you Paul Jackson, I like yours too, but we’ll need some Rock ‘n’ Roll if we want this baby to fly. Don’t you know that there are vital thrusting new bands out there that we need to get on the television like Rip Rig and Panic and other ones as well that I can’t think of at the moment. They need a voice and I’m going to give it to them.”
“So what’s the name of the show?”
“The Young Ones.”
“But that’s the name of a film.”
“Yes, but not just any film. It’s only about the finest piece of cinema ever committed to celluloid. Comedy and pop music together – and so shall it be again. It’s my mission to cure popular culture.”
“My god, you’ve invented post-modernism,” said Paul and dropped to his knees.
“No.”
“No harm trying.”
“Try anything and you’re dead.”
“Okay, sorry, but you have to do those sorts of things at the BBC in the late nineties.”
“But this is the early eighties, Paul.”
“Oh shit yeah, sorry Rik Mayall, I think you’re great.”
“Don’t put me on a pedestal Paul. I’m not a god. I’m a socialist, I’m a wide-eyed anarchist at the gates of dawn. So let’s go forth and lightly entertain everybody.”
“Damn right, Rik,” he said and slammed his fist on the table. “Ouch.”
“I’ve just done that one Paul. My comedy’s way ahead of yours.”
“Don’t freak out, Rik, man. It was an homage.”
“Respec Paul.”
“That’s early next century, Rik, man.”
“Oh yeah! Oh fuck all this, let’s stop all this talking and get on with the story.”
“Good thinking Rik Mayall.”
“I’ll do the last line.”
“Gotchya.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
“No! I said, I’ll do the last line, now shut up!”
“Sorry.”
“This is the last line of dialogue Paul, say anything after this and I’m not writing it.”
See?
So I phoned all the non-entities that I knew, told them I was going to give them their first brake in showbusiness and that very afternoon, we made the first six episodes of The Young Ones. The following day I was mobbed. Things happened fast in those days.
Because of the success of The Young Ones, Channel 4 phoned me and said, “Can you invent the Comic Strip please?” It was a busy life. I went home, got some of my typewriters out, dusted off the old finger and I was at it. Then I started writing.
I invented the word “radical.” That’s right. I made it up. It’s no coincidence that the word radical begins with R. In fact, it is almost an anagram of Rik. It’s got an R and an I in it. That’s 66.6666666% reoccurring there. Which is pretty good in anyone’s book. Especially mine. And what you must remember in a Rik Mayall book is never look down, never go back, never leave the boat. Just keep pushing forward into the jungle. I’m with you all the way, viewer, holding your hand and not giving you a feel up –remember my promise?
So there I was wandering in the West Midlands which is in the middle of England but which is not Middle England. Which is an interesting concept in itself. Think of all those working class people who are ignored because they are not what is considered Middle England but actually do live in the middle of England. There’s a hole ethnic group right there who have been ignored and disenfranchised for years. Well, that’s what alternative comedy is all about. The eighties were hard times. There were no mobile phones, no eye pods [pads?], no laptops, no speed bumps, no boy bands, and to make matters worse, there was a war going on in Vietnam.
I’d never done television on this scale before. But I was sure I could make it work. I was Rik Mayall after all – I still am – I could make anything work. I knew The Young Ones was a good idea. It was what I wanted to see on the television. That’s how I knew it was a good idea. And it was produced by the Variety Department at the BBC because if you wanted music – rock ‘n’ roll – in your programme you had to go to the Variety Department instead of the Comedy Department. Which was great because they had more cash. And it just felt right – like The Goons who had Max Geldray in the middle. Only instead of Max Geldray, we had Motorhead.
During the filming of the second series of The Young Ones, an assassination attempt was made on my life. You might think I’m joking here. I can almost hear you viewer, laughing and saying, “Ha ha, great gag, wild one, I love you and so do all my friends – the ones that I admire anyway.” But no, viewer, you’re wrong. You’re all wrong. It’s not a joke. It’s a fact. An assassination attempt was made on my life in 1983. Someone, somewhere, wanted me dead. Unseen forces within the British broadcasting establishment realised that once the show hit the television screens, the world would never be the same again. The old order was being swept away but it didn’t want to go without a fight. As noble rebel leader and figurehead of the new wave of comedy genius that was coming up from the streets, I was targeted. I’ll tell you what happened. Right now.
You know how people come up to you sometimes and say, “Hey Rik…” Actually, you probably don’t but people are always coming up to me and saying, “Hey Rik, The Young Ones is the best television programme ever made.” Well, they can fuck off because it’s better than that. You’re my public aren’t you, viewer? So, if anyone comes up to you and says that to you, then punch them in the face and go into their house and meddle with their wiring. Remember, you and me are wild anarchists who live on the edge and we don’t care whether we live or die. Go into their houses and do it now. Done it? Cool. Move on. You’re one of mine now. Or I’m one of yours. Whichever you like better. There’s no authoritarian structure in our movement. We are all equal. They are few, we are many.
So, what happened was, I had written The Young Ones, right? I wrote it and I’d like to see someone who says that I didn’t because they’d be seriously big time wrong, right? Because I did and my name’s at the end of it. If you go out and buy a tape or a DeeVeeDee right now from a shop – I don’t know, any type of shop – you just go to the sort of shop that sells it and you put it on the tape or your telly thing – whatever kind of telly thing you’ve got – I don’t care what type you’ve got – just put it on and you watch one of the episodes – whichever one you want, it’s not important – just put it on and watch it and then where it says who it’s written by well that’s where my bloody name is, isn’t it? Right? So, tell me I’m wrong. Right, so, I wrote it, okay? And I want to say here and now that I never saw the copy of the script that said that Alexei, who was playing dangerous escaped criminal madman Brian Damage Bolowski in the episode entitled Sick (correct? hardcore fans*), was to smash me in the face with the butt of his shotgun. This mysterious little extra piece of action was added in a covert and highly suspicious manor. There I was acting out the scene as written – or scripted as we say in the acting world – when suddenly, Alexei smashed me in the face as hard as he could, knocking me completely unconscious. It was all made to look as though it was in the script and I had just mistimed it (and the actual shot of my character Rick coming round and recovering in the episode is me coming round and recovering genuinely. This, viewer, is a fact and would make an amusing little anecdote in its own right were it not for the fact that all was not what it seemed.)
To this day, I am