 Remember how when you were a kid people at school would recommend music or films or comedy? Many's the day you were thankful you met the friend who lent you Monty Python's Life of Brian or a 5th generation cassette of Captain Kremmen. On the other hand, there was also the friend who recommended one of these...
What the hell is going on with Hamish & Andy? When they're rating around 25% of all listeners tuned in of an afternoon, something weird is definitely taking place. Of course, it doesn't take much listening to afternoon radio to realise that being reasonably competent puts you well ahead of the pack, and the proven ratings power of a decent afternoon comedy combo was proven by Martin/Molloy more than a decade ago...and then promptly forgotten by commercial radio because it was easier to just keep programming non-stop blocks of hot cock rock. But that doesn't explain why two reasonably likable but vapid young men basically own radio comedy in Australia circa 2008. It's not like they're doing anything special: their radio work is nothing more than the mix of "what I did on my weekend" stories that rapidly segue into talkback segments and/or attention-grabbing pranks that breakfast radio's been doing since the dawn of time. Their song parodies are nothing special, their sketches are slightly better than community radio standard but not by much, their banter is a mix of bland (Andy) and a poor David Brent impersonation (Hamish), and if you're looking for anything more than the same tepid mix of celebrity gossip and public interaction that sells magazines like Woman's Day you simply won't find it here. And yet one-quarter of all radio listeners choose to listen to Hamish & Andy. Even their fans can't really explain why: they'll tell you the duo is funny, but there are never any jokes quoted or lines repeated. In fact, you're more likely to hear "they're hot" or a discussion of Andy Lee's relationship with model Megan Gale than you are anything about their comedy. And that's because, while they're packaged and sold as comedy, their appeal comes from the fact that they're two relatively attractive young men who seem to be decent enough guys in their personal lives. Taken out of context, or with an eye on comedy, their success is a mystery; looked at against the backdrop of Australian commercial radio it makes perfect sense. After all, before they came along Australian radio's biggest star was professional excrement Kyle Sandilands. Compared to him, bland and nice is the easiest sell in the world. The Gruen Transfer is nothing more than The World's Wackiest Commercials combined with the kind of sub-par panel chat show usually confined to Sunday afternoons in winter. That's all it is. There's nothing more to it. Not a thing. ABC audiences like to think they're smarter than the general viewing public; a Channel Seven viewer wouldn't have bothered with this past the first commercial break. Spicks & Specks just keeps on rolling on. There's clearly an audience out there desperate for televised party games, judging by the massive personal followings Alan Brough and Myf Warhurst have developed for doing nothing more than giggling (Myf), scowling (Alan) and displaying the kind of musical knowledge that gets you shunned in pubs.
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