Radiograms have been around for a long time and we discerning collectors covet just a few - RGD grams with 1046 PX4 amplifiers, Beau-Decca to name but two. Sadly, the majority of radiograms, the supply of which burgeoned during the 1960s are not desirable today.
Indeed, after years of grinding austerity in the immediate post-war period, things began to change with many people having their living standards improve dramatically and consequently their disposable income was on the increase too.
Then there was the essential these ‘must-have’ there was the radio/stereogram – a stunning piece of crafted furniture housing the latest in audio and phonographic technology. A state-of-the-art radiogram, provided a focal point for any newly furnished sitting room and marked you as on the way up!
The unfortunate thing was that so many of these 60's radiograms looked like a coffin. Indeed, when the time came for my Father in Law, Sir Henry of Teddington of the Ten Ton Thames Trader fame, came to dispose of the family Ferguson RG37 the then pre-pubescent then Miss Mullard Magic climbed into the wooden carcass to support its final voyage to Stretford tip.
Alas, as they drove through Sale she arose from the depths like some svelte Bride of Dracula terrifying other motorists as they serenely glided down the road. Good job this would not happen today as I am not sure she would fit and her curlers and candlewick housecoat along with the ravages of age now provides the alternate visage of a Gorgon rather than a Lolita-esque blood sucking bride!!!!!!!!
Anyhow, I digress, back on track we need to go, as I have said, so many 60s radiograms were coffin-esque like this one: -
Even the design conscious Germans in the form of Dieter Rams working for Braun gave us this confection, colloquially referred to as Snow White's Coffin: -
We are all mindful of companies that have shocking names that may have an affect on their commercial viability, like Hallett Hoses (Halitosis) and Gen (Ital) (Genital) so imagine my ruminations when I stumbled upon this quaint advert from 1933 for British Radiogram (BRG)