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. |