by Lyndhurst’s beautifully crafted interpretation of the languid younger Trotter.
Initially, John Sullivan didn’t think the BBC were keen on the sitcom and half-expected it to be scrapped after the first season; he was, therefore, delighted when asked to pen a second series, although the average audience figures, just under nine million, were far from ideal. It wasn’t until Series Four, which saw viewing numbers average above 14 million, that the show had found its footing. Sadly, though, the growing success paled into insignificance when the death of Lennard Pearce, alias Grandad, was announced. John Sullivan et al were left with a dilemma: how to bridge the almighty chasm left behind by Pearce’s sudden death. Recasting was out of the question, so John – while meeting with Ray Butt and Gareth Gwenlan – suggested introducing Albert, Grandad’s brother, to add an extra dimension. After frantic rewriting of the scripts, Uncle Albert made his first appearance attending his brother’s funeral in ‘Strained Relations’. Buster Merryfield, a bank manager turned actor, was welcomed into the fold and delivered a sterling job under difficult circumstances.
By the time Series Six was screened, the episodes had been extended to 50 minutes and Only Fools and Horses had established itself as arguably the BBC’s most popular programme. Extended episodes proved beneficial in many respects, including John Sullivan not having to cut funny scenes purely to reduce the length of the script and affording him the opportunity and time to explore his characters and storylines in more depth.
‘OH THE EXTERMINATOR. WELL, OF COURSE, TO RODDERS THAT IS ROMANTIC. I MEAN, HE CRIED HIS LITTLE EYES OUT OVER THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE.’ (DEL)
In the latter stages of the sitcom, we saw the Trotter brothers finally settle down and take on life’s responsibilities more willingly. In due course, Del and Rodney discovered true love in the shape of Raquel – who was only expected to appear in one episode but made such an impact the character was retained – and Cassandra respectively, and, later, fatherhood. The Trotter brothers were maturing, settling down and discarding their lads-about-town image.
Although the boys’ marriages suffered more than their fair share of ups and downs, again providing John Sullivan with the chance to exploit his skills of writing the poignant moments, the series had moved on to a more mature level.
All good things must come to an end, though, and the screening of the 1996 Christmas Trilogy marked the cessation of visits to the Trotter household – or so everybody thought. If this had been the end, the show certainly went out with a bang. Each of the three episodes were watched by over 20 million viewers with the final instalment, ‘Time On Our Hands’, with the Trotters finally becoming millionaires, pulling in a colossal 24.3 million viewers, all glued to their screens to bid farewell to Del, Rodney, Uncle Albert and the rest of the gang. As always, the episodes had successfully mixed pathos with humour, and it was clear the British public were going to miss catching up with the frustrating yet loveable Trotter boys.
When the brothers struck gold, it looked like the lights would be switched off at Nelson Mandela House for good. No one intended making more episodes, but in the world of TV you never say never. One day, a throwaway comment from Gareth Gwenlan, hinting that perhaps a special episode would be made to celebrate the new millennium, started the ball rolling and, eventually, they were back.
Turning his attention to the scripts, Sullivan knew that keeping the Trotters as multi-millionaires wouldn’t have worked. If they were to stroll the streets of Peckham once again, he wanted to return them to where they started; the trouble was, he couldn’t do that in one episode. Eventually, another trilogy was commissioned.
John Sullivan decided the Trotters would lose their fortune, thanks to Del gambling away their millions on the Central American money market, and so five years after the final instalment in the Christmas Trilogy, the crowd were back.
The three episodes, ‘If They Could See Us Now …!’, ‘Strangers On The Shore’ and ‘Sleepless In Peckham’ – and this time they would be the last – were transmitted on Christmas Day 2001, 2002 and 2003. There were times when Sullivan regretted writing the new shows because the press reaction was disappointing, despite winning plaudits from the audiences. Later, though, John was able to appreciate the episodes which, again, proved that quality writing, casting and acting win every time.
The Trotter brothers have a meeting at midday and Rodney is far from ready. Del is horrified to discover the reason why.
DEL: (Studying his reflection in the mirror) S’il vous plait, s’il vous plait, what an enigma. I get better looking every day. I can’t wait for tomorrow. Oh, do you know, I’m suffering from something incurable. (Grandad and Rodney ignore him) Still, never mind, eh! Oi, come on Rodney, shake a leg, we’ve got a meeting at 12. What are you doing?
RODNEY: Our accounts.
DEL: You keeping accounts now? Well there you are, Grandad, a lot of people told me I was a right dipstick to make my brother a partner in the business, but this only goes to prove how bloody right they were. You dozy little twonk, Rodney, this is prima-facie evidence ain’t it? The taxman gets hold of that he’ll put us away for three years.
Raise your glasses to over two decades of sitcom success.
© Mirrorpix
Rodney thinks Del is cheating him … the trouble is, he can’t prove it.
RODNEY: It’s obvious you’re stitching me up. Look at you, you have three or four changes of clothes a day. Me – I’ve got one suit from the Almost New Shop. It gets embarrassing sometimes.
DEL: Oh, I embarrass you do I? You’ve got room to talk. You have been nothing but an embarrassment to me from the moment you was born. You couldn’t be like any other little brother could you, and come along a couple of years after me. Oh no, you had to wait 13 years. So while all the other Mods were having punch-ups down at Southend and going to Who concerts, I was at home baby-sitting! I could never get your oystermilk stains out of me Ben Shermans – I used to find rusks in me Hush Puppies.
Memories …
‘Nick and Lennard were great to work with. Although he was very young, Nick had spent his entire life, more or less, in the business because he’d been a child actor. Lennard Pearce, meanwhile, had been a stage actor for all his life. So we were dealing with actors who I had a healthy respect for because they had served their apprenticeship.
‘Both of them were tremendously easy to get on with, but I think a lot of that was because we’d all worked a lot of time in the theatre, travelling the country, working every night with a live audience, learning our trade. That is hugely beneficial when you work in television. So with John Sullivan’s scripts, and the experience of the cast, I knew we had the essential ingredients.’
DAVID JASON
Del and Rodney try chatting up girls at a nightclub. The trouble is, Del reverts to a pack of lies, suggesting his younger brother is an international tennis player, in order to impress but, as usual, just makes a fool of himself.
DEL: Yeah, he’s an international professional tennis player and I’m his manager. You must have heard of Rodney, yeah Rodney. The sporting press call him Hot Rod!
NICKY: Don’t think I have. What’s the surname?
‘WHAT A PLONKER!’ (DEL)
RODNEY: Trotter!
NICKY: Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.
DEL: