A Right B’stard: Why We Still Love The New Statesman
By Will Barber Taylor
This year will make six years since the passing of one of British comedy’s more iconic stars; Rik Mayall. For many he will be remembered as Lord Flasheart in Blackadder; for others as Rik in The Young Ones and for some Richie in Bottom. Yet perhaps his most engaging and memorable role is that of Alan B’stard, the power-hungry Conservative MP who bestrode ITV’s schedule during the late 80s and early 90s as only a comedy colossus can do.
B’stard is ultimately a repulsive character; he is an anti-hero in the same tradition as Blackadder but with a crueller, vindictive streak inherent in his nature. He thinks nothing of potentially killing innocent children to make a quick buck or of conspiring in the death of his own, equally vile mother when she becomes a nuisance. So why is it that such a person, without any discernible conscious or any scruples should continue to delight audiences today as much as he did in his prime?
Partly, it is the fact that B’stard is such an out and out “villain”. We are fascinated by criminals and psychopaths because they contravene our own innate human instincts. Furthermore, by placing B’stard in a sitcom, it allows him to get away with appalling acts because they are framed as jokes, as part of the inherent satire of the programme.
In a drama he would be justifiably seen as a monster — yet the natural distance we have from any fictional creation is further heightened by the comedic setting allowing us as the audience to laugh at the actions B’stard does. Yet the tension created by B’stard’s twisted nature is further alleviated by how often B’stard is the subject of his plans backfiring or him being in danger. We can laugh even more that B’stard’s contempt and delight in hurting Piers Fletcher Deverish because we know sooner or later he is going to feel pain of his own — whether it being nearly hanged by a system he revived or having to desperately cover up a cab driver he believes he has killed, we can laugh with B’stard but also at him. There is almost a sense of karma to the programme — B’stard may do horrible things but usually they will come back to haunt him at some point in the story.
Yet it is not only B’stard as a character that makes the series so enduring. It is what he represents — a stereotypical New Thatcherite Conservative MP who doesn’t care for anything or anybody bar himself. Political satire was at its height in the 1980s and 90s on ITV, thanks to The New Statesman and Spitting Image. Both shows hilariously and brutally skewed every section of the British political establishment and The New Statesman did so via stories that allowed it to explore greater concepts in a satirical manner. Furthermore, the fact that The New Statesman was a sitcom rather than a sketch show ensures it has aged much better than a lot of Spitting Image sketches; you can easily understand and enjoy an episode of The New Statesman without feeling confused whilst some modern viewers may struggle to get many of Spitting Image’s jokes.
Alan B’stard has, like his show, lasted because we recognise him in many of today’s politicians and because the stories, he inhabits are not only vivid but ones that have a timeless appeal to audiences. It is this mixture of satire, excellent writing from Marks and Gran and a winning performance by Rik Mayall that ensures that we will always love to hate Alan B’stard.
