55. It Might As Well Be String
19 October 1976
And so to the first unqualified success story of Season 6—It Might As Well Be String. The experimentation, in this instance, comes by way of a laser focus, the lads taking the scalpel of comedic excoriation and tearing the pretentious heart out of advertising. We segue to artificially generated cultural phenomena (the titular string) and economic manipulation (parodying the oil industry), but for the most part the Super Chaps stick resolutely to their lampooning of advertising and advertising men—those egotistic (and as it transpires, not so clever as they thought themselves) manipulators of the credulous.
The only real twist, such as it is, is the madcap, surreal chase at the end, by which the Goodies, in essence, hold up their own show as an example of too-clever deception and so take themselves down a self-deprecating notch[1]:
[The_End]
As, increasingly, was the Super Chaps’ wont, they forego any setup—the guest star engaging their services; the ‘anything, anytime’ of earlier series—and cut straight to the scenario proper; indeed, straight to the scenario at its first point of crisis. The Goodies, running the most successful advertising agency in the world, have reached the point where commonplace trickery is no longer sufficient to dupe the housewives (“Bless them! Bless their little cotton socks. What would we do without them?”) at whom all their products are aimed. Instead, they have escalated to bullying extortion (Low Suds Mold Washing Powder; Captain Fishface), from which absurd starting point they proceed to an even more outlandish concept—TRUTH! Unsurprisingly, this results in a complete crashing of the marketing economy (oh, the satire!), which paves the way for string to be promoted as a wholesome cure-all—embraced, like oil in the real world, despite its manifest shortcomings.
This is all very cogent, and trenchant, and is backed by the Goodies’ rapid-fire wit and delivery. The use of the Super Chaps’ initials is a masterstroke (poor old Bill, rendered in advertising lingo as B.O.!), the Bill and Graeme mannequins prove just as effective in-studio as their stunt dummies usually would on location, and the conceit of the agency allows for a nostalgic return to the halftime commercials (plus Tim’s Heanz Meanz Beanz schoolboy) of earlier series, and thence a plethora of cultural in-jokes and rib-poking.
[Thatcher]
On the music front, we’re given one of the quietly groovy, latter-series instrumentals (‘Funky Chase’), and of course, ironically, one of the all-time great advertising jingles:
[String]
…which Goodies fans have embraced now for over half a century, bursting out in song at the least provocation. What more need be said about the Super Chaps than that their spoof advertisements and gimmicks were far more compelling that the real thing?
In 2026, with the world seemingly run by unscrupulous advertising men, there have emerged across the globe ruddy great swathes of 21st-Century ‘D’ class voters who would surely benefit from a screening or two of ‘It Might As Well Be String’. (And what wouldn’t we give for the Cricklewood lads to come along and treat the self-styled ‘A’ class to a cycle or two of Bubble X washing powder?)
50 years on, the SC3 are still relevant, still brilliant.
VG, TBT!
Jacob Edwards, 19 October 2026
Tweets:
Previous: Black and White Beauty
Next: 2001 & A Bit
[1] The Goodies were well ahead of their time in dabbling in meta. The closing credits and playful dig at Jim Franklin is an obvious example, but is there another layer hidden in plain sight? The painting hanging behind the Super Chaps (much as Jim Franklin backed their antics from off-camera, largely unheralded) is The Star by Edgar Degas (1878). A sneaky acknowledgement, perhaps, of just how important Franklin’s contribution was to the Goodies’ success?