Philippines angry at Enfield show

Comedian Harry Enfield's BBC show has been labelled 'disgraceful and distasteful' by members of the Philippine community in the UK.

The first series of new Paul Whitehouse and Harry Enfield sketches, which bore the prefix Ruddy Hell!, was so flabbily disappointing that expectations were low for the new run. That's worked in their favour because series two has been surprisingly good, with Mr I Saw You Coming, the ageing rap DJs and the posh scaffolders all hitting the spot.

After some time out, the pair have joined forces again for a show that I can only describe as 'quite enjoyable'. I know that doesn't seem like much, but it's about right. You see, some of the new characters created by the pair are really fun to watch, although, not laugh-your-lungs-up funny.

Sadly, for each sketch I enjoy, there's one to irritate. The posh builders drive me stir-mental, with their alarming predictability. As jokes go, it's pretty one-dimensional.

I have a deep and abiding love for Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse, but the first series of Harry and Paul left me deeply underwhelmed. It had its moments, but I was left with the feeling that the pair were trading upon their reputations.

So rejoice to the news that series two is clever, inventive, imaginative, frequently inspired and the funniest programme currently on TV.

Their Dragon's Den pastiche in episode one was fabulous, but even greater joys were to come the following week with the Liverpool Capital of Culture running gag which saw various giants of the performing arts - including Matthew Bourne, Simon Rattle - conduct sweaty, Steven Gerrard style post-match interviews.

I let me baton do the talking. Cheers! droned Rattle, in thickest Scouse, before snatching a bottle of celebratory champagne and departing mid-question.

This sketch show - which lurches constantly from humorous to frustrating - gets off to a great start again this week with a skit involving hoodies stealing a three-seater bicycle and then terrorising little old ladies at double-speed, Goodies-style. Other sketches, however, fall way wide of the mark, and those that rely on character study as much as jokes can leave you feeling rather more bemused than amused.

Rather than attempt to hold on to their youthful glamour like some yoiks I could mention, Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse returned on Friday for the second series of Harry and Paul embracing old age so tightly it may soon expire on their chests. The opening titles feature them as a pair of old Soviet generals and they reappear as geriatric DJs playing their favourite Nineties rap and then again as Nelson Mandela and Castro.

You might accuse them of favouring some pretty old jokes, too. Thirties cinema remains an inspiration; here an early version of The Bourne Identity had a plummy Jason asking: "Hells bells who am I?" Whitehouse's version of Theo Paphitis in the Dragons' Den sketch was clearly a close relative of Stavros. And the pair still delight in imagining breaches of the walls that divide Britain culturally: meet the builders with opinions on Tracey Emin ("a child of five could become a ludicrous parody of themselves"), a foul-mouthed but multilingual football manager, the over-educated surgeon operating on a Foo Fighter and the fishermen chatting, by the side of their local pond, about the merits of Peter Shaffer.

For those of us of a certain age, this half hour was pure pleasure, or would have been were it not for knowing that its producer, Geoffrey Perkins, had died ten days ago without seeing the old age his stars parody with such fate-tempting brio.

Ruddy hell! It's not Ruddy Hell! It's Harry and Paul. It's just Harry and Paul now. How confusing. Were you confused by the original title? Me neither. Maybe it was just too long for the Sky EPG.

Anyway, they're back: Harry Enfield and Paul Whitehouse, former young Turks of comedy, are once again on primetime BBC1, shoring up old comedy and helping to showcase new talent.

But as always, the question is, are they funny?

Surprisingly, yes. Okay, some of the sketches fall quiet flat. There are far too many returning characters that have stretched a once-good joke too far. And the absence of comedy goddess Morwenna Banks is sorely felt.

But we did sit there laughing for a good portion of the show. The multi-lingual football manager was a fun opener. The 'cool old guys' were pretty entertaining. Okay, the Dragons' Den impressions were poor and where was Caaan!!!, but the general accuracy of the sketch was good. And, praise the Lord, the talented Laura Solon is still there with her Polish coffee shop attendant.

Maybe a little too traditional and too much like the first series at times, and given the rapid fall off in quality of the first series, it might not be a good idea to make it a permanent fixture in your diaries. But still far more hits and misses than is normal for a BBC1 comedy show. Anyone doubting that should have stuck around for The Armstrong and Miller Show afterwards...

Harry & Paul, back for a new series, wasn't the unmixed pleasure it might have been, not because it wasn't good (there were some fine new sketches and very funny variations on the best of the old ones), but because it was hard to watch it without melancholy thoughts about its producer, Geoffrey Perkins, who died suddenly just a week before transmission.

The Times Article

Paul Whitehouse and Harry Enfield are to be celebrated for the quality of their characters, not for being revolutionary.

Messrs Enfield and Whitehouse are back with their sketch show. There's not much new here; the jokes are mostly about people saying things you wouldn't expect them to (builders discussing the merits of Brit Art, etc) and funny foreigners, speaking funny. And yet I laughed. Not all the time - this is a sketch show, so it is hit-and-miss by definition. But when I did laugh, I laughed quite a lot. Maybe the old ones are the best.