Father Ted

Given Father Ted is over twenty years old, I could be criticised as a johnny-come-lately for the sermon I’m about to deliver. Even though it’s old and many of you would have seen it, I still feel inclined to take to the pulpit and spread the word on this brilliant sitcom. After all, if people can celebrate Jesus two thousand years after his birth, then it should be more than fine to talk about Ted long after transmission.

Brothers and sisters I have a confession. I know you see me as a totem, a figurehead, a candle in the darkness, but I am human. I burn my toast. I split my trousers. I embezzle money from the tortoise charity I founded. I've made mistakes. Just like you. A mistake I've made in my life - and it's not one I'm proud of - is Father Ted as a sitcom has passed me by. Hear me out, children. It came out in 1995 when I was ten-years-old, too young a man to follow its offbeat surrealism. At school I was never really a comedy obsessive that would go back and watch past programmes; my taste was informed by what was on at the time. Consequently, I was a huge fan of Only Fools and Horses, Friends and The Office, but of little else. Therefore, there are huge gaps in my knowledge. I'm aware of that, and I've tried to change. In the past few years I’ve caught up on Spaced, Knowing Me Knowing You … with Alan Partridge and The Day Today ­– all comedies that were transmitted before my adolescence, when one’s funny bone is most susceptible. 

Father Ted, for those of you who are uninitiated (heathens), is a title rooted in a pun. Ted is a Father in a religious sense; he performs mass to people of his parish. However, he is also father in a paternal sense, caring as he does for Jack, the tourettic grandpa figure, and Dougal, a colleague more dumb son than priest. He heads the household with the charwoman Mrs Doyle. It is classic sitcom territory where a group must co-exist, despite the fact they get on one another’s nerves. (See Steptoe and Son, Fawlty Towers, Peep Show etc.)

A family dynamic.

The thing that always establishes greater laughs in sitcom is the claustrophobia of the setting. The fact that much of sitcom unravels in a single location exacerbates the friction that gives rise to the humour. Ironically for priests, these characters find themselves in situational purgatory. All but Mrs Doyle have been confined to Craggy Island for sins in their previous life. Ted has been sent there for financial impropriety (a joke that runs through the series), Dougal for causing a group of nuns emotional damage, and Jack for his bad behaviour at a wedding in Athlone. The three cope with their remote Ireland life in different ways: Dougal finds solace in his own stupidity, unaware that this position is indeed a punishment; Jack finds spiritual healing in …well… spirits; and Ted retreats into dreams, praying celebrity comes calling – a calling he could really get behind. Father Ted Crilly then occupies a similar terrain to most sitcom characters: the thwarted hero. These types have ambitions above their station, which are impossible to realise because of the company they keep.

Arthur Matthews and Graham Linehan conceived the show, following their successful contributions to sketch shows The Day Today and The All New Alexi Sayle Show, and this vein of sketch runs through Ted. I’ve seen catchphrases repeated through sitcoms, but I’ve never seen recurring gags run through them. These running jokes are interwoven so skilfully into each new episode, allowing you to experience new gags alongside re-worked favourites. The ‘sketches’ that run through the show are Father Ted’s phone calls, which bring calamity to all that answer, and Mrs Doyle’s different methods of persuading people to drink her tea. The set-ups- as in sketches- are the same; the payoffs though different.

Matthews and Linehan, comedy writers - not an ITV detective duo, despite how the picture looks.

What makes Ted such a wonderful sitcom though are its characters. Ted is the one rounded character amongst a sea of flat ones. The priests that come to visit Craggy Island are a circus show of grotesqueries; they could be brick wall boring like Father Stone, wall-to-wall nuts a la Father Stacks or just wally's of the highest order, enter Father Damo. Whatever shape and size the priests come in they make Ted’s dysfunctional ‘family’ seem relatively normal.

One of my favourite aspects of Father Ted are the characters that comes from outside the ‘cloth.’ John and Mary, who own the hardware store, are often devising new, innovative ways to kill each other, but whenever Ted and Dougal come round they put on their church behaviour and appear perfectly happy. Also, in the episode ‘Speed 3’ there is the brilliantly named Pat Mustard. Fans of Toast of London, co-written by Arthur Matthews, will see the blueprint for those character names here. Pairing a regular forename with an incongruous surname is Matthews’ stock-in-trade; one he has a real talent for. Mustard is a glorious invention, a milkman more interested in delivering his penis than bottles. His sexual boasts run counter to the priests we root for. (In all honesty Ted and Dougal would like to get their end away, but their end is strangled by a dog collar inscribed 'Owner: God.') Soon Ted and Dougal are at war with Mustard, causing an action movie face-off between priests and milkman. That sentence gets to the heart of Father Ted. It revels in the daft, the absurd, imposing high stakes Hollywood on little village life. (It’s clear to see where the inspiration for Hot Fuzz came from.)

Forgot to mention this character's name: Dick Byrne. What a great name.

For all the mirth and mischief of Father Ted, there is satire too. Despite how we hear how priesthood is a calling, none of the characters appear religious. Obviously, this is a stereotype for laughs, but it does have some element of truth. In reading Johnny Vegas’ autobiography, he exposed how he nearly became a priest to impress his Catholic family. In a Catholic community, if a child becomes priest then that family's social position is elevated; thus you have a danger that people are in it for the wrong reasons. The programme isn’t anti-religious but it does ask questions of it. When Ted is unsuccessful in sweet-talking a desk sergeant into dropping charges, he moans: 

‘There was a time when the police in this country were friends of the church: speeding tickets torn up, drink driving charges quashed, even a blind eye turned to murder.’  

Here, Linehan and Matthews attack the pedestal priests are put on. 

Another political moment comes when Ted is listening to horse racing:  

'And it's Divorce Referendum in the lead, followed by Glory Be To God. 'Glory Be To God creeps ahead of Divorce Referendum. ' Come on, Divorce Referendum! Come on! 'Divorce Referendum is way in front.' Divorce Referendum is speeding towards victory. ' - Yes, yes! - 'Oh, no!' 'Disaster for Divorce Referendum 'as he turns in the opposite direction 'and simply runs off the course.’ 

During the time divorce wasn’t legal in Ireland, this throwaway skit has the writers put forward a liberal view on what would have been a political hot potato. Amongst all the silliness, there’s a lot of clever stuff going on as well. This bodes well for the Father Ted musical that's in the works. In a recent interview Linehan revealed that the premise would centre around Ted becoming Pope, an idea that came from seeing Trump become President. No doubt there will be catchphrases from Jack and Doyle, but don't be surprised if there's satirical comment on populism and its consequences.

I've got a cup of tea waiting, so I'm going to wrap up now. All that it leaves me to say is the mass has ended, go in peace. Thanks be to Ted.   

Father Ted is available on the Channel 4 iplayer thing that they keep changing the name of.