I'm Alan Partridge

In school there are two camps of men: the ones who are literate in women, and the ones who are literate in comedy. Me and my friends were very much part of the second camp. Each lunchtime in the Common Room we would pitch up our tents, gather round the campfire and share sitcom quotes until the teachers called lights out on our badinage. Our ‘Kumbaya My Lord’ was Steve Coogan’s I’m Alan Partridge. Everyone in the group knew it. Favourite moments from the show would be sung back and forth at one another, evoking fits of laughter. The anti-cool character of Alan Partridge made us feel cool. This sad loner brought us together. To recognise Partridge’s delusion made us feel aware.  We did not yet understand what it meant to have ‘classic intercourse’ but we got irony, satire and bathos.

'Knowing me, Knowing you. A-Ha!'

This last week I’ve been revisiting Alan Partridge with my girlfriend that is two years younger than me. (Back of the net!) At the same time, I’ve been reading Steve Coogan’s autobiography, Easily Distracted. Coogan’s career by his own admission has had a series of peak and troughs. Surprisingly, he reveals that sometimes the two have gone hand in hand. In the beginning of his memoir, he reveals how during the second season of I’m Alan Partridge that he was so whacked on cocaine that he would often fall asleep between takes. Moreover, his life choices were insensible and in some cases cruel: cheating on his girlfriend while she was pregnant being the worst. What is refreshing about Coogan though is the honesty in which he recounts these failings. He doesn’t look for excuses, nor does he offer pious confession, with brevity he simply tells us that he hurt the people around him and it is for those people who know him to judge him – not us and certainly not the press.

Coogan takes on the press at the Leveson Inquiry.

Coincidentally, Coogan’s standing in the press has improved since he took them on. In the early 2000’s the press got some mileage out of the disjuncture between the character of Alan Partridge and the personality of Steve Coogan. The man of the world Coogan was at odds with the provincial Partridge. So when Steve Coogan slept with Hole frontwoman Courtney Love, a headline might read ‘Local Norwich DJ sleeps with Hollywood Rock Star.’ Or when Steve Coogan was ‘caught’ frequenting a lap-dancing club - ‘Partridge sees bird’s tits.’ For the tabloid vultures he was easy fodder. So easy a target that papers like The News of the World dispensed with journalistic integrity and started tapping his phone. In listening to people’s private messages, Fleet Street took its morals down a sewage hatch and played monkey tennis with its own shit stink. Hearing of how Coogan risked financial ruin to take on Murdoch’s press is illuminating – as he puts it, he just wanted ‘to remind News International with power comes responsibility.’ Winning his libel battle gave Coogan his self-esteem back, making him more brave, more bold; this shedding of risk led to Philomena, his most feted work. No longer fearing the press, he has come to be respected by them.

Despite Philomena’s Oscar nomination, Coogan knows Partridge is what he will be remembered for. Fittingly, he even lets Alan have the last word in Easily Distracted- a coda that reflects Coogan’s new found confidence: with people now recognising him as a serious artist, he can finally embrace his populism.  Partridge is no longer an albatross that haunts then, but a loyal friend to turn to.

For those unfamiliar, Partridge started on Radio 4’s On The Hour, a satirical current affairs show produced by Chris Morris. Alan began life as a sports reporter, lampooning the earnest coverage of what is essentially a trivial obsession. Unaware he was onto a good thing, he was eventually persuaded by friend Patrick Marber to evolve the character into the idiot we now know and love. Part of the character’s growth came from moving him away from the cadence of the football commentator and positioning him instead as a Norfolkian – a decision that proved to be a masterstroke. Partridge now had a sense of place: he was narrow-minded in outlook, unequipped to deal with the values of the metropolises, but to his service he was honest without artifice.

His spoof radio chat show Knowing Me, Knowing You was an instant success, ensuring its quick transfer to television. Knowing Me, Knowing You’s humour came through pitting Alan’s parochialism against his more urbane guests. Instead of fulfilling the duties of a chat show host (make convivial small talk, listen respectfully), Alan turned light entertainment into talk radio, regularly interrupting guests to proffer insults and conspiracy theories.

The series ended with Alan accidentally shooting a guest.

Alan the self-confessed King of chat.

I’m Alan Partridge begins with Alan back on radio – an environment more suited to inane motor mouths, but one that Alan is still ill-suited to. A local radio DJ is supposed to be inoffensive vanilla, easing people through the drudgery of work and congestion- Alan is none of these things: unprofessional incidents include, making scurrilous comments about farmers; telling listeners about a rival DJ’s drink problem; swearing live on air during a discussion show – all this whilst running inane features like ‘Fact of the Day’ (Crabsticks do not actually contain any crab, and from 1993 manufacturers have been legally obliged to label them ‘crab-flavoured’ sticks.’ Another one tomorrow.) It’s not just Alan’s professional life that’s on the slide; his personal life is on the skids too. He’s now living in a local Travel Tavern – a stay that the staff would describe as more of an occupation. His ex-wife is seeing a new man and his children won’t see him. These details give Alan a humanity that is otherwise missing from his behaviour. It is why we ultimately root for him: we deplore his behaviour to others – particularly PA Lynn – but we recognise that he’s losing his dignity fast.

Up with the Partridge.

When the second series begins Alan has bounced back, following his breakdown where he drove bare-footed to Dundee (hilariously recounted in a series of flashbacks over the episodes). He is now on a better radio slot (10pm, not 4am) and hosts Skirmish, a military game show watched by 30,000 people. Wanting to inspire other people to bounce back, Alan has written a book that you can buy from all good local petrol forecourts (as long as your local petrol forecourt is on the A146 near Trowse Newton). Despite Alan being happier with a girlfriend fourteen years younger than him, he still experiences the frustration of feeling thwarted. In Steve Coogan’s autobiography he says his comedy hero was John Cleese and it’s easy to see the Basil Fawlty in Alan. Both men believe they should occupy better positions (societal for Fawlty; entertainment for Alan) and yet neither have the networking skills to obtain them. This is why we love sitcom characters: they brazenly wear the insecurities we hide in the closet, making them simultaneously monstrous and human.

Partridge is back this Tuesday on Sky Atlantic, no longer broadcasting on Radio Norwich but minor subsidiary North Norfolk Digital. Partridge then continues to fall professionally- but as for the comedy, well that improves exponentially. Jurassic Park!

I'm Alan Partridge is available to gorge like Toblerone on Netlix.