Welcome to the antiques roadshow where once again we endeavour to bring you the rare, the unique and the interesting. This week finds us in Utter Stifling where we visit the family seat of Dowager Phyllis Frobisher-Smyth here in Sourbelly Hall. This stately manor has found a unique place in antique roadshow lore as it soon became the scene of our first melee. Yes, it seems a Mr Albert Turkel took umbrage at his oriental brass dinner gong, which his grandfather claimed to have smuggled back through torpedoed infested waters during World War 1 and after being lovingly polished for the past forty years, turned out to be Taiwanese brass of such an inferior quality that our decorative arts expert questioned both Mr Turkel’s taste and his grandfather’s eyesight.
Miss Gladys Simpson was one eyewitness who declared Mr Turkel had “pitched a fit”, the likes of which she had last seen when thrown by her four year old grandson when presented with a strawberry yoghurt instead of the spiderman doughnut he had previously demanded. Mrs Turkel, who had accompanied her Albert, then said in rather ringing tones that she had had it up to here with his Burmese brass and hit him over the head with a loving cup she had also brought for evaluation.
Resounding splendidly around the high ceilinged stately home of the Dowager Phyllis Frobisher-Smyth were various comments made by Mr Turkel that may later prove to be untrue, but several people took keen interest in listening to him and not the know-it-all English Ceramic specialist specially imported from Twickenham for the day. Something vague about him not knowing a mustard pot from a chamber pot and I thought I heard an echo of ‘his filigree was good enough for anybody’, but I may have misheard.
Mr Gerald Franklin had brought in his rather eclectic collection of rabbit paraphernalia featuring Beatrix Potter and Bunnykins and the increasingly rare, hard to find Edwardian rabbit traps. He was confronted by an angry Mrs Ada Turkel in full flight and, in trying to get out of her way, fell back against a Jacobean tilt top occasional table that on this occasion decided to tilt, with the result that Mr Franklin was left dazed and confused with one rabbit trap dangling off his left ear, rather like a large Art Deco earring.
Cecelia Hallworthy, our jewellery expert from Fullofherself, remarked she had to revise her earlier valuation when the splendidly bejewelled 17th century music box, that she was quite sure was Faberge when wound with its own beautifully crafted golden key, began to play Shania Twain’s Feel Like a Woman.
Our two security men, Trevor and Louie, enjoying a bacon sandwich and, having just poured out a cup of tea from their contemporary 21st century thermos, were initially unable or unwilling to grasp the seriousness of the situation, but when several choice words that were not normally associated with our illustrious program were bandied around and Mr Turkel attempted to flee the premises, quickly joined the affray. Heading towards the China and Decorative Arts section required some delft handling by Trevor, after receiving a glancing blow from a cloisonné enamelled candle snuffer got in a superb punch bowl, Late Victorian, very late.
It wasn’t only Cupid Surprised by Athena Bathing when Mr Turkel took hold of the brass statuette to face the other security man, Louie, who attempted to fend him off with a Staffordshire dog pointing at a hare. Mr Tony Sampson, who strongly objected to his objet d’art being used in such a manner, faced them all with a three pronged attack from a set of six Georgian Sterling Silver dessert forks, but retreated when confronted by Mrs Turkel brandishing Rodin’s Victory Triumphing over Adversity.
Things quickly turned bizarre when a set of Clarice Cliff Art Deco sandwich plates were used for a purpose that I am sure the maker never intended them for, were hurled with surprising accuracy, splitting up a matching set and Mr Neville Sommerton’s bald pate.
Unfortunately, while evading the security men, Mr Turkel then backed into Mr Cyril Chumley, who had just finished assembling the bayonet optional feature after displaying his blunderbuss of major proportions to Robert Goodwood, who had only popped in to show off his bravery medals from his WW2 exploits. In his panic, he dislodged a Spanish suit of armour and tripped up a twin pair of matching pewter spittoons before being found behind an 18th century mock tortoiseshell Japanese bathing screen.
He was finally stopped by Cosgrove’s folly family jewel, a magnificent French turn of the century hatpin which a representative of the family is reputed to have defended her honour with on many distinguishing occasions, where it has been stuck in some illustrious places I’ll bet. Our expert assures us the slight bend only adds to its charm.
And the excitement did not end there when Miss Hortense Peabody, a bit of Gothic revival herself, skidded and came down rather awkwardly on a Sterling Silver fish slice, engraved with an unusual overall floral pattern that made quite a lasting impression on all who saw it. She was eventually pried off the floor by our silver expert who determined there was no harm done and that it should still fetch approximately sixty pounds at auction.
And there we must leave this Utter Stifling place where, as we speak, Helena and Honoria Lambsbottom are hotly disputing ownership now that the previously referred to grisly relic that before neither would give house room to, turned out to be an incredibly rare and valuable Buddhist Zen sacred rat’s tooth, worth in the vicinity of £5000. We’ll let you know who wins that one, but for now we say goodbye from the Antiques Roadshow.
Miss Gladys Simpson was one eyewitness who declared Mr Turkel had “pitched a fit”, the likes of which she had last seen when thrown by her four year old grandson when presented with a strawberry yoghurt instead of the spiderman doughnut he had previously demanded. Mrs Turkel, who had accompanied her Albert, then said in rather ringing tones that she had had it up to here with his Burmese brass and hit him over the head with a loving cup she had also brought for evaluation.
Resounding splendidly around the high ceilinged stately home of the Dowager Phyllis Frobisher-Smyth were various comments made by Mr Turkel that may later prove to be untrue, but several people took keen interest in listening to him and not the know-it-all English Ceramic specialist specially imported from Twickenham for the day. Something vague about him not knowing a mustard pot from a chamber pot and I thought I heard an echo of ‘his filigree was good enough for anybody’, but I may have misheard.
Mr Gerald Franklin had brought in his rather eclectic collection of rabbit paraphernalia featuring Beatrix Potter and Bunnykins and the increasingly rare, hard to find Edwardian rabbit traps. He was confronted by an angry Mrs Ada Turkel in full flight and, in trying to get out of her way, fell back against a Jacobean tilt top occasional table that on this occasion decided to tilt, with the result that Mr Franklin was left dazed and confused with one rabbit trap dangling off his left ear, rather like a large Art Deco earring.
Cecelia Hallworthy, our jewellery expert from Fullofherself, remarked she had to revise her earlier valuation when the splendidly bejewelled 17th century music box, that she was quite sure was Faberge when wound with its own beautifully crafted golden key, began to play Shania Twain’s Feel Like a Woman.
Our two security men, Trevor and Louie, enjoying a bacon sandwich and, having just poured out a cup of tea from their contemporary 21st century thermos, were initially unable or unwilling to grasp the seriousness of the situation, but when several choice words that were not normally associated with our illustrious program were bandied around and Mr Turkel attempted to flee the premises, quickly joined the affray. Heading towards the China and Decorative Arts section required some delft handling by Trevor, after receiving a glancing blow from a cloisonné enamelled candle snuffer got in a superb punch bowl, Late Victorian, very late.
It wasn’t only Cupid Surprised by Athena Bathing when Mr Turkel took hold of the brass statuette to face the other security man, Louie, who attempted to fend him off with a Staffordshire dog pointing at a hare. Mr Tony Sampson, who strongly objected to his objet d’art being used in such a manner, faced them all with a three pronged attack from a set of six Georgian Sterling Silver dessert forks, but retreated when confronted by Mrs Turkel brandishing Rodin’s Victory Triumphing over Adversity.
Things quickly turned bizarre when a set of Clarice Cliff Art Deco sandwich plates were used for a purpose that I am sure the maker never intended them for, were hurled with surprising accuracy, splitting up a matching set and Mr Neville Sommerton’s bald pate.
Unfortunately, while evading the security men, Mr Turkel then backed into Mr Cyril Chumley, who had just finished assembling the bayonet optional feature after displaying his blunderbuss of major proportions to Robert Goodwood, who had only popped in to show off his bravery medals from his WW2 exploits. In his panic, he dislodged a Spanish suit of armour and tripped up a twin pair of matching pewter spittoons before being found behind an 18th century mock tortoiseshell Japanese bathing screen.
He was finally stopped by Cosgrove’s folly family jewel, a magnificent French turn of the century hatpin which a representative of the family is reputed to have defended her honour with on many distinguishing occasions, where it has been stuck in some illustrious places I’ll bet. Our expert assures us the slight bend only adds to its charm.
And the excitement did not end there when Miss Hortense Peabody, a bit of Gothic revival herself, skidded and came down rather awkwardly on a Sterling Silver fish slice, engraved with an unusual overall floral pattern that made quite a lasting impression on all who saw it. She was eventually pried off the floor by our silver expert who determined there was no harm done and that it should still fetch approximately sixty pounds at auction.
And there we must leave this Utter Stifling place where, as we speak, Helena and Honoria Lambsbottom are hotly disputing ownership now that the previously referred to grisly relic that before neither would give house room to, turned out to be an incredibly rare and valuable Buddhist Zen sacred rat’s tooth, worth in the vicinity of £5000. We’ll let you know who wins that one, but for now we say goodbye from the Antiques Roadshow.