Source: Telegraph >> Read full article and comment
By Gill Hornby
Published: 5:44PM BST 09 Apr 2010
The comedy roast is a long-held American tradition. Let’s bring it over here, argues Gill Hornby.
This week, Bruce Forsyth had the good grace to be the guest of honour at Britain’s first TV Comedy Roast. The veteran entertainer grinned away while younger, less successful entertainers (Jonathan Ross, Jimmy Carr) hurled abuse at him: “When the dinosaurs died, was he taken in for questioning?” etc. And, predictably, didn’t he
do well?
The comedy roast is a long-held American tradition. The roastee is put “on the spit” for some “good-natured bullying”, and it’s been a regular on television since Dean Martin impaled Bob Hope in the Seventies (“You’d love this evening if you knew you were here”).
For some reason, it has never gained purchase in Britain. Yet watching Brucie warming nicely, the format seemed curiously familiar. What did it remind one of? It took a while to recognise it, but yes! That’s it! Provincial English family life in the second half of the 20th century!
You see, the definition of a comedy roast – “comedic insults with a little bit of heartfelt praise” – could in fact define the philosophy of British parenting for the post-war years. God, if you couldn’t have a good old belly laugh at your children’s shortcomings, what was the point of them? All the things that are today considered to be “issues” – skinny legs, puppy fat, sticky-out ears, spectacles – were picked up by adults and lobbed about without a care in the world. No meanness was intended; it was, like a roast, just one way of showing the love.
And it couldn’t have been more different from the way we raise our children now. The modern parent is the guardian of his offspring’s all-important self-esteem. Back then, if – if! – a child were to achieve something, that would be acknowledged.
But cautiously. For that child must, on no account, become too big for its boots.
Bigness of boots was a dreaded disorder, a terrifying thing, and the best protection against it was the affectionate insult. When I announced that I wanted to be Olivia Newton-John, I was told I was more Olive from On the Buses. When I brought home
my accomplished future husband, he was immediately rechristened “Smug”.
Looking back on it, life was one long comedy roast. And not just for me. Look at the recent run of vintage school reports in the letters page of this newspaper. We’ve all enjoyed the clever remarks of masters past – “For this pupil all ages are dark”; “At least his education hasn’t gone to his head”. These are perfect examples of the comic insult, exchanged by adults over the heads of their young victims. But imagine if a teacher tried using that sort of language today – the governors would have his guts for garters…. Continue reading
