Here's something wild: when Steptoe And Son aired in the 1960s and 70s, it was so popular that water authorities could track exactly when episodes ended because of the sudden surge in toilet flushes. The entire nation would hold it in until the Steptoes finished their latest argument. That's the kind of cultural stranglehold this show had on Britain.
The premise sounds simple enough—two rag-and-bone men, father and son, living in a junkyard in Shepherd's Bush, constantly at each other's throats. But what made Steptoe And Son revolutionary was its darkness. This wasn't cozy sitcom territory. Harold (Harry H. Corbett) desperately wanted to escape his working-class life, dreaming of culture and sophistication, while his scheming father Albert (Wilfrid Brambell) would sabotage every attempt, trapping his son through emotional blackmail and fake heart attacks. It was funny, sure, but also genuinely tragic. Creator Ray Galton and Alan Simpson had previously written for Tony Hancock, but this was something entirely different—a sitcom with teeth.
The show's impact on British culture is hard to overstate. It ran from 1962 to 1974, and while it's often lumped in with 70s sitcoms (thanks to its most memorable episodes airing then), it actually straddled two decades. The 1973 Christmas special drew 28 million viewers—nearly half the UK population at the time. When the episode where Harold got married aired, commentators noted it felt like a national event. The series was so respected that it spawned two feature films and inspired the American adaptation Sanford and Son, which became a massive hit in its own right with Redd Foxx and Demond Wilson.
What many don't realize is the real-life tension that mirrored the on-screen relationship. Harry H. Corbett (who insisted on the 'H' to distinguish himself from the children's entertainer Harry Corbett) was a serious Royal Shakespeare Company-trained actor who initially saw Steptoe as a temporary gig. He grew to resent being typecast, much like Harold resented being trapped in the junkyard. Meanwhile, Brambell, despite playing the archetypal dirty old man, was actually a cultured, well-read person. The irony wasn't lost on either of them.
The show's final episode in 1974 left Harold still stuck with his father, still dreaming of escape, still trapped. No happy ending, no resolution—just the bleak acknowledgment that some people never get out. It's this unflinching honesty that makes Steptoe And Son feel more modern than many sitcoms that came decades later. You dirty old man, indeed.