They say you should never meet your heroes. For me, a second year historian, this did not mean avoiding Hobsbawm, Thompson, or Burke, but Richard Bradley — the producer of Horrible Histories.

With his combination of wry British humour and genteel charm, it’s easy to align Bradley with that wave of now beloved comedians, journalists, and historians that emerged from Cambridge in the 1980s. Yet Bradley tells me his memories of the University are primarily “sitting in the UL with a growing sense of dread and anticipation as I was heading towards an essay crisis.”

The Trinity Hall alumnus tells me frankly that, always having started the essays too late, he "would be writing until about 3 or 4 in the morning, and then would be cycling along King’s Parade to drop them off for a one-on-one supervision, which is the most intense form of tuition you can imagine.” I tell him that I know the feeling.

But Bradley's university experience wasn’t all bad.  It was at Cambridge that Bradley met his wife at Cambridge, starting the chain of events that would eventually generate the idea for Horrible Histories: “It wasn’t until my son, who loved the books, said ‘Why don’t you do Horrible Histories for kids, Dad?’ That was when the lightbulb went on.”

Since then, the programme has won five BAFTAs, been made into a film, and featured as a Tripos question. Why does he think that — aside from Mathew Baynton and his smouldering eyeliner — the programme has been so successful?

“History is even more relevant than it has ever been for a young audience. Whether it’s thinking about how we got to where we are, be that a pandemic and thinking about the Black Death, or in the wake of BLM thinking about our involvement in enslavement, to the war in Ukraine, which is essentially all being fought over ideas of history and historical dominance.”

It’s an interesting time to be doing it and you have to tread carefully

I agree with Bradley unreservedly but I cannot help asking if the current polarised climate makes his job a little more difficult than it was when the show began ten years ago. “It’s an interesting time to be doing it and you have to tread carefully,” Bradley admits, “but we think that the audience knows we’re coming from a good place.” He adds that “at a time when there’s a lot of tough stuff in the world it’s great to be working on a comedy where you can bring real laughter and fun into kids’ lives.”

With a certain Essex Highwaymen in mind, I ask which sketch stands out in Bradley’s mind. “I’ll always have an affection for Stupid Deaths,” Bradley laughs, adding, however, that “a moment we really knew we’d got a hit on our hands was when Matt got up on the table in the banqueting hall at Hampton Court as the king who brought back partying.” The sketch, he believes, changed perceptions of the King; “At that stage, he was rather an unfashionable monarch — no one thought about Charles II or knew him.”

It’s clear from both Bradley’s enthusiasm for his career and his interest in my own studies that he is a strong defender of History and the Arts — a welcome stance given recent news of government plans to scrap such degrees at some UK universities. Indeed, I can’t help noticing something subtly anarchic about Bradley as he talks about the importance of revisionist history and creativity. While Bradley protests that he’s “not a complete revisionist” I point out the undeniable ‘naughtiness’ of Horrible Histories and its ‘alternative’ style of historical storytelling.

It is innately anti-authoritarian, slightly anarchic, rebellious in tone...it is also something we do pretty uniquely in Britain

“You’re spot on! It is innately anti-authoritarian, slightly anarchic, rebellious in tone — which we think is really appropriate for a young audience!” Bradley concedes, laughing. After reflecting for a minute, he elaborates; “We like that we can be rebellious and rude and scatological and that is also something we do in Britain pretty uniquely about our own history.”

It’s the tongue-and-cheek tone of Horrible Histories which shot the programme to fame that has also got its producer into hot water. The unique style of comedy style, which Bradley says is part of a long tradition of satire from Blackadder to Gilroy’s cartoons, does not sit as comfortably with Americans, who tell Bradley “we don’t mock our kings and queens; we venerate our presidents.” Yet Bradley believes that here, in Britain, “we venerate our kings and queens by mocking them, if that makes sense. It’s a pretty British way of looking at our past.”

The debate over how ‘British’ Horrible Histories has been in recent years has also given rise to criticism from right wing media. The Daily Mail labelled the programme as ‘anti-British’ after a sketch depicting a servant informing Queen Victoria of the real origins of her ‘British’ cup of tea was aired on Brexit Day.

No one’s got a corner on that definition of what makes us British.

Bradley tells me he was “a bit disappointed by that, because my argument is that Horrible Histories is probably the most British of things….And I also think that that song, which was about the legacy of colonialism and where we got our tea and coffee and sugar from, was not contentious at all.” The programme tries to avoid getting too politicised by sticking to the Thirty Years’ Rule but Bradley’s open-mindedness is nevertheless apparent as he concludes: “no one’s got a corner on that definition of what makes us British.”

Despite some rocky moments, Horrible Histories has now sailed its way to a tenth season, its producer going on to become an editor of the BBC History Magazine, co-Chair of the Children’s TV Council, and a board member of the World Congress of Science and Factual Producers. Such a successful man could not, however, be more down-to-earth, as he asks about my first year and when I’ll find out my exam results (the next day!). Bradley tells me he’ll keep his fingers crossed and reassures me: “Don’t tell your tutors, but they don’t matter!” You heard it here first.

It’s impossible not to smile after meeting such a modest man, who graduated with a first with distinction. His endless amusing stories — which include how his supervisor fell asleep in a supervision and how he stole away with his friends in a punt on the River Cam one night — could easily make up ten seasons of comedy sketches. Furthermore, his instruction to follow your ‘creative instincts’ is apt for all students at the moment: “Trust your instincts and don’t limit yourself, and follow your creative passions, because I think these are very exciting times….”

These pearls of wisdom are reinforced by Bradley's reassuringly paternal last words before leaving: “It looks overwhelming, but I think in that sense you’ve got a lot of choice and it’s really a case of following your instincts. You’ll be fine, just fine!”