Narrator:

When in Rome, you do as the Romans. So when you're on Blackpool Beach, you do as the English. With a deck chair, eating [inaudible 00:00:13], even putting a hanky on your head, and those postcards. "Hey Sonia."

Speaker 2:

Dear folks, having a lovely time at Blackpool-

Narrator:

Some inexplicable reasons, a holiday just isn't a holiday without that card.

Speaker 2:

Lots of love, Matt.

Speaker 3:

"Would you like a screw driver? Not now love, we're 10 minutes late."

Speaker 4:

"Can't be a whistle, I've tried blowing it."

Speaker 5:

"Don't you love me anymore Harold? I haven't had to slap your face for two hours."

Narrator:

Smutty British humour from the saucy seaside postcards, high art, or tasteless and tacky? This is where the public face of that stiff upper lip crumbles into something completely different.

Speaker 6:

"Put your knees down Mr. Jones. They are down Nurse."

Narrator:

In the 50s and 60s, smut was banned and books, but bought at the beach, proudly on public display for all to see. Saucy, sexist, silly, or seedy, but as British as bangers and mash.

Bill Pertwee:

Morning Tony.

Tony:

Morning Bill. How's it good [inaudible 00:01:24]?

Bill Pertwee:

Oh not bad, thanks, not bad, yes, yes.

Narrator:

Who better to talk about them than Dad's Army's Air Raid Warden, and author of a book on seaside humour, Bill Pertwee.

Bill Pertwee:

Everybody had, had to send a postcard back to their friends or relations or neighbours to tell them that they were at the seaside, very important to let your neighbours know that you were away at the seaside.

Narrator:

"Well what a delightful pair Miss Smith, they must be quite a handful."

Bill Pertwee:

There was always some wonderful little remark and a little joke, and that was a typical seaside occupation really, sending the cards back home.

Narrator:

And this is their birthplace, miles inland in rural Yorkshire. It was a family company Bamforth who started what could have been Britain's Hollywood 100 years ago here in the Picturedrome that's now been restored by local entrepreneur Peter Carr.

Peter Carr:

Specific business back in it's heyday was the focal point of the whole community. This is where everybody came to see anything live, and this is where everybody came to see a film.

Narrator:

But the first World War spelt the death of the fledgling film industry as the war effort gobbled up celluloid and Bamforth switched to cards for soldiers to send to their sweethearts. The saucy postcard was born.

Peter Carr:

They became so successful worldwide that the opened up offices all over the planet, and producing millions and millions of these postcards.

Narrator:

Holiday habits change though, and Britain's discovered the cheap package overseas. Sales of postcards fell. Bamforth's was bought by a bigger company that then went into receivership. It seemed as if the saucy seaside postcards were destined to die.

Speaker 10:

"How bloody stupid can you get, I distinctly said 'prick his boil.'"

Speaker 11:

Wow, look how colourful.

Narrator:

It was another local boy Ian Wallace who wouldn't let that happen. He's not bought what was left from the receivers, copyright to the characters, and literally hundreds of thousand of postcards.

Ian Wallace:

It was just one of the best of my life, it was wonderful, and from a business point of view as well, I can't get away from that because I am a businessman, I see great potential in Bamforth. The images are so wonderful, they're so fresh. They've given millions and millions of people a lot of happiness over the years and I think that is what will happen in the future.

Narrator:

For Ian, it's more than a business, it's those memories of the seaside holidays that he had as a child.

Ian Wallace:

When we went up up into town and the postcards were there. So I probably, from my early days four and five, they were probably there. It was only as I got a little bit older and probably started developing the wacky sense of humour that I've got, realised what they were and enjoyed them and thought, "Oh gosh, wish I could get some of these," but my mom was there, so I couldn't.

Speaker 13:

"Old Mr. Smith isn't half proud of that cock of his, he's got it out in the garden again."

Narrator:

But let's face it, these cards are an acquired taste.

Ian Wallace:

Well, it's obviously very, very British, but humour is humour and if you've got a sense of humour, if you go around these walls now and can't find something to laugh at, you're really a pretty sad person.

Narrator:

Henpecked hubbies, fat ladies, and big boobs, aren't they a little out of date, so to speak?

Bill Pertwee:

Seaside postcard is a very strange thing. They are, I think, a world apart and people have accepted that. If political correctness went into the ... Well, into the seaside postcard, I think they would have finished years ago. But it's not affected them, for some reason or another people have accepted it.

Bill Pertwee:

Cheers, all of you.

Speaker 14:

Cheers, Bill.

Speaker 15:

Cheers, Bill.

Narrator:

Not only are they accepted, says Bill Pertwee, they're here to stay.

Bill Pertwee:

If the humour stays very simple, then they'll survive. Of course they'll survive, I'm sure of that. If they start trying to be too clever, it doesn't really work. People don't want to look and say, "Hm, I wonder what ... Oh, I think I know what that means."

Bill Pertwee:

They want to look at it, see the fat lady, or the henpecked husband, or the girl with the big boobies, and say, "Oh, it's a seaside postcard." They know immediately it's a seaside postcard.