It was with much sadness that I heard that James Alexander Gordon has had to retire from the BBC following the loss of his larynx as a result of throat cancer.  He had read the classified football results since 1974 and, as has already been said, "Saturday teatimes will never be quite the same again."

The news brought memories flooding back to the distant radio days of my youth, when television had not entered the consciousness of my family or, indeed, anyone else in my boyhood `village by the sea` on the shores of Southampton Water.   Not long after the war ended my father had returned home after five years as a prisoner of war and we settled in a cottage in Hythe, where my father worked for BOAC on their flying boat maintenance base.   Not long after we moved in, I contracted a pretty serious kidney disease which saw me spend months in Southampton Children`s Hospital and months more convalescing at home - in all I lost over a year of schooling, which probably explains why I have been doggedly trying to catch up ever since.

Anyway, spending months at home with my mother and our faithful Cossor radio for company made me appreciate just how marvellous it was and I still have fond memories of programmes such as Dick Barton- Special Agent, At the Luscombes, the Charlie Chester Show, In Town Tonight and, inevitably, the weekly ritual concerning the classified football results.


Now my father had his routines, one of which was slavishly to do the football pools every week - Vernons, I think it was - in the straw-grasping hope of winning the jackpot by predicting eight draws (not just score draws) and fulfilling his dreams of avarice.   As part of the ritual, he would tune in to the football results at 5.00pm each Saturday and meticulously write down the results against the fixture list as they appeared in the newspaper.   

I was fascinated by this and wanted more than anything to be able to write down the results myself as they were broadcast.   But that was my father`s prerogative, of course - part of his ritual - and so, as I had all the time at my disposal during my convalescence, each Saturday I used to get some plain paper and carefully copy out the fixture lists from the newspaper, leaving room for me to write in the results for myself as they were announced.

It may have been an exercise in futility but it did introduce me to the BBC announcers who read out the results.   And the retirement of James Alexander Gordon recalled the equally dulcet, if perhaps more clipped, tones of those early pioneers of the art, such as John Hobday, Jimmy Kingsbury and Robin Boyle.  If I have got the technology right, the link below should produce a recording of Sports Report from 30 October 1948, when you might hear presenter Stephen Grenfell introducing Robin Boyle who reads the football results (including an annoying draw for Portsmouth) although I`m sure James Alexander Gordon would never have said "nought."  Just click on the link, turn the sound up and see if it works:-

http://randomradio.net/audio/SportsReport1948.mp3

RADIO DAYS...

During a fairly aimless `surf` of the net, I came across this photo which not only shows images of some of yesteryear`s radio stars but which also brought back memories of the golden age of radio, back in the 40s, 50s and 60s.   I recall being shouted at by my Mum for me to come in from playing to listen to Whipit Quick on the Charlie Chester Show during the late 1940s and, as a family, we would gather round the Mullard radio every Saturday evening to listen to `At the Luscombes.`   Later on, when my rebellious streak was in its infancy, I surreptitiously tuned in to Radio Luxembourg, seduced by its unconformity bordering on naughtiness, its `difference` and its advertisements for Ovaltine and Fyffes Bananas.

Later still - and this is the point at which my parents and I finally went our separate cultural ways - I discovered the Goon Show, which left me rolling around the floor in stitches whilst my parents stayed straight faced, uncomprehending, baffled by it all.

But back to the photo.  It must be from an edition of `Educating Archie` and shows, amongst others, Hattie Jacques and Max Bygraves who, if reports following their demise are to be believed, gave confirmation of the Bard`s assertion about the evil that men do living after them.  And up front and centre stage we have Peter Brough and his dummy Archie Andrews, living proof of the absurdity of having a ventriloquist on the radio.  Only the BBC could have thought of that one.

But there is also a youthful looking Eric Sykes and of all those in the photograph, he was certainly the most distinguished.  His achievements, for one so seemingly inoffensive, were considerable with a career as a radio, television and film writer, actor and director spanning more than 50 years.  In 2004, following a petition from MPs of all people, he was awarded the CBE and other awards included the Golden Rose of Montreaux, the Freedom of the City of London, Lifetime Achievement Awards from the Water Rats, the Variety Club of Great Britain and the Writers Guild.   All this despite being stone deaf and a devotee of Oldham Athletic Football Club.

He died last July at the age of 89 and yesterday there was a memorial service for him at St. Martin-in-the-Fields.   Eulogies were delivered by good men and true and the whole event was `generously paid for by the BBC,` despite an ongoing rift between the Beeb and Sykes going back to the 1970s, when the then Head of Comedy wiped all the tapes of Sykes`s most recent work.   Perhaps the BBC`s generosity yesterday was a belated attempt to make up for that error.   Or even to try to atone for the crass absurdity of having a ventriloquist on the radio.  But whatever the BBC`s motive, just for once I will not complain about their generosity with licence-payers` money.  

RADIO GOES GAGA..

Hard on the heels of Robbie Savage`s faltering entrance into the parallel universe of Radio 5 Live`s 606 phone-in extravaganza and as if to prove that the world survives by the cock-up theory rather than some grand design, the other evening saw the Sony Radio Academy Awards which, of course, had to feature our friend Savage.   Here he is  having clearly scrubbed up for the occasion and looking his usual debonair self  pictured with a slimline version of Geri Halliwell, having won the award as this year`s Sony DAB Rising Star.   In truth, seldom has belief been so beggared, but there may be a plausible explanation

Savage walked away with this Award, the night’s only people’s choice award,  by himself having rallied the support of listeners to receive thousands of votes – the most in the awards history - to secure him the title.   Seems entirely logical and predictable  that this serial charlatan should arrange to win an award for himself and bathe in the resultant glory, however counterfeit that may have been.   A major surprise is that he refrained from repeating his after match performance on Saturday  by not stripping off his eveningwear and handing component parts to Geri and others in awe of his engaging personality.  

However, in an effort not to disappoint, it`s reported that there was something of an `incident` just afterwards when Richard Keys offered his hand in congratulation to Savage, only for a stream of obscenities to come his way along with an invitation to `ave some outside.  Keys, himself no stranger to controversy, was apprently heard to remark that Savage `was a difficult man to ignore....but well worth the effort.` 

Sounds like a good idea.