And then there was no more. Of it.
The last ever episode of "Father Ted", shown at the weekend, was as full of loose, wonky
brilliance as all the rest. Somehow, it was comedy that was everywhere at once, that was absolutely
instinctive, that exploded with genuine joy. It was neither tempted into forced, smug cleverness nor lazily reliant on catchphrases. Bizarrely, it was also quite traditional in its
own strange way - even my mum, who would consider "The Young Ones" to be offensive rubbish, likes "Father Ted".
"The Young Ones" is probably the most obvious point of reference. But, for me, "Father Ted" was
both funnier and more likeable - perhaps because its nineties context meant that it had nothing to prove, perhaps
because it was simply better written. It reminded me of "Rent-A-Ghost" a bit too,
don't ask me why....
It'll become a classic, I think - the "Fawlty Towers" or "Black Adder" of its generation. In twenty years time, we'll probably be watching Jack being mobbed by
crows, Mrs Doyle falling off roofs and Ted being mistaken for a Nazi in that
Saturday-afternoon-after-Grandstand slot. I hope so - "cult" status is insufficent
reward for a comedy that's provided me with so many belly-laughs.
So, no more "Father Ted" and no more Dermot Morgan (RIP). I'll miss 'em both.