Leotards and Vests: The Great British Workout

OK, are you ready?

Here we go!

Lift, two, three, four.

And stretch, two, three, four.

Hold...

That's good, keep it there.

And lift, and one, two, three, four.

And lift, and relax.

Look at you, eh? You're out of breath opening the biscuits.

The last time your knees were higher than your waist

was when you fell over coming home from the pub.

Come on, Britain. Get off the sofa.

Put some shorts on!

Go outside and run around a bit.

You know what you need? You need the Great British Workout.

When was the last time you chased after your lunch?

You know, brought down a mammoth with a handful of kindling

the way our ancestors did it?

The way Gordon Ramsay still does it.

I'm guessing it's been about, what, 10,000 years?

Oh, you've filled out a bit since then, haven't you.

Put on a few pounds.

You're not the lithe, sinewy, hunter-gatherer you used to be.

You're all right with the gathering part.

That's just pushing a trolley around a supermarket. Tipping stuff in.

And even that's classified as extreme gathering these days

by those who do their gathering online.

So, to recap, where you once wrestled a mammoth,

you now click on a tiny mouse. And it's not even a real mouse.

But surely we haven't lost that primal urge to keep fit?

What do you think of good, healthy exercise?

Terrible.

Why?

Well, I never do any, if I can avoid it.

And you, do you take any exercise?

-Not at all.

-Why not?

Too idle.

The government had been worried about us for years.

In the 1920s, Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald took on the role of Mr Motivator.

The physical fitness of its people is essential to the life of the nation.

A nation of weaklings and slackers

can never maintain democratic institutions,

or uphold personal liberty.

Blimey, that's him trying to gee you up (!)

What is it with these Ramsays?

OK, sit up straight. Pay attention.

This is what the World Health Organisation recommends...

At least two and a half hours each week of moderate intensity aerobic activity,

such as cycling, vigorous walking and strengthening exercises

that work all the major muscle groups on two or more days in that same week.

Ooh, I'm out of breath just saying it.

In fairness, they did try and tell us about this

back when we were still able to do something about it - in school.

I've never heard of anybody who concentrated on physical fitness

achieving anything whatever in the world.

Most of them end up as PT instructors,

and you know what terrible company they are.

Oh! Did they flick towels at you in the showers, Robert?

Unless your parents were naturists, Nazis or fitness instructors,

or all three,

school was where you got your first taste of PE,

or Proper Exercise.

Up until the 1930s, school PE basically gave you

the option of flogging, being flogged or vaulting over a horse.

For some reason, vaulting over horses became extremely popular.

But in the 1940s, all the wooden horses were sent away to join the war effort.

Tragically, almost none of them made it back.

Schools tried to make children vault over real horses,

but after a series of horrible accidents,

they settled on vaulting over other children.

As this footage shows, they weren't very good at it.

Thank you.

Eventually, the whole idea of vaulting was abandoned.

After World War II, Britain needed to get back on its feet.

In order to do that, it had to learn how to stand up,

wriggle its toes and hop.

'A wide variety of foot exercises is being practised here,

'including nibbling the braid,

'excellent for general mobility of the foot

'and as a remedial exercise in flat feet.'

We quite literally needed to learn to walk before we could run.

Or jump.

Then came the '60s, and everything went mad.

It turned out that giving psychedelic drugs to children wasn't just illegal,

it also made PE lessons a hopeless mess.

And by the '70s, the kids acted like they didn't need no physical education.

MUSIC: "Another Brick In The Wall" by Pink Floyd

The teachers, they just left those kids alone.

But why do we need to be taught this stuff anyway?

It used to be hardwired into us.

What happened to chasing mammoths?

All the problems started with this -

Civilisation.

Bloody civilisation, with its agriculture, its art,

its great advances in medicine and science,

and its cakes. Its lovely, lovely cakes.

Ruining everything and making us fat.

And civilisation requires a lot of maintenance,

and maintenance takes time.

When everyone is building cathedrals, growing crops

and baking lovely cakes,

no-one's running around chasing mammoths any more.

With no-one to chase them,

they grew lazy and stuffed themselves with moss and doughnuts

until their mammoth hearts gave out and they became extinct.

Early civilisations heeded this woolly warning.

The Chinese were first.

Shortly after the discovery of sweet and sour pork around 500 BC,

Confucius encouraged regular physical activity.

In ancient India, soon after the birth of the chicken korma,

the Hindus threw themselves into yoga sessions to work it off.

In classical Greece, the invention of taramasalata

was rapidly followed by the invention of the gymnasium.

And in Britain,

civilisation reached its pinnacle with the creation of this...

..Fish and chips. It was all downhill from there.

Even major building projects were put on hold.

Does it need a roof?

-WEST COUNTRY ACCENT:

-Oh! I like it open-air.

Pass the sauce.

Then, along came the Romans.

Just got worse.

It was all wine, orgies and lounging around.

We never stood a chance.

But all things must pass.

The Romans left, and all the henges fell into ruin,

but one thing has stood the test of time.

The gymnasium.

And if you want to get back to your slim, trim,

hunter-gatherer figure, you'd better bloody well join one.

Woah! Stop! You can't just walk in there without any stuff! No, no, no.

You've got to have the proper kit first.

Fitness costs and this, my friend, is where you start paying.

As soon as someone came up with the idea of the work out,

someone else came up with the idea of flogging us stuff to wear while we were doing it.

100 years ago, you didn't have to take anything off at all.

In fact, the more you were wearing, the better.

These days, you have to have the kit.

I always wear a knotted handkerchief on my head.

Stops the sweat getting in your eyes.

Always useful - sweatband. Again, a lot of sweat in this sport.

On my feet, a rather expensive pair of running shoes,

£12 worth, but well worth it.

Good pair of warm socks and a lightweight pair of pants.

You could just bung on an old pair of shorts of course,

but you wouldn't want to look silly, would you. Course not!

And there's nothing silly about Lycra.

Lycra is nature's way of telling you you're not fluorescent enough.

Actually, it's not nature's way of doing anything.

It's a polyurethane, polyuria copolymer

that was created in a lab in 1959 by chemists.

Clothes made by chemists? That already sounds wrong.

It doesn't only stretch, but it recovers,

that is, it always goes back to its initial shape.

Then in 1978, Kate Bush became Queen.

On the day of her coronation, thousands lined the streets

in leotards and leg-warmers,

and a new national costume was born.

And things get even more complicated when you reach your feet.

When some killjoy figured out that six-inch heels weren't great for exercise,

in came the boring plimsoll.

There are now over 450,000 different types of training shoes available

at any one time. Probably.

There are walking shoes, running shoes, sprinting shoes,

jogging shoes, cross-country running shoes, cross-training shoes,

cycling shoes, climbing shoes - I'm still on C!

Somebody make it stop!

Have you got a bag to put everything in?

Oh no, not that one. You need a proper sports bag,

because it's sports. So it's got to say "sports" on it.

Oh, 80 quid, please.

If only you'd listened to 19th century poet and philosopher, Henry David Thoreau.

Unfortunately, you didn't listen,

and you've spent £500, and you look ridiculous.

You're ready to get down to that gym.

Wrong! You can't go to the gym - you're not fit enough.

Aw, you don't understand how this works at all, do you?

You can't go to the gym to get fit till you've got fit enough to go to the gym, to get fit.

You, my friend, need to start eating properly.

The great British diet is the natural enemy of the great British work out.

Bacon, eggs, sausage,

fried bread, black pudding. The works, you know.

Look at those Greeks.

It's all grilled fish and olive oil

and the herding of sheep until you're 112.

And the Italians -

tomatoes and beans, and really fruity fruit.

And more olive oil.

And the Spanish -

octopus and squid and bloody hell, more olive oil.

And the British?

Good 'eavens. It's oil but it's not from an olive.

I love chips!

Ah, but come on! It looks great, doesn't it!

Well, sorry.

You can't have any of it.

There you go. Have that instead.

A lovely British salad.

What's that?

Salad cream with it? Not a chance!

I know this is going to come as a shock, love,

but you're going to have to stub that out.

And none of that either.

A slice of lemon with your water? Go on, it's the weekend.

How about a lovely glass of British rhubarb juice,

full of rhubarby goodness.

British rhubarby goodness.

But I must be saving money, right?

Not likely!

You haven't had your vitamins yet.

What was it that Socrates said again?

There speaks a man who's never had fish and chips.

Come on, let's see what you got at the supermarket.

Woah! You can't eat that stuff!

It's all processed and unnatural

and full of chemicals that are made in the lab by scientists.

No, you need some fitness foods.

Foods that were made in proper laboratories by proper scientists.

You need stuff that comes in buckets and jars and bottles,

with big sporty italic writing on,

saying things like "energy", "nutrition" and "mega" on them.

OK?

Your body is now 90% polyunsaturated iodised isoflavone.

Are you bankrupt yet? No? Good.

Get your card out, we're going down the gym.

And this time, we're going in.

Right, one adult please. No?

Monthly membership then?

Oh. Six-monthly membership? No?

Annual? Ah, off-peak? No?

Rolling? I mean, full-flexi? Multi-venue?

Platinum Anytime? Weekends only?

It's so confusing, and I haven't even got through reception yet.

Right, I'm a few hundred quid lighter - there's no going back.

Blimey, everyone here looks really fit.

Don't look at them. Look at the floor. Focus.

Oh, why am I doing this?

'It's the keep fit craze hitting Kensington.

'This is where you come and punish yourself for fun,

'or rather, for your health.

'Here you'll get rubbed down, shaken up, pummelled and pushed around

'for a price and a purpose.

'If you want to turn fat and flab into nice, hard muscle.

'And there's a full-time muscle man to make you feel at home -

'or just plain useless.

'It's best to start this serious business of reducing

'with nice, easy exercises,

'although someone's always there to stretch a point.'

Didn't Plato say something about this?

Luckily for Plato, he was in the right place

to sign up for gymnasia membership,

and I bet he didn't stop going at the end of January.

The first gymnasia were ancient Greek training facilities

for competitors in public games.

The name comes from the Greek term "gymnos" meaning "naked".

Now, I speculate here but my guess is a naked Ancient Greek

and a naked modern Brit are fairly distinct creatures.

Ah! Now I get the Lycra thing.

Gymnasia were also centres of learning and philosophy.

The body and the mind being seen as equal parts of the human whole.

Nowadays the gym has a big telly with MasterChef on it.

It's a risky business keeping fit

and one that paralyses in time all the other functions,

such as the brain, the spirit, the appetite and everything else.

Did you not get picked for the football team at school, is that it?

Up until the 20th century, gyms were basic and rough.

You weren't meant to be having fun, you were meant to be suffering.

They were cold and unforgiving, full of men grunting,

sweating and chafing.

But these days, you can get a cappuccino.

And they have come on in one other way.

They've got women in them, too. Grunting, sweating and chafing.

'Mavis, a 23-year-old clerk,

'is one of hundreds of Health & Strength League girls

'who get themselves and, more important, their figures in trim.

'For a chest exercise, she has shown the correct dumbbell press.

'Before the girls are allowed to use weights,

'they undergo a toughening-up course.

'This exercise is for the leg and stomach muscles.

'Jean Elliott, a 20-year-old American housewife who came to this country two years ago,

'is one of the keenest of the keep fit girls.

'For the record, her vital statistics are 37, 23, 36.'

'With proper supervision,

'weight training is a boon to fat and thin who're otherwise fit.'

'It might be easier to take vitamin pills,

'but this kind of iron does control the weight.'

The first piece of proper gym equipment

was the Gymansticon of 1796.

You could even use it without removing your wig!

It was basically an exercise bike doing a wheelie in a wooden box,

and it claimed to help conditions such as gout and palsy.

By the time you'd worked out it didn't,

the bloke who flogged it to you was off selling his new venture,

the South Sea Bubble.

But just look at what we've got now, eh?

All this machinery.

The benchpresses...

The barbells, the rowing machines...

The treadmills, the bikes...

The shoulder presses, the leg curls...

This...thing.

It's like the Spanish inquisition with carpet tiles.

In some ways,

going to the gym is like going to the office in your pants.

There are people you like,

people you hate,

people you want to avoid,

people you want to flirt with...

Then there are the boring ones,

the tyrants,

the jokers...

and the ones who grunt all the time.

Unh!

Hey, we're British.

If we really have to do this,

can we not do it in front of strangers?

This is more like it. No strangers around.

Even better, you're just a few feet away from the fridge.

All you need is a machine.

Or two.

Or three.

Machines designed specifically to give you

a body like Charles Atlas without ever really moving from the comfort

of your fireside chair or missing a single episode of Crossroads.

A cycle like this would probably set you back about £120.

And a rowing machine like this would set you back about £85.

They're ideally geared to the energetic young executive

who wants to cycle the equivalent from London to Bournemouth

or row the entire length of the River Severn.

The same time it takes the missus in the kitchen to do the washing up.

She wasn't in the kitchen with the washing up, Chris.

She was in the bedroom with one of these.

'If it's on the door that's all you need to start.

'You put your little feet against the rest, take hold of the grip

'and pull and pull and pull

'and stretch and you

'and how.

'If you've missed the last rows of summer,

'you can have them in the bathroom.'

By the '50s, all you needed to get fit

were a couple of sticks and some West End showgirls.

'For those who haven't got the energy to go

'for ten mile runs in the country to keep fit,

'we introduce a new streamlined method of exercising that can be carried out at home.

'Invented and demonstrated by Senor Gabriel Alcova from Spain,

'Las Picas, as the device is called, are used all over the continent

'in ballet schools, for remedial exercises,

'and most important, for slimming.

'Charmin Boucher exercises her shoulders and back,

'but there is virtually no limit

'to the variations that can be performed with these steel rods.'

'Even with back bends, there's no danger of hurting yourself,

'because although Las Picas weighs only 2.5 pounds,

'it can take a strain of 900 pounds in weight.'

Within a few years it was clear we'd buy literally anything.

A job lot of knackered old camp beds? Oh, I'll take one!

Eventually the whole concept of home fitness

had been reduced to an enormous rubber band.

It was so simple. Any fool could use it.

Here are some fools using it.

I want you to lift that leg as high as you can off the floor.

Stretch it right up.

No! Up, not over.

It's the elastic band!

Now, swing it right up and down as high as you can. That's it.

Really pull it up. Good.

That's wonderful exercise for the hips and thighs.

-Can you feel it pull, Valerie?

-Yeah.

-And how.

-It's not too bad, actually.

-It's not so difficult, is it?

-Yes!

No, it isn't!

Then it all got horribly complicated again.

Take a chair, not any chair. A chair like this.

-Remove seat of said chair, place it down.

-Right.

Fumble with the catch, drop that down.

-OK.

-Place the hook through the loop, remove that, remove that,

drop that down, pull that up,

put the catch down, put the catch down...

-Right, yes.

-Take seat.

-Oh, it's a...

-Check that it's in position.

-Right!

-Sit in the middle of the seat, put your feet on here and...

-Right.

Wish I had written that down.

Sometimes a run or a cycle just won't cut it.

You want to exercise bits of yourself that normal human activity cannot reach.

Why you want to exercise those bits remains a mystery. But nevermind.

Somebody's built a machine for it.

You don't want to be left looking stupid, do you? Course you don't.

Come on. Strap yourself in.

Unfortunately, the only calories you lose with these things

are the ones you've just eaten.

But the idea wouldn't go away.

Are you bored with all that dreary joggling and cycling to get fit?

Well, here's the exercise that will put the fun back into fitness.

That is actually bigger than a Gymanasticon,

and you can't use it while wearing a wig.

They think that should help you tone up those muscles you never even knew you had

and they even believe it could be a cure for motion sickness.

I can tell you it's got to be either a kill or cure on this one.

This thing wasn't so much kill or cure as kill or maim.

Oh, dear.

Ah, I think he's stuck.

Oh, for crying out loud!

Will someone help him off?

Oh, thank God for that.

And of course the punching flapper hat ball was big in the '20s.

You can't see it from this angle,

but those have actually got pictures of Ramsay McDonald on.

Or maybe sir would like a...

pumpy bike?

All right, you're as fit as a fiddle, but let's face it,

you haven't spoken to another human being for a month.

Hardly surprising if you're riding around on that thing.

Come on, Britain. Leave that pumpy bike alone!

Let's all get fit together.

After the grinding misery of the Industrial Revolution

and the First World War, Europe wanted to put on a vest,

stand in a field and have a bloody good workout.

The mass fitness movement was born.

Thousands of people waved their arms in unison.

Shares in vest companies went through the roof.

It was fun for a while.

But gradually, it started to warp into something darker.

What started with the idea of getting people to stretch their legs

had begun to turn a bit, well...

Fascist.

The fields turned into stadiums,

the arm stretches became salutes.

Oh, dear. It was the master race in plimmies and shorts.

Back in Blighty, we never went for that dictator saluting nonsense.

# Keep fit

# Take exercise

# Keep fit

# And you'll be wise

# That's it

# Look twice your size

# Whatever you do, keep fit. #

We loved the whole mass fitness thing, and we went mad for vests.

But frankly, we preferred to do it our way. Up yours, Fuhrer.

'Physical training, known by everybody as PT

'but often referred to by less complimentary titles,

'was considered a type of hard labour to be borne and finished as quickly as possible.

'Some years ago, a wealthy patriot, Sir Robert Lucas-Tooth,

'gave a fortune to encourage the physical and moral training of our youth.

'His idea was not merely to make them fit, but to train them

'as leaders so they could act as instructors to other organisations.

'This fine institute and system of training is the result,

'for today the Lucas Tooth institute has eliminated all the monotony

'and dullness from PT, which has become a bodybuilding and wit sharpening frolic.'

But why should boys have all the wit-sharpening frolics?

This sounded like fun. The ladies wanted some too.

And so, a new fitness movement was born:

The Women's League of Health and Beauty.

Here's their smiley leader, Prunella Stack.

I needn't stress the fact that physical fitness today is a matter

of national importance and effects the life of every individual.

'5,000 members of the famous Women's League of Health and Beauty

'march into Wembley Stadium, headed by their leader,

'Lady Prunella Stack. As she takes her place, the show is on!'

This was mass fitness as a spectator sport.

Here we are at Wembley.

I'm not sure all these blokes are here for the footie.

'From every corner of Britain,

'come 2,000 girls propounding health and beauty.

'Banded together 20 years ago by Britain's first perfect woman,

'Prunella Stack, they've come to town for a special festival display.'

In the 1940s, this was the only way you could see women in their pants.

Even your wife.

'Poise and elegance,

'the poetry of motion expressed by splendid specimens of British womanhood.'

While the men were away at war,

women's fitness groups were sharing church halls

up and down the country with Dad's Army.

Everyone joins in and if you're a bit late,

you find a place wherever you fit in.

After this first limber up, there's some quiet walking

to give you time to get back control of your breath.

Some of the newcomers who have only just joined

are a bit out of condition

and this chance of a rest is very welcome.

The work of the class is adapted to the age of its members.

No-one is asked to do anything too strenuous.

When the men came back from the challenges of beating the Nazis,

the last thing they wanted was more bloody exercise.

They wanted to go down the pub

and spend the next 30 years getting unfit.

Fair dos.

One and two and three...

It was women who kept the mass fitness movement going.

In the days before the NHS, it wasn't just to stay trim,

it was to stay alive.

One and two and clap! And down.

If you couldn't afford to go to the doctor,

you'd better make sure you didn't need to.

Women of all ages were having fun.

Soon, there was nothing for men to do,

except stand around outside and patronise them.

You don't think there is a more convenient way of keeping fit?

No, I think it's a lovely hobby too.

You make friends with everybody, wonderful evenings out,

twice a week actually.

It's very nice.

'Don't you think it's a bit late to be keeping fit?'

No. I've been doing it for about 14 years.

You feel all the better for it?

I do. I never have any rheumatism or anything.

-Best of luck to you anyway.

-No aches and pains.

Men pretended to define the mysterious secrets of lady fitness.

They're trying to find out which of our muscles do the most work.

Electrodes attached to this attractive volunteer

are picking up electrical variations from her muscles.

The signals are fed through amplifiers to recording equipment.

None of these blokes are real scientists.

That's not strictly necessary.

That's fake.

Those are bus tickets.

This experiment was to determine which exercises are most effective

for tightening the tummy muscles.

The new technique can help to evaluate how much effort

a typist uses during a normal day's work,

the fatiguing effect of wearing high- heeled shoes

or the most suitable working positions

for people in business or industry.

By the time men started trying to join in,

they felt a little out of place.

This wasn't working out, this was dancing!

Phew! So, why do I come to dancercise?

Basically, because I enjoy it,

but also when you get to 40 several, as I have,

you have to keep moving,

putting your joints through their full range of movements,

keeping the stamina going and the strength.

I've joined a professionally run class

under the instruction of dancer Jackie Hands.

Reach up against it. Right, left.

Right leg up...

stretch it...hang onto it.

Tonight I am one of two men amongst 30 women.

Jackie and I both agree more men would benefit from dance.

'It is very essential for men to exercise,

'but unfortunately, in the past,

'I think dancers had the wrong image.

'Nowadays, I think it is getting to be more accepted for men to dance.

'It's meant to be a very virile thing anyway, dancing.

'Gradually, they're filtering in, now.

After an hour and a quarter of this

I really do feel I've had my workout for the week.

But the women were still running the show.

They even organised military-style rallies.

The Albert Hall sees some wonderful sights during the year,

none more wonderful than the annual rally of the Keep Fit Association,

where hundreds of ladies

squeeze themselves into pink, peppermint and puce leotards

and rehearse for the last night of the tums.

This is the Welsh contingent.

There are groups from the Midlands, the North, the West,

the East, all over the United Kingdom, cells of dedicated women

have been working up in church halls routines of astonishing precision.

Today, they bring those routines to the Albert Hall to show them off.

APPLAUSE

Beneath the nymphs and shepherd's exterior,

there is a steely dedication as if this were the military wing of the Women's Institute.

Some of them are even armed.

Altogether, 800 ladies joined this Catherine wheel at the end.

They had travelled from all over the country

and have been jumping about the Albert Hall all day and they never flagged.

I was left with a complete sense of awe.

Here was yet another thing that men just could not do.

By the 1980s, it was starting to feel more like a discotheque than a gym.

Pumping music, people shouting and blowing whistles.

It was all getting a bit too much. It was time for a change.

Maybe something a bit more mellow and bendy.

Yoga was invented many thousands of years ago in India

as a party piece by a double-jointed bloke who wanted to impress girls.

It worked a treat and eventually, it caught on.

Soon there were thousands of yogis all over the subcontinent.

Those boys were bendy.

The ladies couldn't get enough of it.

In Britain though, we didn't do "bendy".

Up until the '60s, yoga was seen as a bit weird, out there.

Something to do with snake charmers and beds of nails.

Then four lovable mop-tops from Liverpool went to India

and overnight, yoga's image was upgraded from bizarre to acceptable.

Britain gave it a go and quite liked it.

# Turn off your mind relax and float downstream

# It is not dying

# It is not dying. #

Here at last was a form of exercise that involved a lot of sitting down.

Not doing very much at all was one of yoga's core values. It was a no-brainer.

Sitting like this calms the mind,

so say those who take part in yoga exercise.

The way I feel these days decided me to look in

and see for myself what goes on with this science of self-mastery.

Edward Hain demonstrates the headstand which,

after a determined effort, he now performs perfectly.

To remain in this posture for a time tones up

the whole of the nervous system and it is said to preserve one's youth.

Oddly enough, I'm too far gone myself.

This is the locked lotus, a traditional form of meditation.

It is not easy to do, but when performed perfectly,

gives steadiness and balance.

For weight reducing, this exercise is recommended.

It also helps you to learn to stand properly.

Edward Hain recently returned from a three-month stay in India

perfecting his knowledge of yoga.

He watches an attempt at a yoga noose by one of the students.

He tells me this is good for almost anything that ails you.

So it should be!

To increase resistance to illness, this is the exercise to do.

Talk about tying oneself in knots!

But yoga exercises are scientifically thought out.

The basis is complete relaxation and calmness of mind.

Traditional country pursuits started to go out of fashion as yoga

invaded every corner of this sceptred isle.

Egyptian yoga at dawn in the Cotswolds.

Six weeks earlier, this lot were shooting partridge with a 12 bore.

A year ago, the Sufis bought Swyre Farm in Gloucestershire

and renamed it Beshara.

Since then, they have had 1,500 visitors.

Usually, people use it as a weekend retreat.

Some stay for several weeks.

Eventually, yoga went mainstream.

Somewhere in the process, it had its exotic edges knocked off.

Like a Vesta curry, it became blind and palatable

and had sultanas in.

You can tell when something is becoming

part of the fabric of British life.

It's when it's on the telly.

The great British workout had really arrived.

The national past time of Britain is, of course, fishing.

Do you know what the national past time of Great Britain is?

Fishing? Uh-uh. Football? Nope. Bingo? No.

It's what you're doing at this very minute -

sitting in front of a television set.

Are you sure it's not fishing?

Back in the 1950s, we were the fittest nation on Earth.

We'd vaulted and squatted

and star jumped our way to complete physical perfection.

We reached a point where we couldn't actually get any fitter.

Unfortunately, this coincided precisely

with the arrival of television.

Once again, like the Romans,

we all just lounged around and ate lovely cakes.

Within hours, the national waistline began to expand.

Ooh, blimey!

It wasn't long before telly realised what was going on,

joined the dots and started giving us this kind of thing.

Hello. Here are some exercises

which are very good for the health and the figure.

-PIANO PLAYS

-Relax and forward...

At first, it was all quite tame.

Using just a chair and a man,

Eileen Fowler very politely suggested we might perhaps benefit

from a little bit of a stretch.

Foot down. Now the other one up.

Again. Relax, forward,

press, press.

And again.

You're getting that double press, over the knee.

And press and press...

But eventually, the gods of television realised

that calm didn't sell.

You must be joking!

Boomph?!

Britain wanted brash, and boy, did we get it.

Stand back, it's Becker.

Everybody, come along!

Keep fit.

They can't wait to start, can you? Let's go, Edwin.

MUSIC PLAYS

Isn't it divine music? Watch.

One, two,

three, uncurl.

Push back for three.

Everybody ready.

Drop and bounce.

Phyllis, dear, you're cheating. Your knees are bent.

Drop! One, two,

three, uncurl.

Men, give us an... Arms up, Keith, lovey!

Drop!

Come on!

Tum-tums in!

Once more. Down!

Come on, Jimmy. Push!

You're not bad, you know.

That's got to be in.

Jolly good!

Don't stop.

And this is Becker being sensual and erotic.

So, if you've ever fantasised about Fanny Craddock

doing a candle dance in a swimsuit, fill your boots!

SENSUAL MUSIC PLAYS

In the early '80s, the Great British Morning changed forever.

We wanted more telly and we got more telly.

Breakfast TV arrived, thrusting its Lycra-clad crotch in our face.

Come on, Britain. Wake up!

Shape up and stretch up.

With the Green Goddess,

you could work of your breakfast as you are eating it.

And down we go. Slow.

Up and stretch...out.

Down again. Right down.

Stretch up...and out.

Now, sir, right down this time.

Well done!

And stretch...and down.

And who could forget Mr Motivator?

Or as his friends called him...

Derrick Motivator.

Hey. Good morning, gang!

-We're here having a party. Everybody say yeah.

-ALL: Yeah!

We've got the make-up crew, everybody's out here,

letting themselves go. March it up and down.

Now push up to the ceiling. Here we go. All right.

Happy birthday to our oldest viewer.

Margaret Duncan from the West End of Glasgow.

You're 106 today...

The great thing about fitness on TV

was you could sit on the sofa and watch it.

Remote in one hand, cake in the other. Brilliant!

Ooh, hang on a minute, this isn't right. Cake, telly?

Ooh, we're back where we started. Right, where's me trainers?

I'm going jogging.

You know when you're running for a bus that you'd rather get,

even though you know there'll be another one along in ten minutes,

so it's not quite worth sprinting for,

but the bus shelter gets used as a urinal,

so you don't want to hang around there if you can help it,

so you might want to keep going? Well that,

in a nutshell, is jogging.

Jogging caught on in Britain in the 1970s,

despite the drag created by excessive facial hair.

'We are here today to jog. What's that?

'Well, jogging started in New Zealand as a safe, enjoyable workout

'for all age groups.

'Then President Kennedy urged Americans to take it up.

'The Scandinavians and Germans rate it

'as important as eating or sleeping.

'But here in Britain it's just starting, as Malcolm is today.'

It looks just like running, to me, Frank.

That's exactly what it is, Malcolm. It's not the hard stuff

you'd expect from an Olympic athlete. It's very gentle.

Jogging didn't need much in the way of equipment.

It was something you could do between the pub and the chippy,

and it helped to cool down the pie you'd just bought in the bakers.

'The human frame needs careful maintaining,

'just like a high-powered machine.

'And the cult of fitness is the obsession of our age.

'It may be too far for the brain train commuters to walk to work,

'but in London's streets and parks, those who can, jog.'

'Perhaps it isn't surprising that people like Madge Sharples

'have found that the aerobic benefits of marathon running

'make them feel healthier and full of vitality.'

I started running, Judith, four years ago when I was 62.

And I'm convinced that running is the most wonderful thing in my life.

Feel fitter, feel happier, fewer infections...

No infections, I could say, and fewer colds, more energy.

What more could you want?

She'd have agreed with Edward Stanley, Earl of Derby.

He said:

Maybe what we need here is a doctor.

I joined a group of early-morning joggers from Burnham near Slough,

led by their GP, Dr Bob Green.

Since I've been jogging, I know I'm a lot fitter physically.

And mentally, I think that the whole exercise business

really makes one feel good.

As far as managing patients is concerned, I find that

I tend now to prescribe more exercise than I do tranquillisers

and I'm sure that in the long-term this is more beneficial to patients.

There's a downside to everything, of course.

And in the case of jogging, it was this song by Richard Stilgoe.

GUITAR MUSIC PLAYS

# Off for their daily fix, they go

# To the spare tyres they shout out, "no"

# We shall fight you in the beaches

# Why don't doctors go back to leeches?

# Through the Burnham trees they lark

# Listen, you can hear the bark

# Come on, Burnham, put on speed Let your doggy take the lead

# Burn 'em up, Burnham Jog, jog, jog

# Gonna show you how to walk the dog

# Burn 'em up, Burnham Where the dogs say, "please"

# Take me to a heaven where there's nothing but trees

# Take me to a heaven where there's nothing but trees. #

We're running eight, ten miles a day and training up for marathons

and now we find that the marathon distance isn't perhaps enough for us

and we're looking forward next year to perhaps

doing the London to Brighton, which is 54 miles.

Fair dos, mate. That's a long drive with the kids in the back.

You... You are driving, aren't you?

Oh, listen. You don't have to put all that effort in.

You do realise that, don't you?

There are other slightly more devious ways of doing it.

If only you could get exercised without actually doing any exercise.

Then keeping fit and getting into condition

could be a truly wonderful experience.

That's right, Chris.

You can gussy it up with minor celebs

and gaudy pants all you like but it's hard, damn it.

MUSIC: "Lazy" by X-Press 2 ft David Byrne

I've already done a day's work, I just want to sit down.

Or better still, LIE down and BE exercised, by someone else.

# I'm wicked and I'm lazy

# Oh, don't you want to save me? #

This is basically liposuction with a milking machine.

Apparently not as much fun as it looks.

POP

FURTHER POPPING

It's an extraordinary sensation.

Ow! Is that supposed to make me beautiful?

It breaks down your fat by bruising it. That's why it hurts so much.

The vibrating belt worked on the theory

that you could just wobble fat away.

It was a bit like standing on the 7:32 from Manchester Piccadilly

and had roughly the same effect on Britain's waistline.

MUSIC: "Indian Boots" by The George Winters Orchestra

ELECTRONIC MUSIC

OK, wobbling didn't do it. How about cutting out the middleman

and plugging yourself straight into the mains?

That's got to work, right?

Have you ever wanted to sing for the sheer joy of living

because you felt so fit? The trouble of course is to find time to get fit and a living too.

But here's one solution - the robot exerciser.

It's a portable apparatus weighing about four pounds

with a low-voltage battery and equipped with a pair of electric gloves and a reducing belt.

Having switched on to the kind of action required, for slimming,

exercising particular muscles or general muscular toning up,

you put on the gloves and spar gently with yourself.

In other words, wherever you land with the glove,

that part of the body reacts, without any effort on your part.

In yet other and more weighty words,

the robot exerciser does your exercises for you.

Inevitably, these were outlawed under Article Three of the Geneva Convention.

MUSIC: "The Blue Danube Waltz" by Johann Strauss II

But the best way of cheating was to get rid of gravity altogether

and for that, you needed one of these.

A spacecraft...vessel... ship...station.

Hold on, hold on. How did we end up in outer space?

This has got totally out of hand. Stop, stop!

Let's get back down to earth.

All you wanted to do was get a bit fitter.

You don't need musclemen and Lycra and milking machines.

You don't need sweatbands and pumpy bikes and that Becker woman.

You really want to get fit? It's simple.

Put that cake down.

Go on, I know you haven't finished the middle bit yet,

just put it down.

Switch that rubbish off the telly and get out of your chair.

Get a pair of these.

One of these.

And maybe even one of these.

Now open the door. That's your warm-up done. Right, are you ready?

Place one foot in front of the other.

Repeat until you're out of the house, up the road

and away from all that nonsense at the gym.

Keep going till you get somewhere beautiful.

Look at the view.

Throw a stick - the dog loves it.

This is it. You've finally found it. The Great British Workout.

UPLIFTING MUSIC

Feels fantastic, doesn't it?

DOG BARKS

And who knows? Next time, you might even break into a bit of a run.

MUSIC: "The Peanut Vendor (Latin Lounge)" by Paraffin Jack Flash

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd