You’ve Been Framed

So here we are, getting into the second century of posts on Just One More Episode.  Sadly, we’re not able to celebrate the storming success of the historic hundredth post last week (Dark) because hardly a badger has read it.  Whether people are put off by it being in German or if they’ve simply had enough of me talking about myself, we’ll never know.  But it does give us a chance to search our souls in order to understand the purpose of this loose collection of prosaic ramblings.  Mostly, it’s to tell people about good telly that I think they should watch (apart from when I accidentally watched all of Altered Carbon and slagged it off).  Navigating the world of boxsets requires confidence and peer permission, so I’m prepared to go boldly and check these episodes are worth your limited viewing time.  But sometimes, we stop off to indulge ourselves in the shared experience of a culturally significant programme, despite there being no special occasion to warrant it any additional relevance (leading to the suspicion I just choose shows at random – I mostly do).  I’ve discussed Friends and University Challenge at times when, like now, everyone is watching Love Island, so if you’re looking for method to this madness, you’ll only leave disappointed.  However, if what you need is an irreverent rundown of a hilarious home video show that’s been on our screens since 1990, then let’s get started.  Readers, I give you You’ve Been Framed.

“But, why now?” I hear nobody asking.  I’ll admit to the occasional moment of telly switch-on (typically a weeknight after aggressively commuting home, swapping work clothes for slacks, plating up enough food for a family of four that I intend to eat alone, and sinking into the sofa) and, before I can hit the Netflix button that my duty as a Millennial compels me to do, I end up catching a few moments of ITV2.  If I’ve made it to zone 2 early enough (and we can judge this by the trail of dead bodies I have left in my wake on the Victoria Line), I might just catch a repeat of You’ve Been Framed.  It feels dirty: the grainy picture quality, the low-cost format, the canned audience chortle.  But, without fail, I will laugh out loud.  Recently, we tested this theory in the office.  A debate on the show’s various presenters preceded my department’s captain YouTubing some clips from YBF’s 1998 vintage.  It may have been the giddiness of impending first-time fatherhood, but more likely it was the joyous silliness of people taking leave of their common sense on videotape that had him howling with hysterics and encouraging the rest of us to gather round and share in the mirth.  People really just are a bit stupid.  I’ve talked before of the importance of silliness (Miranda) but while its consequences can be dangerous (proven by things such as Brexit, the climate crisis and Boris Johnson), they can also be harmless and entertaining.

Let’s revisit some of the top categories of human silliness that You’ve Been Framed celebrates so successfully in this non-exhaustive list of the things we can expect to see:

Fat person doing something they oughtn’t

In order to cope with the elephant in the room (which is normally them) fat people don’t like their obesity to be mentioned constantly.  But this can sometimes lead to a denial of the basic laws of physics.  Oh I’ll just balance on this plastic bench despite being 25 stone.  Oh I’ll just hang off this rope swing despite my 48 inch waste.  Oh I’ll just try out this child’s bike despite wearing size XXXL jeans.  By the dictates of gravity, they as an object exert a force on the item onto which they have heaved their hulking mass.  Cue snapping materials and the payoff of a bouncy bouncy landing.

Geriatric about to stack it on a wedding dancefloor

Let’s continue this tirade against marginalised groups, moving from the overweight to the elderly.  There’s Aunty Pat giving it some swing at Steve and Beverley’s reception, shaking her skirts and shimmying out of time to generic Disco Dave fodder.  She’s pulling faces to the camera, really going for it with the showing off.  But the parquet flooring has just been polished and her slingbacks’ grip has worn down.  Over she goes, comedically obliterating her hip in the name of a good time.  Bonus points for pulling a tablecloth down with her, or for her dentures flying out.

Child-based collisions

They have so much energy, racing about the garden chasing dogs or riding bikes, until, bam, they’ve smashed into any available obstacle.  Luckily, these children all seem to have rubbery qualities, which is just as well as their care-givers normally can’t do much else but laugh at them.  My dad, too, always seemed especially enamoured by children falling over.

Awful American brats

Bolstering the British public’s lack of hilarious content (and the fact that even £250 cash can’t overcome our reservation about looking like a silly sausage on national TV) the USA has produced enough home video howlers in our mother tongue that we can mix in seamlessly.  A highlight is always toddler Brandon, overshadowed by a mountain of Christmas gifts, telling his poor mugs of parents that he didn’t want whatever plastic tat they have lavished on him.  Sadly, though, this isn’t an acerbic comment on consumerism from our Brandon, but a damning indictment concerning the inhumanity of spoiling your children.

I could go on, but I’m sure we’ve all got our own favourite categories.  What I need to leave time for is the special ingredient that could make or break an episode of You’ve Been Framed: the host.  For the first seven years, early nineties TV darling Jeremy Beadle was our introduction to thematically linked montages of people’s pratfalls.  Bizarrely, a studio audience gathered to witness a man show them videos, which must have resulted in many disappointed coach trip passengers voyaging up to that there London for some culture.  But these were more innocent times, and this was must-watch telly.  But it was, if I remember correctly, broadcast too late on a Sunday evening for me at the young ages of five, six and so on.  Besides, Sunday night in our household was hair-wash night.  Mum would get the bucket (the same one that was fetched if either of us threatened to vomit due to illness) and deftly wash the Johnson’s Baby Shampoo off us while we grew up in a household that hadn’t yet been able to afford installing a shower.  I would cry, whether or not my eyes stung, simply because I wanted to watch a goateed man introduce funny videos, occasionally escalating my protest to weeing in the bath, knowing full well my older sister would be up for her hair wash next and using the same water.

Beadle (RIP) retired from VHS duties in 1997 (though I know Beadle’s About had been another vehicle for his comedy – too young to understand the concept, I thought the joke was that he simply hid from people while having their cars vandalised).  The show’s producers needed a new anchor and, naturally, got in Mandy Dingle off of Emmerdale.  Our opening credits now showed a moo-moo-clad Lisa Riley greeting CGI video cassettes like they were her pals before reeling off scripted intros while everyone just waited for the clips to play.  Things felt tired, and this failed to change when Jonathan Wilkes took the helm in 2003.  Yes, I know we had all forgotten about him.  He was brought into the public eye because he was Robbie Williams’ pal and that was enough for a music/media career in those days.  He seemed like a nice bloke, but I have literally no recollection of any of his output.  Sadly, we are reminded of Robbie Williams much more regularly.

In 2004, someone had a stroke of genius.  They got rid of the studio audience and the links between the clips, as these got in the way of the clips themselves.  Instead, the videos were enhanced by irreverent voiceover, specifically, the imaginative stylings of Harry Hill.  Much less annoying without his visual of big collar and wide eyes, Harry’s tone leant itself well to everything, and suddenly the most mundane video moments were elevated by his hatred of white plastic garden furniture, or by referring to every fat man as John Prescott and every fat woman as Anne Widdecombe.  It was a magic formula: a higher density of money shots, with the set up to each improved with humour that was a touch more intelligent than the slapstick we tune in for.  Fifteen years later, we still can’t get enough.

Granted, nobody bursts into the office demanding: “Did anyone watch You’ve Been Framed last night?”  They’d be laughed out of their skinny jeans.  But it does indeed remain a show to unite the family.  My niece can squeal at the cute animals, while my dad can indulge his adoration of Child-Based Collisions.  The pointing and laughing are guilt-free, as each clip nets someone £250, so we can assume they’ve volunteered to share their mishap with the nation.  YBF allows my parents to indulge their love of considering everyone but themselves to be idiots (which, regular readers will notice, especially this week, that that’s an apple that hasn’t fallen far from the tree), and my mum will look up from the ironing to issue a caustic “silly arse” if she considers anyone’s potential life-changing injury to be self-inflicted.  It’s not a glossy boxset with A-list actors, nor is it some hidden gem that will earn you kudos among the office intelligentsia.  But let’s take a moment to laugh at people falling over, as long as Harry Hill provides the commentary.  I defy you to watch an episode and not laugh out loud.  And we could all use more laughs, couldn’t we?