As the hapless Strop John Cornell was the walking definition of mateship

The ridiculous, awkward comedy of John Cornell’s much-loved fictional alter-ego Strop - the loyal sidekick to Hoges on The Paul Hogan Show - is a snapshot of the era in which it was born: Australia in the audacious, ridiculous, technicolour 1970s.

As a nation we seemed to have spent our teens watching Hogan, in impossibly short shorts, making toast with a blowtorch, and beside him the ever-loyal Strop, crooked-mouthed, wearing a purple and blue and pink lifesaver patrol cap, bumbling through life, or waking up after a particularly hard night of drinking.

Strop and Hoges on The Paul Hogan Show.Credit:Channel Nine

Strop’s now legendary solution to those hangovers? A “bomb” composed of a dash of room temperature beer, a teaspoon of salt, a teaspoon of pepper, a dash of tomato sauce, a raw egg and an oyster, stirred with a secret ingredient: a spoon dipped in Vegemite.

It was ridiculous, but it was also magnificent. And with a pantheon of characters that included injury-prone stuntman Leo Wanker, journalist George Fungus, the inept stage magician Luigi the Incredible and beer-drinking Arthur Dunger â€" about as politically incorrect as comedy could get. And still, somehow, it was sewn into the fabric of Australian cultural life. And in the process, Cornell was endeared to us all.

It is now a matter of history that in the sporting arena, and in the creation of World Series Cricket, Cornell was a giant. And behind the scenes, he was a production powerbroker. Far from the hapless bumbler he played when the cameras were rolling, Cornell was a true dealmaker, playing a key role in the transformation of Hogan from local larrikin comedian to Hollywood movie star in Crocodile Dundee.

But in truth, most of us remember Cornell for his work in front of the camera, as the gentle and lovable Strop, the walking definition of “mateship”, and a pioneer in the realm of cringe comedy that has since been made art in global hits including The Office and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Long before David Brent and Larry David there was Strop.

John Cornell and Paul Hogan in 1975.Credit:SMH Archives

Cornell found Hogan when Cornell was working as the producer of Nine’s A Current Affair, and the show was looking for a satirical take on the week’s headlines. Hogan’s “Hoges” character â€" larger than life, opinionated, unashamedly ocker â€" was an instant hit with audiences and, for a decade and a half, became a mainstay of Australian television.

On screen, Cornell’s Strop was the hapless sidekick to Hogan’s alpha male, a living take on “you too can grow muscles!” comic book ads in which a cliche weedy man lives in the shadow of his charming and more desirable mate, and who, on The Paul Hogan Show, always seemed to pay the price for Hoges’ recklessness, stupidity or both. On television, Hogan played with matches, and Cornell’s gentle fool always tried to extinguish the flames.

It helped too that Cornell fell in love with and married Australia’s sweetheart, the actor and television presenter Delvene Delaney. One of the most beautiful women ever to grace the small screen, Delaney was initially a company player in Hogan’s sketch comedies, typically found in a bikini and heels or speaking in horrific, accented strine, but later she blossomed as the star of the Nine Network medical soap The Young Doctors and later as co-host of Sale of the Century.

John Cornell and wife Delvene Delaney in 1981.Credit:SMH Archives

When the couple relocated to Byron Bay, the final touches to their postcard love story were struck. In 1980, Dele and John moved to a 48-hectare farm, bought the historic Hotel Brunswick and, later, built the Beach Hotel, and raised their three daughters, Melissa, Allira and Liana there.

This was pre-Hollywood Byron Bay, an unspoiled coastal utopia in its commercial infancy, and long before the word “compound” â€" or Byron Baes â€" was added to the regional lexicon. Some two decades before another television series SeaChange popularised the word, Dele and John took one and lived happily ever after.

And for Cornell’s own life story it was, in the end, the story of a truly Australian underdog, Strop, dimple-cheeked, awkward and shy, and at the same time inexplicably charming, who not only got the girl, but got to spend the rest of an ordinary and extraordinary life with her in paradise.

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Michael Idato is the culture editor-at-large of The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.

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