Dave Allen - God's Own Comedian, BBC2, review As a young man he moved from the family home near Dublin to try his hand at journalism. When that failed to work out, he spent time as a redcoat. My own father worked with him at Skegness Butlins, where the young David Tynan O'Mahoney, as he then was, enjoyed singing Hi-Lo's songs with the holiday camp band. They met up in London after the holiday season ended and went to see a Marx Brothers film at the Classic Cinema in Baker Street. Allen was at a low point, wondering how he could really make his mark. He said he thought he would try his luck in Australia. Down Under he came up trumps, using the stage name Dave Allen. The documentary showed footage from 1963 of him on Australian TV and you can already see the confidence he had gained. When he returned to England, as a married man, he was sought-after. From 1967 to 1994 he regularly had his own shows on ITV and BBC. He would sit on a stool, cigarette in hand, sipping a drink (it was ginger ale) and delivering clever and funny monologues. His gentle voice and subtle wordplay belied controversial comedy. His shows were subversive. He mocked and offended the Catholic Church, resulting in a ban by Irish TV and death threats from the IRA. As comedian Mark Thomas pointed out, Allen was satirising Apartheid long before alternative comedians. Allen was known for two other things: ending shows with the words "goodnight, thank you and may your God go with you," and for making jokes about his missing finger. He never gave the same account of how he had lost his finger. But there was more to Allen than stand-up. He was a fine stage actor - appearing in Alan Bennett's One Fine Day - anda pioneering documentary film presenter. His series Eccentrics at Play laid ground for territory Louis Theroux would later explore. The documentary was also good at showing the man away from the camera, an erudite and loving father and husband, happy lounging about in scruffy clothes and doing some watercolours. As his wife said, Allen was both ordinary and extraordinary. When the Telegraph's Theatre Critic Charles Spencer reviewed Allen's one-man show in 1993, he wrote: "His baffled humanity, his perplexity in the face of life's mysteries and irritations, are the qualities that make him such a fine and sometimes moving comedian. He's a blaspheming atheist on the side of the angels. This programme was a worthy tribute.