Last night I watched the second and concluding programme in that must-see history series Danny Dyer's Right Royal Family. This, in case you hadn't heard, was made in the wake of the shock revelation, on Who Do You Think You Are?, that cockney geezer Dyer is a descendant of Edward III (as are 99 percent of English people living today, but never mind that – Danny was well impressed with his royal pedigree).
Danny Dyer's Right Royal Family, in which DD learnt a bit about history (all new to him, apparently) and how royals and such carried on in the olden days, was not terribly informative – but it was comedy gold. Dyer is a likeable and hugely engaging presenter, with a style all his own and a vocabulary (mostly of rhyming slang) to match. It's now obligatory for presenters of popular history programmes to dress up in period costumes and try their hand at olden days activities, and it's usually a pain in the fundament – but with Danny it was actually fun to watch (especially, of course, the now notorious codpiece fitting). I laughed more at this programme than at any recent BBC 'comedy'. And I have a suggestion for the BBC: sack the unwatchably winsome Lucy Worsley from all her various history gigs, and give them to Danny Dyer – the world would be a better, happier place.
Watching Right Royal Family actually affected my dream life last night, and I seem to have wasted some part of my sleeping hours dreaming up new formats to showcase Danny Dyer's talents. When I woke up, I had the name of one of them fresh in my mind: it was Danny Dyer's Cockney Spittle Farm. I haven't the faintest idea what that was about, but I wouldn't care to pitch it to the BBC execs.
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