The Divine Reach of Hyacinth Bucket: How Keeping Up Appearances Won Over Popes, Queens, and the World

In the pantheon of British television icons, few characters stand as imperiously—and as hilariously—as Hyacinth Bucket. For five unforgettable years, from 1990 to 1995, Keeping Up Appearances graced BBC screens with a perfect blend of class satire, cringe comedy, and the indomitable force that was Dame Patricia Routledge.

But now, three decades after the show’s final episode aired, new revelations continue to affirm what fans have long suspected: Keeping Up Appearances didn’t just win over middle-class Britain—it captivated the world. Royalty adored it. Audiences across continents devoured it. And in a twist worthy of sitcom legend, the Vatican itself may have laughed along.

Yes, you read that correctly.

A Papal Impression of Patricia

As revealed in the Channel 5 documentary Keeping Up Appearances: 30 Years of Laughs, Dame Patricia Routledge shared a rumour so bizarre it almost defies belief: that Pope Benedict XVI—head of the Catholic Church, theologian, and one of the most reserved figures in recent religious history—was a fan of the show. Not only that, but it’s said he could do an impression of Hyacinth’s most iconic line.

“There’s a rumour that Pope Benedict did an impression of Hyacinth’s telephone catchphrase,” Routledge said, chuckling. “‘Hello, this is the Bouquet residence.’”

If true, the image of Pope Benedict mimicking the Queen of Suburban Pretension in full clerical regalia is more than amusing—it’s a testament to the transcendent charm of a series built on the mundane absurdities of everyday life.

A Sitcom for Sovereigns

The Pope wasn’t alone in his appreciation. Both the Queen Mother and Queen Elizabeth II were confirmed admirers of the show, according to Routledge. For a sitcom based almost entirely on thwarted dinner parties, mistaken identity, and the delicate politics of garden barbecues, Keeping Up Appearances found its way into some of the most exclusive living rooms in the world.

“We were one of the Queen Mother’s favourite sitcoms, which was lovely, and the Queen enjoyed it, too,” Routledge added. “Hyacinth would have been flattered beyond words—and why not?”

Indeed, Hyacinth’s relentless social climbing, obsessive need for etiquette, and pathological denial of her working-class roots might have been the subject of satire, but it clearly struck a universal chord. From Buckingham Palace to the Vatican, everyone knows a Hyacinth—or, dare we say, has a little of her in themselves.

The Art of Pretending: Routledge’s Genius

To understand why Keeping Up Appearances resonated so deeply, one must examine the brilliance of Dame Patricia Routledge. Trained in Shakespeare, acclaimed on Broadway, and a Tony Award-winning vocalist, Routledge’s pedigree is steeped in dramatic excellence. Her portrayal of Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced “Bouquet,” of course) is arguably one of the greatest comedic performances ever committed to television.

What made it exceptional was its depth. Hyacinth was never a caricature, but a fully formed character—flawed, lonely, proud, and achingly human. Routledge imbued her with a tragic dignity that made the laughs feel earned and the cringes even more profound.

She could make a line as simple as “It’s my candlelight supper!” feel like a national emergency. She turned telephone greetings into iconic moments. And she managed to sing off-key—brilliantly—despite her real-life vocal mastery, having once won a Tony for her role in Darling of the Day.

That technical control is no small feat. “To sing badly well,” she once explained, “you must first know how to sing properly.” It’s this underlying sophistication—masked so perfectly by Hyacinth’s ridiculous airs—that elevates Routledge’s performance into the realm of genius.

A Global Phenomenon

Three decades on, Keeping Up Appearances remains the BBC’s most successful export. It has aired in over 60 countries, consistently winning new fans who may never have heard of a vicar’s tea or a council estate but who instinctively understand the painful comedy of social aspiration.

Channel 5’s documentary makes clear that the show’s appeal is timeless. In an era of quick cuts, streaming content, and reality television, Hyacinth’s world of doilies, Royal Doulton china, and embarrassing relatives still resonates—perhaps even more so now, in a time when the divide between public image and private truth is more visible than ever.

Her long-suffering husband Richard, played with pitch-perfect exasperation by Clive Swift, served as the beleaguered anchor to Hyacinth’s tornado of pretension. The rest of the cast—from Geoffrey Hughes’ beloved slob Onslow to the downtrodden Elizabeth and the unseen yet ever-scandalous Sheridan—created a world so finely drawn that its comedy still feels fresh.

The Legacy of Laughs—and Loss

Of course, time has marched on. Several cast members, including Swift and Hughes, have since passed, their contributions fondly remembered in retrospectives and tributes. Hughes, in particular, who played Hyacinth’s beer-guzzling, vest-wearing brother-in-law Onslow, brought a laid-back counterweight to Hyacinth’s hysteria, stealing scenes with every scratch of his belly or sarcastic quip.

Yet Routledge remains. At 96, she’s spoken candidly about her time on the show, her gratitude for its success, and her quiet retreat from the limelight in later years. She never married, and never sought fame—only good work, well done.

And Keeping Up Appearances was exactly that.

Still Making Noise in the Quietest Way

In today’s television landscape, where satire often goes broad and subtlety is a lost art, Keeping Up Appearances is a masterclass in restraint. It invites us to laugh, yes—but also to empathize. Hyacinth may have been insufferable, but she was never mean. Her world was filled with rules and rituals, not to harm others but to elevate herself—even if only in her own mind.

It’s why the show’s legacy endures. Why generations continue to quote “the Bouquet residence,” and why audiences from Manchester to Munich to the Vatican laugh at the same jokes, thirty years on.

If Pope Benedict truly did imitate Hyacinth, it only proves what we already knew: that great comedy transcends borders, languages, and even faiths.

And somewhere, we imagine Hyacinth herself would be absolutely beside herself with pride.

“Richard, did you hear that? The Pope! The Pope, Richard! I must invite him to my candlelight supper. I’ll use the Royal Doulton—with the hand-painted periwinkles, of course.”

Let me know if you’d like this adapted into a podcast script, TV documentary narration, or formatted for a digital magazine feature.