The Plucky Publican: Parables on the BBC

There has been much controversy of late concerning the BBC. There were the scandals about the game-show prizes which appeared to have been rigged in some cases, and then more recently there was the outrage at Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand’s crude insensitivity toward actor Andrew Sachs on one of their so-called comedy programmes. Newspapers and the general public have begun to question the integrity of one of the great pillars of the media and entertainment industry. Many bemoan the deluge of reality TV programmes on all stations, and despite the huge choice available through the digital and satellite channels and the sharper high definition pictures as a result of advanced technology, there is a growing disillusionment with the black box in the corner of the lounge. There is, moreover, a concern that the BBC in particular has sold out in order to compete for viewing figures with the commercial channels. Whatever the truth of these allegations, there is no doubt that BBC drama at its best can still profoundly move mass audiences either with lavish period pieces or more gritty contemporary fare.
The first episode of ‘The Street’ starring Bob Hoskins as a plucky landlord who stands up to a local gangster, Miller, was an example of the latter. The play came across as a modern parable about courage, integrity, and parenthood and reminded me of the power of simple story-telling to bring home timeless truths more eloquently than any sermon or lecture by priest or politician. How we need such parables today! Christ was the master of the short story according to the Gospel writers, captivating his large and varied audiences by the Lake of Galilee with stories of good Samaritans, prodigal sons and foolish virgins. In a culture without TV, the internet, or even newspapers his topical tales did much to shape the mind-set of his local community and have since reached millions more across the ages; broadcasting at its best one might say! Of course the power of a story is in the telling as much as the content and Hoskins is a great craftsman of this with a face and voice that are utterly mesmerising. He plays Paddy, a landlord who runs the greyhound pub and his teenage family with the same admirable mix of firm authority and paternalistic care. When he catches a young lad, Callum, smoking in the pub loos, an offence which would cost his pub £5,000, he bars him, as he had another youngster a few weeks before for the same offence. Callum’s Dad the local gangster who pours much of his ill-gotten gain into the pub’s football youth team not to mention the pub itself, asks Paddy to make an exception with his son promising to deal with him at home. Paddy refuses to serve Miller a pint for his son, however, which causes a hush to descend on the noisy crowd around the bar. Miller prides himself on being the hard man of this suburban Manchester community and warns Paddy in front of the whole pub that he will break every bone in his body if he hasn’t changed his mind by tomorrow afternoon. So the landlord is left with a painful dilemma, potentially very painful indeed. Understandably Paddy’s wife wants him to remain in one piece and give in to Miller. On the other hand Paddy’s head-strong son wants to get involved in the fray and threatens to attack Callum if Miller lays a finger on his Dad. Paddy’s priority is to ensure his son goes back to his Uni’ the next day so he tells him he’s going to serve Miller and Callum just to make sure his lad keeps out of things and catches his train. After much wrestling with his conscience and various failed attempts to enlist support from the local community, Paddy is faced with Miller and son in a virtually empty bar at three in the afternoon. Paddy stands his ground provoking a gruesome ‘battering’ from Miller and is taken off to hospital. Despite broken ribs and an extremely fat lip, Paddy refuses to stay in hospital and is behind the bar later that night when Miller swaggers up to the bar with his son to order drinks. Paddy asks Callum whether he felt it was right that he’d been barred from the pub. When the lad meekly agrees that he does, Paddy gets him to admit that the only reason he's here is because his Dad’s made him. Paddy pours Callum a pint but serves it with a pink straw and yellow umbrella like a 'girly' cocktail in full view of the whole pub who gawp in stunned silence at the scene. As Miller glares accusingly at Paddy, Hoskins brilliantly delivers the first of the stories twin punch-lines like one of those gloriously poker-faced actors in the Westerns. He turns to the father and with that unmistakeable, husky drawl and glowering glance says to Miller: You’re bringing him up like a tart, so I’m going to serve him like one. At that moment all the resentment Callum feels towards his Dad surfaces and he storms out of the bar. Miller can find no answer to this damning indictment of his parental failure and slowly retreats from the scene. Paddy clears the pub of all the cowards who had deserted him at his hour of need earlier in the day leaving just a sad drunk who has witnessed both the battering earlier that day, and Paddy’s revenge. “That was the bravest thing I have ever seen” Tommy mumbles. Hopkins then delivers the line that encapsulates the meaning of the whole parable. As he gently escorts Tommy to the door he says, “it took guts, yeah; but you know what took even more guts Tommy? Doing it sober.” This confirmed what had been hitherto implied in the drama; Paddy was a recovering alcoholic who has learned the meaning of courage the hard way. Later, on the news, there were pictures of violent youths throwing petrol bombs during the Orange Order marches in Belfast, and British soldiers terrorizing Iraqi prisoners to extract information from them. Like Miller in the drama these real-life figures seemed no more than shadows of men; Hopkins through his beautifully under-stated performance of a plucky landlord showed us the real thing-just like that other story-teller from Palestine all those years ago .