There Is Nothing Like A Dame: the History of the Pantomime Dame, review My name is Michael and I'm emotionally scarred by a pantomime. As a child, I got taken to Felixstowe Spa Pavilion (ah, the glamour) to see Windsor Davies and Don Estelle from It Ain't Half Hot Mum star in a Christmas show. Midway through the performance, Davies marched offstage and down the theatre aisle to do some audience participation - which mainly involved shouting sergeant-majorishly. He paused at the end of our row and drew himself up to his full height, chest puffed, nostrils flaring, gimlet eyes glaring. I had orphan Annie-esque auburn curls back then and a spotlight suddenly illuminated them. What's that you've got on your head, lovely boy? Davies barked. I burst into tears, was inconsolable and my mother had to take me home. I've never been to a panto since. So it was with mild trepidation that I approached There is Nothing Like a Dame: A History of the Pantomime Dame (BBC Four), Michael Grade's look at the peculiarly British custom of middle-aged men cross-dressing to play old battleaxes in a family-friendly festive variety show. This was a colourful romp, all slapstick, double entendres, garish frocks and false eyelashes. Amusing archive clips flew by, featuring the likes of Jack Tripp, Terry Scott, Arthur Askey, Douglas Byng, Billy Dainty and Danny LaRue. Interviewees included Richard Briers (a reluctant dame back in the Seventies), Matthew Kelly (a rather luvvie-ish one today), Berwick Kaler (a formidable figure who has played the panto dame for 33 years at York's Theatre Royal) and Gyles Brandreth, who told Grade: "You've got to have eyes that can say everything and knees that can make people laugh. If you haven't got funny knees, forget it. The panto, Grade informed us, dates back 500 years to Italian Commedia dell'arte. Here in Britain, it evolved under 18th-century impresarios John Rich and David Garrick but it wasn't until the 19th century that the dame character truly arrived, thanks to clown of renown Joseph Grimaldi. We learned how pantos incorporated product placement for tea or gin, while political satire snuck into their scripts with gags about the South Sea Bubble and General Wolfe. As Brandeth noted: "All the history of Britain is in panto." Grade retorted, "Oh no it isn't." Grade made an enthuastic guide, his eyes glittering with glee almost as much as the gold rings on his fingers. His spectacles hung round his neck on a distractingly short chain that made them look like they'd slipped off his nose. He even dragged up as a dame himself and professed to finding himself rather attractive, even though he resembled cruise-ship singing star Jane McDonald. Despite my childhood trauma at the hands of Windsor Davies, I left this lively, enlightening documentary convinced that pantos are a great British institution. Oh yes, they are.