Wednesday April 20
A day of talking for a living. First stop, Radio 4, to be interviewed for The Film Programme about Italian Neorealism and in particular, Roma, citta aperta , now out on DVD. It was, after too long, nice to be back on the radio arts floor of the BBC, where they also make Front Row , Saturday Review , Night Waves etc. Sitting in the tiny studio, gassing on about Roberto Rosselini knowing I'll be beautifully edited to sound knowledgeable and clever, was a rare treat.
Next stop, the Pitcher and Piano bar in Soho to be filmed, talking, for a BBC3 documentary Generation Jedi , produced by Dermot O'Leary's production company Murphia (they've all got one, you know). My job was to contextualise Star Wars politically, culturally, philosophically and personally. It sure beats working. I really liked the crew working on it - sometimes people working in TV are so young, it's hard to connect with them (thank heavens for camera operators, who are usually older than school leavers), but this lot were really on it. I think the subject matter (how Star Wars influenced our generation from the gloom of one Labour government to the disappointment of the next) is a corker. Smarter than your average clips show. Then, all talked out, I took my head home. I bought a packet of organic, gluten-free, dairy-free ginger biscuits and ate them all. It's my health freak equivalent of going on a bender.
Miriam was fired on The Apprentice . Sir Alan is such a master of drama (or at least, the producers of the programme are). He made it look for all the world like he was about to sack Paul - still my favourite to win, even though I don't like him - and then at the last second switched his sights to Miriam. 'You're fired.' Brilliant television. She even impressed him as a saleswoman on the shopping channel, but as team leader, she'd taken her eye off Paul and Tim, who allowed their male egos get in the way of the project when 'negotiating' which items to sell. I still despise Saira, but her team were the best. She lives on. Only two episodes to go now. If she wins, I'm selling my Amstrad shares.
Thursday April 21
Recorded The Day The Music Died this morning, final show of the current series. Six 'eps' (as we call them in TV and radio - it is short for 'episodes') is just about enough I think. Usual rough and tumble in the studio with producer Will making the three of us re-do every link for no reason at all other than sadism and power games and because he's got a bit of a cold coming on.  |
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Still, as it was the final show, Will paid for a curry out of the tiny programme budget to be brought into the studio when we were done. (I had chilli chicken.) If I ran a studio, I wouldn't allow takeaway food to be brought anywhere near it, especially not anything with turmeric in it.
This afternoon I filmed my second BBC3 documentary of the week, Dr Who Confidential (the obligatory 'extras' show that mixes clips and interviews to accompany the actual programme and, hey, drives viewers to the digital channels). This time it was in a really hot office in Soho. Hot because they had to turn off the air conditioning to cut out extraneous noise. I expect I will look all glisteny when the programmes go out, but at least I'll look thinner than Colin Baker. It's a funny business, being a talking head. Your job is to kind of confirm or enhance an editorial line that's already been plotted and - with luck and judgement - add something of your own on top. I think of myself as televisual grouting. It's better than working for a living, and nobody dies.
Afterwards, I dropped into a well-known high street bookshop to buy a book about insects. We're really keen to be able to identify the different kinds of ladybird.
Instead of going home after that, I hung around at 6 Music, treating the place like a hotel, until it was time to go to a bar called Ha! Ha!, where the Day The Music Died 'wrap party' was being held. (Ha! Ha!, which is always filled with merry and apposite laughter, is a chain, like all bars, and very much the default venue for BBC gatherings of not that many people.) As a non-drinker, I'm ambivalent about parties and bars and only stayed for an hour, but I did say 'Ha! Ha!' more than once - after all, I was surrounded by comedy writers and performers. My co-hosts Robin Ince and Jon Holmes were both too famous to turn up, so I didn't feel too bad leaving early. |
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