51. Lips, or Almighty Cod
21 September 1976
By Series 6, the Super Chaps were so firmly established—so entrenched in the British consciousness—that they clearly felt able to take their comedy to new heights of experimentation. Not that they’d been shy across the first five series, but from here until the end of their BBC run the mechanics shift. Rather than exaggeration and false logic being played for laughs, such elements were taken for granted in crafting increasingly untethered frameworks in which to enact smaller bits of comedy. The humour isn’t surreal—not in the strictest sense—but it did, increasingly, become tied to the by-now-long-established intimacy that existed between the lads and their fanbase, and thus to a willingness to indulge in niche laughs. (The episodes of Series 6 might be fan favourites, but they don’t make for a good introduction to newcomers.)
Lips, or Almighty Cod is a prime example. Its core elements were topical, and even at 50 years’ remove are easy to identify: firstly, a parody of the Third ‘Cod War’ (militarised disputes between Iceland and Great Britain over fishing rights); and secondly, a take-off of Jaws, which had hit the cinemas the year before and left a lasting impression. In both instances, though, we’re given a curious shift in scale…
One can imagine, if the Cod Wars were to have featured in Series 1 or 2, the Goodies being summoned by a government minister; the dispute over territorial waters being hashed out in suitably ludicrous terms; Tim making a patriotic speech in defence of England’s brown and brackish waters; then some mad scheme by Graeme to scare off the Eskimos. And yes, perhaps that would have involved a giant killer cod! But this creature would have caused its own problems (probably eating all the other fish) and left the country worse off than ever, and the lads in the soup. There would have been undercranked physical hijinks to Bill’s original tunes. None of that happens.
Instead, the satire is compressed into one line—the Eskimos expanding their territorial waters by 2,000 miles, an expansio ad absurdum of Iceland’s claiming 200 miles of territorial waters / fishing rights. This increased range, displayed via dotted line on a news map, sees the Eskimos cordon off the Serpentine where Tim is fishing. We’re given the traditional gag of a physical dotted line along the riverbank itself, but whereas Tim’s Union Jack waistcoat is prominent, the Goodies go into battle not for patriotic reasons but rather out of self-interest, due to Graeme’s now owning a fish farm.[1] The threat to British waters is both monumental and a fait accompli, yet in actuality takes the form merely of five (and for most of the episode, four) Eskimos in a boat:
[Eskimos]
The Goodies best the invaders in fish-to-fish combat, throw some cod at them (the nation’s entire stock!), then have to travel to the North Pole in the guise of MCC cricketers and smuggle a cod back, this specimen then being grown to Jaws size, made angry, and fitted with teeth so as to drive off the Eskimos once and for all. The plot, though conceptually big, plays out in miniature, more stage play than epic film. The Eskimos take one look at Brian’s fearsome fins and run for their lives, never to be seen again!
[Brian]
The plot, in fact, is largely glossed over: all the satirical exaggerations and diplomatic-economic fodder; all the scenes that would have given rise to original music. Instead, we’re given a few token instrumentals plus the lads being funny: cod/god puns; Tim insulting fish; Graeme taking Brian for a walk and having the fish stop at a partially submerged lamppost to do its business…
[walkies]
…Bill singing his ‘cod get ready to die’ song and Graeme joining in the dance before remembering to be outraged!
[cod dance]
In other words, what would have been the comedy, with dollops of incidental humour thrown in, becomes merely the framework for a revue mostly comprised of that incidental humour…
None of which is to denigrate the finished product. Lips, or Almighty Cod is a glorious, good-good-Goodies romp of the highest order![2] But one does wonder whether it was the result of conscious shaping or merely Bill and Graeme taking less time over the scripts and relying more on bits of comedic business to see them through?[3]
For now, that would be enough; more than enough, even. And the lads’ attention to detail remained impeccable:
[Gilbert]
Perhaps, though, there is something of a turning point here, or at least a slackening-off of the Super Chaps’ striving for comedic pomp and majesty; the roots of decline, resulting inevitably (though not for some years yet!) in ignominious fall…?
Cod only knows.
Jacob Edwards, 21 September 2026
Tweets:
[1] There seems no obvious reason why this should be singularly, not collectively run, except that such had become the anticipated division whenever any plot point arose in the realms of mad scientist behaviour. (The Goodies would often split two-versus-one, and Graeme’s misguided intelligence was well-matched against Bill’s berserk aggression and Tim’s ineffectual making up of the numbers. Here, though, Tim and Bill play the role of flunkies, or old chums kept about the place due to ties of long-ago camaraderie.)
[2] The casual gay-coded slurs being its one obvious failing, of-its-timeness notwithstanding.
[3] How much importance should we attach to the ending, where the would-be war-mongering Goodies share their fish fingers with the Eskimos?