He was sticking to the familiar neighborhoods of his youth but enjoying them with money. He had good friends, a beautiful wife, and his mother was nearby. He might even have felt a wave of contentment once in a while.

But one day he called Peg on the telephone: "I'm at Bedford at the railway station. I'm feeling so low I'm going to end it all. I'm going to jump in front of a train." Rushing to save him, just as she'd always done, Mother found him sitting alone on a bench, staring into an abyss only he could see.

Happy families may all be alike-since there are so few of them it's difficult to tell-but as countless dysfunctional family memoirs so repetitively prove, unhappy families are similar, too. Marital tantrums sound the same. So do crying children. Peter Sellers's family was no exception.

Wally Stott took a benign view of Peter's marriage to Anne, a perspective made possible by the relative distance from which he viewed it: "Sometimes I'd be at parties at Peter's house. They were always very enjoyable affairs. There'd always be music we both liked. His wife, Anne, was a very lovely lady, and a great hostess." (Years after his professional association with Peter ended, Wally Stott became Angela Morley. Spike Milligan commented with a mean sort of affection for his old friend: "He has now had a sex change. I don't know why. When he undresses he still looks like Wally Stott. I think when Secombe undressed at night he looked like Wally Stott. Peter didn't. When he undressed at night he looked like Diana Dors." When I spoke with Angela Morley, I asked her how she wished to be identified in this book, and she replied, "It's a judgment you'll have to make and I'll have to accept." My judgment is to attribute her quotes to Wally Stott, since he was the person with whom Peter Sellers worked on Stott, since he was the person with whom Peter Sellers worked on The Goon Show The Goon Show, and to thank Angela Morley for them in the acknowledgments.) Anne was putting up a good front. In private, it was she who bore the brunt of Peter's mercurial moods, the bleak stretches of silence as well as the hot rages, his tendency to grow bored with their living arrangements and insist that they go someplace else. "We did move a lot," she notes. "I'm not quite sure why. I guess he got sick of wherever we were. I guess we lived in about [long pause] oh, I can't think how many.... About eight different houses, I guess." Her mother-in-law barely spoke to her, which, come to think of it, was probably for the best.

Anne understood Peter. She knew that he was erratic in predictable ways. He would buy a car on a whim-a used Jaguar here, a used Rolls there-and sell it equally whimsically, usually at a loss, and buy another. He piled up more and more photographic equipment and turned the kitchen into a darkroom, where his chemicals took precedence over her milk and eggs, thereby rendering the sink unusable. He was making more money than he'd ever seen, but so drastically had he always overspent his income that his accountant, Bill Wills, once attempted to put him on a severe allowance-12 per week. Peter inevitably exceeded it, and rather than raise the rate, Wills gave up, leaving Peter to spend as freely as he wished.

Anne wanted children. She thought they might stabilize the marriage. And so it was in this rickety domestic context that in July 1953, Anne Sellers announced that she was pregnant again. Peter responded joyously. He went out and bought a 300 electric train set and began playing with it in earnest.

As cherished radio stars with bills to pay, Peter, Spike, and Harry were periodically obliged to leave London, head out to the various shires, and adapt recorded Goon broadcast comedy into live music hall routines. The more successful Peter became, the less willing he was to do it. Since he'd been holding provincial audiences in contempt since his squalid vaudeville infancy with his grandmother's traveling water tank, his growing fame and fortune in the mid-1950s carried with it a lingering, ever-souring wrath. Late in his life, Peter described with unbridled contempt the Goons' audiences outside London. They were Goonlike, he said, but in the worst possible sense: "You're usually telling jokes to a crowd of people with two-thousandths of an inch of forehead." In Peter's increasingly lofty view, it was one thing to act like a moron but quite another to perform for one. When he looked out through the footlights at his audiences he saw a vision of hell. two-thousandths of an inch of forehead." In Peter's increasingly lofty view, it was one thing to act like a moron but quite another to perform for one. When he looked out through the footlights at his audiences he saw a vision of hell.

Still, apart from having to face the dreaded Cro-Magnons of the hinterlands, the regularized camaraderie of The Goon Show The Goon Show gave Peter immense pleasure, as did the lasting comic art he was creating with his friends. That several Goons and associates lived in more or less the same neighborhood of North London wasn't simply due to Peter's family real estate connection; having close friends close at hand was important to Peter. He enjoyed fellowship. gave Peter immense pleasure, as did the lasting comic art he was creating with his friends. That several Goons and associates lived in more or less the same neighborhood of North London wasn't simply due to Peter's family real estate connection; having close friends close at hand was important to Peter. He enjoyed fellowship.

When asked about his Goon Show Goon Show years after they were long gone, his answer was inevitably a variation on a simple declarative statement: "It was the happiest time in my life professionally." Beloved by its creators and its fans alike, the program provided steady employment, national fame, and bizarre comedy in equal measure. Peter craved all three. years after they were long gone, his answer was inevitably a variation on a simple declarative statement: "It was the happiest time in my life professionally." Beloved by its creators and its fans alike, the program provided steady employment, national fame, and bizarre comedy in equal measure. Peter craved all three.

Sellers wasn't exactly the star of the show, but he was certainly the most vocally gifted Goon, and as a result the United Kingdom experienced a rising tide of impressionists of the impressionist. Listeners loved to do Peter's many voices themselves-their flattery was sincere-and Sellers imitators began popping up all over the country. Wally Stott tells of his experience in the mid-fifties when he learned, surreally, to fly a plane: "My instructor used to give me my lessons in Peter Sellers's voices. One lesson he'd be Bloodnok, another lesson he'd be Bluebottle."

Stott fondly remembers Peter's upbeat mood in the recording studio on Sundays: "Peter used to do a lot of clownish things. For instance, we used to warm up the audience before the show started. Harry would sing, and we would play. And Peter would go around the back of the studio and play the timpani, and put on a real show doing it. You know how timpanists, years ago, used to turn handles to tune them? Peter used to give a terrific impression of one of the old-time timpani players-playing it, listening to it, and darting his hand over it tightening the taps. And then one of the sound effects men would fire a blank-it was really crazy." Peter may not have succeeded entirely in finding himself by clowning for an ever-growing public, but he was trying.

"There were quarrels from time to time," Wally Stott admits. "I don't think Harry was ever involved in those things. They were between Peter and Spike. I never knew what they were about, but there would be certain weeks when I'd realize that all was not well." But the Sunday recording sessions were generally merry-at least when Spike wasn't suffering one of his spells-so much so that rumors of on-air drunkenness began to surface. Max Geldray dismisses these reports as absolutely false, though he does acknowledge that the Goons sometimes seized the opportunity afforded by Geldray's harmonica interlude to swig a little brandy out of milk bottles. It was a smuggler's trick. Wouldn't you know it? The BBC banned alcohol on the premises. weeks when I'd realize that all was not well." But the Sunday recording sessions were generally merry-at least when Spike wasn't suffering one of his spells-so much so that rumors of on-air drunkenness began to surface. Max Geldray dismisses these reports as absolutely false, though he does acknowledge that the Goons sometimes seized the opportunity afforded by Geldray's harmonica interlude to swig a little brandy out of milk bottles. It was a smuggler's trick. Wouldn't you know it? The BBC banned alcohol on the premises.

Goon art was evolving. Under Peter Eton's supervision, the show's structure really began to cohere in the fourth series (195354), though Spike and Larry Stephens still weren't developing single story lines for the duration of each half hour. But by the fifth series (195455), with scripts by Milligan and Eric Sykes, each episode began to feature a self-contained plot, albeit in a Milliganesque way. These plots, such as they were, might be steered as much by the sound of the words as by character motivation or narrative drive-hence the subsequent comparisons to Carroll and James Joyce.

And they were often bleak. Modernist disaster abounded. In "The Phantom Head-Shaver (of Brighton)," for instance, the charming seaside resort is thrown into chaos by a goofy terror: a lightning-fast, hair-obsessed criminal wielding a razorblade. The story makes no sense, but it's a story, and its governing principle is that no one is ever safe. The episode features the shrieking Prunella Dirt (Sellers), whose husband is rendered bald by the eponymous villain; the broadly Jewish Judge Schnorrer (Sellers); Major Bloodnok (Sellers); Professor Crun (Sellers); and Willium, a dopey window cleaner (Sellers).

And it was rude. British humor, even on the BBC, was even less culturally sensitive than American comedy was at the time. "The Phantom Head-Shaver" episode features this breathtaking introductory remark: "Tonight's broadcast comes to you from an Arab StenchRecuperating Centre in Stoke Poges."

"Hitler-there was a painter for you." A Peter Sellers World War II joke. was a painter for you." A Peter Sellers World War II joke.

Spike's longtime assistant and editor Norma Farnes has observed that each of the Goons had suffered military service during World War II, and it was this direct experience of the armed forces, not to mention their experience of the war itself, that made them so skeptical of authority. They were also morbid by nature. In an episode called "The Dreaded Batter Pudding Hurler (of Bexhill-on-Sea)," Seagoon and Crun are standing on a beach during a blackout. Crun insists that no Nazi could never see "a little match being struck," so Seagoon strikes one. They're instantly hit by an exploding shell. "Any questions?" Seagoon asks. "Yes," Crun responds. "Where are my legs?" were also morbid by nature. In an episode called "The Dreaded Batter Pudding Hurler (of Bexhill-on-Sea)," Seagoon and Crun are standing on a beach during a blackout. Crun insists that no Nazi could never see "a little match being struck," so Seagoon strikes one. They're instantly hit by an exploding shell. "Any questions?" Seagoon asks. "Yes," Crun responds. "Where are my legs?"

Wally Stott ties one of the Goons' ruder, lewder jokes directly to the war: "Sometimes there was material that the boys tried to get away with, which the BBC wouldn't allow. There was a lot of British-Army coarse language that they tried to get through. I mean, there was a character called Hugh Jampton! there was a character called Hugh Jampton!"

The American interviewer falls silent. "You don't understand that? Well, Hampton is a crude word for penis. So Hugh Jampton would be a very big one, wouldn't it? Of course anybody who'd been through the war in Britain would know."

On the home front, Michael Peter Anthony Sellers was born on April 2, 1954. He was a cute baby with his mother's light complexion and twinkling eyes. They called him Pooh.

Now Peter had a son to go with the train set, and Anne had a real infant to go with her husband. Peg was overjoyed. She was Anne's first visitor at the hospital, the arrival of Pooh having reduced her to grandmotherliness.

Peter began filming another movie. Even after Much Binding in the Marsh Much Binding in the Marsh and other postwar radio comedies had left the airwaves, British cinema still produced war-inspired comedy-dramas and even outright farces, as did Hollywood. The Boulting brothers, Roy and John, featured Gene Kelly in and other postwar radio comedies had left the airwaves, British cinema still produced war-inspired comedy-dramas and even outright farces, as did Hollywood. The Boulting brothers, Roy and John, featured Gene Kelly in Crest of the Wave Crest of the Wave (1954); Billy Wilder had William Holden in (1954); Billy Wilder had William Holden in Stalag 17 Stalag 17 (1953); and John Ford showcased James Cagney in (1953); and John Ford showcased James Cagney in What Price Glory? What Price Glory? (1952). Peter Sellers's next film, (1952). Peter Sellers's next film, Orders Are Orders Orders Are Orders (1954), is part of the same cycle, though it lands on the far side of (1954), is part of the same cycle, though it lands on the far side of Francis Goes to West Point Francis Goes to West Point (1952). (1952).

Filmed at Beaconsfield Studios (and no, there are no reports of Peter having tried to impress the front gate by signing in as the Fifth Earl), and released in the autumn, Orders Are Orders Orders Are Orders is a military farce in which an American film company overruns a British army camp in an attempt to is a military farce in which an American film company overruns a British army camp in an attempt to film a B-grade, ray-gunfilled sci-fi movie on the grounds. Despite his increasing fame as a Goon, Peter is far from the top of the cast, a position occupied jointly by Margot Grahame, Brian Reece, and Raymond Huntley. Peter plays the subservient but graft-grabbing Private Goffin. Looking purposely dumpy, he's stuck with an ill-fitting white valet jacket that pulls severely at the bottom button. Corrupt but ineptly so, Goffin takes a conspiratorial attitude with the brash Hollywood director, who wants to pay somebody off to get the camp's cooperation. This is not high comedy. At the vulgar moment when Goffin first encounters the glamour-puss starlet tagging along with the production he actually licks his lips. film a B-grade, ray-gunfilled sci-fi movie on the grounds. Despite his increasing fame as a Goon, Peter is far from the top of the cast, a position occupied jointly by Margot Grahame, Brian Reece, and Raymond Huntley. Peter plays the subservient but graft-grabbing Private Goffin. Looking purposely dumpy, he's stuck with an ill-fitting white valet jacket that pulls severely at the bottom button. Corrupt but ineptly so, Goffin takes a conspiratorial attitude with the brash Hollywood director, who wants to pay somebody off to get the camp's cooperation. This is not high comedy. At the vulgar moment when Goffin first encounters the glamour-puss starlet tagging along with the production he actually licks his lips.

The highlight of this eminently inexpensive exercise is the preposterous fifties Martian Girl costuming employed to outfit the outerspace invaders. Complete with flapping antennae and bodices that resemble Jantzen swimsuits, they're irresistible getups, especially when Peter ends up in one. His is composed of a sequined, V-shaped top that looks like two gaudy beauty-contest sashes meeting in the middle. It's paired with a short black skirt. At one point Peter runs onto the makeshift sci-fi set in a little cardboard spaceship powered, like Fred Flintstone's car, with his feet. The rest of the film is of no interest. Even at Peter Sellers's bottom-rung position in British cinema, the material was beneath him.

Peter's omnidextrous voice was still his best asset, and one day it reached the ears of the European production head of Columbia Pictures. Mike Frankovich was in his car on the way to the airport and, to kill time, he tuned into the BBC. At the end of the radio play that happened to be on, Frankovich was stunned to hear the announcer say, "All the characters were played by Peter Sellers."

"We were doing Fire Over Africa Fire Over Africa with Maureen O'Hara at the time," Frankovich told the Hollywood gossip columnist Sheilah Graham some years later. "I needed English and American voices of all classes. When I returned to London, I called Peter and asked him to do the seven voices and paid him 250 for the lot." Disembodied movie voices were a fine sideline. According to Peter, by the time he did the voices in with Maureen O'Hara at the time," Frankovich told the Hollywood gossip columnist Sheilah Graham some years later. "I needed English and American voices of all classes. When I returned to London, I called Peter and asked him to do the seven voices and paid him 250 for the lot." Disembodied movie voices were a fine sideline. According to Peter, by the time he did the voices in Fire Over Africa Fire Over Africa-and he he always claimed that there were always claimed that there were seventeen seventeen, not seven, and that they were all individuated Spaniards-he'd performed four voices for the sound track of John Huston's Beat the Devil Beat the Devil (1953), including that of the film's star, Humphrey Bogart, who'd suffered tooth damage in a car (1953), including that of the film's star, Humphrey Bogart, who'd suffered tooth damage in a car accident and couldn't provide some of his own dialogue. He also went on to perform his chestnut Churchill in the opening moments of accident and couldn't provide some of his own dialogue. He also went on to perform his chestnut Churchill in the opening moments of The Man Who Never Was The Man Who Never Was (1956), not to mention a drunk, a newsreel announcer, a taxi driver, and a couple of crones later in the film. (1956), not to mention a drunk, a newsreel announcer, a taxi driver, and a couple of crones later in the film.

Peter also performed a more bizarre audio cameo, uncredited, in a Joan Collins South Seas epic called Our Girl Friday Our Girl Friday (1954). He's the voice of a shrieking cockatoo: (1954). He's the voice of a shrieking cockatoo: Sadie Patch (Collins) is on a ship somewhere in the Pacific. There's a shipwreck. Everybody piles into a lifeboat, but, in sight of shore, it sinks. Sadie is washed onto the beach, and, with her back to the camera, she removes her clothes to let them dry in the sun. She's startled by a cockatoo and turns around. In short, Joan Collins takes her shirt off and Peter Sellers screams.

Just as he was assuming responsibility as the father of a newborn son, Peter's professional life was becoming a whirlwind. The Goon Show The Goon Show's fifth series began recording on the last Sunday in September and continued nearly every week for the next twenty-five weeks. He did guest spots on the BBC television show And So to Bentley And So to Bentley (starring Dick Bentley). And on November 1, Peter performed for Elizabeth II. The (starring Dick Bentley). And on November 1, Peter performed for Elizabeth II. The Royal Variety Show Royal Variety Show was certainly prestigious; it brought Peter into the company of the show's headliners, Noel Coward and Bob Hope. was certainly prestigious; it brought Peter into the company of the show's headliners, Noel Coward and Bob Hope.

Peter, Spike, and Harry continued to tour. Their acts couldn't use the words Goon Show Goon Show in the title, since the BBC owned the copyright, but audiences all over Britain knew precisely who they'd come to see and why. Pleasing provincial audiences was even more of a strain, however, and not only for Peter. In December 1954, Spike once again reached the end of his rope, this time literally. in the title, since the BBC owned the copyright, but audiences all over Britain knew precisely who they'd come to see and why. Pleasing provincial audiences was even more of a strain, however, and not only for Peter. In December 1954, Spike once again reached the end of his rope, this time literally.

They were doing a mock-acrobatic act in Coventry. Billed as "Les Trois Charleys," Peter, Spike, and Harry wore gold headbands and flaming red capes. The audience was already confused by the three comedians' scattershot antics, but when Milligan appeared alone onstage and proceeded to blow a series of off-key trumpet solos, the audience rebelled with catcalls. Spike responded by clomping down to the edge of the stage and shouting, "You hate me, don't you?!" The audience roared back its unanimous affirmation. And with that they Coventrated him.

Spike ran to his dressing room and locked himself in. Harry and Peter, knowing Spike well, understood that he might well be killing himself. They broke down the door and found Spike putting the noose around his neck. knowing Spike well, understood that he might well be killing himself. They broke down the door and found Spike putting the noose around his neck.

For Peter, this incident was the last straw in an ugly pile that had been growing in size since he was three, and so he decided to quit doing music hall shows. It wasn't just Spike's suicidal state that convinced him. These tours were simply too grueling, too awful and demeaning. But he still had a contractual obligation in Coventry to fulfill, and thus he had a chance to effect vengeance.

The morning after Spike's episode-they saved him, he continued writing and acting, somebody finally invented Lithium, and decades later he took it-Peter bought one of the Goon Show Goon Show conductor's records ( conductor's records (Wally Stott's Christmas Melodies) along with a record player, and that afternoon, at a reduced-price matinee for an elderly crowd, he appeared onstage clad in an oversized leopardskin leotard. He put the record on the record player, stood there, and played three songs straight through, not saying a word. At the end of each song, he led the audience in a round of hearty applause and then he left the stage.

Strangely, the audience appreciated the joke and applauded happily when Peter's essentially Dadaist routine concluded. The theater management was not nearly as entertained, however, and a furious manager challenged Peter on the basis of the "as known" clause. He had "performed"-no one disputed that-but not "as known."

"I'm going into films," the fed up comedian told his agent. "Not as a sideline, but all the way. This life is too bloody impossible. It'll kill me if I don't get out now."

SIX.

Peter Sellers was safely back in London in late December 1954, appearing at the Palladium in a stylish riff on Mother Goose. Written by Phil Park and Eric Sykes, the comedy was a top-notch production-the antithesis of "Les Trois Charleys," with its headbands and capes and trumpets. The director was Val Parnell, a fixture of West End theater, and in fact, the production was officially billed as Val Parnell's Seventh Magnificent Christmas Pantomime, "Mother Goose." Val Parnell's Seventh Magnificent Christmas Pantomime, "Mother Goose." Erte codesigned the costumes. There was a Goose, a Vulture, a Bailiff, and a Policeman. There was a Sammy, a Donald, and the Pauline Grant Ballet. There was an evil Squire, too; that was Peter. Erte codesigned the costumes. There was a Goose, a Vulture, a Bailiff, and a Policeman. There was a Sammy, a Donald, and the Pauline Grant Ballet. There was an evil Squire, too; that was Peter.

The actor-comedian Max Bygraves, who played Sammy, reports that Sellers couldn't help but depart from the script and improvise throughout the show's run. On one particular night, Bygraves well recalls, the evil Squire departed from the family-safe script, slipped without warning into Groucho Marx, and blurted, "Lady Dicker, that's ridoculous!"

Mother Goose-grumpy Richard Hearne in drag-was not amused by Peter's filthy joke, and immediately after the curtain fell she gave the management a piece of her fairy-tale mind. When the sympathetic Bygraves showed up at Peter's dressing room the next day, he found Peter in tears. Val Parnell himself had scolded the errant Peter, telling him that if he continued veering so luridly off script he'd never work again.

This was a relatively empty threat, since Parnell didn't control British radio, television, or film. But Peter seems thereafter to have stuck to the dialogue he'd originally been given-only for the duration of Mother Goose Mother Goose, of course, for by the end of March 1955, when the show closed (after 156 performances, usually two a day), he was once again free to exercise his dazzling improvisational skills.

But there was yet another new constraint. In late December 1954, toward the end of the toward the end of the Goon Show Goon Show episode called "Ye Bandit of Sherwood Forest," Maid Marian (Charlotte Mitchell, one of the rare female guests) suddenly squealed, "Oh! There's someone crawling under the table! What are you doing under there, sir?" episode called "Ye Bandit of Sherwood Forest," Maid Marian (Charlotte Mitchell, one of the rare female guests) suddenly squealed, "Oh! There's someone crawling under the table! What are you doing under there, sir?"

"I'm looking for a telegram," a familiar politician's voice intoned. The studio audience thundered its approval, and from that moment forward Peter Sellers was officially forbidden to impersonate Winston Churchill on the British Broadcasting Corporation's airwaves.

In February 1955, Peter and Anne bought their first house, a mock-Tudor in Muswell Hill, a neighborhood just north of Highgate. North London was still his orbit, though he was moving progressively farther away from the center of town. But the more significant turning point that year occurred on film. After appearing in the small role of a police constable in John and Julie John and Julie (1955; two cheeping children make their way to London to see the coronation of Elizabeth II), Peter made his first great movie, (1955; two cheeping children make their way to London to see the coronation of Elizabeth II), Peter made his first great movie, The Ladykillers The Ladykillers (1955), for his first great director, Alexander Mackendrick, who cast him in support of the first great star Peter was able to study at close range. (1955), for his first great director, Alexander Mackendrick, who cast him in support of the first great star Peter was able to study at close range.

"I first worked with him on The Ladykillers The Ladykillers," Sir Alec Guinness recalled in one of his last interviews. "He was not difficult at all-certainly not in those days. He was cast by Sandy Mackendrick, who knew him already. He was always very courteous to me; we got on very well. I mostly remember him having some kind of recording machine into which he would do imitations of people."

Long before his stellar appearances in international blockbusters- The Bridge on the River Kwai The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957), (1957), Lawrence of Arabia Lawrence of Arabia (1962), (1962), Doctor Zhivago Doctor Zhivago (1965), (1965), Star Wars Star Wars (1977), (1977), The Empire Strikes Back The Empire Strikes Back (1980), (1980), Return of the Jedi Return of the Jedi (1983), (1983), A Passage to India A Passage to India (1984)-Alec Guinness was a titan of British theater and cinema, and Peter admired him immensely. Guinness subsumed himself to an unparalleled degree into the roles he played. He was an apparently blank screen onto which he projected dazzlingly variegated characters. In the single year of 1951 Guinness did remarkable star turns in both (1984)-Alec Guinness was a titan of British theater and cinema, and Peter admired him immensely. Guinness subsumed himself to an unparalleled degree into the roles he played. He was an apparently blank screen onto which he projected dazzlingly variegated characters. In the single year of 1951 Guinness did remarkable star turns in both Oliver Twist Oliver Twist, as an especially vicious hook-nosed Fagin, and The Lavender Hill Mob The Lavender Hill Mob, as the bland bank employee who casually steals 1 million. But it was in the great Ealing Studios comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) that Guinness gave his showiest chameleonic (1949) that Guinness gave his showiest chameleonic performance-that of all eight members of the titled d'Ascoyne family who are systematically bumped off by a distant relative, the ninth in line for the dukedom: Ascoyne d'Ascoyne, Henry d'Ascoyne, Canon d'Ascoyne, Admiral d'Ascoyne, General d'Ascoyne, Lady Agatha d'Ascoyne.... performance-that of all eight members of the titled d'Ascoyne family who are systematically bumped off by a distant relative, the ninth in line for the dukedom: Ascoyne d'Ascoyne, Henry d'Ascoyne, Canon d'Ascoyne, Admiral d'Ascoyne, General d'Ascoyne, Lady Agatha d'Ascoyne...The titan invited the nervous novice to lunch before The Ladykillers The Ladykillers began filming in the summer of 1955. Sir Alec was not simply being kind when he spoke of the Peter Sellers he knew then. They began filming in the summer of 1955. Sir Alec was not simply being kind when he spoke of the Peter Sellers he knew then. They did did get along well at the time. After all, they had something in common. As Peter told Max Geldray afterward, "You cannot believe how quiet this man is. He's shy! He's got a switch inside. He turns it on, and another person pops up." get along well at the time. After all, they had something in common. As Peter told Max Geldray afterward, "You cannot believe how quiet this man is. He's shy! He's got a switch inside. He turns it on, and another person pops up."

The Ladykillers was the Ealing Studio's last great comedy, a film both of the studio and was the Ealing Studio's last great comedy, a film both of the studio and against against the studio. Ealing's longtime head, Michael Balcon, had envisioned and created a dogmatically British cinema-films that were homegrown, popular, and inconceivable in any other national film industry. Under Balcon's supervision, the best Ealing directors-Mackendrick among them-developed a style so consistent that by the mid-1950s it had become formulaic: An identifiably British setting (a city block in London, an island in the Hebrides, a manor house in the country) turns out to be populated by crazed eccentrics, or hurled into chaos by some fantastic event, or both. Surface realism meets absurdity-a biting comment on the kingdom. the studio. Ealing's longtime head, Michael Balcon, had envisioned and created a dogmatically British cinema-films that were homegrown, popular, and inconceivable in any other national film industry. Under Balcon's supervision, the best Ealing directors-Mackendrick among them-developed a style so consistent that by the mid-1950s it had become formulaic: An identifiably British setting (a city block in London, an island in the Hebrides, a manor house in the country) turns out to be populated by crazed eccentrics, or hurled into chaos by some fantastic event, or both. Surface realism meets absurdity-a biting comment on the kingdom.

But with The Ladykillers The Ladykillers, Mackendrick set out to satirize not only British society but Ealing's own internal culture as well. In The Ladykillers The Ladykillers, the familiar British setting represented the very studio in which Mackendrick worked: Mackendrick himself was the chief eccentric, who, in this case, was so defeated by Balcon's enforced conventionality that he left Ealing after finishing the film.

The Ladykillers concerns an elderly, Victorian-throwback widow, Mrs. Wilberforce (Katie Johnson). She seems sweet enough at first glance as she walks down a residential London street, but at the steps of a police station she looks into a baby carriage and causes the baby to shriek in terror. The infant's wail is predictive. In the course of the comedy Mrs. Wilberforce reveals herself to be so profoundly irritating that garroting her, knifing her, and shooting her become increasingly desirable outcomes in the minds of both characters and audiences alike. concerns an elderly, Victorian-throwback widow, Mrs. Wilberforce (Katie Johnson). She seems sweet enough at first glance as she walks down a residential London street, but at the steps of a police station she looks into a baby carriage and causes the baby to shriek in terror. The infant's wail is predictive. In the course of the comedy Mrs. Wilberforce reveals herself to be so profoundly irritating that garroting her, knifing her, and shooting her become increasingly desirable outcomes in the minds of both characters and audiences alike.

She takes in a lodger, Professor Marcus (Guinness, wearing hideous ratlike teeth), who uses his upstairs rooms to plan a heist with four henchmen: a jovial, well-spoken major (Cecil Parker), a dopey, sentimental boxer called One-Round (Danny Green), a frightening thug dressed all in black (Herbert Lom), and a Teddy Boy named Harry (Peter). (The British historian Arthur Marwick defines the Teddy Boy as "the first nationally recognized figure representative of youth's detachment from the rest of society and representative of the fact that for the first time working-class youth could take the initiative." The name comes from the Edwardian-style suits the boys wore as a kind of uniform; they got the idea from upper-class spivs of the late 1940s.) The thieves tell Mrs. Wilberforce that they are members of an amateur string quintet and incessantly play a single piece-Boccherini's String Quintet in E Major-on a record player to disguise their criminal planning sessions. a jovial, well-spoken major (Cecil Parker), a dopey, sentimental boxer called One-Round (Danny Green), a frightening thug dressed all in black (Herbert Lom), and a Teddy Boy named Harry (Peter). (The British historian Arthur Marwick defines the Teddy Boy as "the first nationally recognized figure representative of youth's detachment from the rest of society and representative of the fact that for the first time working-class youth could take the initiative." The name comes from the Edwardian-style suits the boys wore as a kind of uniform; they got the idea from upper-class spivs of the late 1940s.) The thieves tell Mrs. Wilberforce that they are members of an amateur string quintet and incessantly play a single piece-Boccherini's String Quintet in E Major-on a record player to disguise their criminal planning sessions.

When casting calls began in the spring, Dennis Selinger arranged for Peter to meet with Mackendrick and the film's associate producer, Seth Holt-but not for the role of Harry. They wanted Peter to read One-Round. It wasn't a particularly successful audition. As Mackendrick told Selinger, "Frankly, we can't see him with a broken nose and a cauliflower ear."

Holt, however, had the inspiration of casting Peter instead as Harry-the role for which Mackendrick had originally considered Richard Attenborough. Peter may have ended up playing another role or two in The Ladykillers The Ladykillers as well; both Guinness's and Mackendrick's biographers insist that Peter provided the voices of Mrs. Wilberforce's two parrots. as well; both Guinness's and Mackendrick's biographers insist that Peter provided the voices of Mrs. Wilberforce's two parrots.

Birds aside, Peter could certainly produce a flawless working-class Teddy Boy voice, but his casting in The Ladykillers The Ladykillers caused him great anxiety nonetheless. This strange, morbid satire might bomb; his film career might be scuttled; he was terrified of failure. Michael Balcon later described him as being "desperately anxious" while shooting his scenes: "He kept asking: 'Is it all right? Am I any good?'" caused him great anxiety nonetheless. This strange, morbid satire might bomb; his film career might be scuttled; he was terrified of failure. Michael Balcon later described him as being "desperately anxious" while shooting his scenes: "He kept asking: 'Is it all right? Am I any good?'"

Mackendrick's painstaking directing style, combined with the sheer length of time it took to shoot in three-strip Technicolor, resulted in multiple takes of almost every scene. Peter was used to cheaper productions, of which the one-take, two-week Penny Points to Paradise Penny Points to Paradise was only the most extreme example. And he was quite unnerved by the careful and methodical Mackendrick's demand that he-and Guinness, and Katie Johnson, and everybody else-play the same scene over and over again in front of fully loaded, softly humming cameras. Mackendrick simply wanted to use the was only the most extreme example. And he was quite unnerved by the careful and methodical Mackendrick's demand that he-and Guinness, and Katie Johnson, and everybody else-play the same scene over and over again in front of fully loaded, softly humming cameras. Mackendrick simply wanted to use the best of a variety of takes; Peter kept assuming that something had gone wrong each time, but he never could tell what it was. best of a variety of takes; Peter kept assuming that something had gone wrong each time, but he never could tell what it was.

From Peter's perspective, Alec Guinness was a soothing influence as well as a generous performer with whom he could share a scene. During the production of The Ladykillers The Ladykillers, Guinness offered Peter a piece of advice: "Don't ever let the press know anything about your private life." Peter told the press later that Guinness had been "patient enough to listen to me for hours as I spoke about my problems and aspirations."

Peter also claimed that Guinness was so impressed with his performance that he sent a note to a prominent English film critic, Cecil Wilson: "If you want a hot tip for the future," Guinness is said to have written, "put your money on Peter Sellers."

But in private, Guinness grew concerned about Sellers's influence on him. According to the critic Kenneth Tynan, during the production of The Ladykillers The Ladykillers, and for a long time thereafter, Peter "sought Guinness's advice at every opportunity, so assiduously that Guinness began to be worried, and even to suspect that his own personality was being absorbed by some process of osmosis into that of Sellers."

A dogged apprentice and a paranoid master: Sellers's relationship with Guinness played perfectly into the film. Like so many of his performances, Guinness's rendition of Professor Marcus is one of exquisite gestures and exacting timing: an insinuating tilt of the head, a jaunty hip jiggle to the tune of the string quintet, all with an air of suspicion toward everyone around him. Sellers's Harry is much less flamboyant. Peter lets his face and body go absolutely slack when Harry listens to Professor Marcus's instructions. Enthralled to the point of stupefaction, Harry is a stylish Teddy Boy, but not a particularly smart or hammy one.

Mrs. Wilberforce inadvertently ruins the criminals' scheme from the start, but the old bat's suspicions are aroused only after she closes the front door too soon on One-Round, who, with the strap of his cello case stuck in the door, gives a hard yank and money flies out, all over the street. She has got to be killed: MARCUS: It ought to look like an accident. It ought to look like an accident.

HARRY: (with a dawning inspiration) How about suicide?! (The other crooks gaze in amazement at his stupidity while Harry eagerly moistens his lips.) Get her to write a note, you know? "I just couldn't (with a dawning inspiration) How about suicide?! (The other crooks gaze in amazement at his stupidity while Harry eagerly moistens his lips.) Get her to write a note, you know? "I just couldn't stand it no more, signed Mrs. Wilberforce," and then somebody goes down and hangs her! (He jerks enthusiastically on his own black Teddy Boy tie.) stand it no more, signed Mrs. Wilberforce," and then somebody goes down and hangs her! (He jerks enthusiastically on his own black Teddy Boy tie.) But one by one the men kill each other instead. Mrs. Wilberforce survives. Because the police know she's batty, she gets to keep all the money for herself. Peter's Harry meets his end in a farcical chase during which he emits pipsqueaky sounds of panic until his final line: "Where's your sense of humor, One-Round?" at which point One-Round clobbers him to death with a plank.

"He struck me as a very charming, chirpy little spiv with a big car-a red Bentley-prominently parked every morning," Herbert Lom says, looking back on his first film with Peter Sellers. "He was very nice. We struck up a friendship." Lom makes a particular point about working with Peter. As an actor, Lom declares, Peter "was very generous," meaning that he didn't find ways of upstaging his colleagues, stealing their thunder with distracting tics and gestures of his own.

There were offscreen pranks. Lom, his fellow actors, and some members of the crew couldn't help but notice Peter's ostentatious devotion to the big red Bentley, so they thought they'd pull a little joke at his expense by painting a long scratch on the side of the car. Peter reacted poorly. But the fact that it turned out to be washable paint led him to wreak vengeance in harmless, practical-joke kind. A few days later, Lom smelled something fishy on the way home from a day of shooting. Peter "had pinned a kipper at the bottom of my engine, which started frying every time the engine got hot."

All the while, as Sir Alec remembered, Peter had been playing with his recorder. As the production neared its end in late summer, he showed up with his own limited-edition work of audio art-a spoof trailer for The Ladykillers The Ladykillers in which Peter played not only all the central characters' roles but also the voice of Sandy Mackendrick giving directions. He handed out the recordings as gifts, and they were a hit. Danny Green was amused to hear himself trying out important line readings ("I'm stayin' with in which Peter played not only all the central characters' roles but also the voice of Sandy Mackendrick giving directions. He handed out the recordings as gifts, and they were a hit. Danny Green was amused to hear himself trying out important line readings ("I'm stayin' with Ma! I'm Ma! I'm stayin' with Ma! I'm stayin' with Ma! I'm stayin' stayin' with Ma!"). Guinness, Lom, and Cecil Parker were respectfully skewered as well. So was Katie Johnson. "It sounded exactly like all of us," Herbert Lom declares, though other more critical with Ma!"). Guinness, Lom, and Cecil Parker were respectfully skewered as well. So was Katie Johnson. "It sounded exactly like all of us," Herbert Lom declares, though other more critical listeners felt that Peter's rendition of Mrs. Wilberforce bore a discomfiting similarity to Bluebottle. listeners felt that Peter's rendition of Mrs. Wilberforce bore a discomfiting similarity to Bluebottle.

It was then that Peter presented his critique of Mackendrick. Assuming a neutral narrator voice, Peter announced that listeners would now be offered "a brief glimpse of the brilliant technique of Alexander Mackendrick, director." The clapper boy (Peter) barks, "Scene 5, take 73! 73!" whereupon Peter, in blithering imitation of Peter, emits a string of rapid-fire gibberish, to which Mackendrick (Peter) responds, "Er, Peter-Peter-that's, er... that's very good. We'll do another."

Herbert Lom remembers of Peter that "at the end of the film he came to me and said if I could help him get another film part. And he obviously wasn't putting it on. He meant it. And I I meant it when I said, 'You won't need my help.'" meant it when I said, 'You won't need my help.'"

The Ladykillers was released in December to rave if rather less than perceptive reviews: "The most stylish, inventive, and funniest British comedy of the year"; "captivating"; "accomplished and polished"; "lots of laughs"; "wonderfully funny." was released in December to rave if rather less than perceptive reviews: "The most stylish, inventive, and funniest British comedy of the year"; "captivating"; "accomplished and polished"; "lots of laughs"; "wonderfully funny."

Typically, it took years before British film scholars pointed out what the reviewers had missed at the time. Neil Sinyard sees in The Ladykillers The Ladykillers an "elderly, paralyzed, hallucinatory, hidebound England"; Roy Armes calls it "a black and surreal masterpiece." Charles Barr reads the film marvelously as a political allegory: the gang of thieves as the postwar Labor government, who mask their radical plan to redistribute wealth by a cover of familiar, recorded classical music: "Their success is undermined by two factors, interacting: their own internecine quarrels, and the startling, paralyzing charisma of the 'natural' governing class." an "elderly, paralyzed, hallucinatory, hidebound England"; Roy Armes calls it "a black and surreal masterpiece." Charles Barr reads the film marvelously as a political allegory: the gang of thieves as the postwar Labor government, who mask their radical plan to redistribute wealth by a cover of familiar, recorded classical music: "Their success is undermined by two factors, interacting: their own internecine quarrels, and the startling, paralyzing charisma of the 'natural' governing class."

After The Ladykillers The Ladykillers, Alexander Mackendrick left Ealing-and England-and moved to Hollywood, where he made the beautifully rancid The Sweet Smell of Success The Sweet Smell of Success (1957) and was fired from his next two pictures. He didn't make another movie for six years. (1957) and was fired from his next two pictures. He didn't make another movie for six years.

Peter, meanwhile, found himself with no other film offers and turned instead to television.

While watching TV one evening in December 1955, Peter found himself unusually entertained, so the following day he placed a call to the show's director. As Richard Lester later reported the conversation, "A voice said, 'You don't know me, but I saw your show last night. Either that was the worst show that British television has so far produced, or I think you're onto something.'" Sellers and Lester met, quickly hit it off, and decided to make TV's answer to director. As Richard Lester later reported the conversation, "A voice said, 'You don't know me, but I saw your show last night. Either that was the worst show that British television has so far produced, or I think you're onto something.'" Sellers and Lester met, quickly hit it off, and decided to make TV's answer to The Goon Show The Goon Show. It would not be the radio Goons televised. It would be Goonavision, a radical rethinking of visual comedy in the video age.

Idiot Weekly, Price 2d premiered on February 24, 1956. ( premiered on February 24, 1956. (2d is two pence, or tuppence.) Notably, is two pence, or tuppence.) Notably, Idiot Weekly Idiot Weekly didn't appear on the BBC; it was produced independently by Associated-Rediffusion and broadcast on the less hidebound ITV. Still, ITV had its limits. didn't appear on the BBC; it was produced independently by Associated-Rediffusion and broadcast on the less hidebound ITV. Still, ITV had its limits. Idiot Weekly Idiot Weekly wasn't broadcast outside of greater London, the obvious fear being that Peter's nemeses-the no-brow miners up North-weren't sophisticated enough to handle the show's avant-garde humor. wasn't broadcast outside of greater London, the obvious fear being that Peter's nemeses-the no-brow miners up North-weren't sophisticated enough to handle the show's avant-garde humor.

Peter was the star of the series, his most consistent character being the editor of a sleazy Victorian tabloid, the headlines of which served as lead-ins to comedy skits featuring Sellers, Spike, and Eric Sykes, along with Valentine Dyall, Graham Stark, Kenneth Connor, and Max Geldray. Spike Milligan wrote the scripts, along with a stabilizing-and very large-backup team that included Sykes, John Antrobus, Brad Ashton, Dick Barry, Dave Freeman, Ray Galton, John Junkin, Eric Merriman, Terry Nation, Lew Schwarz, Alan Simpson, and Johnny Speight. The comedy wasn't simply manic and self-reflexive like The Goon Show The Goon Show. It was visually visually so, with purposely strange and ultramodern camerawork to match the vocal and narrative jokes. so, with purposely strange and ultramodern camerawork to match the vocal and narrative jokes.

There was, in addition, a severe but vitalizing risk involved. Idiot Weekly Idiot Weekly was broadcast was broadcast live live.

"The one thing we tried to do," Lester later explained, "was to push the rather narrow bounds of television comedy. Spike and Peter were anxious not to fall into those traps." What they wanted instead was "to produce material which was as visually anarchic and stimulating as their verbal work had been." As with The Goon Show The Goon Show, Milligan was what Lester calls "the creative force," Peter "the performer." "I think Peter envied-in the best sense-Spike's need to create. Peter was a wonderful adapter of other people's ideas. He honed them and made them into something infinitely better than what they could have been. But in terms of raw creation, certainly, Spike was the creator of almost all the ideas that came up."

Idiot Weekly, Price 2d ran for its allotted six weeks, whereupon a ran for its allotted six weeks, whereupon a follow-up series, follow-up series, A Show Called Fred A Show Called Fred, blasted onscreen on five successive Wednesdays in May. It too, was recorded live from A-R's studios at Wembley. Peter's name was now above the title: "Peter Sellers in A Show Called Fred A Show Called Fred." Spike, having made it through the creation of Idiot Weekly Idiot Weekly without going unhinged, now retained full control of the writing; the backup team was dropped. Still, without going unhinged, now retained full control of the writing; the backup team was dropped. Still, A Show Called Fred A Show Called Fred's broadcast range continued to be limited to Greater London.

Spike himself was productive; at this point it was only his writing that was unquestionably deranged, but it was deranged in an especially novel and exciting way. And it proved to be popular, striking a chord with the urbane public lucky enough to have been granted access to it. (Michael Balcon was right: England is is a land of surface realism dotted with secretly crazed eccentrics.) To say that a land of surface realism dotted with secretly crazed eccentrics.) To say that A Show Called Fred A Show Called Fred embraced the still relatively new medium of television fully is too mild a claim. It was embraced the still relatively new medium of television fully is too mild a claim. It was Laugh-In Laugh-In and and Monty Python Monty Python a decade ahead. a decade ahead.

One show featured a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde routine: Peter appears onscreen mixing potions in test tubes and declaring that he wishes to remove all his evil and leave only the good. He sloshes it down; the camera swings wildly back and forth; the image goes drastically in and out of focus. Peter reappears with ghastly makeup. "It went wrong! I'm evil!" He rushes to Hyde Park, attacks a woman, drags her into the bushes, and flings a rubber dummy around. The woman returns, delighted. "Oh you kinky thing!" Back at the lab, Dr. Jekyll asks his assistant (Graham Stark) to drive him home. Stark places a steering wheel against Peter's forehead and steers him out.

Several years later, the New York Times New York Times asked Sellers the obvious question: Why Fred? Peter's response: "You can ruin asked Sellers the obvious question: Why Fred? Peter's response: "You can ruin anything anything with 'Fred.' Suppose somebody shows you a painting. 'Oh,' he says, 'isn't it beautiful-it's a Rembrandt!' 'Beautiful!,' you say. Then you look a bit closer and you see it's signed 'Fred Rembrandt.' It's no good. You can't take it seriously if it's by Fred Rembrandt." with 'Fred.' Suppose somebody shows you a painting. 'Oh,' he says, 'isn't it beautiful-it's a Rembrandt!' 'Beautiful!,' you say. Then you look a bit closer and you see it's signed 'Fred Rembrandt.' It's no good. You can't take it seriously if it's by Fred Rembrandt."

But it was was good, and everybody knew it-Spike and Peter, Richard Lester, Associated-Rediffusion, and ITV. Peter, who had originally been signed to do good, and everybody knew it-Spike and Peter, Richard Lester, Associated-Rediffusion, and ITV. Peter, who had originally been signed to do Idiot Weekly Idiot Weekly at 100 pounds per program was given a raise, to 500. at 100 pounds per program was given a raise, to 500.

In one of A Show Called Fred A Show Called Fred's most celebrated incidents, Milligan wrote a sketch in which Sellers would play Richard III Richard III-not the character of Richard III, but all all the major parts-dressed, madeup, and speaking the major parts-dressed, madeup, and speaking precisely as Laurence Olivier. Milligan's idea was to invite Olivier himself to end the scene as a lone sentinel on the battlements; having heard Sellers's rendition, Olivier would simply shake his head in grief. Unfortunately, nobody had the nerve to approach Olivier himself, who, when told of it later, claimed to be disappointed not to have been asked. In any event, Peter played it all utterly straight, especially the part of Richard. precisely as Laurence Olivier. Milligan's idea was to invite Olivier himself to end the scene as a lone sentinel on the battlements; having heard Sellers's rendition, Olivier would simply shake his head in grief. Unfortunately, nobody had the nerve to approach Olivier himself, who, when told of it later, claimed to be disappointed not to have been asked. In any event, Peter played it all utterly straight, especially the part of Richard.

The pace began to pick up, as did the mania. After Fred Fred came came Son of Fred Son of Fred. And The Goon Show The Goon Show entered its seventh series. entered its seventh series.

Son of Fred ran from September 17 through November 5, 1956, eight programs in all, and with it, Peter and Spike's disjointed proto-postmodernist video went national. Because of its father's success, ran from September 17 through November 5, 1956, eight programs in all, and with it, Peter and Spike's disjointed proto-postmodernist video went national. Because of its father's success, Son of Fred Son of Fred could now be seen in the Midlands and the North. The billing also changed and lengthened: "Peter Sellers in could now be seen in the Midlands and the North. The billing also changed and lengthened: "Peter Sellers in Son of Fred Son of Fred by Spike Milligan." Spike, who limited himself mainly to walk-on roles, began aiming instead for an even sparer, starker comedy style. by Spike Milligan." Spike, who limited himself mainly to walk-on roles, began aiming instead for an even sparer, starker comedy style.

An "Idiot's Postbag" sequence: We see a simple ship set-with a back-projection tracking shot of trains.

Peter is wearing a Nazi uniform-just the jacket. He's got on pajama bottoms as pants.

A mountaineer writes in with a question from the Alps. We see him hanging on the side of a cliff. He asks Peter what to do. Peter advises him to take the only course of action an experienced mountaineer could take under the circumstances: "Fall off." The mountaineer thanks Peter, lets go, and plunges to his death.

Max Geldray strolls through the set with his harmonica. A black man in a hut appears with a violin. Max, playing "Anything Goes," wanders out to the street, hails a cab, hops in, and rides away. He ends up in a field and gets carried away on a stretcher.

Sellers turns up at a Lost and Found department looking for his mate-someone he misplaced on the London tube. Behind the counter there's a body with a tag on its toe. But no, that's not his friend. Sellers, wearing an oversized hat that sits on his ears, then lies down on a slab himself, along with Spike and Graham Stark. They each await someone to claim them.

Son of Fred, episode four: Peter, wearing tiny black tights, attempts to bang a giant gong to open the show. (It's a farcical parody of the great Rank Organization film logo, the British equivalent of the MGM lion.) Two musicians prepare to walk backward around the world while playing sousaphones.

A skit set in nineteenth century France: Sellers, playing a character named Monte Carlo, effects a broad and ridiculous French accent until the chateau walls, which have obviously been made of fabric all along, are lifted up to reveal a large television camera. Peter addresses the camera in a British accent until someone throws a sheet over it to enable Peter to resume speaking French. An unrelated technician runs onscreen and speaks to the other other camera-the one that's actually filming. Suddenly there's music-the old Gang Show chestnut, "We're Riding Along on the Crest of a Wave"-at which point the chateau backdrop flies up and everybody launches into a music hall routine. camera-the one that's actually filming. Suddenly there's music-the old Gang Show chestnut, "We're Riding Along on the Crest of a Wave"-at which point the chateau backdrop flies up and everybody launches into a music hall routine.

Max Geldray begins playing "Lady Be Good."

Cut to Spike's mouth, in extreme close-up, yammering nonsense syllables.

Cut to Max Geldray, who attempts to finish "Lady Be Good."

Cut to Peter playing a squirt bottle, squirting in time to "Lady Be Good."

Michael Palin, interviewed about The Goon Show The Goon Show, responded by saying that "The Goon Show didn't attempt to make any sense," and that "the influence of didn't attempt to make any sense," and that "the influence of The Goon Show The Goon Show on on me me was that when it came to was that when it came to Python Python, we could write whatever we wanted." But it was A Show Called Fred A Show Called Fred and and Son of Fred Son of Fred that were that were Monty Python Monty Python's real precursors. They were visually anarchic as well as verbally brilliant and mentally abnormal.

And they really really made no sense. made no sense.

Other programs featured such things as an underwater violin recital. A meeting between someone called Fred Nurk and his son's headmaster-that one ended with a meaningless waltz. There were parody commercials: one here for "Footo, the Patent Book Exploder"; one there for Muc, a detergent that chopped down trees.

One (possibly apocryphal) Fred Fred story involved a location shoot at a zoo, where unemployed actors were supposed to serve as understudies for animals on the animals' days off. Graham Stark is said to have jumped into the sea lions' tank and had great fun until one of the sea lions became aroused by the smell of his crotch. Stark appears to have survived the episode intact, but there were other tensions all around. Just before filming a story involved a location shoot at a zoo, where unemployed actors were supposed to serve as understudies for animals on the animals' days off. Graham Stark is said to have jumped into the sea lions' tank and had great fun until one of the sea lions became aroused by the smell of his crotch. Stark appears to have survived the episode intact, but there were other tensions all around. Just before filming a Fred Fred, Peter suffered a severe anxiety attack and attempted to alleviate it with half a bottle of brandy. He managed to speak his lines perfectly without slurring a word; it was his reaction time that suffered. The show was running eight minutes over schedule, which forced Dick Lester to cut the final sketch-not that anybody in the audience could tell the difference. a word; it was his reaction time that suffered. The show was running eight minutes over schedule, which forced Dick Lester to cut the final sketch-not that anybody in the audience could tell the difference.