An open letter: the case for a Russ Abbot TV tribute

Dear Commissioning Editors at the BBC, ITV and - as they're good at this sort of thing - Channel 5,

We write to you today with heartfelt urgency, admiration, and a simple request: It is time to celebrate Russ Abbot.

In the fractured landscape of modern media, it is difficult to describe to a younger generation just what a monolithic force Russ Abbot was in the 1980s. He wasn't just a comedian; he was the anchor of Saturday night. The Russ Abbot Show (and Madhouse before it) garnered viewing figures that today’s executives would trade a limb for—regularly pulling in upwards of 18 million viewers from 1979 to 1996 (across ITV and the Beeb).

But this letter isn’t about statistics (heck, Mind Your Language did well numbers-wise. Anyone under 45: Google it. There'll be no talking-head tribute any time soon. Mind you, if Reform end up winni... this isn't the time for this train of thought). Rather, it’s about a towering talent.

Why Russ? A Master of the "Everyman" Lunacy

To look back at Russ’s body of work is to witness a masterclass in versatility. He was a "triple threat" before the term became popular: a comic actor, a musician and a physical comedian of the highest order. Like Bruce Forsyth, his hero Eric Morecambe, Ronnie Barker and Leonard Rossiter before him, a simple glance could reduce an audience to rubble.

What made Russ truly special was his lack of vanity (pop career aside – we reckon he took that more seriously than he let on). While the alternative comedy scene of the 80s was becoming increasingly cynical (and sometimes knowingly cool), Russ remained committed to the pure, unadulterated gag. He was funny. He was silly. He was all about the laughs.

Russ was a chameleon who could slide from the manic, high-energy aggression of the probably-wouldn’t-do-it-today C. U. Jimmy (Russ insists this would get a standing O in Scotland. We’d have to take his word for it…) to the suave, affectionate incompetence of Basildon Bond (a classic example of – as the great Eddie Braban once said of Ernie Wise and Oliver Hardy: “The fool who didn’t know he was a fool”). On top of the recurring characters, Russ also played a range of fools, toffs, buffoons... look, the guy could do the lot. Meryl Streep would applaud the versatility (deliberate Simpsons reference that pays off a bit later on...).

Russ understood that television is a visual medium. His comedy didn't just rely on the script; it relied on a raised eyebrow, a ridiculous walk, or a perfectly timed prop failure. He possessed a rare kinetic energy—a willingness to look ridiculous, to wear the wig, to take the fall (and, boy, could Russ take a fall), and to sell the absurdity with 100 per cent commitment. He was the warm, avuncular bridge between the music hall tradition of his predecessors and the character-based sketch comedy of the 90s.

The Evidence: Three Moments of Genius

If you need reminding of his greatness, look no further than these three iconic moments. They remain as funny today as the moment they were broadcast.

1. The Lie Detector The Masterclass in Timing. A favourite at Always Be Comedy and a sketch that comes up a lot on the podcast: Russ plays a policeman interrogating Les Dennis’s crook. The premise is simple: the lie detector makes a noise every time there’s a lie. This is all about Russ’s face: the slide from cockiness to panic as the machine uncovers a few home truths while the scene escalates into total, sweaty chaos. It is a lesson in the "slow burn". And, yes, it is a bit similar to the Moe Szyslak / lie detector scene from The Simpsons (we’re not saying the Simpsons copied Russ Abbot! But it’s a reminder as to how brilliant Russ was where we’re reminded of the Golden Age of a US comedy institution). Watch the Sketch Here

2. Basildon Bond (Operation PIDDLE (yes, really)) The Affectionate Parody. Long before Austin Powers and Johnny English, there was Basildon. Russ took the coolest figure in British cinema (we think we can say it: it’s a James Bond parody, albeit a very silly one) and turned him into a buffoon, while somehow keeping him charming. Supported by the brilliant Bella Emberg (whose chemistry with Russ was the beating heart of the show), these sketches proved that Russ could lead a recurring narrative. It was silly, slapstick, and wonderfully British. If there’d been more of a British film industry in the 1980s, it screams big-screen outing. Watch Basildon Bond Here

3. The Party Atmosphere The Musical Finale. He ruddy loved a musical finale! Indeed, you cannot talk about Russ without talking about the "Atmosphere" (a Top 10 hit for the great man). Whether it was his spoof musical numbers of bands of the time (or, indeed, of the 1950s – Russ seemed to have a fixation on the Fifties) or his chart-topping hits, he understood that Saturday night TV was about entertainment. He wasn’t too cool to sing a song; he wanted the audience to leave the show feeling lighter than when they tuned in. This track isn't just a song; it's the sound of a British weekend in the 1980s. Watch "Atmosphere" Here

The Industry Agrees

At Always Be Comedy, we haven't just been re-watching old clips; we have talked Russ with some of the greats. Heck, and we dedicated an episode of our Comedy Heroes podcast entirely to Russ.

We spoke to titans of the industry including Dara Ó Briain, Harry Hill, Joe Wilkinson, and Les Dennis. The consensus was unanimous: Russ Abbot is a giant. His influence is woven into the DNA of British light entertainment. Harry Hill’s chaotic energy? That has roots in Abbot. The character work of current sketch shows? That stands on Abbot's shoulders. Joe embracing out-and-out silliness, having clearly put in the work – Russ himself would salute.  

The Proposal

A tribute show is not a difficult puzzle to solve. The archive footage is gold. The guest list writes itself.

• The Clips: Remastered sketches of his greatest hits.

• The Talking Heads: Comedians from various generations breaking down exactly why a specific movement or line was genius.

• The Context: Reminding the public of a time when one man could unite the country in laughter. Truly – this man was a titan of entertainment in the 1980s.

Why Now?

This is not just nostalgia; it is recognition. Far too often, the British entertainment industry waits until a legend has "exited stage right to the great gig in the sky" before commissioning the retrospective.

Don't wait.

Russ is 78. He is still with us. Let him turn on the TV and see how much he is loved. Let him hear the applause one more time. Let him see the next generation of comics tip their hats to him.

Celebrate Russ Abbot properly. Honour the laughter he gave us, the careers he inspired, and the unadulterated joy he brought to millions.

And we got through this whole blog without once yet again bringing up the time we bumped into him at Wentworth Golf Club (the restraint is off the charts).

With respect, admiration, and sincerity (and, of course, songs of joy and tears of laughter... to anyone under 40: that's a reference to his theme song),

Always Be Comedy