I Hate You Butler! (No, Really, I Do!!)

Next stop the crematorium?


I have just learnt that a truly great Briton died today. He was reported to have passed away peacefully in his sleep at his home in Budleigh Salterton in Devon at the age of 92. His name?..............Reg Varney.

So just why was Varney such a giant?
Well, believe it or not, it was not because he opened the world’s first ATM cash dispenser at Barclay’s Bank in Church Street, Enfield, north London, on June 27, 1969 – strange, but true.

No, Reg’s fame stems from the fact that he achieved a feat no-one else in the world of dramatic art ever did or is likely to do. You see, he starred in and was largely responsible for THE THREE MOST MEMORABLE FILMS EVER MADE!!

Orson Welles came close with Citizen Kane but his follow-ups never quite cut the mustard – sorry Orson, close but no cigar this time. Olivier’s celluloid version of Henry V and Rebecca got rave reviews, but he never managed the illusive trio. David Lean’s fantastic Lawrence of Arabia was brilliant but he just couldn’t turn his hand to a worthy number two and three. No, our Reg was the only person in the history of cinematography to capture the top three spots and hold onto them.

The run-up to Varney’s leap into the record books began in 1969 when he started honing his real skills in a television series which was billed as “comedy”, although to all people of any sensitivity whatsoever it was up there alongside anything Stephen King ever produced. It was called On the Buses and, ostensibly, followed the hilarious (sic) antics of London Transport bus driver Stan Butler, his workmates and family.

One recurring feature in the series was for the audience to be informed that a naked baby sitting on the kitchen table or draining board at Stan’s home had either farted, pissed all over the place or shat itself. Indeed, bodily functions played a big part in the show’s format.

Another tool for the creation of side-splitting situations was the projection of Stan as some sort of international babe magnet whom women would willingly date. To further this image, the producers gave Stan a partner in crime who was, if anything, even more irresistible to the gentler sex. He was Jack Harper, played by Bob Grant. Now the suspension of disbelief is central to many programmes but with Stan and Jack it was simply not possible.
Stan was a 5ft 2ins part-time dwarf with a Brylcreemed ‘50s barnet and the face of a parrot looking through a glass-bottomed tankard. Repellent though he was, his genetic misfortune paled into insignificance alongside that of Jack.
Jack had the teeth of a Grand National winner, the hair of Catweazle, a nose which could open beer bottles, the pallor of an anaemic Eskimo, the body of Charles Hawtry and the personality of the bastard child of Peter Stringfellow and Eva Braun. These two were not only the sort of men women tend not to throw themselves at, they were the sort of men women emigrate to avoid.

Alongside these central characters there was Stan’s sister, Olive (Anna Karen), who was quite simply the most revolting lump of lard which has ever squeezed itself into a floral print tent-dress, her curmudgeonly husband “Arfur” (Michael Robbins) and then the inspector at the bus garage, Blakey.
Blakey, played by Stephen Lewis, ostensibly had two lines during all seven series. They were “Get that bus outta ‘ere” and the nerve-janglingly, guffaw-inducing “I ‘ate yooo Batler!” which became the show’s catchline.

It was bad – it was very, very, very bad, but then, in 1971, Reginald stepped up a number of gears and undertook a project which was to catapult him to the very top of the hall of film fame.
He starred in the movie version of On the Buses!! Oh, dear God in heaven, it was terrible – simply unendurable. TW – THE worst - or so we thought. Quite definitely the most appalling film ever made….EVER.

I had only just crawled out from behind the settee when, a year later, Reg showed the world that it had been premature in its ranking of On the Buses and he starred in Mutiny on the Buses.
This was even worse! It seemed impossible but someone had managed to produce a new world-beater. It was the Medusa of the cinema – to look at it turned one to stone. People would rather gnaw off their own feet than watch it.

No one person had been responsible for THE two worst films ever made and so Varney was already a legend……………………..but then he only went and did it again.

1973 was a landmark year. I was just 13 and tiptoeing my way through puberty, Britain was busy entering the then EEC, Nixon announced a ceasefire in North Vietnam, councillors in Clay Cross, Derbyshire, were surcharged in an unprecedented move, George Foreman beat Joe Frazier to take the heavyweight championship of the world and Pink Floyd released Dark Side of the Moon. All of these events paled into insignificance, however, alongside something that happened in cinemas across the land. Yes, the stomach-churning Holiday on the Buses was released.








HOLIDAY ON THE BUSES IS, UNARGUABLY, THE MOST APPALLINGLY REVOLTING AND ATROCIOUS FILM OF ALL TIME!!!!! I’m sorry, but I find mere words inadequate to describe just how truly bad that film is. I believe the original version was set in concrete and buried somewhere in the Marianas trench, almost seven miles down in the north Pacific. It is shown to convicted serial killers as a substitute for the gas chamber. It………..Oh God, I can’t go on.

As I said, to clock up the two worst films of all time is a monumental achievement. To top that and produce a film which gives you the top three is unheard of.

God bless you, Reg. You have left us a legacy which shall never be forgotten. On top of that, you helped launch the career of one of my comedy heroes. You were the comedian in a double act in your early days and your partner, the straight man, was –the fabulous Benny Hill.

Grantham shall not have you, although the undertakers will.