The Last Laugh: Why there's such nostalgia for the funny men who brought the nation together

It’s 25 December 1972. I’m six-years-old and I sit cross-legged on the brown swirly carpet, in front of the television. There are two men on the screen in brown suits. One of them, the tall, funny one with the glasses, is holding a 12ft-long comedy leg. I look around the room and my whole family is doubled up laughing. We are not alone. It’s the same in millions of households up and down the country. 

During the 1970s, The Morecambe and Wise Show brought the nation together in collective hysteria.  At 8.55pm on Christmas Day 1977, a staggering 28 million people, half the UK population at the time, sat down to tune in to BBC1 to watch Eric and Ernie play host to Elton John, Penelope Keith and Richard Briers, some of the biggest stars in the UK at the time.

It was in this episode that they had every national TV newsreader in the land perform impossible dance moves to the tune of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “There is Nothing Like a Dame” from the musical South Pacific. A sketch that was to go down in comedy history and is still talked about 48 years later. 

Get the latest news and insight into how the Big Issue magazine is made by signing up for the Inside Big Issue newsletter

It was the same for Tommy Cooper. Although not quite reaching the TV ratings heights of Morecambe and Wise, he was up there and, in 1978, The Tommy Cooper Hour on BBC1 was reaching an estimated 13.2 million households. His quick-fire jokes were told and retold and would-be impressionists were quoting “jus’ like that” followed by that unmistakable machine gun laugh in every pub, office and school playground across the country.

As well as the gags and magic tricks that went wrong, Cooper was also the master of the comedy pause. He just had to stand there in silence. He was a naturally funny man; he couldn’t help but be funny, it was innate, and the nation loved him. 

And Bob Monkhouse… a fixture of Saturday night TV. From The Golden Shot reaching 17 million viewers at its height, to Celebrity Squares, Family Fortunes and Bob’s Full House, Monkhouse was the consummate game show host. Although by his own admission, he wasn’t a naturally funny man, he was a man obsessed with comedy, and he constantly tried to chisel, polish and craft the perfect joke. And boy, were they perfect.  

Arguably, their careers couldn’t happen now. These legendary performers all came from the tail end of variety and music hall where they had honed their act. These men had played them all, from small clubs in London to the infamous Glasgow Empire so by the time they hit our TV screens in the 60s and 70s they had years of experience under their belt. Once they started in television, some of the best comedy writers in the business would help them create the perfect routines. These days, they would have to be on TikTok. 

• Comedian James Acaster: ‘I am not an alpha male’
• Adrian Edmondson on family, fatherhood and break-up with late comedy legend Rik Mayall

Sadly, there simply aren’t those kinds of audiences for TV any more, even for those few who have their names at the top of a programme. Michael McIntyre’s Big Show averages 7.5 million viewers. Brilliant as MacIntyre is, those figures are nothing like what Morecambe and Wise, Cooper or Monkhouse were getting five decades ago. 

The reasons are obvious. We now live in a multi-channel world. To paraphrase Pink Floyd [in Nobody Home], we now have 480 channels on the TV to choose from. And there’s YouTube and all the other streaming services as well. No longer is there that ‘appointment to view’, when all the family park themselves on the sofa at 8.30pm on a Saturday evening to watch the same thing at the same time. The kids are in their bedrooms on their screens texting their friends, while parents are downstairs, watching The Weakest Link or Pointless Celebrities.

 We don’t have that collective moment any more, when the first question you’re asked in the school playground is, “did you see Are You Being Served last night?”, or the dog saying “sausages” on That’s Life. Dogs still say “sausages” but you’re much more likely to see them do so on your social media feed. “Share” is now a button you press rather than something you do with your family on a Saturday night. 

I don’t want to get all dewy-eyed, but undoubtedly there is a nostalgia for that bygone era. That’s why it’s such a pleasure to bring these three comedy greats back to life on stage in my play, The Last Laugh. Everything seemed less complicated then… they were (or at least seem to be with hindsight) gentler times. I think one of the great things is that you can still watch Eric and Ernie or Tommy Cooper on TV and they are still funny… their comedy has a timeless quality, which arguably you don’t get so much these days.  

Hopefully, The Last Laugh captures that, and also captures something of the real men, their dedication to and obsession with the perfect gag. And maybe it captures the echoes of a family laughing together on a long-lost Saturday evening all those years ago. 

Paul Hendy’s The Last Laugh runs at the Noël Coward Theatre (25 February-22 March), ahead of a UK tour.

Do you have a story to tell or opinions to share about this? Get in touch and tell us more. Big Issue exists to give homeless and marginalised people the opportunity to earn an income. To support our work buy a copy of the magazine or get the app from the App Store or Google Play.