Chuckle Decision

Rohan Unni, Rob Stone, and Tim Vogel get their wits tickled by the Chuckle Brothers Much like Marmite, the Brothers Chuckle are entertainers you either love or loathe. They played the Oxford Apollo with their sell-out success Raiders of the Lost Bark to high critical acclaim. They boast celebrity fans including Elton John, Stephen Gately, and Right Said Fred’s Richard Fairbrass. They have extraordinary mullets. Like battered Mars Bars, foreign football managers, and a hatred of the French, the Chuckle Brothers are a national heritage of which we are all proud. Christened in Rotherham as Paul and Bartholemew Elliot, their father was a “famous” comedian, Gene Patton, who toured the country with a dynamic and irrepressible charm resonant only of the true greats – Bernard Manning, or indeed John Inmnan. Their whirlwind success began with the dizzy heights of Butlins as performing Redcoats, and they went on to win the auspicious New Faces award in 1973. From then on the roller coaster of stardom rocketed ahead, seldom inducing any impromptu vomiting. And in 1987 the awe-inspiring Chucklevision was born, the brainchild of two unassuming geniuses. Accompanied by their two elder brothers – “the Patton Brothers” – we met them in their dressing room, whilst they were rigorously warming each other up for their performance. The age and wisdom in the contours of Paul and Barry’s faces hit you instantly. One wonders how such giants of comedy have triumphed for so long, as their humble and reticent demeanour stands opposite to their on-screen personalities. The Brothers are nonetheless welcoming, and we happily discuss their smash-hit tour. It soon becomes apparent that the chaos and high drama that characterises Chucklevision is absent in the brothers off-screen. Barry (the smaller one) is the more garrulous of the two, whilst Paul is happy to sit quietly and let his brother speak for him, chipping in every now and then. Watching their show afterwards, The Chuckles were right to point out the substantial presence of adults in the audience. The brothers are clearly beloved of all walks of society, and their unique physical humour had the twentysomethings in the crowd moist with pleasure. Despite the impact of Chucklevision, fortune has not always grinned on Paul and Barry. Their hit television quiz To Me…To You was pulled after three years at the top, the mention of which instantly incites an embittered reaction from the pair. Apparently the new grand fromage at the Beeb did not see the show fitting in with his own vision of the channel. Thousands of angry fans of all ages (see above) vociferously complained about this travesty but, as Paul fumes, “once someone has made a decision like that, they cannot go back on it without looking like an absolute arse”. Within ten minutes the Chuckles start to relax, and their ejaculations flow more freely. Barry admits to his devotion to Rotherham United, and Paul casually nurses his ever-decreasing mullet. They reveal their intimate relationship to “Jonathan Ross, a great friend of ours”. However, upon being asked about the current state of British comedy, they were quick to pooh-pooh “the long-haired gippo” Ross. “He can often be funny,” Barry grudgingly concedes, “but he has a tendency to rant about nothing”. Interesting point, Barry. But are there any other comedians you admire? “I do quite like that Lee Evans, for his visual humour. He has a very versatile body.” The Chuckles are evidently fans of visual, rather than observational, humour, as exemplified in their own comedy. “I don’t find a lot of comedy today funny, it’s just observation.” Good observation. On speaking to a number of Chuckle enthusiasts after the show, mixed reactions were uncovered. Mike Estill, aged 5, thought it was “really good fun, I loved the music and dancing”. Joe Sayers, aged 7, thought “the voices were wicked, and it was well colourful”. Lisa-Marie Stafford from Summertown, aged 6, found “the driving narrative thread through the performance effectively incoherent”. Nonetheless, having spoken with the substantial student contingent in the audience – of which Oriel provided a worryingly high proportion – the Chuckles’ claims of adult adoration were confirmed. Mr I. Barlow (New College) leader of the Chuckle Undergraduate Movement (CUM), defended the often risqué elements of the Chuckles. “Marlowe, Van Gogh, the Chuckle Brothers – geniuses who weren’t appreciated in their own time”. This is certainly a contentious comment, and perhaps not wholly founded. But, as Paul was swift to mention, “we’ve been going strong for thirty years. That’s no one-hit wonder, staying power is everything”. But despite such disappointments, the Chuckle aspirations of world domination are not rooted only in television. Barry, again, revealed the highly confidential information concerning their planned occupation of the Christmas number one slot. He says “If Bob the Builder, or Phil Collins can make it, we must have a good chance”. We were then graced with a short rendition of their latent vocal talents of the all-time classic, “Glad All Over” – soon to be in petrol stations everywhere. As the Chuckles finished their warming-up exercise, consisting of each shouting “To me…to you” louder than the other so as to really psyche themselves up, our impressions had been modified. Our typical scepticism had been vanquished by their professionalism and total commitment to their individual genre of physical comedy. “We are the only ones in our field who perform at such a consistently high level,” boasted Paul, fighting Barry for the soapbox. “In all our years of experience, comedians fall by the wayside without any public recognition. Barry and I, on the other hand, are loved by all ages, not because we exploit our sex appeal, but because we remain true to our comedic roots. And that’s the secret to our enduring success.” Touché, Brothers Chuckle, touché.ARCHIVE: 1st Week MT2003