A Comedy On This Day: Rising Damp - The New Tenant (2 September 1974)

 The first episode, but not strictly from the first series. Actually part of an unofficial Comedy Playhouse-type series of six weekly playlets from Yorkshire Television. So what were the other five? A mixed bag, it would seem. Galton & Simpson's You'll Never Walk Alone, about Leeds United fans (led by Brian Glover) on a train to London for the Cup Final, was only ever intended to be a one-off. Brotherly Love with Keith Barron as a miner-turned property speculator. Slater's Day, with John Junkin as a PR man, a rare comedy excursion from Chris Boucher. Barry Took's Badger's Set, featured Julian Orchard doubling as a famous personality and his uncomprehending old father. And a second long-running success for Yorkshire, Oh No It's Selwyn Froggit.

 You can see why you'd immediately commission a series on the strength of this. It has a certain distinct individual personality to it. Eric Chappel's dialogue is quite densely-packed, full of allusions and reminiscences, and doesn't sound like anything that I've heard spoken in any earlier ITV sitcom. The Victorian house doesn't feel quite like anywhere we've seen before on ITV, not just in the detailed set (the bashed lampshade in the 'best' room) but in the relentless mentions of cold and discomfort - even the title, explained by Rigsby to Alan, "That's not rising damp, it's condensation!". Even Vienna is a geriatric cat of a type rarely allowed onto the television screen.
 

 It's obviously perfectly cast, with four identifiable characters who all seem to have some sort of gap in their past that has brought them to here. One thing that's rare about Rising Damp is that I'm equally interested in how all of the four characters get on with each of the other three, making six intriguing combinations.

 The studio audience are clearly very taken with what they're seeing, with one male and one female laugh particularly prominent. It is noticeable how the one thing that they find most hilarious is the very idea of having to respond to a black man...

A Comedy On This Day: Rising Damp - Fawcett's Python (10 May 1977)

I'm afraid that there's something of the philistine about you, Mr Rigsby.

That's very nice of you, Miss Jones.

 This script goes off on a detour a third of the way in. The first two scenes are about the implications of a scarlet woman lodging in the house, provoking Rigsby's lechery, Alan's guilelessness and Miss Jones's condemnation. The new lodger's painted toenails are noticed with particular censure - a telling detail that must have lost any purchase by about 1990.

 Then, once it becomes known that Madeline has been keeping a python in her room, farce becomes the dominant mode. As luck would have it, Philip possesses a stuffed python and much hilarious confusion is intended to arise from the two snakes in the house. Unfortunately a lack of resources scuppers this comedy, because (apart from a separately-recorded initial cutaway shot of a live snake in a basket) both creatures look equally rubbery. Whenever the 'real' snake springs into life, it makes me think about the sterling work that the actors are doing attempting to maintain the illusion, rather than the intended situation.

A Comedy On This Day: Rising Damp - Pink Carnations (25 April 1978)

 From the fourth series, so regrettably no Richard Beckinsdale. A Rising Damp story told through a trio rather than a quartet is unfortunately lopsided. Rigsby and Miss Jones have both got proper things to do, placing a lonely-hearts advertisement and replying to it in a comedy of mistaken identity through letters that could, with minimal alteration, have been performed 400 years earlier. But poor Don Warrington only appears in the first scene, acting as confidante and advisor to Rigsby, then Miss Jones. Apart from underusing one of the leads, the episode fails to follow up on the interesting possibility of Miss Jones discovering that Philip knew the true identity of her ("early 40s, company director, interested in culture") blind date. She'd certainly have had good cause to be cross with him!

 Rigsby has acquired a set of approximate 'fine living' clothes by the time that he turns up at the country pub for his assignation. It would be interesting to learn how he came by them. A newly married couple turn up, both wearing pink carnations and enjoyable but not-terribly-surprising misunderstandings ensue. Things perk up with the appearance of the groom's gorgon mother in law, ideal casting for Joan Sanderson. She's not nearly given enough funny stuff to do, but no actress was ever better able to exclaim, “You vulgar little man! How dare you? I’ve never been so insulted in my life.” with conviction and ringing diction.