User Reviews

A great staple of laughter that will be sorely missed on hogmanay.

To suggest that this show is past it's sell-by date would be a surefire candidate for understatement of the millennium. When it started in the mid-90s it was sharp, clever satire poking fun at, amongst other things, the latest Old Firm turmoils, Jim White(and his supposed allegiance), Craig Brown, Denis Law and Scottish culture in general with, at times, our obsessive nature with the so-called 'beautiful game'. It might not have been rolling-on-the-carpet-clutching-your-ribs hilarious but Jonathan Watson, Tony Roper et al were usually good value and the spin-off videos (remember this is the 90s) of their live, Xmas and World Cup-related shows tended to prove popular. Before long, however, Mr Roper(amongst others)headed for pastures new and left Jonny to carry proceedings and things went rapidly downhill with the viewing public now being saddled with an offering which constantly veers between being, at best, mediocre late night sketch show fodder and, at worst, something eminently unwatchable. This year's offering saw standards plummet to an all-time low. The clincher (ie where's that remote control?) for me was quite possibly the most predictable and unfunny 'comedy' sketch ever committed to celluloid. Jonny Watson and his cohorts are assembled outside the polling station on Referendum Day fully resplendent in kilts, Saltires and obligatory Mel Gibson-style Braveheart face paint. At this stage of proceedings your average single-cell amoeba could have foreseen the forthcoming punchline. Nevertheless Jonny's character makes his way into the polling booth and, guess what, HE PLACES A CROSS IN THE 'NO' BOX !!!!!!!! Oh my ribs. Wait, there's more. He goes outside to rejoin his pals and, lo and behold, THERE'S A GUILTY AND SHEEPISH LOOK ON HIS FACE !!!!!!! Oh where's that needle and thread ? My sides have practically disintegrated. Granted, the shortage of so-called 'characters' that graced our national game in the 90s and Scotland's constant inability to qualify for the latter stages of major tournaments might be seen as depriving Philip Differ et al of decent source material but it's surely time for BBC Scotland to place something which has twin barrels to the temple of this wretched abomination of a programme and put it, the writers and, most importantly, the viewing public out of their collective misery.