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On 20 April 2016, we lost Victoria Wood. Ten years ago. Which somehow feels like five minutes and a lifetime, depending on the day.

It still feels ridiculous to write. Not in the dramatic, “gone too soon” way people sometimes reach for, but in the practical sense. There should have been more. More work, more performances, more songs that had no right being that funny and that precise at the same time.

Because that was her thing. Precision. Disguised as effortlessness.

And if you grew up watching Victoria Wood: As Seen on TV, you were, frankly, spoilt.

Spoilt for Life (Comedically Speaking)

I didn’t realise this at the time, obviously. You don’t as a child. You just assume this is what sketch comedy is.

That it’s clever.
That it’s character-led.
That it builds worlds in minutes and makes you care about people who don’t exist.

Add French and Saunders into the mix, and that was the bar set. Quietly. Permanently. Possibly unfairly for everything that came after.

Because As Seen on TV wasn’t just sketches. It wasn’t quick gag, in and out, next one. It was mini plays. Fully realised vignettes. Characters with histories, rhythms, and very specific ways of speaking.

Nothing was throwaway. Nothing was accidental.

Every line was doing something. Every pause was doing something. Even down to the inflection. Wood was meticulous about how things were said, not just what was said. That level of control is rare. That level of payoff is even rarer.

The Characters Who Lived Among Us

And then there were the characters.

Patricia Routledge as Kitty, delivering those monologues that somehow captured the entire mood of the country while also being deeply, painfully funny.

Suzie Blake as the continuity announcer. A job that used to exist. A real person, on screen, telling you what was coming next and, in this case, quietly judging you for watching it. No voice-overs. No faceless narration. Just a woman with opinions and a raised eyebrow.

Even the one-off sketches have stuck. Julie Walters and the two soups. Entire generations can quote it and still laugh, which is usually the test. The Coronation Street parody where the cast bemoan their own storylines, which, frankly, feels more documentary than parody at times.

And then, of course, there’s Acorn Antiques.

Acorn Antiques and the Joy of Doing It Badly (Brilliantly)

A parody of soaps like Crossroads, where everything is wrong. The acting is off, the scenery is worse, and the writing is… well, let’s call it “ambitious”.

And then Wood takes it further.

Behind the Scenes of Acorn Antiques.

Meta before meta became a personality trait.

Now we’re watching actors playing actors who are playing characters. With Walters as Bo Beaumont, who plays Mrs Overall, who is somehow both incompetent and the emotional centre of the whole thing.

It should collapse under its own weight. It doesn’t. It sings.

Generosity on Screen

One of the things that stands out, looking back, is how rarely Wood made herself the centre of it all.

She could have. Easily.

Instead, she gave space. She built platforms for other performers to shine. She trusted the ensemble. Which is why those ensembles worked.

That said, she did still write, perform, and sing a song every episode.

Including The Ballad of Barry and Freda (Let’s Do It).

At which point it stops being talent and starts being showing off. But we’ll allow it.

The Long Way Round to Being Brilliant

Her career didn’t arrive fully formed.

She won her heat of New Faces in 1974, which should have been the big launch. It wasn’t. Not really. She worked. She grafted. She learned.

Later, she described that period as a training ground. Which feels about right. Necessary, but not the destination.

In 1978, she won Most Promising New Writer for her play Talent, which led to a television version starring her and Julie Walters. That partnership would become one of the most important in British comedy.

There was Wood and Walters. There were behind-the-scenes issues. It didn’t continue.

And, in a twist that feels almost annoyingly neat, that gap led to 1984.

As Seen on TV.

Household name. Finally.

The Shift, The Stretch, The Staying Power

In 1988, she did An Audience with Victoria Wood. If you know, you know. If you don’t, fix that.

She stepped away from sketch shows for a while. Touring. One-offs. Building something broader.

Then, in 1998, came dinnerladies.

And this is where I have to hold my hands up.

I have written lists. Many lists. Best of British comedy, this and that. And I have, somehow, never included dinnerladies.

That is an error. A glaring one.

Because dinnerladies is a masterclass.

Dinnerladies and the Case for Character First

Set in the canteen of HWD Components, Wood plays Bren Furlong, surrounded by a group of mainly female, mainly middle-aged characters who are ridiculous and recognisable in equal measure.

It is funny. Properly funny. High gag rate, sharp lines, constant rhythm.

But it also has weight. Sadness. Loneliness. The kind of emotional undercurrent that makes the jokes land harder.

Every character has a specific voice. A cadence. A worldview. You could identify them from a single line.

And Wood wrote it. Alone. No additional writers. No script editor. The first series. Six episodes. Written in a month.

People like to say writing is hard. It is. That’s why this is borderline offensive.

At the time, it was said she chose to end it. Later reports suggest it may have been axed. Both can be true in television, frankly.

Either way, it finished. And we are still talking about it.

Later Work and Quiet Shifts

She returned to sketch comedy with Victoria Wood with All the Trimmings in 2000.

Then an 85-date tour across the country, ending at the Royal Albert Hall. As you do.

In 2005, Acorn Antiques: The Musical opened. Many of the original cast returned. Wood didn’t reprise her role. Julie Walters stepped in for certain performances. Which is the kind of casting detail that only makes sense in this world.

Around this time, Wood shifted more into drama.

Housewife 49 (2006) earned her BAFTAs for both writing and acting. A reminder, if one was needed, that the comedy came from somewhere serious.

She later played Eric Morecambe’s mother in Eric and Ernie (2011). Again, that mix of warmth and precision.

Her final acting role was in Fungus the Bogeyman (2015).

And throughout all of this, the writing never lost its edge.

The Bit That’s Hard to Write

Victoria Wood was a comic genius. I don’t use that word lightly. It gets thrown around far too easily.

Here, it fits.

But she was also a serious, thoughtful person. And, like many women in the public eye, she carried the weight of how she was perceived.

She spoke about her struggles with food. About shame. About being labelled “podgy” and “frumpy” as if those were defining characteristics rather than lazy journalism.

In later reflections, people spoke about a “chip on her shoulder” about her weight. About never quite feeling good enough despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Which says more about the world than it does about her.

It’s infuriating. It’s exhausting. It’s depressingly familiar.

She also dealt with significant health issues. An emergency hysterectomy in 2001, which she then wrote into her tour material because, of course, she did.

In late 2015, she was diagnosed with oesophageal cancer. She told only close family.

That is not secrecy. That is privacy.

On 20 April 2016, she died.

And something shifted.

The One Time I (Sort of) Saw Her

I never saw Victoria Wood live. Which feels like a personal failing, if I’m honest.

I could have. Probably. If I’d tried harder. Found the money. Made the effort. Done that thing we all think we’ll do later.

Later ran out.

There was one moment in 2007.

Wales Millennium Centre, Cardiff. Acorn Antiques: The Musical.

Not a Saturday night. Wood wasn’t in it. Mostly a new cast.

And then, right at the end, a familiar face steps out with them.

She takes a bow.

Then she walks off, casually, gesturing to go for a drink with Ria Jones (Mrs O).

That was it. Less than a minute.

And it meant everything.

The Legacy (Whether She’d Like That Word or Not)

We talk a lot about influence.

I don’t think I realised quite how much of mine comes from her until sitting down to write this.

Character first. Always.
Let the plot follow.
Make every line count.
Trust the audience.
Be generous with your cast.
And if you’re going to be funny, be properly funny.

Not hollow. Not easy. Not just noise.

Because comedy was never meant to be frictionless.

Victoria Wood knew that.

And we’re still catching up.

What's your favourite Victoria Wood moment? What did you love that I didn't mention here (probably a lot)? Let me know by clicking here.

Recommended Watching: Becoming Victoria Wood (2026). Available on U&Gold

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