apollo 13 . Partly because it has such a distinctive personality and attitude. Partly too because of the way it has found its through line, which isn’t so much the “wow” of the Space Race and those picked to be a part of it as it is the personification of that titular quality in someone who wasn’t even in the Mercury programme: Chuck Yaeger (Sam Shephard). I was captivated by The Right Stuff when I first saw it, and even now, with the benefit of knowing-NASA-better – not that the movie is exactly extolling its virtues from the rooftops anyway – I consider it something of a masterpiece, an interrogation of legends that both builds them and tears them down. The latter aspect doubtless not NASA approved.

Drank the red. Good for you.

Morbius (2022) (SPOILERS) Generic isn’t necessarily a slur. Not if, by implication, it’s suggestive of the kind of movie made twenty years ago, when the alternative is the kind of super-woke content Disney currently prioritises. Unfortunately, after a reasonable first hour, Morbius descends so resignedly into such unmoderated formula that you’re left with a too-clear image of Sony’s Spider-Verse when it lacks a larger-than-life performer (Tom Hardy, for example) at the centre of any given vehicle.

He doesn’t want to lead you. He just wants you to follow.

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore (2022) (SPOILERS) The general failing of the prequel concept is a fairly self-evident one; it’s spurred by the desire to cash in, rather than to tell a story. This is why so few prequels, in any form, are worth the viewer/reader/listener’s time, in and of themselves. At best, they tend to be something of a well-rehearsed fait accompli. In the movie medium, even when there is material that withstands closer inspection (the Star Wars prequels; The Hobbit , if you like), the execution ends up botched. With Fantastic Beasts , there was never a whiff of such lofty purpose, and each subsequent sequel to the first prequel has succeeded only in drawing attention to its prosaic function: keeping franchise flag flying, even at half-mast. Hence Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore , belatedly arriving after twice the envisaged gap between instalments and course-correcting none of the problems present in The Crimes of Grindelwald .

So, you’re telling me that NASA is going to kill the President of the United States with an earthquake?

Conspiracy Theory (1997) (SPOILERS) Mel Gibson’s official rehabilitation occurred with the announcement of 2016’s Oscar nominations, when Hacksaw Ridge garnered six nods, including Mel as director. Obviously, many refuse to be persuaded that there’s any legitimate atonement for the things someone says. They probably weren’t even convinced by Mel’s appearance in Daddy’s Home 2 , an act of abject obeisance if ever there was one. In other circles, though, Gibbo, or Mad Mel, is venerated as a saviour unsullied by the depraved Hollywood machine, one of the brave few who would not allow them to take his freedom. Or at least, his values. Of course, that’s frequently based on alleged comments he made, ones it’s highly likely he didn’t. But doesn’t that rather appeal to the premise of his 23-year-old star vehicle Conspiracy Theory , in which “ A good conspiracy theory is an unproveable one ”?

You’d be surprised how many intersectional planes of untethered consciousness exist.

Moon Knight (2022) (SPOILERS) Now, this is an interesting one. Not because it’s very good – Phase IV MCU? Hah! – but because it presents its angle on the “superhero” ethos in an almost entirely unexpurgated, unsoftened way. Here is a character explicitly formed through the procedures utilised by trauma-based mind control, who has developed alters – of which he has been, and some of which he remains, unaware – and undergone training/employment in the military and private mercenary sectors (common for MKUltra candidates, per Dave McGowan’s Programmed to Kill ). And then, he’s possessed by what he believes to be a god in order to carry out acts of extreme violence. So just the sort of thing that’s good, family, DisneyPlus+ viewing.