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This quirky little series, dating from the early 1970's, established former pop idol Adam Faith as a television talent of some repute, following on from some earlier movie roles which really were only intended to cash in on his popularity as a singing star.

In the early days of rock & roll; following on from the transition of Elvis Presley into a movie actor; no sooner had a good-looking young vocalist managed a couple of hit records, than he would be cast in some, usually forgettable, movie designed entirely around the public perception of his image. Mostly these films were of poor quality, and usually the hapless pop star would be revealed as being way out of his depth in this new aspect of his show business persona. A few singers turned into decent actors; such as Sinatra and Presley; although the choice of acting role was not always entirely to their credit; but most, such as Cliff Richard, Billy Fury, and The Beatles were obviously not intended by nature to be actors. Adam Faith was a different situation entirely. An indifferent vocal talent, but a man of definite intellect, he obviously was aware of his own vocal limitations and set out very deliberately to become an actor; as opposed to being a dodgy singer who occasionally also appeared in dodgy films.

With 'seventies-trendy' longer hair than his former pop star appearance, Faith, as Ronald (Budgie) Bird, is cast as a (very) small-time cockney crook, whose every 'fail-safe' money-making scheme invariably ends in disaster. Occasionally he pays the price for his dishonesty, and stupidity, by a short stretch behind bars; which is indeed where we first encounter this likeable dimwit at the very beginning of the series, in episode 1. Obviously the Soho area of London is Budgie's natural habitat, with its profusion of sex shops, strip clubs, and various dodgy dealings; which is where Budgie is immediately drawn to at every ill-advised opportunity.

Apart from Budgie himself there are three other main characters who make up the nucleus of his world. His sluttish, estranged, wife Jean; his long-suffering girlfriend Hazel Fletcher; and, most crucial of all, Charlie Endell; superbly portrayed, in an unforgettable characterisation, by Iain Cuthbertson. This amiable - but also slightly sinister- individual is everything that Budgie is not. He is successful and rich; through his chain of dirty book shops and sex clubs; and, although not given to random pointless violence, is actually entirely ruthless when provoked; or when the occasion demands; as Budgie himself is fully aware; sometimes to his cost. The interaction between these, the two principle characters, is really what drives the action throughout the entirety of the two series (seasons). This is evidenced by the two episodes in which Endell's character is not featured; which are significantly less watchable than the rest of the series. Cuthbertson is a real scene-stealer, and his rich and colourful staccato Scottish accent was much imitated at the time by schoolboys around the UK. Very possibly he was the actual star of the show, despite Faith's top billing; and there were even some plans to give the character of Charlie Endell his very own series. Although this never did come to pass, his appearance in 'Budgie' was unquestionably vital to the success of what was, in those early seventies, a very widely watched show indeed.

Of the others; unfaithful and feckless wife Jean, is well played, by Georgina Hale, with delightful eccentricity and a memorable squeaky voice. Although only appearing in a few episodes her character is nonetheless valuable to the series overall. She and Budgie can hardly be in the same room for two minutes without antagonising each other; and there is the very definite possibility that her sanity might be a bit iffy; with possibly a touch of sexual sadism/masochism in her unstable personality.

Far more attractive in every way is the only truly sympathetic character in the show; girlfriend Hazel; played by Lynn Dalby; who finds Budgie to be more trouble than he is worth (which isn't much), and yet, for reasons never made quite clear, appears unable to disentangle herself from him entirely. She is also the mother of his child, which obviously forms an ongoing common bond between the pair; but still the viewer is left with the feeling that she could do much better elsewhere. Budgie himself appears almost completely disinterested in his own son, to the extent that the boy is about three years of age before he even discovers what the kid's name is.

Worthy of an additional mention here is Charlie Endell's occasional hired heavy 'Laughing Spam Fritter' (East-end rogues usually did tend toward catchy nicknames), played by John Rhys-Davies, a good ten years before he found greater fame in the 'Indiana Jones' films. He does a welcome occasional turn, whenever Endell wants Budgie leaned on, and can't be bothered to do it himself. 'Laughing S' (as Charlie calls him) is apparently non-malicious in his actions, but simply acts rather efficiently on behalf of his paymaster without resort to conscience either way.

Despite everything, it appears that Budgie's only ongoing connection to anyone is with the (equally self-centred) Charlie Endell. Mostly this is a matter of mutual convenience. Budgie sees the very successful Endell as a possible route to his own financial betterment. Charlie's view of Budgie is more realistic, in that he occasionally employs Budgie to run errands or to be the fall guy for some dodgy deal which might attract unwelcome attention from the cops. When you get right down to it; Budgie is likeable with a thin surface charm, but is also selfish and pretty stupid. This is evidenced by some of the 'crimes' he commits; such as stealing a champion racing greyhound, without asking himself where he can possibly race the dog without drawing attention to the fact that it is very hot property indeed. Another example is stealing a light bulb from its fitting at a semi-deserted railway station, or pilfering a few pens from Charlie Endell's office. On yet another occasion he sinks sufficiently low as to swindle an elderly lady shopkeeper out of just four pounds. True; four pounds in 1971 was worth considerably more than it is now - but even so this is pretty shoddy low-life behaviour.

Although quite decorous by today's dubious standards; for its time this would have been a bit groundbreaking in its (moderately) frank attitudes to subjects like sex, single mothers (Hazel) and Charlie's porno empire. Also, somewhat breaking new ground for the time, was its portrayal of the cops as mostly bent and 'on the take' from rogues such as the prosperous Charlie Endell. Although a corrupt subsection of the London constabulary were perfectly well known (within limited circles) to be getting paid by Soho's porno kings for 'looking the other way', this was nevertheless a side of the police which was largely hidden from the awareness of most people at the time. The common misguided perception would be derived from amiable shows such as 'Dixon of Dock Green', in these years before programs such as 'The Sweeney' came to show an entirely different view of our British cops. But; taken overall; presumably the underlying good humour of Budgie's hapless antics, and Endell's dry, if slightly menacing, charisma, kept it all on the right side of a questionable sort of good taste. Indeed; in re-showings today; it is preceded by far more 'may not be suitable for children' type warnings than anyone ever bothered with at the time.

Faith's performance overall is good and very watchable. He is certainly well cast in playing Budgie Bird; although, to some extent, this set something of a pattern for his persona in future acting roles, such as in the 1974 film 'Stardust', or later on in 'Shady Tales'. Possibly this was the only character he was truly suited for; but if so, then 'Budgie' remains as his lasting memorial, and definitely worth watching again.

Back in the late 1960's much of the action-adventure type of shows were essentially fantasy TV. This proved to be an immensely popular genre; as evidenced by series such as 'The Avengers' and 'Adam Adamant.' The 'superhero' entrant into this category appeared in 1967, and was entitled 'The Champions.' Although running for only one series (season) this show is much beloved of those who grew up around that time, and is still popular when shown in reruns now.

Employed by the mythical international agency of 'Nemesis' are Richard Barrett (William Gaunt), Craig Stirling (Stuart Damon) and Sharon Macready (Alexandra Bastedo); all presided over by their frequently bemused boss 'Tremayne;' nicely underplayed by Anthony Nicholls. Broadly speaking Craig is the saturnine tough guy; Richard is the intellectual English gentleman, and Sharon - of course - provides the traditional touch of feminine glamour. However, this is oversimplifying their characters somewhat, as all three give thoughtful and surprisingly detailed performances beyond that which might normally be expected in a sixties television show of this type. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

On a covert mission to liberate some microbial laboratory specimens from an establishment somewhere in China they barely escape capture, and death, when the plane in which they are fleeing the Communist military is badly damaged by gunfire. Knowing that they are unable to remain airborne for long, pilot Craig Stirling makes a desperate crash landing somewhere in the snowy desolation of Tibet. All three survive the immediate aftermath of the landing itself but are unlikely to last for long; due in part to severe injury, and also the fact of being stranded, in a completely wrecked plane, amid a freezing wasteland. But unexpected assistance is at hand.

Perhaps part-inspired by the, Frank Capra directed, movie of 1937; 'Lost Horizon', based upon the James Hilton story of that name; it happens that there is a 'lost civilisation' unknown to the outside world secreted in these snow covered mountains of Tibet. The 'wise-old-gentleman' who appears to run the place is played by none other than the, always excellent, veteran British character actor, Felix Aylmer. In a role which he has portrayed - with only marginal variation - innumerable times before, he displays his quietly impressive genteel persona one more time, to the immense benefit of this very first episode of 'The Champions.' He really does lend a very definite extra touch of class, well beyond that normally presented in this type of situation. His character (unnamed) takes the critically injured trio back to the hidden city, where a highly advanced medical technology is applied; subsequent to which their fatally damaged bodies are not only saved from the brink of death, but are indeed restored to a condition which is far superior to their previous physical and mental capacity. In so doing he has not only saved their lives, but has also transformed them into superhumans.

The subsequent adventures of this trio (who always seem to be teamed up together, regardless of all the other Nemesis agents) would be the same type of thing on offer in 'The Saint' or perhaps 'The Avengers' except for the use of their superhuman capabilities adding a nice novel touch to proceedings along the way. And it has to be said that their abilities are not stupidly exaggerated in the manner of more recent superhero movie characters; they are simply significant enhancements of what might be termed 'normal' human physical and mental capabilities. These three people cannot fly; nor are they indestructible, with X-Ray vision, or whatever. But they are stronger and with greater mental agility and some degree of telepathy between the three of them. So this is all very 'believable' in a fantasy/sci-fi sort of way. Indeed, in an average episode, their unique skills are only occasionally brought into the story, which lends a type of credibility to what would otherwise be an incredible storyline. It is never overplayed throughout the entire run of the series.

Mindful of the fact that some viewers might be catching the series halfway through; and therefore could have missed the informative first episode; each subsequent episode begins with a brief introduction (voiced by David Bauer - who also appears as an actor in episode 4 'The Experiment') to the characters and their unique abilities, before getting into the plot of that particular episode. This section - as often in the show generally - is sometimes 'witnessed' by onlookers, who are astonished and mystified by the skills demonstrated by our three heroes. This mystification is shared throughout, on a deeper level, by their bemused boss Tremayne, as all three 'Champions', by mutual agreement, strive to keep their superpowers secret from the rest of the world.

As with many action shows of the period 'The Champions' displays a fine array of acting talent in supporting roles; many of whom would go on the greater acclaim in subsequent years. Indeed, the standard of talent in these sixties television shows is, to some considerable extent, what makes them stand up so well today, instead of appearing contrived and dated. George Murcell, Eric Pohlmann, Jeremy Brett, Peter Wyngarde, Bernard Lee, Colin Blakely, Vladek Sheybal, Andrew Keir, David Bauer, William Franklyn, Patrick Magee, Adrienne Corri, Edina Ronay, Jennie Linden, Donald Sutherland, Paul Eddington, Phillip Madoc, Gabrielle Drake, Kate O'Mara, Burt Kwouk, Hannah Gordon, Imogen Hassall, David Langton, David Prowse. Many of these actors were almost part of what might be considered a 'repertory company' of British television, as they tended to show up in many of the shows produced in that era.

A problem which besets many sixties/seventies shows in present day reruns is the fact that they are still (as in their original showing) generally placed into one-hour time slots. Back in the 'old' days the advertisement breaks appeared at perhaps twenty minute intervals, and broadly consisted of two/three minute breaks at those intervals. Nowadays, of course, the ad breaks occur almost as soon as the program has started, and at roughly ten/twelve minute intervals thereafter; consisting of five or six minutes at each occurrence. This means that - in order to be fitted into the one-hour time slots - large sections have to be removed (edited) from the original show. This often causes the story to be somewhat disjointed to the point of no longer making continuity sense. Still; if you can overcome this modern day anomaly a great many of those old shows are well worth viewing again: if not for the first time, in many cases. This certainly applies to The Champions. Give it a try and have fun viewing. My advice is to record it first, so that you can skip over the interminably long advert breaks (if watching on normal Freeview, or whatever. You'll enjoy it.

This highly entertaining story had quite a long history even before this charming 1957 version. Written by J. M. Barrie in 1902, it was first produced by the American theatrical producer Charles Frohman; perhaps best remembered now for his demise in the 'Lusitania' disaster (May 7th 1915); during the earlier part of the century he was one of the most successful impresarios of the time. Then at the height of his career, he produced the first version of J. M. Barrie's play, opening at the 'Duke of York' theatre, London in November 1902. Perhaps surprisingly - given the rigid class divisions of the period - this thoughtful, and thought-provoking, subject proved to be an immediate success. Skip forward a half century (and numerous other theatrical/radio/movie versions) and we find the personable British actor Kenneth More in the title role, and more-than-competently supported by several memorable character actors of the period.

The plot itself is simple enough, in that it is basically a role-reversal; in which the master becomes the servant and the servant the master. What makes it all take off is the dialogue, which is, in places, reminiscent of the type of thing Oscar Wilde made an entire career out of. That and the comedic and quirky talents of the leading cast members; apart from More himself the film benefits immensely from the presence of Cecil Parker as his Lordship, and the eccentrically great Martita Hunt as Lady Brocklehurst. Although her role is not lengthy she invariably (as in many other films) steals every scene in which she appears. So what actually happens then?

This is basically a story which dares to highlight the illogic and inherent absurdities of the British class structure; and the fact that, if circumstances were different, those on top might well find themselves at the bottom, and vice versa etc. Although this is, by no means, an exclusively British state of affairs, perhaps at the time of writing the story, it may have appeared so to Barrie; and would have been most clearly recognised in this context by those who would be likely to attend the play at the time. Oddly enough - within the story itself - this is a sociological theory which is expounded rather more enthusiastically by Lord Loam (Cecil Parker) than by his very conservative butler Crichton (Kenneth More), who disapproves strongly of his master's liberal - and often expressed - views. Indeed, to Crichton's massive disapproval, and also to the embarrassment of everyone - servants included - his Lordship arranges a dinner at which his family are compelled to wait upon the servants instead of things being the usual way round. This scene is probably the one which most strongly indicates the theatrical origins of the movie, and is also the one most obviously influenced by Wilde. The confusion, embarrassment, and general all-round bewilderment is a delight to watch, as his Lordship struggles to maintain the notion of equality; amusingly counterbalanced by Crichton's restrained disapproval, which is shared by everyone else in the room. However, his Lordship's tenuous inclinations toward this 'democracy' collapse shortly thereafter, when he learns that absent daughter Catherine has been arrested for activities involving a suffragette demonstration. The party breaks up immediately and the social embarrassment caused by the arrest demands that his Lordship and family clear out of the country for a while - until the situation cools off somewhat.

Whilst holidaying on the private family yacht, an extreme change in weather conditions causes them to be shipwrecked on an unspecified tropical island somewhere in the south seas. This includes, not only the entire family of Loam and his three daughters; but also the dim boyfriend of Loam's daughter Catherine; and their local clergyman. Butler Crichton is, of course, present, as is 'between-stairs-maid' Eliza; known by her job title abbreviation of 'Tweeny'. Eliza clearly adores Crichton and, although they are not romantically involved, he has nevertheless 'cast a favourable eye upon her.'

Stranded on the island it very soon becomes apparent that Crichton is the only one who has any idea of how to survive. The aristocrats have all been issuing orders to others for so many generations that their only perception of how to get anything done is simply to order someone else to do it. In their view of the world things just sort-of magically happen on command. It is at this point that an almost immediate shift in the power balance begins as Crichton gradually, but inexorably, assumes command.

Believed to be lost at sea they are perfunctorily mourned back in England whilst, on the island, any initial aristocratic resentments gradually dissipate as Crichton's leadership becomes semi-official, whilst he develops a series of comforts and amenities. They refer to him as 'the Guv' (governor), and he becomes their benevolent ruler. Eventually their life in this tropical paradise becomes far preferable to them all than their former life back home. The 'Guv' (Crichton) does not want to return to England any more than the others, but feels a responsibility to get them home somehow. The decision is eventually taken by chance when, after several years, a rescue ship arrives on the island. It is then that the single most telling moment of the entire film occurs as, to the intense ill-mannered amusement of the 'rescue party,' Crichton immediately reassumes his former garb, and status, as butler. This moment is crucial; indicating, as it plainly does, his own very clear understanding that intellectual superiority and character virtues are essentially worthless in a 'civilised' society which recognises only money and long-established social status as being of merit. This scene is played lightly, but carries immense weight. The onlookers (rescue ship sailors) may be amused, but the family and friends on the island most definitely are not.

Once back in England everyone - apart from perhaps Mary - is anxious to rewrite the true version of island life. The social embarrassment involved leads to outright lies and hypocrisy. Only the wily Lady Brocklehurst suspects the truth and, trusting no-one else, bluntly questions Crichton on the matter. He truthfully, if tactfully, assures her that there was as little equality on the island as anywhere else.

It is possible that, for the benefit of the story, the general incompetence of the aristocrats is somewhat exaggerated for the sake of comedy; but this is essentially a parable of social Darwinism, in which, outside of the conventions of 'civilised' society, humans behave in a naturalistic manner as opposed to a 'socially educated' way. But also this is a very romanticised and idealised version of a lifestyle, which conveniently skips over whatever difficulties might arise when removed from the comforts of home. There are no sinister or malicious undertones involved in this extreme case of role-reversal; indeed, the genial and lightly charismatic persona of Kenneth More would hardly permit this to be credible. He was, at this time one of the most popular (and likeable) of British actors. Alongside the slightly bumbling personality quirks of Cecil Parker this could only ever be played for laughs. The younger actors are all competent, if unremarkable, but they fit in well to their roles without being unnecessarily obtrusive to the plot.

By turns a lightly comedic and thought-provoking movie. You can view this as a lightweight treatise on social Darwinism, or just appreciate its scenic attractions and enjoy the considerable entertainment value for its own sake.