If, like me, you grew up (and I’m aware of the irony in that) in the ‘70s, February was a tough month, with the sad news that Richard Briers and Bob Godfrey had died.
Briers had a distinguished acting career and is, quite rightly, fondly remembered most for his character in ‘The Good Life’. Amongst his many roles, both serious and comedic, he also lent his voice to a startling bit of animation that burst it’s wobbly way on to our wooden-box-surrounded screens in 1974.
The 1970s seemed to be largely hued in varying shades of beige, with hints of mustard yellow and burnt orange, and colour TV was a relatively new experience still, so the animated adventures of a daft dog and caustic cat who were the shades of dayglo green and pink normally reserved for highlighter pens, must have been a bit of a shock to the eyes at the time. It caused mine to open very wide indeed.
Roobarb was written by Grange Calveley, and brought vividly into life by Godfrey, whose strange, shaky-looking style of animation was both defiantly hand-sketched, but also wonderfully warm. Running to a total of just thirty episodes, the hapless green dog bumbled his way through various disastrous inventions, whilst the pink sarcastic cat usually laughed so much, he fell off the fence. Some large-beaked birds tittered uproariously for good measure. After that it was the news, but I’d had my five minutes of anarchic, parent-annoying, fun by then.
Simple. Effective. And, if you were under-ten, hilarious, to the point where it was entirely possible to get told off for laughing too much (You’ll have to take my word for that). Having first been introduced to animation by the beautifully crafted likes of Tom & Jerry and Disney films, Roobarb felt much more... homespun. Like someone you knew who was good at drawing could have done it. And it was very ‘now’ too, especially with it’s fantastic grungy guitar theme by Johnny Hawkworth. You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you? It’ll be with you for hours.
Sampled by Shaft for a 1992 rave tune, and brought back in 2005 for a second run of new episodes, the originals still have a charm that nothing before, or since, has captured.
As the years tick by (lest we forget, Roobarb first aired thirty-nine years ago!), the things, places, and people we grew-up with slowly disappear. I’d almost forgotten about Roobarb and his adventures, but now, like a pond full of chocolate custard that’s about to set in the midday sun, it has all come surreally back into focus for me.
Two of the team responsible for my happy childhood memories have gone. They certainly won’t be forgotten. Rest in peace, Richard and Bob. And thanks.
“It’s all gone quiet.” said Roobarb.
“Too quiet.” said Custard.
“Only if you let it.” Said Peter, sadly.
This post first appeared in my 'Thank grumpy it's Friday' column in The North West Evening Mail on Friday the 1st of March 2013. You can view the version on their website here although it does seem to have gone in unedited, and using my suggested title, for the 2nd week in a row.
I received a lovely email from someone at the paper saying it had almost brought a tear to their eye. Mind you, that could have been a polite way of telling me it was eye-wateringly rubbish, but I'm on a rare glass-half-full kind of day.
Last week's potholes story elicited some rare comments on the NWEM's website, two-thirds of which were pointing out that I was factually incorrect, and it is in fact Cumbria County Council that looks after the roads, Not South Lakeland District Council. Thanks for that.
(More Queen! The unloved, by some, Hot Space album.)
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