Aw bless! I was very heartened by this lovely story over on The Stage’s news pages, reporting on Sooty’s 60th birthday and how he has been bought out from his current owners by the show’s presenter, Richard Cadell. Cadell hopes to bring the enduring TV favourite back to television, as well as planning a live show, Sooty in Space, early next year.
I find it heartening that in the days of CGI the Internet and ADD, there is still, somewhere, a place for a small, mute, naughty yellow bear with black ears in the hearts of children. The character appeals to the mischievous side of every child, big or small, that desire to play practical jokes and wreak some innocent havoc with those around us. And Sooty isn’t alone - the same principal applies to the likes of Basil Brush and Emu, puppet characters that have both seen reasonably successful revivals in recent years. Long may it continue.
But for me, Sooty will always have a special place in my affections thanks to the years I spent at Granada Studio Tours, my first job after leaving university. It was great - I took groups around the backstage tour, played Dr Watson on the Baker Street set from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and guided eager fans down the cobbles of Coronation Street. But by far the best part of the job was that one day, every week when I was a puppeteer in the on-site Sooty Show concession.
It never ceased to amaze me back then that we played, on average, eight shows a day, all jam-packed with children and parents. And those kids believed in Sooty! Halfway through the show, any child in the audience with a birthday could come up to the front and shake Sooty’s paw and get a badge for their trouble. And bless the little poppets, they were absolutely mesmerised.
And this came down to the magic that had been put up on screen over all those years by the avuncular Harry Corbett, and then later his son, Matthew. It was the absolute simplicity that was and is the pleasure of Sooty and why, with luck, he will endure.
Of course, without Sweep, Sooty would be nothing. I mean, who can fully trust a bear that never speaks up front and spends his time whispering in Mr Corbett’s ear? That just points to some serious psychological issues bubbling under that silent surface, if you ask me. No, Sweep was where it was happening. He was an anarchist who lived life to the full, who sucked the marrow from the doggie bone of life. At Granada, we’d fight over who got to be Sweep for the day. We wanted to ride on the coattails of squeaky greatness - he might have been a dog of very little brain, but he was brilliant. Funny how we never had fights over Soo…
Is it right for a 36 year old bloke to get so excited over a bit of old cloth after all these years? Probably not, but I make no apologies for my love of Sooty. If we start to lose the need for silliness, for mischief, for straightforward slapstick and, above all, simplicity, then what are we left with?
Happy Birthday Sooty!
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