Did you know?

While scenes set in cells or offices were shot in a BBC studio, the larger association area, where the prisoners congregated, was filmed at Ealing Studios, using a multilevel structure built inside an old tank.

It was a chance meeting with Jonathan Marshall, who’d just penned a book titled How to Survive in the Nick, which provided them with the spark they needed. While having a drink in a Richmond pub, Marshall uttered the phrase ‘little victories’ which struck a chord with the writers, providing them with a valuable tool for Fletcher to exploit.

Over the next three years, a further 19 episodes, including two Christmas Specials, would be screened before Slade Prison finally closed its doors on Friday 25th March 1977, with ‘Final Stretch’ spotlighting Godber’s release.

While the writers would have willingly written a fourth series, and the public would certainly have gobbled up more, it was Barker’s desire to move on that brought the show to an end. However, it wasn’t the last time we’d set eyes on the wily lag. A year later – Friday 24th February 1978, to be precise – we saw Fletch return to the outside world, his release shown in the first of six episodes in a sequel, titled Going Straight.

Did you know?

When the prison authorities refused permission for exterior shots to be filmed outside a real prison, numerous psychiatric hospitals around the London area were chosen instead.

After the final instalments of Porridge had been screened, writers Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais were invited to BBC Television Centre for lunch. During the meeting, the subject of Fletcher arose and Clement and La Frenais expressed an interest in following his progress in the big wide world upon his release from prison. Everyone loved the idea and before long the nation’s favourite con – or, rather, ex-con – was entertaining sizeable audiences again.

Memories …

‘Dick and I thought “I’ll Fly You For A Quid”, the other pilot we wrote for Seven of One, would be the easiest to turn into a series but then Ronnie said it might be more challenging to make “Prisoner and Escort”. The trouble was, we couldn’t think how we’d sustain it – after all, how could you make life inside seem funny?

‘When we wrote the pilot, concerning Fletcher being taken to prison, we had no intention of turning it into a series. So when asked to do so, it suddenly became daunting; we decided to visit various prisons and got thoroughly depressed because, let’s face it, they are very depressing places. We talked to the governor of Brixton over tea at the RAC Club, visited Brixton and the Scrubs and ended up even more apprehensive. Then we spoke to Jonathan Marshall, an ex-con, about the routines of prison life – the meeting was valuable.

‘We met for a drink in Richmond and talked about life inside. Suddenly, he came up with the expression, “It’s all about little victories.” He was referring to getting through one’s sentence on a day-to-day basis, taking it a day at a time and earning “little victories” by scoring against the system. With that one little phrase we found Fletcher’s character – it gave us a route in. That became the key to Fletcher.’

IAN LA FRENAIS

Although an amusing series in its own right, Going Straight lacked the punch and richness of its predecessor. The confines of prison had created an edge which, frankly, was always going to be difficult to equal; furthermore, while Fletch was king of the castle inside, back on civvy street he was a loser, a man drifting along in life, struggling to come to terms with a world that had left him behind.

But the allure of Porridge remains, even now, three decades after the final episode was screened, explaining why it can rightly be classed as a classic of the genre.

B

‘PRISONER AND ESCORT’

Fletch discusses his criminal background.

FLETCHER: When I left school I went round the local labour and appraised the professional opportunities open to me. Unfortunately my lack of scholastic achievement prevented me from doing the things I really fancied, such as stockbrokerin’ or teaching tennis at a girls’ school. And I didn’t reckon working in a cardboard box factory. So I robbed the sub-post office off the North Circular.

BARROWCLOUGH: And you never looked back since, so to speak.

FLETCHER: No – nor have I ever been short of 3d. stamps.

BARROWCLOUGH: What have you gone down for this time?

FLETCHER: Aw, don’t talk about it. Be a farce if it wasn’t such a tragedy, Own fault, should have stuck to what I know best – housebreaking. But I lifts this lorry. Impulse steal. You know what I mean, impulse steal. I think it’s a doddle, don’t I?

BARROWCLOUGH: I gather it wasn’t.

FLETCHER: Yeah, you know why, though – flaming brakes failed. Criminal letting lorries on the road in that condition. And he was overloaded. So there I was, with five ton on me back roarin’ down bloody Archway.

BARROWCLOUGH: Wonder you weren’t killed.

FLETCHER: I nearly was. Went through three back gardens, went clean through a brick wall and finished up in somebody’s tool shed.

BARROWCLOUGH: Did they get you for wilful destruction of property? I mean, knocking that wall down.

FLETCHER: Yeah. And I asked for six other fences to be taken into consideration.

Memories …

‘I liked the pilot, it contained some wonderful material. It’s only a three-hander but the contrast between Fletcher, Mackay and Barrowclough is very strong. There are two moments that are particularly funny: the first where Fletch pees into the gas tank – and I can still remember the laughter from the studio audience going on for a long time – and the second when Fletch escaped on the moors, runs around all night before breaking back into the hut he’d left in the first place.

‘Ronnie’s reaction, when he discovered where he was, was classic. I remember thinking what a genius he was then, because he was able to make that laugh go on and on. In hindsight, Fletcher wouldn’t normally be the kind of person who’d try escaping because it would cause too many repercussions when he was caught. But you could argue it was an impulse decision: he suddenly saw an opportunity and took advantage of it. The main thing is, we thought it was funny and his reaction to it was better than anything anyone could have imagined on the page. Overall, the pilot was a great success.’

DICK CLEMENT

Barrowclough discusses his wife.

BARROWCLOUGH: Well, she sees a future of frustrated ambitions stretching before her. She doesn’t like what I do or where we live. So over the years she’s grown bitter and unsettled, full of restless urges, which have manifested themselves in various ways like bad temper, spots and sleeping with the postman. And there were liaisons with other men. We got to rowing all the time. Things went from bad to worse. Eventually we went to see the marriage guidance counsellor.

Did you know?

The gatehouse seen in the opening credits once marked the entrance to St Albans’ Prison before, later, being acquired by the local council and becoming a depot for the highways department. Now, the building acts as headquarters for a mineral-water company’s sales and marketing department.

FLETCHER: That help, did it?

BARROWCLOUGH: It helped her! She ran off with him.

FLETCHER: Oh well, you’re well out of it, aren’t you, mate. You’re well out of a slag like that.

BARROWCLOUGH: She’s come back.

FLETCHER: Oh I see … well, people change.

BARROWCLOUGH: I blame myself, I’m a failure. I’m only hanging on to this job by the skin of me teeth. I got so depressed I thought I’d take advantage of the prison psychiatric department. See them about my inferiority complex. Well, it’s not a complex really – I am inferior.

Memories …

‘Barrowclough may have become a slightly one-note character, but he was a wonderful foil. When we spoke to people about prison life, there always seemed to be the hard bastard and the soft touch; there are comparisons in the army or the air force. Everybody knows the ones you can’t mess with and those in whom you can see a weakness that can be exploited. Mackay and Barrowclough represented both sides.

‘We deliberately set out to have a modernist and traditionalist; having Mackay as the old hard-liner and Barrowclough the new, relatively liberal screw created conflict and that’s the life of our comedy.’

DICK CLEMENT

‘I had lots to do in the pilot, whereas in other episodes I wasn’t given so much. In the actual series, Barrowclough wasn’t as important, which was sad. But we had a good company. You can’t spend a lot of time with people without either falling out bitterly or getting on; fortunately we all got on well together.’

BRIAN WILDE