An inside look at one of the series’ iconic priests — by Ben Keaton, the actor who played him and creator of the podcast Dirty Stupid Wisdom.
I remember watching series one of Father Ted thinking it was a documentary. I laughed but mostly because it looked like a kiss-and-tell about the clergy in Ireland.
This is the kind of thing that could happen to you on a Sunday.
They’re be a knock on the door about 1pm, or to put it in another way, 10 minutes after communion had been given out round the corner in the church. The priest, let’s call him Father Feck, would just present himself. He’s say ‘Hello Esther, are you well’ and my mother would say ‘We’re just about to have lunch Father, would you care to join us?’ He’d say no a few times while looking over her shoulder at the leg of lamb on the table, with us all sitting around it wondering if it was God himself flew the Fecker from the church to the door just as the carving knife was raised.
Father Feck would say grace, something that wasn’t our habit to perform, and then be given the first and best cut. He’d be given wine and later, as he lowered his arse onto the couch to watch the rugby, a glass of whiskey. My father would drive him home at around 11pm because he was incapable of walking. He’d have a bag with him of my old clothes, Dads paperbacks and a few tomato plants.
He'd have another family ear marked for the Monday night, another for Tuesday and so on. If he stopped you in the street and said ‘That’s a nice bike.’ You’d be expected to give it to him. He could even muscle in on your family holiday to Kerry. He's just arrive with a cardboard suitcase as you were loading the car! The priests of that time (the 70’s) were all powerful. That power led them to excesses of eccentricity that weren't laughable until Father Ted arrived on our televisions.
So, when I was asked to read for the part of Father Austin Purcell, on the top floor of a building in Regents Street, London, I knew that there was no limit to how insane I could make him.
Arthur handed me some pages and said ‘Would you have a go at this. We’re having trouble with him. He’s a boring priest but he needs to be funny.’ And off I went to spend 5 minutes locked in the toilet on the floor below, working it out.
There are two things I know about truly boring people. One, when they start speaking, they don’t want you to interrupt. Two, they don’t need to look at you. Your reaction is immaterial. The monologue doesn’t require your interest, only your presence. Lastly, I thought, ‘What would make him truly awful is a broken voice.’ So Father Austin Purcell was created in 5 minutes in a toilet in Regents Street. A bore of epic proportions that has entertained people since May 3rd, 1996. Graham, Arthur and Declan laughed their arse off when I showed it to them. Even now, after all these years, if I scroll past an episode of Father Ted I pause for just a moment, my finger suspended over the next channel button, and don’t press it. The series is just too funny.
Now I’ve got my own podcast, Dirty Stupid Wisdom. My takeaway from Father Ted is that great characters, great stories and using your voice is new ways is so exciting. The podcast is 20 minutes or less. There's one main story and a completely unique atmosphere. Irish, funny and surprising. I learned a great deal from Father Ted. Good lasts. If it’s right, people will come back to it. I hope you’ll take a listen to Dirty Stupid Wisdom. It’s new and fresh at the same time. And there’s a nod to the past there too.
Take it from Father Stone himself - 'The multi talented and fellow Fr. Ted collaborator, Ben Keaton, (Fr. Austin Purcell) has a new podcast, Dirty Stupid Wisdom, and It's a great listen.'
Michael Redmond
Dirty Stupid Wisdom is available on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music and all major platforms.
Or go to dirtystupidwisdom.com