One of the perks of being a Z-list media type, the free stuff you get sent! pic.twitter.com/4Ai1baAqRf
— Steve Oliver (@SteveOliver76) August 21, 2014

Last week I received in the post a complimentary copy of the autobiography of the Chuckle Brothers as an incentive to review it, as I have publicly said how much I enjoy their work. When I first started working in radio and my name started to be delivered to be known to the right people I imagined cases of champagne and sports cars being delivered to my house. Maybe it’s a sign of the economic climate but gifts aren’t as glamorous as they used to be. Record companies no longer have the spare money to fly broadcasters to the Caribbean to interview their clients, not the ones I deal with anyway. Gig tickets is the main perk these days, although if anyone wants to send books, records, tapes, CDs, DVDs, toys, or gold bars I would be happy to write (with honesty) about them. All you have to do is email steveoliverpress@gmail.com for a postal address. I am also willing to accept stuff as competition prizes for my podcast listeners.

Anyway, this blog isn’t a begging letter.

I have never written a book review before so it is nice to be able to stretch my ability as a writer. Autobiographies of comedians and musicians accounts for about 95% of my book consumption and as a fan of the Chuckle Brothers I would have got round to reading it sooner or later anyway. The difficulty I have is the fact that I can’t read it for pleasure as I would with a bought book. I also have a relatively short amount of time to read it while at the same time writing notes in pencil and sticking Post-It notes (maybe Mr. Post-It wants to send some free samples as gratitude for all of my years of use) in the pages.

So far I can say that the book is an odd one. It is written by Paul Chuckle (or Paul Elliott when he’s off duty) with Barry “holding the inkwell”. Although I can read it with his voice in my head (the sign of a good autobiography) the narrative is very stilted. It is likely that he attempted to write it in the style of his Chucklevision character with lots of contrived asides thrown in. After a while it becomes tiresome but shouldn’t ruin an interesting history lesson regarding the workaholic nature of that generation of comedians; three month pantomime runs followed immediately by summer season with one-off gigs thrown in. The TV series that made them famous only warrants one chapter which I found strange at first, until I realised that this book coincides with the 50^th anniversary of the double act. For my (and subsequent) generations, ch-ch-Chucklevision was essential viewing and it isn’t entirely clear why CBBC discontinued the show in 2009. Their route to fame was a traditional one for comedians their age; working man clubs, talent shows, holiday camps and the grind of summer shows and pantomime. Their dad was a comedian too who the brothers never heard swear or tell rude jokes on stage, (although he was once banned by the BBC for using the punch line “as smooth as a baby’s bottom) so they vowed never to go blue. It is admirable given that they could have made more money on the club circuit, (Roy ‘Chubby’ Brown once said that his notoriously filthy act was born out of financial necessity as there weren’t so many of his type at the time), but on the other hand they would not have achieved the longevity that they have through being the best family entertainers we have in this country.

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