Entirely A Matter For You

Peter Cook: Here Comes The Judge - Live In Concert (Virgin, 1979).

The Secret Policeman’s Ball might not have been the first of the annual comedy galas held in aid of Amnesty International, but in many regards it was the most significant. Despite the success of 1976’s A Poke In The Eye (With A Sharp Stick) and The Mermaid Frolics the following year, there had been no event in 1978 as Amnesty International were keen to investigate how they could use the shows as a springboard to raise money and awareness beyond the actual sales of tickets on the night. John Cleese, who had put together the original show, and comedy impresario Martin Lewis were canvassed for their opinions, and suggested that the following year’s show should both be marketed like a rock concert with the appropriate accompanying spin-offs into other media, and should also strive to capture the energy of the emerging wave of ‘alternative’ comics. Lewis was in fact already more than familiar with this scene, having been working closely with several up and coming pioneers of the new radical strain of comedy including Alexei Sayle, Tony Allen and The Outer Limits; none of these more radical acts would ultimately appear on the bill for the next show – possibly still being considered a little too confrontational and unpredictable for a mainstream audience who were being expected to put their hands in their pockets – but it was notable for featuring the then almost completely unknown Rowan Atkinson, anarchic theatrical troupe The Ken Campbell Roadshow and a number of rock musicians including the deeply politicised Tom Robinson, alongside familiar names from the sixties satire boom and the early seventies live comedy scene.

The Secret Policeman’s Ball ran for four nights at Her Majesty’s Theatre from 27th June 1979, but reviews for the first performance were more cautious than expected, with several critics suggesting that the evident verve and energy were poorly served by a collection of largely familiar material with little satirical bite. By chance, Peter Cook happened to be at Private Eye‘s offices and contributing to their coverage of the ongoing trial of Jeremy Thorpe – a Liberal MP accused of hiring a hitman to assassinate his alleged gay lover Norman Scott; a bungled plot that ended up with Scott’s dog being shot by mistake – when he caught sight of the reviews. That evening, he turned up to the second show with a newly-written parody of Mr Justice Cantley’s contentious summation to the jury, in which he had essentially directed them – via a series of passive-aggressive suggestions that any suspicions about his evidence were “entirely a matter for you” – to find Thorpe not guilty. It was sufficiently fresh and pointed that he was still fine-tuning it while waiting to walk on stage, running through his phrasing and choice of euphemisms with fellow performers Michael Palin and Billy Connolly, and this attention to the fine detail was well worth the additional effort.

The audience, who would have had precious little other collective outlet for their frustrations at the machinations of the political and legal system at that time, were in furiously appreciative hysterics throughout Cook’s resultant monologue – the shrieks of laughter that greet the opening comment “I hope you’ve brought a toothbrush” are in recognition of an incident in the trial where Cantley rattled a similar judicial sabre at a dissenting journalist – and revel in every last swipe at the judge’s bias, deference, and contempt for the hapless members of the public who simply cannot and will not understand how much more important politicians are than them. Unlike Auberon Waugh’s swiftly silenced attempt to run against Thorpe in the impending General Election promising ‘A Better Deal For Your Dog’, it was an attack on the establishment that they would surely have been stung by but could scarcely answer back to; after all, it was essentially using their own words against them.

Unsurprisingly dominating the next day’s headlines, the ten-minute tour-de-force of a performance caused an immediate sensation and an immediate about-face from the critics who had been so underwhelmed by the first show. What was more, Cleese and Lewis’ foresight meant that audiences who didn’t have the fortune to be present at Her Majesty’s could get to see what all the fuss was about. Although the sketch was conspicuous by its absence from ITV’s coverage of The Secret Policeman’s Ball that December – Leslie Halliwell, an ITV executive with responsibility for film purchases, commented that it was an unfair joke at the expense of an innocent individual and “not suitable for television”; anyone who has ever consulted Halliwell’s film and television guides will be all too aware of how much of a sense of humour he had – but enjoyed pride of place in the cinematic release of the official film of the show. It also appeared on Island Records’ accompanying album of highlights from The Secret Policeman’s Ball, but such was the extent of public interest that it had already been released as a single before either of these actually appeared. Virgin Records, home of The Sex Pistols and Peter Cook and Dudley Moore’s ‘Derek And Clive’ albums, had quickly made arrangements for the original live recording to be issued as a 12″ under the title Here Comes The Judge.

With brilliant laziness, Peter Cook originally suggested that the b-side should be a ‘dub’ version of the sketch; Virgin insisted that there had to be sketches, however, and Cook duly booked time at Berwick Street Studios in London with comedy producer John Lloyd to record some additional material. Well-Hung Jury imagined a Derek And Clive-like sexual proposition between two of the jurors whose ardour had been unpleasantly aroused by the lurid details of the case, while Thanksgiving was inspired by the news that Thorpe’s parish priest had staged a special service to celebrate the Not Guilty verdict; concerns about potential libel action saw to it that Cook’s clergyman gave thanks and praise for the then still-at-large Yorkshire Ripper instead. Most biting of all, Rad Job features a nervous politician on the phone to a hitman, cautiously discussing plans to ‘repair’ a ‘radiator’ in as vague a fashion as possible before reaching an agreement that it would be shot through the head. If nothing else, these little-heard and under-appreciated sketches show that Cook was not just picking up on a topical story at random in reaction to tepid reviews; he was as bemused and as angry at the whole affair and the determination of Thorpe’s friends and supporters that everyone should forget about it and let everything continue as normal as any member of the public. In case that needed underlining, the film of The Secret Policeman’s Ball was launched with a screening at the National Liberal Club, while the single was promoted with a photo session featuring Cook posing in his judge’s outfit with the actual Norman Scott.

Perhaps the last word should go to Martin Lewis. In 1999, by which time he was working as a topical correspondent on American television, he told The Peter Cook Appreciation Society that “a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of Peter; when the Clinton scandal, Monica Lewinsky and all that, was raging, I thought ‘what if Peter were here right now? What would he make of the richness of detail?”. There are a more than a few current political figures that deserve to feel the full force of that kind of satire. You may, of course, think that they do not. That is entirely a matter for you.

Buy A Book!

You can find an expanded version of Entirely A Matter For You, with much more on the odd story and indeed the odd story behind The Secret Policeman’s Ball and Peter Cook’s unexpected alignment with the punk rock phenomenon, in Keep Left, Swipe Right, available in paperback here or from the Kindle Store here.

There’s also more on how Here Comes The Judge led directly to Peter Cook and Chris Morris’ early nineties collaboration Why Bother? – and how The Secret Policeman’s Ball took Rowan Atkinson almost overnight from being the star of Radio 3’s arts spoof The Atkinson People to a massive star full stop, in The Larks Ascending – a complete guide to comedy on BBC Radio 3. The Larks Ascending is available in paperback here or from the Kindle Store here.

Alternately, if you’re just feeling generous, you can buy me a coffee here. Not that you would ever need one to keep you awake during an actual judge’s summation in a genuine high profile trial, obviously.

Further Listening

You can find a discussion about Peter Cook and Chris Morris’ early nineties interview show Why Bother? in Looks Unfamiliar here; you can also find a chat about Peter Cook’s appearance in The Wrong Box here and listen to him and Dudley Moore in action sending up the emergency psychedelic scene in Late Night Line-Up: “Isn’t It Hot?”, Said Florence here.