Sometimes you see a character on television or in film that makes you wonder what you would think of them if they were a real person and you could actually meet them. Other characters you might be sure you'd run away from, screaming in terror. I think that - if I had the fortune (perhaps that should be misfortune) to cross the path of Gordon Wellesley Brittas, I would surely end up on as many combinations of tranquillisers as his poor wife Helen gets through.
Earlier this year, I made the excellent choice to buy the complete DVD box set, including all the Christmas specials and every single episode from the seven series made by the BBC, and every now and then I like to watch a few (or maybe even more than a few) episodes, so I can remember the brilliant comedy I used to watch when I was little. This weekend, I've watched a terrible mix-up in communications that led to Buttercup the cow having her breech calf delivered to the strains of a Mozart piano concerto by a gynaecologist who'd just finished playing squash, while poor Carole the receptionist went into labour in the swimming pool and ended up having her twins delivered by a vet in the leisure centre sauna.
I've watched a massive tarantula escape from the box somebody sent it to Brittas as hate mail in. I saw Brittas run amok with a chainsaw and concluded that he decapitated the poor unfortunate who had been knocked unconscious behind the door he was trying to cut through. I've seen him deal with his wife Helen's occasional visits to him by telling his deputy, Laura, "Take Mrs. Brittas for a cup of coffee, and perhaps a doughnut" over and over again. Poor Mrs. Brittas has twins in the middle of a high street while the whole town watches her, simply because she was unfortunate enough that she couldn't insist on Laura being the one who took her to hospital.
Sometimes you see a character on television that you don't believe in, but I don't see anything of that kind at Whitbury Newtown Leisure Centre. I see Tim and Gavin, insanely jealous of each other, and yet in a relationship that is never explicitly stated, but that I can understand now much better than when I watched the comedy as a child. I don't know how Laura copes as deputy manager, and in the end I think she doesn't know how she does it, either. It is an eternal mystery to me that no one tries to treat Colin's countless skin complaints, or sends Julie the secretary on a customer relations course. I don't know how Carole's children survive living in drawers and cupboards behind the reception desk, but they do.
Perhaps the most frightening aspect of Gordon Brittas is that he genuinely cares for everyone. His staff, his wife, his children and his leisure centre are all so very important to him, but it seems to be in his nature to drive them to the brink of sanity and back. And whatever Gordon does - be it knocking out a famous Russian pianist with a bowling ball, or taking charge of his irate staff when they get snowed into the leisure centre together - he always does it for the best. And that's the scarily appealing thing about him.
Earlier this year, I made the excellent choice to buy the complete DVD box set, including all the Christmas specials and every single episode from the seven series made by the BBC, and every now and then I like to watch a few (or maybe even more than a few) episodes, so I can remember the brilliant comedy I used to watch when I was little. This weekend, I've watched a terrible mix-up in communications that led to Buttercup the cow having her breech calf delivered to the strains of a Mozart piano concerto by a gynaecologist who'd just finished playing squash, while poor Carole the receptionist went into labour in the swimming pool and ended up having her twins delivered by a vet in the leisure centre sauna.
I've watched a massive tarantula escape from the box somebody sent it to Brittas as hate mail in. I saw Brittas run amok with a chainsaw and concluded that he decapitated the poor unfortunate who had been knocked unconscious behind the door he was trying to cut through. I've seen him deal with his wife Helen's occasional visits to him by telling his deputy, Laura, "Take Mrs. Brittas for a cup of coffee, and perhaps a doughnut" over and over again. Poor Mrs. Brittas has twins in the middle of a high street while the whole town watches her, simply because she was unfortunate enough that she couldn't insist on Laura being the one who took her to hospital.
Sometimes you see a character on television that you don't believe in, but I don't see anything of that kind at Whitbury Newtown Leisure Centre. I see Tim and Gavin, insanely jealous of each other, and yet in a relationship that is never explicitly stated, but that I can understand now much better than when I watched the comedy as a child. I don't know how Laura copes as deputy manager, and in the end I think she doesn't know how she does it, either. It is an eternal mystery to me that no one tries to treat Colin's countless skin complaints, or sends Julie the secretary on a customer relations course. I don't know how Carole's children survive living in drawers and cupboards behind the reception desk, but they do.
Perhaps the most frightening aspect of Gordon Brittas is that he genuinely cares for everyone. His staff, his wife, his children and his leisure centre are all so very important to him, but it seems to be in his nature to drive them to the brink of sanity and back. And whatever Gordon does - be it knocking out a famous Russian pianist with a bowling ball, or taking charge of his irate staff when they get snowed into the leisure centre together - he always does it for the best. And that's the scarily appealing thing about him.