There was a time, and it wasn’t that long ago, when Christmas television was every bit as exciting as the presents under the tree. It was a family highlight of the year — something to look forward to.
And all of that excitement began with the two sacred texts of television: the Radio Times and the TV Times. As Christmas approached, they arrived at the newsagent's, heavy with festive promise, you could smell the ink on the pages when you opened them.
They were the unofficial start of Christmas in many British households.
What’s In A Name?
The Radio Times was the original British Christmas radio and television listing magazine — how could it not be? Until commercial television and radio came along, there was only the BBC.
And for a while, it was only radio.
That history and tradition lives on in the name of the magazine, Radio Times. Although, today, and for some time now, the radio has taken a backseat to the world of visual media in the magazine. ‘Television’, in whatever way it is broadcast now — over the air waves, digital, satellite, cable, online or by smartphone, rules the day.
But it began with radio. The 1940 Radio Times (image above) was all about the radio listings. In those dark, early days of the Second World War, it was the only radio entertainment that people had.
Then television arrived, slowly at first, but by the 1970s, when Christmas arrived, it gave us everything that the entertainment industry had to offer.
The 1970s Experience—Three Channels, Several Generations, One Living Room.
Christmas telly back then was different.
With only three channels — BBC1, BBC2 and a regional commercial channel (I think we had ATV) — choice was limited, but the listings had real weight. We did have our own version of ‘doom-scrolling’ the listings magazines to see what was on. You also had to buy both magazines, as each only listed their own TV schedule.
When it came to how we watched, there was no streaming, no catch-up, no play later. Until video came along, if you missed it, you missed it. Forever, or until it was repeated — probably the next Christmas. And television closed down for the evening around midnight, starting up again in the morning.
The fear of missing a favourite show was as real as running out of Quality Street or Cadbury’s Roses on Christmas Day.
Most homes only had the one television — that one source of home entertainment. There was no TV in every room, or parents saying, “Go and watch it on the internet.” There was no, “I’ll watch it on my phone in my room.”
Christmas became a battleground of television rights, and it could get ugly. There would be ongoing living-room negotiations about what would be watched. The disagreements could rival anything at the United Nations.
“There’s a good film on ATV at the same time. Let’s watch that.”
“BBC1’s got the big Christmas special. We can’t miss it.”
“We have to watch Some Mothers Do ’Ave ’Em and Blankety Blank.”
“Can we watch Top of the Pops?”
Grandad wanted The Queen’s Speech on BBC1. It had a magical ability to divide the household. Some watched it devoutly, while others used it as an opportunity to put the kettle on, wash the pots, or open a selection box of chocolate treats. It was the calm before the Christmas Day television festivities really began.
Meanwhile, Mam might have her eyes on a TV film premiere, usually something with plenty of drama and at least one actor she called “that nice man from the other thing.” or “That’s what’s-his-name. I didn’t know he was going to be in it. I like him, and he’s playing a villain.”
And then there were the kids, searching for whatever festive offering the schedulers had granted us — Basil Brush, Scooby Doo, Disney Time, or this year’s repeat of The Wizard of Oz.
But children did have one advantage, the school holidays, and Christmas morning viewing was often set aside for children’s programmes. It always included Laurel & Hardy or a children’s film. The adults would start watching from mid-afternoon.
What to do? Play with that new Christmas toy, or watch telly?
Morecambe & Wise, The Two Ronnies, A Bond Film — Christmas Royalty
Christmas Day afternoon was typically built around the big film premiere — a Bond film, or a big Hollywood hit, maybe The Sound of Music or Mary Poppins. It was usually a family favourite that the entire country would sit down to watch together. Then there was the Top of the Pops special with the hits of the year and the Christmas number one.
Evenings brought out the heavyweights of the era.
Everyone watched them. Everyone talked about it. It was a national event; viewing figures were often twenty million plus for both.
They became part of our Christmas memories: Ernie’s plays, Eric’s mischief, The Two Ronnies news round-up, song-and-dance numbers, and the celebrity cameos. And they still get repeated today, alongside Only Fools and Horses, a Carry On film, or The Great Escape.
Christmas telly was an event that was planned for, argued over, and remembered.
A Different Kind of Magic
Today, we have hundreds of channels, endless streaming services, and the ability to pause, rewind, or watch an entire box set before the turkey is carved. The choice is endless, the television version of doom-scrolling. It is a new age, and one where traditional television, and how it is delivered, is now under pressure from upstarts like YouTube and Netflix.
Today, Christmas entertainment can be every day of the year if you want it.
Back then, when something was shown on Christmas night, you felt privileged to be watching it. It was an annual event. Three channels. One living room, a country gathered around the glow of the telly.
And there was always one person in the home who was the keeper of the Christmas television magazines — a new holy text of Christmas.
And there is something else about those magazines.
The price of that wartime edition was two old pennies. The 1971 edition, with the Two Ronnies on the cover, cost ten pennies.
Yesterday, I went into my local ASDA and the latest 2025 Christmas double issue of Radio Times and the TV Times was on sale. They are both hefty and almost qualify as a book. The price today is also hefty; the Radio Times now costs £6.50.
I think I’d rather buy a book.
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