Discovering My Inner Alan: Embracing the Partridge Within | Luke Turner’s Journey

Embracing My Inner Partridge: A Journey of Self-Realization

Recently, while tuning in to the latest series of Alan Partridge’s podcast, From the Oasthouse, I had a life-altering moment of self-discovery. In the episode titled “Tinned Meat,” Alan imparts his wisdom on grocery shopping, advising listeners to visit supermarkets just before closing time for special discounts on meat that’s still good enough to eat. It was at this very moment that I felt an inexplicable kinship with the beloved North Norfolk Digital radio presenter. I have long been sharing this clever technique, which I affectionately refer to as “yellow sticker cruising,” with friends. It was a milestone that solidified my connection with Alan Partridge.

To celebrate this revelation, I treated myself to a proper Partridge-style meal – a frozen pie with Bisto gravy – while indulging in a 1985 BBC documentary about the grueling training regimen of the Royal Marines’ elite unit. As I immersed myself in the world of Alan Partridge, I recognized the significance of this comedic genius and his impact on popular culture.

For those unacquainted with the legendary figure that is Alan Partridge, portrayed brilliantly by Steve Coogan, he first emerged in 1991 as a sports commentator on BBC Radio 4’s satirical current affairs show, On the Hour, before transitioning to television in Chris Morris’s The Day Today. Coogan has always been secretive about his inspiration for Partridge, admitting to similarities with Richard Madeley. However, he insists that the character is a composite. Since then, through various television series, a film (Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa), memoirs, and the podcast From the Oasthouse, we have witnessed the ebb and flow of Partridge’s fortunes.

My journey towards embracing my inner Partridge has been gradual, sparked by a conversation I had with a writer friend regarding my memoir, Out of the Woods. She advised me to remove a reference to my childhood love for my father’s vinyl copy of Queen’s Greatest Hits, deeming it “too Partridge.” However, I ignored her recommendation because, despite the book delving into themes of shame and sexuality, I realized that there was no shame in my fondness for Queen. Since then, my “accidental Partridge” moments and my use of the “Alan Partridge shrug gif” on social media have only increased. I suspect I am not alone in this experience.

Interestingly, Alan Partridge has also evolved over time to meet us halfway. While chronologically he should now be in his 70s, his age is as flexible as the waistband of his cotton trousers, playfully portrayed by Coogan, who turns 58 this week. As their ages have converged, the line between Alan and his creator has blurred, something that Coogan initially resisted but now embraces. This fusion of character and creator lends Partridge a sense of authentic humanity.

Partridge’s transformation into a more sympathetic figure can be attributed in part to the involvement of Neil and Rob Gibbons in the writing team. Like myself in my mid-40s, I imagine they too confront their own inner Alans as they navigate middle age. What a fortunate position to be paid for a job that doubles as therapeutic self-reflection. Through their writing, we become intimately acquainted with Partridge’s frustrations towards the intricacies of contemporary life while simultaneously receiving a loving satire of subjects they clearly hold dear. It takes a deep familiarity with nature writing, for instance, to expertly and consistently lampoon the genre. The same can be said for Partridge’s passion for military history.

After completing my book Men at War, exploring masculinity and sexuality during the World War II era, I read it aloud in Partridge’s accent to gauge the extent of his influence on the text. Striking the right balance is essential; enough Partridge to add flair, but never too much. Maintaining awareness of one’s Partridge tendencies proves crucial, particularly when it comes to politics. Partridge may superficially align with small-c conservative values, exemplified by his friendship with Grant Shapps and his pro-Brexit sentiments. Yet, Coogan and the Gibbons brothers excel in crafting discomfort, leading us to both laugh with and at Alan. His bewilderment in the face of rapidly evolving moral codes is relatable, though his bitterness and self-delusion underpinning his prejudices serve as a cautionary tale for our own potential regression.

All in all, Alan Partridge has transformed into a representative figure of aging, navigating new societal norms while his physicality gradually declines. He embodies the British male struggle between self-repression and unfiltered honesty. Partridge’s neurotic relationship with his body, ranging from concerns about back fat and verrucas to bowel issues and a Toblerone addiction, reflects the inner and outer turmoil faced by many men striving for honesty regarding their physical and mental well-being. Furthermore, his fascination with homosexuality unveils the complexities of sexuality that culture often fails to acknowledge. Partridge provides a platform for us to confront our failures and insecurities while offering a beacon of hope.

Partridge’s resilience shines through when he defies the odds, traversing a life haunted by Travel Taverns, late-night petrol stations, and Norwich’s pedestrianized city center. Whether he finds solace in drunkenly narrating a coronation from his oasthouse, or shocks us with a kinky lap dance in tiny leather shorts and a traffic cone bra – as depicted in the infamous scene from series one of I’m Alan Partridge – his tenacity inspires us. He may scoff at the term, but for many of us, Alan Partridge serves as a sanctuary.