A is for Armchair Theatre

Armchair Theatre was one of several anthology series on television during the 1960s and 1970s. Others include The Wednesday Play, Play for Today, Theatre 625, ITV Playhouse and Thirty-Minute Theatre. Upon first hearing about these, I was rather bemused because there is little resembling an anthology series on television today. Also, they are referred to as 'plays', which made me imagine them to be rather low-budget and cheap-looking filmed stage performances. It gave me flashbacks to the educational programmes we occasionally had to sit through at school.

I often forget that I've seen an episode of Armchair Theatre before - A Magnum for Schneider, which was the 1967 pilot for Callan. The sets may have been few but it certainly didn't look 'stagey' at all. It's wonderfully written with excellent performances. But as it was written partly with a future series in mind, I wasn't sure how much the regular episodes of Armchair Theatre would differ.

'Say Goodnight to Your Grandma' is from the Armchair Theatre: Volume 1 DVD and was broadcast in 1970. Tony (Colin Welland) and Jean (Susan Jameson) live in London now but head back up north to introduce their baby daughter, Chrissie, to her grandmothers. Tony's mother, Mrs Weston (Madge Ryan), and Jean's, Mrs Clarke (Mona Bruce), take every chance to pick at one another and there are snide remarks aplenty. It's amusing and catty with Jean desperate to keep the peace while Tony is more laid back about it. Eventually, arguments among the women reach a peak when the lack of a christening is brought up. The religious Mrs Clarke has taken it particularly badly. "Come on now, love, Tony'll pour you a nice cup of tea. We musn't quarrel," Mrs Weston says. "No thank you, I'm too upset," replies Mrs Clarke, marking the start of civilisation coming crashing down around them. Mrs Weston is a great character and you can see a smirk when Mrs Clarke decides to leave.

Tony gets a phone call from an old pal asking him to come down the club for a drink. Jean is not thrilled but Tony goes anyway. Later, he and the boys all pile in and the reason for a barrel of beer we saw Mrs Weston hiding earlier becomes apparent. It's clear she planned this all along. She's delighted to start making sandwiches for them all, talking about the fantastic old times they used to have with her boys, who loved visiting. We start to get a sense of time for the party, as the lounge becomes increasingly filled with smoke from their cigarettes.

Jean has had enough though and reappears with her hair down, wearing one of Tony's old rugby jerseys. She drinks and dances with the lads, getting close to several of them. Tony is quietly annoyed while Mrs Weston is deeply upset by Jean's behaviour, which initially confused me. Mrs Weston says Jean is embarrassing them up and all the boys will think "she's a right common little piece." It turns out she is quite right though, with remarks including, "My god, Ken. That shirt's never seen better days." One of the boys is even ready to take Jean up on her offer of sex in his car before Jean laughs it off.

I really love the shots during the party scenes, directed by Jim Goddard, who is on much more sedate turf, having recently directed episodes of Callan, Public Eye and Special Branch, as well as other episodes of Armchair Theatre. The camera often doesn't cut, instead, it moves between each of the room's conversations, where the men barely turn to glance at one another as their eyes are glued out of shot, to Jean's dancing.

I found this a powerful drama and enjoyed all the conflict, from the two grandparents to the couple's old life impacting on their new, marked completely by the ending when their daughter is woken by the party and Jean brings her downstairs in among everyone. Earlier, Mrs Weston has asked to be called 'Nana' as "Granny make me feel elderly," so Jean telling the baby, "Say goodnight to your Grandma" is a nasty, cruel stab. Jean is telling her: I've won - your family is mine now.

Like 'A Magnum for Schneider', there are very few sets; the lounge, the kitchen and the hall, with the majority taking place in the lounge. There is also a location scene in the Weston's car, which rather impressed me as I hadn't expected a play to have any location filming. The limited sets do help here, giving the family a sense of claustrophobia. They are bound together, even if none of them is entirely happy about it.

While 'Say Goodnight to Your Grandma' does go for the stereotype of a man stuck between his wife and mother, this is a much more interesting look at it. Both implore him to stop the other; Jean when Mrs Weston is bringing up every uncomfortable subject and Mrs Weston when Jean is dancing provocatively in the lounge. Both women are also called a "bitch", though not to their faces and it's Tony who uses the word about Jean. In both instances, Tony refuses to do anything, pleasing no one.

It's a depressing ending. Jean is a modern social climber but Tony could move back up north to his old friends tomorrow, even if he does admit nothing is quite the same. In voiceovers of their respective thoughts, Jean muses on Mrs Weston's scheming ways and her snide comments, while Tony longs for the old days as he's now stuck down Earl's Court with "no mates, a howling kid and lousy ale".

By the end, I find myself siding with no one. Jean shouldn't rise to the two grandmothers' complaints as they are exactly what she had expected. Was it really that bad for Tony to spend one night with his old pals? Her response exposes her snobbishness. Yet Tony has to let the past go. It becomes clear they have all grown up by how many of his mates know how to prepare a bottle. His thoughts make his priorities clear and show his immaturity.

I previously looked at a 1967 interview with Philip Mackie, a writer and producer, who argued that 'too much of television is stuck in a rut of sameness and tameness and mediocrity'. Television plays would appear to be the saviour of this as regular series are by their nature constrained somewhat. One-off dramas are the equivalent today and I do think we have had some marvellous ones in recent years, like A Passionate Woman, National Treasure and A Very English Scandal, though most consist of more than one episode, including all of those examples. Television anthology series do exist now in the form of Inside No. 9 and Black Mirror, with both having a loose theme, which isn't new. Armchair Theatre had the genre-specific offshoot of Armchair Thriller (1978-80) and there was also Espionage (1963).

Of the two Armchair Theatres I've seen now, I felt both had great writing and casting. As well as starring in it, Colin Welland also wrote this episode. He would go on to win BAFTAs for his anthology series scripts and top it all with an Oscar for Chariots of Fire. Meanwhile, I spent ages trying to place Susan Jameson. Both her name and face seemed familiar as she played Esther Lane in New Tricks.

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet

Until last year, I believed Auf Wiedersehen, Pet was a sitcom set in a pet shop. I have no idea exactly why or when this image of a northern pet shop had formed in my mind. Suffice to say, it was a tad off the mark. One day, perhaps someone will write about the hilarious adventures of the employees at Perfect Pets as they grapple with escaped tarantulas and randy rabbits.

Yesterday - the TV channel - began repeating Auf Wiedersehen, Pet. The programme is a comedy-drama, a genre description that always leaves me somewhat hesitant. It makes me worry that the comedy will be mediocre and the drama will be lacking any real, well, drama. When I watched an episode for the first time last year, I didn't know what to expect and was left intrigued but not quite gripped enough to rush out to buy the DVDs. These repeats felt like the best opportunity to see the series fully.

It's the early eighties and tradesmen around the UK are struggling to get any work. Some have looked abroad and made some contacts in Germany, who are keen to hire them. In the first episode, we follow three blokes from the North East as they make their way over. The plan is to put in a few months' graft and save up before going back to their families.

The first episode, If I Were a Carpenter, does a good job of setting up the series. In the episode I had watched, one of the things I struggled with was trying to keep track of the characters. We are gradually introduced to them in this opening episode, ensuring I could learn most of their names. There is a lot to fit into this episode but we still manage to discover a bit of character background.

An initial summing up of the magnificent seven:

Neville (Kevin Whately) is a young brickie who desperately wants to make some money so he can buy a nice house in a decent area for him and his wife. He didn't want to go to Germany but feels he has no choice. He misses his wife a lot and appears to write her at least three postcards before they even reach their accommodation. 

Dennis (Tim Healey) is a family man with two young children and has worked in Germany several times before. He has convinced Neville to come over and is the one with the German contacts. We learn he and his wife have separated. 

Oz (Jimmy Nail) has a wife back home but unlike Neville, has no qualms about leaving her. He heads to a brothel on their first night in Dusseldorf. 

Wayne (Gary Holton) is a young Southern lad with long hair that has bits of blue in it. Most of the time he has headphones on and also seems to do quite well at chatting up the local barmaids. 

Barry (Timothy Spall) is a Brummie that Dennis has met in Germany before. He rides a motorbike and likes to stay in with peace and quiet. 

Bomber (Pat Roach) hails from near Bristol and in the first episode is planning to go home as he has work lined up there. However, the night before he is supposed to leave he gambles all his money away so has to stay on.

Moxey (Christopher Fairbank) is a Liverpudlian who doesn't appear until the second episode. He is warmly welcomed because he owns a dartboard. In later episodes, we will find out he is a convicted arsonist.

The second episode is titled Who Won the War Anyway? and instantly in my head, Basil Fawlty is screaming at his German guests, "Who won the bloody war anyway?"

There is plenty of German spoken very well in the episode; enough to convince me that some of the actors are the genuine article. Checking IMDB afterwards, I find they are. None of it is subtitled. I prefer this because I think it would be distracting and for the most part, it is not necessary. Some of the lines are simply background chatter and anyone could take a good guess at much of the rest based on the context. As I'm learning German myself, I do spend a lot of time trying to work out what is being said.

Oz is incredibly anti-German and wants nothing to do with them. He is there to work and have a good time. Though, funnily, his reluctance to be near the Germans does not extend to some of the women. He winds the rest of them up and is generally a bit of a dick. It does, of course, come back to the war. It's Dennis who points out that their fathers were probably fighting each other and this remark made me realise just how close the war still is for them. 1945 is the equivalent distance from 1983 as 1979 is from 2017. Apart from Oz, the workers have no real problem with the Germans, realising that the blokes they work with are not Nazis.

The impact of the war is brought much closer when Neville discovers an unexploded bomb on the building site. It's a great reminder that Britain bombed Germany's civilians too. Oz is bizarrely proud that it's a British bomb until it is pointed out that "it didn't go off". A local news crew come and interview Neville, drawn on the novelty that it was a British man who discovered the British bomb.

Neville has made friends with one of the German locals, Helmut Fischer, who invites him over for dinner. Together, they watch themselves on the evening news. Yet it is only Helmut who actually speaks any English. When Herman pops out to buy more booze after dinner, Neville is left with Herman's father. What follows is an awkward few minutes in which the two attempt to communicate. It was excruciatingly familiar to me. But I loved how well they both improvised. Herr Fischer Senior takes out a photograph album and starts showing it to Neville, pointing out a submarine that he was on. He tells Neville the name of it and Neville pieces it together, doing his best to explain that his own grandfather was on a vessel sunk by the submarine Herr Fischer had been on. Neville gets very excited during all this before saying of his grandfather, "He was killed." It is such a wonderfully odd juxtaposition to throw in, having Neville become so enthusiastic about this connection.

The Girls They Left Behind gives us a look at the wives of Neville, Dennis and Oz back in England. Neville is scraping together as much as possible to send back to his Brenda and Dennis likewise sends plenty back for his kids. However, we learn that Oz hasn't sent a penny back to his wife, Marjorie. What's more, she doesn't even know he's out there until she gets in touch with Dennis's wife, Vera.

Oz really is incredibly unlikeable. He's expecting Marjorie to claim benefits in his absence so thinks she should be able to get by without his money. Several of the other guys are shocked to discover Oz has a child too as he's never mentioned him before.

Dennis and Oz travel to see Sunderland play in Belgium. Oz gets hammered with some other fans and wakes up on a plane going to Newcastle. He has nowhere to go but home to Marjorie, saying he has come home because he felt bad about the letter she sent. But he's found out when the letter comes back in the post that morning with 'not known at this address' written on. Even worse, when he returns to Dusseldorf, he discovers the lads picked up his pay packet for him and, not expecting him back, sent it to the North East.

It's nice to see Oz get some sort of comeuppance for his behaviour. His marriage does not seem like it can last though. Knowing what Oz is getting up to in Germany, Marjorie decides to spend the night with a man who only leaves just before Oz arrives. Oz is content to spend all his money in the bar every weekend so it is unlikely he will change his ways.

In Suspicion, some money is stolen from Neville and a watch from Oz. The hut goes from a bunch of mates to men who all deeply distrust each other. It tests the new friendships and exposes the faults they all feel about each other.

Bomber's daughter has run away in Home Thoughts From Abroad. He becomes very quiet and is clearly deeply worried about her, eventually choosing to head home. He plans to take the train but the others all have a whip round so he can a flight. When she actually turns up in Germany the other lads make a good job of looking after. Despite her coming on to him, Wayne turns her down, feeling it a step over the mark.

Whilst the first few episodes have tended to focus on the three Geordie blokes, this one starts to give the others a chance to shine. Apart from his oddity of speaking about himself in the third person, we know little about Bomber before this episode. Wayne has also been absent, usually because he is off chasing girls.

A highlight of this episode is when some of the lads, missing home, decide to pay a visit to an Indian restaurant. Oz is at his dreadful best.

Oz: Would ya credit, eh? Indian waiter what cannae speak English! 

Dennis: Aye, well, we are in Germany, Oz. 

Oz: Well exactly. So why isn't he speaking English? I mean he's one of us, isn't he? I mean, this is a curry house, isn't it? Cannae get more British than that, can ya, eh?

The Accused was really hard to watch. A German girl insists Neville escort her home, though she is actually just trying to make her boyfriend jealous. Afterwards, the police arrest Neville but none of them speak English. He is terrified and has no idea what is going on. My limited German meant I picked it up slightly earlier than we are told but anyone could have taken a guess. The woman has accused Neville of sexually assaulting her. It is an utterly dreadful ordeal for Neville and the support of the other guys becomes important. A terrible thing is used to show just how close they have become.

Dennis has begun seeing Dagma, a local German lady who works in the office on the site. However, he doesn't want the others to know anything about it for fear of what they will say. He does not want them discussing Dagma like they do other women. In Private Lives, Wayne is trying to teach Barry how to woo women and they end up chasing after some Swedish air hostesses. They are staying in a hotel, the same hotel where Dennis and Dagma have gone for the weekend. Dennis is not a happy man.

Desperate to get out into the country for the weekend, the lads pack up the car in The Fugitive. The highlight of this episode is Ray Winstone as an army deserter. When the lads bump into him he invents various stories to explain himself before the truth eventually comes out.

The Alien was the one episode I had seen before. The reason I struggled with it perhaps is that much of the attention is directed towards Magowan, a violent Irishman, who ends up sharing the hut. Through blackmailing the site boss, Herr Grunwald (they spot him in a porn cinema), they manage to get Magowan sacked. Unfortunately, he does nick the dartboard. The gang end up in the porn cinema looking for Neville, though it turns out he has been taking guitar lessons in a room above it. The porn cinema is a foreign concept to me as I am far too young to remember them, even if my small town had had one. Do any of them still exist? I think of them as a very 1970s' thing. Videos came along and gave full-colour porn to the masses. No need for middle-aged men to spend lunchtimes wanking underneath a trenchcoat. We moved on to the Internet, of course. Now everyone can do it however they please in the comfort of their own homes.

Perhaps the visit to the cinema is what inspired Oz in Last Rites to begin smuggling mucky videos back to the UK. He attempts to hide them in a coffin but it goes to pot when the guy ends up getting cremated.

The final few episodes of the first series, The Lovers, Love and Other Four-Letter Words and When the Boat Goes Out all have a focus on relationships and the prospect of going home. Oz goes out with a German girl who believes him to be the son of a tycoon. Meanwhile, Dennis is getting close with Dagma but has everything thrown up in the air when his wife, Vera, comes over. He believed she just wanted to finalise some divorce details but she confesses she isn't sure she wants the divorce. Dennis is left having to choose whether to give things another go or continue with his plan to stay in Germany with Dagma. He chooses his marriage because of the kids. I didn't want him to.

Wayne has fallen for a new German woman in the offices and deciding to become a one-woman man, chooses to stay in Germany. Neville can't wait to get back to Brenda and Bomber to his kids. Oz is happy to leave the Erics. Barry is taking his bike off to Saudia Arabia. Moxey wants to stay in Germany.

Everything is in place for them each to go their separate ways. Then, on their final night, a fire starts in the hut, destroying tickets, money and passports. It leaves the series open-ended.

Having loved the first series of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet, I ploughed on enthusiastically with the second and then the third, at which point I chucked it in. I think the programme would have been better if they had all ended up back in Germany and it is certainly what I had expected to happen. Perhaps the writers felt the storylines were exhausted but with seven blokes, there was surely plenty more to explore. Moxey in particular never received a great deal of plot attention.

The second series feels a tad disconnected with the gang meeting in Birmingham, then going to Derbyshire and finally Spain. The third series comes around 15 years later and already things are out of joint because Gary Holton had passed away during the filming of the second series. Though both of these series do attempt to recreate the 'trapped' nature of the lads' original existence in the German hut, they never quite manage it. They are too close to family and home. There are also much greater story arcs. That first series is so very much about the characters, far more than any of the plots.

Personally, I will choose to think of Aud Wiedersehen, Pet as a one-off and I am content to ignore the existence of the later series. Becoming absorbed in the goings on of the hut was an enjoyable experience. Apart from anything, I have become fond of one or two Geordie turns of phrase, including:

"gan" for "gone"
"gadgie" for "man"
"bairn" for "child"
"Ha'way, man" as a general exclamation

The first series is magnificent and brings together some talented young guys. We get to explore some interesting characters, who are all quite different in their ways but have been thrust together by circumstance.

Callan - The Good Ones Are All Dead

Remember when I looked at Callan's Armchair Theatre and said how nice it was to see a German on 1960s’ telly who didn’t turn out to be a Nazi? Well, it’s back to business as usual in The Good Ones Are All Dead. We’re told Strauss is a Nazi from the start and Callan’s task is to bring him in as the Israeli authorities are rather keen to have a few words. Quite possibly 'What would you like for your final meal?'

This is officially Series 1, Episode 1 of Callan. The events of A Magnum for Schneider are referenced but with it being broadcast five months previously they are thankfully not dwelt on. Hunter convinces Callan to work for the Section again, partly by blackmail but he also convinces Callan to take more of an interest by bringing up the fact that during the war Callan’s parents were killed by a V2 bomb. This Strauss fellow had a lot of responsibility for the launch of the V2 bombs after being involved with the concentration camps. It surprises me that this is what convinces Callan. It’s not like Strauss stood there and gunned down Callan’s parents in cold blood. The V2 bombs were launched from the other side of the Channel. Attributing blame to one guy for them seems quite a stretch. It’s hard to judge Callan’s perspective because for one we don’t know what he did in the war, if anything. His age is difficult to gauge. If we’re being generous then Callan sports a sensible short haircut. If we’re being harsh I’ll point out Edward Woodward’s receding hairline. Receding hairlines aren’t the be-all and end-all of course, as some of you may be glad to hear. Callan seems like he’s seen a lot, done a lot, knows a lot and obviously had enough. He’s been around a while but just how long is hard to say. I remain sceptical of this reasoning but I suppose it ties in with Callan becoming emotionally involved in things.

Callan takes his bookkeeping skills off to work for Strauss who is now called Stavros. His accent sounds more French than Greek to me. It doesn’t take much to work out that Stavros is shagging his secretary. Is she his secretary because they’re shagging? There are no references to a wife or children so it isn’t that bad but he is a good twenty years older than her. Callan isn’t certain that Stavros is actually Strauss so goes off to do some snooping.

He does a neat spy thing of spotting a hair laid across the handles of the doors to Stavros’s bedroom. In Dr No you see James Bond pull out a hair, lick his thumb and stick the hair across his wardrobe doors. When he comes back the hair has gone and he knows his room was searched. Stavros has used a long hair or possibly a cotton thread so it can lie across the handles. Callan picks it up and remembers to put it back when he leaves. Inside the room, he finds nothing except for a large safe hidden in the wardrobe.

Later on, Callan meets Lonely and describes the safe to him. Lonely turns out to be something of an expert on safes and knows exactly what sort it is. He’ll need a copy of the key. Callan also meets with a Jewish man, Berg, who was in a concentration camp run by Strauss and insists the man is definitely Strauss. "I must know why you're so sure," Callan says."I was his house slave for three months," Berg explains, telling Callan that he once broke a plate and Strauss broke three of his ribs. "When you fear a man, you watch him all the time." Callan is convinced.

Having copied Stavros's key using plasticine, Callan now has a key to the safe. When he gets into the safe he finds a trunk and rifles through it. An SS uniform, a Nazi party card, a gun and a bag containing gold nuggets are among the items. The SS jacket has a cyanide capsule sown underneath the lapel and when Callan checks the wardrobe he finds several other jackets that have one too. Callan is rumbled by the secretary, Jeanne, who confesses she has known Stavros/Strauss's past for a while and it was she who turned him in. When Callan calls into Hunter we learn that the gold nuggets are in fact gold fillings, a detail that sent a shiver down my spine. If you weren't aware, the Nazis extracted them from Jewish people in the concentration camps.

When Stavros/Strauss returns he finds Jeanne in the bedroom who tells him she thinks Callan is a thief as she caught him acting suspiciously. He sends Jeanne away and tells her to get on a plane to Cairo. Afterwards, Callan hears a noise and going into the corridor sees the bedroom door open. As he goes towards it Stavros appears behind him with a gun, wearing his SS jacket.

Callan informs Stavros/Strauss that he has been found out. When Stavros is told it is the Israelis who are on to him, his sheer terror is conveyed in his "Oh my god". He tries to bribe Callan - "You work for money?" - but no dice. Here follows a magnificent scene between the two of them. Callan tells him he must be handed over as it is what the Israelis want. Stavros insists "Strauss is dead!" For the past 23 years he has lived a good life and tried to be a good man. He has been racked with guilt and it was finding Jeanne that was his ultimate salvation. "You poor bastard - she turned you in!" Callan yells at Stavros, who then seems truly defeated. He tries to bite the cyanide capsule on his jacket but Callan stops him, crushing it on the floor.  I don't think I have ever felt slightly sorry for a Nazi before but Stavros seems truly repentant. He convinces me that he regrets what he did, wanting to become a better person. He appears to convince Callan too, or at least to elicit some pity, as Callan hands him one of the other jackets. As Stavros bites into the capsule, the camera stays on Callan, showing his racked expression as he turns his back on the deed.

Stavros's repeated insistence that his old self is long gone is what grabs me at the end of this episode. I also thought it was a brave move for the programme to portray an ex-Nazi so sympathetically. The war had only ended 22 years before so a proportion of the audience would have fought against the Nazis and some may well have been in concentration camps or had family that had been. This wasn't just an ordinary infantryman either; we're told he was an Obersturmbahnführer, the SS equivalent of a Lieutenant-Colonel - a fairly high rank. Despite the pity I feel for Nicholas 'Strauss is dead' Stavros, the one gap in his story is that he held on to remnants of his Nazi past. Stavros says it is a reminder of a time when he was looked up to and held in high regard, but surely if he regrets what he did to earn him that respect then he would throw it all away?

I haven't mentioned Toby Meres, Callan's colleague, though he does appear in this episode. In Armchair Theatre he was played by Peter Bowles but from now on it's Anthony Valentine. I was initially disappointed not to see Bowles again but I actually think Valentine is much better for what's required here. He intensely dislikes Callan and comes across somewhat callous.

This is an excellent series 1, episode 1 for the show, managing to tell us what we need to without repeating Armchair Theatre too much. "What is the Section for, Callan?" asks Colonel Hunter. "Eliminating people, framing, extortion, death... all the jobs that are too dirty for her Majesty's other security services to touch," Callan replies, sounding like he's quoting a handbook.

There is also some continuity as Hunter throws Callan's own file in front of him, which Hunter had moved into a different cover at the end of A Magnum for Schneider. Callan is annoyed as he reads it: "Red cover. Most urgent, marked for death." Hunter's expression is blank as he blackmails Callan into taking on the job: "You do this for me or I'll have you destroyed." I love seeing the contempt Callan has for Hunter. He uses the word 'mate' a lot, often in the tone of someone in a pub at ten on a Friday night, asking 'D'you fancy taking this outside, mate?' Callan doesn't take Hunter's threat well. He leaves it a while before returning to the subject. "I know you can have me killed. But... [he draws a gun] don't you push me too far, right... because I might just let myself be killed... only you won't be there to see it because mate I'll get you first. And I can do it. Believe me, I can do it. You ought to know." It is interesting that Callan knows and states how good he is ("very good") but he never comes across as arrogant.

Hunter says Callan's only good at killing people but in both Armchair Theatre and The Good Ones Are All Dead we see Callan kill only one person. I think Callan does show himself to be very good, if not excellent, at what he does but what he does is more than just murder. Perhaps those other things affect Callan just as much.

Armchair Theatre - A Magnum for Schneider

What I liked when I watched the episode of Callan in Network's ITV 60 box set was that it seemed so different from the similar adventure series I had seen from that period. I have only seen a handful of the early Danger Man episodes and though there are similarities, in that both Callan and John Drake are doing the messy jobs that no one else wants to do, Callan’s character intrigues me more because he’s a reluctant participant. John Drake’s world is, if not necessarily glamorous, then at least exotic. The Saint takes similar excursions to foreign climes, even if the cast rarely stepped outside the grounds of Elstree Studios. Callan lacks that escapism and in comparison, it’s a very dingy world. The Saint and The Avengers are both fun and bright even when they start off in black and white. The Prisoner is weird, psychological and taunting. The colourful and relentlessly upbeat nature of the Village is increasingly creepy once you discover what is actually going on. But nonetheless, I would hesitate to describe The Prisoner as ‘dark’ and yet that’s the first word that springs to mind for Callan. Classing it as an ‘adventure’ series is probably pushing it. Everything seems to happen in the shadows and the main character has a big problem with the morality of what he does. I’ve also never heard the word ‘bastard’ in any of the other series. And tension. Tension! So much tension. The music is used sparingly. Sometimes it racks things up but other times the complete utter silence is nerve-wracking. I get the feeling that if anyone in the studio had coughed they would have been instantly fired. Everything seems planned to give it as much realism as possible.

As I sat down to the first disc of my Callan – The Monochrome Years box set, I selected ‘Play All’ and was intrigued to see a caption for Armchair Theatre appear. Armchair Theatre were one-off plays but this one eventually spawned Callan it would appear. The title of the play is A Magnum for Schneider. A chocolate lolly? Champagne? Probably not.

We have a wonderful opening scene where we learn quite a lot quite quickly. We meet Colonel Hunter (Ronald Radd), a rather cold and dislikeable middle-aged man. We gather that Callan used to work for him, for ‘them’, but he felt things too much and it turns out this isn’t a particularly desirable characteristic when your job is killing people. It seems to have been a mutual agreement that he left the job but now they want him back. As he’s utterly bored stiff in his current job he decides to reluctantly take up the offer to kill one more man. I’m sure plenty of people know how he feels. Just because he can, Callan fires four bullets at a target and considers himself a touch off form as one misses.

Callan’s victim-to-be, Schneider, has the office across the hall. He’s played by Joseph Fürst, an actor whom I’ve only ever seen portraying bad guys. Nothing in the world can stop him in Doctor Who (in fact on Saturday 4^th February 1967 you could have watched him go to a watery grave in The Underwater Menace on BBC1 then later turn over to see him in this episode of Armchair Theatre!) and he plays a Professor working for Blofeld in Diamonds Are Forever. He does over-the-top quite well. Callan bumps into him in the hall, they start talking and find they have a shared interest in model soldiers. It’s a very natural conversation and they even exchange a joke about the war, which I really liked considering Germans on TV at this time always seem to turn out to be ex-Nazis. Schneider has some soldiers set up in his office (I love that he plays with his toy soldiers whilst at work!) and invites Callan in to see them. Callan is hesitant but eventually goes in. He’s already been told that he gets too emotionally involved in cases and here he is going to play soldiers with the bloke he’s meant to be bumping off! No wonder he’s been struggling if this is what he usually does.

Heading back to work, his boss (Ivor Dean) reprimands him for being a few minutes late. There are only a couple of scenes between Callan and his boss in this episode but they’re good. They’re well written, showing us Callan’s contempt for his job and his boss. He takes the piss and the way he speaks to his superior is inappropriate at best. At worst it’s downright rude. I think Callan is supposed to have been there about six months and frankly I’m astounded he has kept the job that long. As a man with no track record or references we’ve been told that ‘they’ helped get him the job. I wonder if they purposefully chose him such a horrid job.

We get a scene in a pub. It’s small and grotty and so are some of the customers. Callan has come to meet one in particular. Lonely is so nicknamed because no one dare goes near him due to some serious body odour issues that Callan can’t resist repeatedly remarking on. Callan wants a gun and not-so-subtly passes Lonely an envelope containing £100. Quite where a bookkeeper has managed to quickly get £100 from, the equivalent of well over £1000 in 2016, is never explained. He must have savings from his days as an assassin because when we see Callan’s bedsit it’s clear that if he does have any sort of money he certainly is not spending much of it.

Callan isn’t at all sure about his assignment. He sleuths his way into Schneider’s office and later his flat, eventually finding some documents that prove Schneider has been selling guns to Indonesia. My knowledge of foreign affairs in that region is pretty slim. At a push, I could probably find Indonesia on a map. But helpfully this year I did see a BBC documentary from 1964 that followed the British Army in Borneo, which borders Indonesia. The army was in the jungle on the border defending Borneo against Indonesia, who were attempting to invade. I got the impression that the Indonesians they were fighting were more guerrillas than an officially organised army. The British government would understandably then have been none too keen on having someone in their country who was selling guns for people to shoot at its army. After seeing the documents, Callan’s mood changes and he agrees Schneider must die. This is a shame of course because Schneider, apart from illegally buying and selling lethal weapons, is rather a nice guy.

Colonel Hunter has been having Toby Meres (Peter Bowles) follow Callan. After Callan records a to-be-discovered-later tape stating that Colonel Hunter is behind the murder, he opens the door to Peter Bowles who whacks him over the head. When Callan wakes to a phone call from Hunter, he is told that the tape and a note left on his desk have been destroyed. Hunter tells Callan he was foolish but I disagree somewhat. Leaving evidence behind to cover his back if he was caught was a good idea. Not expecting Hunter to have someone keep an eye on him was the foolish part.

Schneider has invited Callan to come round to play toy soldiers for the evening. Hunter has instructed Callan to kill Schneider just before 11 o’clock. But Callan doesn’t. They are having far too much fun re-enacting historical battles. At 11 the doorbell goes and Schneider goes to have a chat with some policemen. His wife goes to bed only to find Toby in there, who coshes her one. Callan comes to see what all the fuss is about and is a tad peeved to see Toby. Between him and the rozzers on the doorstep, Callan is feeling the pressure a bit as Toby urges him to hurry up and shoot Schneider. With the coppers shooed away Schneider returns, finds Toby and is onto Callan too. He takes Toby’s gun and is suspicious that Callan doesn’t have one.

But of course, he does – it’s down his sock. He retrieves the gun, waits until Schneider is about to shoot Toby, then at the last moment quickly brings it out and pulls the trigger. It’s all very sudden and a fantastic moment. Though it is slightly spoilt by Fürst's over the top, highly unrealistic death. Once shot, he manages to toss his gun in the air and dramatically launch himself at a lamp.

After berating Callan for taking his time, Toby asks, “Are you alright?” “Yes,” Callan replies, wearily. But we’re not entirely sure he is.

When Callan asks Toby if it was he who hit him over the head before Toby laughs, apologises and admits it was. Callan isn’t laughing though and whacks him one back. With Toby out cold, Callan wipes his own prints from the gun and leaves it in Toby’s hand.

From a phonebox, Callan calls Hunter. He’s worked out Hunter sent the policemen around, expecting Callan to be caught with a smoking gun. He tells Hunter that Toby is still at the flat. “Oh well it's not important. You could get him out I suppose.” But Callan won't be going to fetch Toby. Callan feels used. “I don’t think I want to work for you, Hunter. It may sound very naive and all that but I did like Schneider. I hate you.”