TV: New depths crying out to be explored

By MICHELE HEWITSON

The history of television comedy is haunted by the ghosts of truly pathetic bastards. The best have always been the ones with no redeeming features. Frank Spencer doesn't make the cut - you could forgive him his foibles.

But Steptoe senior, that ghastly, grasping misanthrope, is up there. So is ranting racist Alf Garnett. Now step up Alan Partridge. On the strength of last week's episode of I'm Alan Partridge, he looks a likely candidate to collect one of the Enduring Comedy Creeps gong.

You may remember Alan. He was the chat show host with the catchphrase, "Knowing Me, Knowing You." Like all good chat show hosts, Partridge understood that while you have to get stars on the couch, the really famous person on the set is the guy with his name on the credits.

Alan Partridge (there's a real guy behind all of this, goes by the name of Steve Coogan) is waiting for a return to the big time, waiting for the BBC to give him a second series. To pay the bills he's been reduced to doing an early morning radio slot on Radio Norwich. It's called Up With the Partridge.

He's got some loyal listeners - "sub-human scum" - who graffiti his car. "I'm basically driving around in an obscene publication. Some vandals have sworn all over my car again."

He's living in a hotel where he woos the receptionist with jokes such as, "I'm leaving you, you cow." That one, even Partridge had to concede, backfired.

He has a flaky skin disease, wears buttoned-up cardies over ties that are too short, and his wife has left him for a fitness instructor.

Lesser men might have been laid low by this turn of events. Not Partridge. He is the eternal egotist. In his spare time, of which there is much, he pitches television ideas to his dictaphone. "Idea for a programme: Ladies Shapes with Alan Partridge. I look at the changing shapes of ladies over the ages, from fat chubby ladies of the Renaissance to hard-faced Cromwellian sour-pusses, right up to 20th century well-toned women like Jet from Gladiators."

How pathetic is Partridge? We saw him at lunch with the man from the BBC, ordering Blue Nun and pitching ideas with even less appeal. Cooking In Prison. Monkey Tennis.

The BBC guy was a cold fish, showing not a spark of interest in a show called Knowing M. E., Knowing You - "I, Alan Partridge, talk to M.E sufferers about their condition, their favourite pop songs ... "

Somebody, somewhere (probably here) will make these shows. The BBC won't. "We don't owe you a living," BBC bloke told Partridge. "You are someone who has a proven track record for making mostly bad television programmes."

Here's an idea. Downunder With Partridge. For that gig, Alan's got just the right track record.

I'm Alan Partridge

TV4, 8.10 pm