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THE STORY IN A NUTSHELL

‘Norman Stanley Fletcher, you have pleaded guilty to the charges brought by this court and it is now my duty to pass sentence. You’re an habitual criminal who accepts arrest as an occupational hazard and, presumably, accepts imprisonment in the same casual manner. We, therefore, feel constrained to commit you to the maximum term allowed for these offences: you will go to prison for five years.’

As the opening credits rolled at the start of twenty episodes of Porridge, these sobering words told us much about Fletch, everyone’s favourite lag. From borstal to Brixton, he’d become something of a fixture in Her Majesty’s establishments, having clocked up the years behind bars for an array of petty crimes.

His latest port of call was Slade Prison, a remote jail in northwest England, and we witnessed his arrival in the opening episode, ‘New Faces, Old Hands’, in September 1974. But it wasn’t our first sighting of the forty-something lag serving time for robbery. No, we first met the cunning Cockney a year earlier, in April 1973, en route from Brixton to Slade in a sitcom pilot, entitled ‘Prisoner and Escort’.

The half-hour comedy was the second of seven pilots transmitted in a series titled, Seven of One; the BBC wanted a new comedy vehicle for Barker, just part of a package they’d used to secure the services of him and Ronnie Corbett from rivals London Weekend Television.

Clement and La Frenais, who’d already scored a small-screen hit with The Likely Lads, supplied two scripts: ‘I’ll Fly You For A Quid’, concerning a family of gamblers, and ‘Prisoner and Escort’, which also introduced us to Mr Mackay and Mr Barrowclough, the prison officers tasked with escorting Fletch to his new home. Some people doubted a prison-based sitcom would have the legs to survive in the competitive TV world, but Barker wasn’t one: after all, while planning an earlier set of pilots, titled Six Dates with Barker, he’d mulled over the idea of a prison series himself, so was delighted when the writers submitted their idea.

Initially, Clement and La Frenais envisaged setting their script in an open prison, while Barker felt a Bilko-style approach, oozing frivolity, was just the ticket. After much cogitating, they opted for a closed prison, affording the writers the chance not only to extract humour from the situation but to explore the darker side of doing porridge, too. There is no better example of this than the poignant episode, ‘A Night In’, the third instalment based entirely inside the cell occupied by Fletcher and Godber, the naïve first-time offender played beautifully by Richard Beckinsale. With Godber struggling to adjust to prison life, Fletch reveals altruistic tendencies to help his cellmate through his difficult time; in doing so, he develops into a father-figure for the youngster.

From the Seven of One series, Ronnie Barker enjoyed two major successes: as well as ‘Prisoner and Escort’, the Roy Clarke-scripted Open All Hours also originated from the pilot season. But while Clarke’s offering relied more heavily on gags and comedy from the situation, Clement and La Frenais mined much of their humour from the characterisations, providing a depth which appealed to many.

Three of the four main players had already been recruited when the pilot’s success saw a full-blown series green-lighted: as well as Barker, Brian Wilde and Fulton Mackay, who played prison wardens Mr Barrowclough and Mr Mackay respectively, also made their debuts in ‘Prisoner and Escort’.

Jimmy Gilbert, executive producer on Seven of One, had known Mackay since studying together at drama school and working as actors at Glasgow’s Citizens’ Theatre in the 1950s. Hiring Wilde, meanwhile, to play the easily led and nervous Henry Barrowclough was Ronnie Barker’s idea. In the pilot, it’s Wilde – and not Mackay – who has the most air time with Barker, particularly when they hole themselves up for the night in a deserted cottage after the minibus transporting Fletcher to Slade Prison breaks down on the bleak moors. But as the series progressed, Fulton Mackay’s character came to the fore; on reflection, Dick Clement commented they’d under-used Mackay in the beginning but quickly involved him more. Identifying the tough-talking warder as a richer character meant Barrowclough’s prominence diminished, much to the actor’s disappointment.

A host of other wardens and prisoners were required to fill the fictitious Slade Prison, but the final piece of major casting involved finding someone to play Fletcher’s cellmate – the

‘Little victories, little victories.’

callow Lennie Godber. Ronnie Barker suggested Paul Henry, who’d make his name playing woolly-hatted Benny in Crossroads; having just worked with him, Barker deemed him ideal for the role.

Producer Sydney Lotterby had other ideas, however: he was impressed with Richard Beckinsale, who was playing Geoffrey in Granada’s sitcom, The Lovers, and thought his sensitivity as an actor was apposite for Godber. When Barker saw the Nottingham-born actor in action, he shared Lotterby’s enthusiasm. As soon as Barker and Beckinsale began working together, it was clear a dream partnership was forming.

For the sitcom’s long-term success, it was crucial the principal actors worked well together; with most of the action taking place inside the confines of a prison cell, such a restricted environment would only magnify any deficiencies and incompatibilities between the principals. With Porridge this never happened, and the interplay between Barker and Beckinsale was one of the sitcom’s many strengths.

With everything in place, Porridge made its small-screen debut with ‘New Faces, Old Hands’ transmitting on Thursday 5th September 1974, with just over 16 million tuning in. For a time, however, Clement and La Frenais experienced serious doubts about how they could write a full-blown comedy concerning prison. They visited various prisons, including Brixton, and felt profoundly depressed because they realised there was nothing slightly humorous about the reality of life inside.

Did you know?

While scenes set in cells or offices were shot in a BBC studio, the larger association area, where the prisoners congregated, was filmed at Ealing Studios, using a multilevel structure built inside an old tank.

It was a chance meeting with Jonathan Marshall, who’d just penned a book titled How to Survive in the Nick, which provided them with the spark they needed. While having a drink in a Richmond pub, Marshall uttered the phrase ‘little victories’ which struck a chord with the writers, providing them with a valuable tool for Fletcher to exploit.

Over the next three years, a further 19 episodes, including two Christmas Specials, would be screened before Slade Prison finally closed its doors on Friday 25th March 1977, with ‘Final Stretch’ spotlighting Godber’s release.

While the writers would have willingly written a fourth series, and the public would certainly have gobbled up more, it was Barker’s desire to move on that brought the show to an end. However, it wasn’t the last time we’d set eyes on the wily lag. A year later – Friday 24th February 1978, to be precise – we saw Fletch return to the outside world, his release shown in the first of six episodes in a sequel, titled Going Straight.

Did you know?

When the prison authorities refused permission for exterior shots to be filmed outside a real prison, numerous psychiatric hospitals around the London area were chosen instead.

After the final instalments of Porridge had been screened, writers Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais were invited to BBC Television Centre for lunch. During the meeting, the subject of Fletcher arose and Clement and La Frenais expressed an interest in following his progress in the big wide world upon his release from prison. Everyone loved the idea and before long the nation’s favourite con – or, rather, ex-con – was entertaining sizeable audiences again.

Memories …

‘Dick and I thought “I’ll Fly You For A Quid”, the other pilot we wrote for Seven of One, would be the easiest to turn into a series but then Ronnie said it might be more challenging to make “Prisoner and Escort”. The trouble was, we couldn’t think how we’d sustain it – after all, how could you make life inside seem funny?

‘When we wrote the pilot, concerning Fletcher being taken to prison, we had no intention of turning it into a series. So when asked to do so, it suddenly became daunting; we decided to visit various prisons and got thoroughly depressed because, let’s face it, they are very depressing places. We talked to the governor of Brixton over tea at the RAC Club, visited Brixton and the Scrubs and ended up even more apprehensive. Then we spoke to Jonathan Marshall, an ex-con, about the routines of prison life – the meeting was valuable.

‘We met for a drink in Richmond and talked about life inside. Suddenly, he came up with the expression, “It’s all about little victories.” He was referring to getting through one’s sentence on a day-to-day basis, taking it a day at a time and earning “little victories” by scoring against the system. With that one little phrase we found Fletcher’s character – it gave us a route in. That became the key to Fletcher.’

IAN LA FRENAIS

Although an amusing series in its own right, Going Straight lacked the punch and richness of its predecessor. The confines of prison had created an edge which, frankly, was always going to be difficult to equal; furthermore, while Fletch was king of the castle inside, back on civvy street he was a loser, a man drifting along in life, struggling to come to terms with a world that had left him behind.

But the allure of Porridge remains, even now, three decades after the final episode was screened, explaining why it can rightly be classed as a classic of the genre.