Count Arthur Strong: 'Just a bonkers old bloke'

Count Arthur Strong has been attacked for being politically incorrect and unfunny. His creator Steve Delaney defends him.

Those familiar with the work of living vaudeville legend Count Arthur Strong (Steve Delaney) will need no introduction to his work. Old-school entertainer, after-dinner speaker, raconteur, ventriloquist, mind-reader and celebrity chef do not do his illustrious career justice. For those unaware of his work, he is also the master of malapropisms. Never has the English language taken so much of a lashing as when the Count gets his gums around it.

Here he finds himself railing against the hopelessness of public transport and decides his only option is to get his minx out. That's a Hillman Minx, which he's not driven for 30 years. A chain of events is set in motion by this dangerous decision that sees my hero sending an innocent insurance clerk into an abyss of despair: "Is there something wrong with you?" asks the Count as he tries to get a quotation. "Have you been off work and come back too soon?"

This altercation ends with a pricey quote because Count Arthur Strong works in the entertainment industry and "might have someone like Terry Wogan" in the back of his car.

Why should he pay for Terry Wogan to travel in his Minx? Does the clerk think he should take him shopping and pay for his food bills as well? There's only one thing for it: the Count must confront Terry Wogan himself...

I shall leave the marvellous malapropisms to him. Just be sure not to mess thus.

More adventures of the show business legend (and trout tickler) Count Arthur Strong. If you haven't met him before you'll be unaware of his way of looking at the world and tendency to forget significant things. Those who love his idiosyncracies include Radio 2's Mark Radcliffe and Stuart Maconie and critic Miranda Sawyer. Personally, I can't abide the blundering, blustering, malapropic Mancunian Count, creation of Steve Delaney. Nor, I can exclusively reveal, can Jim Naughtie (although what the Count thinks of Jim may be another matter).

The Count's charms, alas, elude me but he has many 40-something fans, among them his producer (and fellow radio legend) Mark Radcliffe. The Count (played by Steve Delaney) is supposed to be a one-time variety star, now sole proprietor of Doncaster's Academy of Performance, raconteur, malapropist, old, muddled. He lives in a little world where door bells ring, misunderstandings proliferate, butchers are funny and lavs a right laugh. In other words, it's like the radio shows those 40-somethings used to hear at their grans'.

Little by little, Steve Delaney's creation of a superannuated thesp apparently suffering from the onset of senile dementia is becoming not only acceptable to laugh at, in these rigidly PC days, but something of a comic gem. At any rate the presumably live studio audience in these six new episodes hewn from the living jelly of the Count's haphazard life seem to think so. Mangling the language with abandon all ships (that's the sort of thing he says), confusing Gordon Ramsay with Alf Ramsay, he tackles a series of challenges with the confidence of the severely deluded. In today's opener, for example, he takes charge of the local greasy spoon and tries to turn it into the sort of place where bookings are required for luncheon.

Ah Count Arthur Strong. I can't quite believe that I've gone so long without mentioning the funniest man on Radio 4 (not an enormous compliment, but still). Us critics like to be critical, you see, and Count Arthur Strong's Radio Show! provides little to moan about. It is R4's best sitcom by several miles.

First, Count Arthur, faded actor, is a convincingly complete character. Comedian Steve Delaney has honed him through umpteen live performances: he knows Count Arthur inside out. This means the Count can be dropped into any situation and he'll react consistently: bigging up his fame, getting his words wrong, searching out meat products, or booze. Plus, all the best British sitcoms feature a frustrated older man - think of Fawlty, Rigsby, Mainwaring, Meldrew - and Count Arthur is always in a tizz. And, a small point this, but often overlooked by Radio 4 execs: Count Arthur is hilarious.

Steve Delaney's comic creation just isn't very Strong.

There's nothing uplifting about Count Arthur Strong. Aping Alan Partridge's flailing grasps at fame and painfully humdrum home life, Arthur is a classic tragic-comic figure. Unfortunately, he's just not funny.

The first episode of the second series sees Arthur preparing a motivational seminar. Pedestrian at best, the gags centre on Strong muddling his words, or - shockingly - his less than crystal clear understanding of technology. Not exactly groundbreaking stuff.

There are flashes of insight into this (potentially) complex character, but in the end the show is as miserable as its underwhelming hero.

A good actor is a bore, but a bad actor is hilarious, and Count Arthur Strong is the most useless luvvie in the land. A petty snob with an inflated sense of his own importance, he can't work out why he isn't far more famous: Why do you people always have to go through this pathetic ritual of pretending not to know who I am?

Ross Noble reckons he's the funniest comic character around, and now you can buy his first radio series on CD. Hear him audition for the role of James Bond (narrowly losing out to a muscular milkman from Edinburgh) and holding a shambolic book signing in his local butchers. The brilliant creation of actor Steve Delaney, it must be just a matter of time before this master of malapropism transfers to TV.

Unless you're a regular at the Edinburgh Fringe you've probably never heard of Count Arthur Strong. But you will soon, for he is a brilliant comedy creation. Strong is a self-deluded, exceptionally rude and linguistically challenged old luvvie who sounds a bit like Alan Bennett might if he was morphed with Alexei Sayle. In real life, Strong is the comedian Steve Delaney, but reality is thankfully overlooked in this warped day-in-the-life of 'a doyen of light entertainment'. I laughed until I hurt.