Tuning in…
Tuning in…
Desert Island Discs
Presented by Roy Plomley
Comedy writer and broadcaster, best known for his guest appearances on 'Duke Box Jury'.
Eight records
Sir Adrian Boult conducting the London Philharmonic Orchestra
to get us off the ground, to have the Vaughan Williams lark ascending.
The Four Seasons: Summer (3rd movement)
Pinchas Zukerman and the English Chamber Orchestra
And if we could have the four seasons, which all come out rather the same, but summer, the last movement of summer, has got this delicious hoey bit.
Kersley Vinay with l'Orchestre Typique de la Police
It's a cigar, and a cigar is a rather erotic dance from the island of Mauritius and it's sung in Mauritian Creole. And the reason for this record is that my wife comes from Mauritius and we've both been there and it's an utterly, utterly delightful not desert, but island.
Sir John Betjeman with music by Jim Parker
John Bitchman made a record where his poetry was put to music by a modern musician, Jim Parker. I like this record enormously and all the tracks are good. The particular one I've chosen is called The Shotshire Lad.
Well, I thought a bit of jazz would cheer us up.
Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat major, K. 595Favourite
Alfred Brendel with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields
Next record, um similar kind of thing actually, a bit Mozart. I love Alfred Bendel playing the K595, the concerto in B flat.
Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1
Norman Del Mar conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra
Well, I thought it'd be rather nice to go out with splendid music, with really splendid, splendid music, with pomp and with circumstance.
The keepsakes
The book
J. L. Carr
It's a marvellous little story of um elementary school headmaster in the Midlands trying to fight to keep his school free from his bureaucratic superiors and is very funny and I can still remember everybody who was Who's in the story?
The luxury
It's a little luxury item, hardly an essential, for brushing the fluff out of the navel. Because it'd be good for brushing sand out of the navel. Yes, indeed. And for keeping the records free from sand. I think it'd be frightfully useful.
In conversation
Presenter asks
Could you endure loneliness on your seagirt fastness?
Um probably, eventually.
Presenter asks
What would you be happiest to have got away from?
I don't think I'd be happy to have got away, really. I d I quite like it here.
Presenter asks
As a schoolboy, what did you want to be?
I wanted to be a writer ever since I can remember.
Presenter asks
What in fact did you do when you left school?
When I left school I was fourteen and three quarters and I had to go to work because my mother died and couldn't keep me at school. And I joined a firm made carbon paper.
The recording
Timestamps play the recording from that turn
Frank Muir
Hello, I'm Kirstie Young, and this is a download from the Desert Island Discs archive. This edition may be slightly different from what was actually broadcast, but it is the only version we have. It comes from the British Library's radio collection. The recording didn't contain the guests' eight music choices, so we've rebuilt the original show by using discs from the BBC Gramophone Library. For Wrights' reasons, we've had to shorten the music.
Frank Muir
Full details can be found on the Castaways page on the Desert Island Disc's website.
Frank Muir
The programme was originally broadcast in nineteen seventy six.
Frank Muir
And the presenter was Roy Plumley.
Presenter
On our desert item this week is someone whom I'm sure will be remembered for his guest appearances on Duke Box Jury. It's Frank Muir.
Presenter
Frank, where would you like your island to be?
Presenter
Um somewhere warm, out of the belt of high winds, out of the cyclone area.
Presenter
Washed. I think it's got to have a a lagoon so that one can swim, or at least immerse the body. Yes.
Presenter
Could you endure loneliness on your seagirt fastness?
Presenter
Um probably, eventually. What would you be happiest to have got away from?
Presenter
I don't think I'd be happy to have got away, really. I d I quite like it here. You do? No no criticism.
Presenter
Not not major, no. Hm. Now we know from your public pronouncements that you have a great interest in and knowledge of music. Have you any skill as an executant?
Presenter
I'm a bit worried about the first half of the question. I mean the statement before the question. I know anything about music. I just like it very much. Well, yes, well it you convince us. You like it very much indeed. We won't mention it. Chesterton thing, if the thing's worth doing, it's worth doing badly.
Frank Muir
Yeah, statement before
Frank Muir
I can't.
Presenter
and I thoroughly enjoy singing because I can't.
Presenter
Did you have any plan in choosing your eight record?
Presenter
Um n a sort of, yes, a sort of approach, which was to uh pick as widely differing records as I could to uh to indicate how um esoteric is the word. It means that the uh the width of the choice is such that it doesn't exist at all. You know, it's uh I just like all music that's rather good of its sort. Right. And what's the first one? First one I thought to be rather suitable.
Presenter
to get us off the ground, to have the Vaughan Williams lark ascending.
Presenter
The Lark Ascending by Vaughan Williams
Presenter
Sir Adrian Bolt conducting the London Philharmonic Orchestra. What's your second disc?
Presenter
Uh my second dist I thought would be a a bit of Howie music.
Presenter
Do it, now the lark's up there, I thought we get moving. And I like baroque music. Uh I like telemen. The trouble is with teleman that even as I say the word I have a terrible compulsion
Presenter
to sing every time Oh, mister Telemann, Tellimi sonatas, Daylighty come and I wanna go So I can't have Teleman, so we have Vivaldi.
Frank Muir
Sonatas.
Frank Muir
On the select.
Presenter
And if we could have the four seasons, which all come out rather the same, but summer, the last movement of summer, has got this delicious hoey bit.
Presenter
The Last Movement of Summer from The Four Seasons by Vivaldi, Zuckerman playing and conducting with the English Chamber Orchestra. I remember very well the first time I met you. It was in a BBC studio just after the war, and I'd been hired as compere and straight man to the comics on on on a comedy series, and one of the comics was Jimmy Edwards, and one day he came into the studio twirling his moustache, followed by you, and Jimmy said in a very grand manner, This is my writer.
Presenter
Oh.
Presenter
By heavens, well, it's going back about thirty years, isn't it? Just about, I suppose. What happened to you? You were born before that? Yes, I was.
Speaker 4
Form
Frank Muir
That.
Presenter
You're not a little bit more. Your moustache has got smaller. Ah.
Frank Muir
You have
Frank Muir
No.
Presenter
Now before that, before you reach that peak,
Presenter
What had you done? I mean you
Presenter
Being Jimmy Edwards Veiter in nineteen forty six. You're a you're a Londoner.
Presenter
No, Broadstairs. Broadstairs. Yes, I went to the same school as Mr Heath, the politician. Yes, I've heard of it. And uh I was uh about a year earlier. I'm a little bit younger, I think, not much, but a little bit. As a schoolboy, what did you want to be? I wanted to be a writer ever since I can remember. Were you a bookish lad?
Presenter
Um not
Presenter
Literary, but but uh reading, yes, anything from Just William to short stories to anything really in plays and What in fact did you do when you were at school?
Presenter
When I left school I was fourteen and three quarters and I had to go to work because my mother died and couldn't keep me at school. And I joined a firm made carbon paper. Yes. Nice and relevant to typewriters. Of course. And I was there, I think, a couple of years. I can't remember dates. And then along came the war. And you joined the Royal Air Force? Yes. What sort of job did they give you? I was a photographer. Was that their idea or yours? Well, it was we we sort of worked at it between us. What did you photograph mainly? I photographed parachutes and parachuting most of the war.
Frank Muir
Mayor
Presenter
How did the performing and literary arts come into your life? Did you do anything of that sort in the RAF? To get out of guard duty.
Presenter
It soon became apparent that if you could say um concert parties, sir,
Presenter
You you you weren't put on guard duty. What did you do in the concert party? I wrote the concert party's sketches and things and also appare rather like you, I compared them and stewage for the funny men.
Presenter
And when the war was over you stayed with it? I had a go at it. That's where I I first met you. Yes, the the war was it's a terrible thing to say, but it it did a tremendous amount of good for those lucky enough to survive uh who had sort of strong umbilical cords, which Eric Sykes, for instance, would have gone back to the north and gone back to his job in the mill had not he been left on the beach, as all of us were when the tide receded, and we were able to make a fresh start and have a go at what we really wanted to do. You put carbon paper behind you? Yes, you could say that. Right. Rather well put.
Presenter
Let's have record number three.
Presenter
Oh, yes, this is rather rather an odd record, Roy. It's um
Presenter
It's a cigar, and a cigar is a rather
Presenter
erotic dance from the island of Mauritius and it's sung in Mauritian Creole. And the reason for this record is that my wife comes from Mauritius and we've both been there and it's an utterly, utterly delightful not desert, but
Presenter
island. And the interesting thing about this particular recording is that uh the singer is accompanied by the orchestra typical of the police, l'Oquestre typique de la police. You will hear a kind of Detective Inspector Stéphane Guppelli later on in the record.
Speaker 4
Bahai Su.
Speaker 4
He said to Shana make a game
Speaker 4
Um
Speaker 4
Don't see a topic
Speaker 4
Please and my mother
Speaker 4
I'm not sure if I can do it.
Presenter
Sequela Mode, sung by Kersley Vinay with, as you rightly said, the orchestra typical of the police.
Presenter
Now, you were writer in ordinary to Jimmie Edwards. Had you met Jim in the Royal Four Source? No, no, I hadn't. I'm I met him at the Windmill Theatre.
Presenter
Because I was I had been writing for another comedian there, Peter Waring. Yes. A rather disaster-prone man, unfortunately, and I sort of transferred on the death of Mr Waring to Jimmy Edwards. And then we both of us got offered work by the BBC and have survived since then. Yes. It was Ted Cavaner, I believe, who introduced you to Dennis Norton on the premise that each of you was too tall to work with anyone else.
Frank Muir
There
Presenter
But perhaps, yes, why not?
Presenter
Good story, isn't it? Well, let's stay with it. And you elided your two comics, I believe Dennis was writing for Dick Bentley. That's okay. And put them together and take it from here. Yes, the BBC did that, in fact. It was Charles Maxwell, who wanted them to two together and asked us, Dennis and I, whether we could interleave and work together for the two of them. And we did nothing else for 17 years but work together.
Frank Muir
Where?
Presenter
And our dear old friend Charles Maxwell, I believe he was led a beastly time by you and Dennis, because you both used to try to slip double meanings under his guard into the script. That's fine, yeah. Absolutely fair. The great thing with Charles was you gave him an obvious one, and then you fought to the death to keep it in, and exhausted with the fight, you finally said, Okay, we'll take it out. And exhausted with the fight, he didn't dare argue about the ones you really wanted to keep in.
Presenter
Ewan Dennis are the only writers I ever met to work regular office hours.
Presenter
Well, we haven't written together for ten, twelve years, but in those days we used to qu yes, you had to, to to keep sane.
Presenter
Um we worked from about ten o'clock in the morning till about six, half past six, uh but usually until that particular day's work was finished and it could go on till nine, ten at night. And you used to have an office with only two chairs in it, which was good thinking. Oh, yes. And a desk. Yes. Otherwise it was no worthi nothing to rest your paper on. But if anyone came in and wanted to talk, there was nowhere to sit down, so he drifted off. That's right. You saved a lot of time. Also, the room was so small, there wasn't room for another chair. Why, after three hundred and seven hard-fought scripts, did you give up, take it from here?
Presenter
Because we were, or we felt we were living off our fat, that we had nothing more to do or to say with that particular format. So we asked to be relieved of it anymore and go into television. Well, at this point, I think we will break for another record. What shall we have? John Bitchman made a record where his poetry was put to music by a modern musician, Jim Parker.
Presenter
I like this record enormously and all the tracks are good. The particular one I've chosen is called The Shotshire Lad.
Speaker 2
The gus was on in the Institute, The flare was up in the gym.
Speaker 2
A man was running a mineral line, a lass was singing a hymn.
Speaker 2
When Captain Webb the Dollyman.
Speaker 2
Captain Webb from Dorley came swimming along the old canal that carried the bricks to Lorley.
Speaker 2
Swimming along, swimming along, swimming along from seven.
Presenter
Sir John Betcherman, when you gave up writing, take it from here, you became, you and Dennis became comedy advisors to the PBC. What exactly did that mean? What were you doing? Well, it meant we got an office and free paper and carried on writing our normal series, mostly. But on the side, as it were, we used to put up a sign in Purdar on our door. And that meant that we were writing and our advice wasn't to be sought. But when we weren't in Purdar, producers would come in and discuss their problems with us and ask about casting and general problems, whether an original script is worth proceeding with, whether it has any good factors. It was kind of a general dog's body job, purely in the realm of comedy. How long did it last?
Presenter
I think it's four years. It lasted for four years. It was a bit of an interruption to our writing, and we were glad when it was over and could get back to writing only. And then when you and Dennis broke up, decided not to write together, you went to work for ITV? No, I went to work for the BBC first of all, as um as A H L E bracket comedy end of bracket T V.
Presenter
I'm glad about it. I was head of comedy production for television, and that was a three-year contract.
Speaker 4
Yeah.
Frank Muir
It was I
Presenter
And I did the three years and it was great fun and I enjoyed myself enormously and lots of my producers produced marvellous shows for which I got a great chunk of the credit and which made it all a very happy experience. And then you went to I T V. Your analogy of of leaving the B B C for I T V I think is worth quoting.
Presenter
Oh, I said it's like leaving a monastery to become dorm at a at a strip club. Yes.
Presenter
Well, then there was the battleship for Temkin gag. I think that's worth quoting.
Presenter
Oh, yes, nobody understood that. I was asked by the then head of independent television about the ITV programmes, and I said okay, I suppose, as long as they learn a lesson from the fate of the battleship Temkin and don't let the ratings assume too much importance. You're now, of course, a freelance and have been ever since then. I've been yes, about seven years, I suppose. You have those two regular shows, My Word and My Music. They've had very long runs.
Presenter
Yes, nothing compared to you in my feeble way. My word is twenty years, and and my music's the newcomer is ten.
Presenter
And you've been writing some books. There's a new one which I've got here, a very handsome term, the Frank Mule Book. Now, this is not an autobiography.
Presenter
No. No. What would you like to describe it? Well, it it's the subtitle does the work, actually. The the subtitle is an an irreverent companion to social history.
Presenter
Which is what it is. Rather difficult book to describe, actually. I've rewritten.
Presenter
Six things, one to each chapter. In other words, the social history of music, food and drink, literature, art, theatre.
Presenter
education from the Greeks until now, through the eyes of people who were alive at the time and didn't like what was going on.
Presenter
And it's heavily peppered with contemporary quotations, and all the quotations are against. Yes, it was originally called Pieces of Hate, which was a a neat idea, but it didn't quite give the idea. Well, there's very little hate expressed in letters and journals, and i in fact expressed generally, because hate is is a stuff that once you express it.
Presenter
it evaporates. You you have to pin sort of pin it up.
Presenter
Pint it up.
Presenter
to make it very sort of nasty. It must have taken immense labour and a very long time.
Presenter
Uh it it was just over five years in the writing.
Presenter
And it it was extremely laborious because uh just technically the sewing together of quotations so that they appear to flow easily is um is very laborious. Yes. And I I may say that practically all these quotations are new to me. You really have mine some new stuff. There are none of the old familiars at all. Well I think this this particular attitude of looking at the uh what is said against rather than for even great figures is um is great fun, it's illuminating and also it it it gives you new quotations because it's a it's a fresh attitude and people have gone through the same books, haven't chosen the same
Frank Muir
Doesn't
Presenter
Quotations for that reason. Let's have record number five.
Presenter
Well, I thought a bit of jazz would cheer us up. The Coleman Hawkins Quintet, playing Sunday morning.
Presenter
Sunday Morning by the Coleman Hawkins Quintet, recorded in 1958. Now what's your next record? Next record, um similar kind of thing actually, a bit Mozart. I love Alfred Bendel playing the K595, the concerto in B flat.
Presenter
Brentle, a soloist with the Academy of Saint Martin in the Fields, in Mozart's Piano Concerto No. twenty seven in B flat, K five nine five. Frank, you spend part of your year on an island, not a very barren one, but you know a bit about island life.
Presenter
Oh, Corsica. Yes, well we we we've got a kind of medieval slum there which we use for holidays and uh we've been going there now for fourteen years. Are you a self-reliant lad? Could you look after yourself in desert island conditions? Not bad, not bad. Uh quite handy with the hands. And we a bit of the um
Frank Muir
Uh
Presenter
Uh, Robinson Crusoe going on there, the Swiss family of Robinson, I think. Any good at fishing? Yes, okay. No, not good at it, but but I know the principles and have done the odd bit.
Presenter
I'd I'd d I'd fish'll be all right, huh? Have you messed about in small craft?
Presenter
Slightly, yes. Would you try to escape?
Presenter
If escape made sense, but not just uh sort of a blind escape. No foolhardy nonsense.
Presenter
Onotimus is the word.
Presenter
Right. Record number seven. What next?
Presenter
Echo number seven, The Beatles. Wouldn't it be nice to hear again, Let It Be?
Speaker 4
When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom.
Speaker 4
Let it be.
Speaker 4
And in my hour of darkness she's standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
Speaker 4
Let it be, let it be, let it be.
Presenter
Let it be by the Beatles, which brings us to your last record.
Presenter
Well, I thought it'd be rather nice to go out with splendid music, with really splendid, splendid music, with pomp and with circumstance. The I don't think this sort of music is is written much nowadays, but just to hear the the strength and the colour and the glory of dear old
Presenter
Pomp and circumstance be a fitting end.
Presenter
Elgar's Pump and Circumstance March number one in D. Norman Del Mar conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. If you could take just one disc out of that eight, which would it be?
Presenter
Ah, I think one could live for many years finding new things in the Mozart.
Presenter
The Alpha Bendron. And one luxury to take with you.
Presenter
I think um a navel blush.
Presenter
A navel brush. It's a little luxury item, uh hardly an essential, for brushing the fluff out of the navel. Uh because it'd be uh good for brushing sand out of the navel. Yes, indeed. And for keeping the records free from sand. I think it'd be frightfully useful.
Frank Muir
Yeah.
Frank Muir
I'm not going to do it.
Presenter
And I do feel in a way, Muir, you're you're doing something to keep up standards, too. Thank you.
Presenter
And one book apart from the Bible, Shakespeare, and big encyclopedias. I'd take the Harpole Report by J. L. Carr.
Presenter
Tell me about it.
Presenter
Before it did, no.
Presenter
Good lord.
Presenter
It's a marvellous little story of um elementary school.
Presenter
headmaster in the Midlands trying to fight to keep his school free from his bureaucratic superiors and is very funny and I can still remember everybody who was
Presenter
Who's in the story?
Presenter
Write The Harpell Report by JL Carr.
Presenter
And thank you, Frank Muir, for letting us hear your Desert Island discs. Thank you, boy. Goodbye, everyone. Bye.
Frank Muir
You've been listening to a download from the Desert Island Discs archive.
Frank Muir
For more downloads, please visit the Radio 4 website.
Presenter asks
How did the performing and literary arts come into your life? Did you do anything of that sort in the RAF?
To get out of guard duty. It soon became apparent that if you could say um concert parties, sir, you you you weren't put on guard duty.
Presenter asks
Why, after three hundred and seven hard-fought scripts, did you give up Take It From Here?
Because we were, or we felt we were living off our fat, that we had nothing more to do or to say with that particular format. So we asked to be relieved of it anymore and go into television.
“the war was it's a terrible thing to say, but it it did a tremendous amount of good for those lucky enough to survive uh who had sort of strong umbilical cords, which Eric Sykes, for instance, would have gone back to the north and gone back to his job in the mill had not he been left on the beach, as all of us were when the tide receded, and we were able to make a fresh start and have a go at what we really wanted to do.”
“Oh, I said it's like leaving a monastery to become dorm at a at a strip club.”
“I think one could live for many years finding new things in the Mozart.”