Any Aussie who was around during the ‘70s will surely remember Norman Gunston. With his snazzy blue jacket, predilection for Milo sangas and a complete lack of shaving skills, the ‘Little Aussie Bleeder’ had audiences in hysterics and also paved the way for such modern day comics as Ali G with his way of assailing interviewees who are left not entirely sure as to whether the guy’s for real or not – often to hilarious effect.

After bagging the odd Gold Logie, having a couple of hit singles (A Salute to ABBA and Kiss Army, for example) and leaving in his wake a slew of rather bamboozled interview subjects, Norman disappeared from our screens along with the ‘70s, and his alter ego Garry McDonald went on to other projects, including the incredibly successful ABC comedy series Mother and Son with Ruth Cracknell. Come 1993, the bones of Norman were reanimated, and a new series was commissioned by Channel 7. Would his journey from the super anti-commercial environment of the ABC to a commercial channel work? Well, the on-set presence of a mini “restaurant� of a rather prominent worldwide peddler of hamburgers, who admittedly had a rather suitable name considering the show’s star, should help answer that one...

Putting aside this sickening, shameful and possibly most blatant example of television product placement ever conceived, the reborn Norman retained the hallmarks that made him so successful in his heyday. This disc ends up as an intriguing mini-cornucopia of early ‘90s pop culture, with appearances by such where-are they-now? types as Noelene and Laurie Danaher of the ABC’s rather ahead of its time reality TV show Sylvania Waters, the proto-Spice Girls wafer-thin pop of Girlfriend (complete with Norman as guest rapper), LA Law’s Corbin Bernsen and pulp author Jackie Collins. Some that have stood the test of time also appear, such as the now super-successful Anthony LaPaglia, and the always entertaining Billy Crystal. Those hoping to hear Norman’s unique singing style are certain not be disappointed, with his takes on Robert Palmer’s sleazebag anthem Simply Irresistible and Whitney Histrionic-ou-ou-ouston’s I Will Always Love You.

So did it work second time around? At times there are flashes of his original genius, however the main problem, especially with local interviewees, is that by 1993 they were all well and truly in on the gag, so results tended to be rather hit and miss. Still, if you don’t get at least a few little cacks from watching this then maybe you should just pop a couple of Aspros and stay in bed?

While most television footage of similar vintage that makes its way to DVD tends to scrub up quite magnificently, the stuff presented here isn’t exactly in the greatest nick (heehee, geddit?) Admittedly any issues here seem to be well and truly the fault of the source material, which while all shot on video tape exhibits regular examples of serious, serious aliasing and shimmer (in one prolonged scene Normans’ entire head flares away merrily), plus regular tape flaws and flickers. Generally the studio footage is of better quality than the OB stuff, with decent colour and detail marred only by the aforementioned aliasing.

As would be expected, sound comes to us in Dolby Digital stereo. It all generally sounds fine enough and is essentially what you’d expect from a telly show. Synching is fine, and really there’s not much more that can be said about it.

A few extras are tacked on to offer a bit more value, especially in light of the disappointingly rip-off length feature. Aside from the pleasantly animated menus there is a brief guarantee of excellence penned by Mr Gunston, and previews of scenes from the other two releases in this series – a typically innuendo-laden chat with Julian Clary from Volume Two, as well as hilarious footage from a Guns’n’Roses press conference from Volume Three. Once again we get some Umbrella trailers, and once again they’re the same four titles they seem to flog on most every release - Malcolm, What’s Up Tiger Lily?, The Natural History of the Chicken (which will hopefully actually become available one day) and the Secret Policeman’s Ball series. The latter offers a delightful surprise, with a 30-second commercial for the record featuring John Cleese, Peter Cook and Billy Connolly. It may be in utterly crap condition, but it’s great to see such a thing make an appearance.

By far the most intriguing extra feature here is the unedited Billy Crystal interview. At almost twenty minutes in length, and of abysmal quality video and audio-wise (which we are forewarned about), it offers an interesting insight into both the interview and post-interview editing processes, and also includes some genuinely funny stuff.

Quality and value-wise this release doesn’t exactly poo it in, but it should at the very least conjure up some fond memories for many. Now if only the ABC’s Gunston archives could be plundered...