For the past couple of years, 1980s revivalism has been very much in vogue — from ra-ra skirts in Top Shop to the Joy Division-esque side partings of Franz Ferdinand. But some things, like Bucks Fizz and nuclear waste, should stay firmly in their lead-lined boxes. Unfortunately, nobody told the producers of A Kick Up the 80s, a mind-numbing variety show featuring a grotesque carnival of clapped-out names, including the former Crackerjack presenter Stu “Crush a Grape” Francis, the Krankies, Bucks Fizz and a local crooner called Christian.
It was never going to be a highbrow show, but for budding Louis Theroux-types seeking an ironic thrill from watching the Krankies it might have seemed like an amusing idea. Indeed, although the disturbingly diminutive Janette Krankie still dresses as her alter ego Jimmy (in shorts, cap, and “Fandabbydozy” sweatshirt) there is now a surreal, self-referential angle to their Beano-style humour which is very much in keeping with the times. Having long ago given up any illusion that she really is a schoolboy, their hammy, shamefully enjoyable act was more like watching a very peculiar old married couple having an argument. “Jimmy, have you been to school today?” asked Ian Krankie. “I don’t go to school — I’m 57!” squeaked Jimmy/Janette. Hardly groundbreaking stuff but at least they seemed to be having fun.
The rest of it was a uniquely depressing exercise in end-of-the-pier mediocrity. Any retro amusement turned to abject horror as Christian did a spectacularly lame version of Going Loco Down in Acapulco with a bunch of ill-co-ordinated dancers in sequins. They were followed by Stu Francis, who skipped on singing “Ooh, I could knock over a doll’s house . . . Ooh I could crush a grape” while the bemused audience of senior citizens and young children clapped along.
But far from being the innocent clown beloved of many a child of the 1980s, he managed to embody all that was reprehensible about the decade and his jokes were, at best, poor. They ranged from “What do you say to a Pakistani on Christmas Day? A pint of milk and a loaf of bread, please”, to his observations on the French: “I ‘ate the French. They’ve got garlic breath.” Perhaps when the Commission for Racial Equality gets hold of Stu, he’ll be getting a new catchphrase — hopefully something along the lines of “Ooh, I could sign on.”
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But this being a variety show, a concept as outdated as the acts themselves, at least the turns were mercifully short. However, the swift appearance of Bucks Fizz did nothing to lift the spirits. The absence of three of the original members might have had something to do with it, with the sole survivor, Bobby Gee, going through their half-remembered hits with a look of desperation on his face. Somewhere along the line there was a half-hearted Grease medley, but luckily, just as it was becoming interminable, the fire alarm went off and the mics cut out, leaving them stranded and speechless behind the safety curtain. As everybody filed out, one couldn’t help concluding that being evacuated was the highlight of the show.
In fact, the poignant sight of Bobby Gee standing outside having a fag in his sequinned bomber jacket, while the fire engines circled around the ashes of his career, was worth the entrance fee alone.