Super smashing grating (Bullseye)

Member Name: dave27

Product:	Bullseye
Date:	23/08/01 (898 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Bowen

Disadvantages: Contestants, Sets, Games

JIM BOWEN ... an amazing God amongst television gameshow presenters ... the dave27 feeble brain can remember back to the world of Bullseye, back even further to Bowen's appearances on the quickfire stand up comedian show (called incredibly The Comedians), and one of my work colleagues can remember being taught at her school by Bowen the schoolmaster.

These days, one of the nicest guys you can find in showbiz, but also one of the wickedest wits, can be found every morning as one of the co-hosts on a Radio Lancashire offering called The Happy Daft Farm (among other things) and he's a really funny guy and amusing raconteur, although he's getting a bit long in the tooth these days.

Way back in the early 70's, Bowen's appearances on The Comedians got him noticed enough to win the gig hosting Bullseye, one of the most abysmal gameshows ever dreamed up by television moguls (otherwise known as sadists) and also one of the cheapest, most penny pinching progs of all time, even more so than Blankety Blank. Bowen's "Super smashing great" catchphrase became a legendary chant in TV, although Bowen still maintains that he never actually used the phrase, although he does admit to pushing the enjoyment of a bit of bully.

Bullseye was an exceedingly tacky game show, played (if the old grey cells ain't given up completely) by three nondescript teams of two mates, one of whom would throw darts while his pal would answer general knowledge questions and you always got those very broad and very appalling regional accents dominating the waves, especially those turgid Brummies.

It was an abysmal prog and the number of decent dart players and clever people was extremely low and there was great amusement when we saw the non darts player struggling to get near the board.

"You get nothing for two in a bed, not in this game..."

Mr dozy double entendre used to revel in the chaos and ineptitude t
hat wallowed all around him and was probably the best thing about the show, although he always seemed to be teetering on the edge of being completely out of his depth.

The show as a whole was a retarded, near cousin of that other 'cult classic', the Golden Shot, but Bob Monkhouse was always a bit too good, too professional to let it get too poorly, although when he was replaced by another 'star' of The Comedians, Charlie Williams (Hello Flower), there was not a great deal to choose between the two disasters.

Truly, Bullseye was the vehicle for proving true Andy Warhol's eternal boast that in the future everyone would be famous for fifteen minutes, although where Bullseye was concerned the timespan was measured in seconds. You could live down the pub for months on the story of when you or your mate was on Bullseye and if you came away with your Bully trophy you were a true cock of the walk. The only thing that was more revered was the ceramic dusty bin you got from 321 with Ted Rogers (abso bloody lutely unfathomable show!), but Bullseye was always the more glowing sepia stained memory, perched as it was in that sleepy backwater of teatime telly every Sunday evening, spent gathered round a black and white box at yer grannie's while Jim Bob stumbled clumsily through his regular routine, "Where are you from, my love? On the spot..."

I'm not going to depress you with the inanity of the rules or the rounds or the facts of the matter, because it's just too dismal, but I will remind you of the bit where a supposedly star darts player (shorthand for a big fat bastard in a naff looking satin shirt and big chunky golden bracelets and rings) would play to win money for a charity. God they'd have to be desperate to agree to go on this show, but by the look of most of these barrels they were pretty desperate anyway.

The other lasting memory of the show was old Jim Bob's consistent insistenc
e on showing the unsuccessful finalists the star prize just after they had failed at the final hurdle, "Let's just take a look at what you would have won..." Don't you know it, it was either a speedboat (not much use for the dullards from Perry Barr) or an Alpine (Nice motors, Alpines - Ted Chippington, Potteries wit) or a holiday at Pontins (no, I'm kidding about the last one, that would have been too upmarket for Bullseye, wouldn't it?).

The set of Bullseye always resembled something you would see at a Northern Working Men's Club and the only thing that was missing was the tacky electric organ with Stan James and his cheesy grin sat there. That scenario was just right for the bumbling wit and ill prepared mumbles of that man Bowen, and you get the feeling he would have been all the more comfortable with Stan to bounce his one liners off. He's very comfortable in the sound only world of Radio Lancs with his Hot Pot posse, but he often seemed to be caught like a rabbit in the headlights when he was on the box.

You know I've just had a thought. This op about Bullseye has set me thinking about cheesy gameshows and you just might get some reminiscences about Bernie the Bolt unless you're very well behaved. Still, we'll leave that one for another day.

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