OWNING A RESTAURANT

An extremely busy Control Room in a News Gallery.
Up pops the caption: xxx xxx, RESTAURATEUR.
Programme Editor: "Bloody Hell, the caption's wrong. Put the bloody N in NOW."
PA to Director says: "No, actually it's right."
Prog Ed: "Who the hell are you? It's wrong. Change it."
PA in quieter voice: "My husband's a restaurateur."
Prog Ed: "Get me a fxxxing dictionary."
Dictionary arrives. Prog Ed looks up entry.

Dramatic Pause.

"Fxxxing Hell, even the fxxxing dictionary's WRONG!"

UTTER TRAGEDY

An appalling story this week about a woman executive with the BBC World Service who died while swimming shortly before she was due to take early retirement at the age of 53. She was seen sitting on the beach with her head in her hands. I think this youth orientated culture needs seriously looking at. We're wasting so much talent and experience and ruining people's lives. Whether this is or is not connected I do not know. All I will say is that putting people out to grass long before their talents are fading is a shocking thing to do. There are many people I know who gave the best part of their lives to the BBC and now sit at home, bitter and twisted at the waste of their careers. Does it save money? I'm not so sure that it does. Rather a pity that the bosses years ago didn't send people home halfway through their 18-hour shifts to learn a sport or a hobby or take up training in an alternative career. Ah well, we live and learn. Great messages to send out to the young, aren't they? I'm so sorry for this person -- my thoughts and prayers go to your family. May you rest in peace.

HILTON AT THE TOP

A newsreader bites back. Three cheers for this presenter refusing to cow-tow to the celeb culture we're all expected to bow down to and respect. I suppose her family connections both give her the financial strength and the moral strength to act this way, but it's still most rare. Television news does not have the time to cover the major stories around the world. Paris Hilton may be a talking point but it's not NATIONAL NEWS. And no, I'm not harking back to the so-called good old days of the BBC when the radio newsreader would occasionally announce: "It's 3 o'clock and this is the news read by Harcourt Smythe. There is no news this afternoon. Our next bulletin is at 7 this evening. Good afternoon." Something like that. Bugger, maybe I do want those days back.

THE NEWS

Okay, I' ll admit it. Times like these are when I want to be back working in national news. Even in Westminster. What I really miss are the stories behind the stories. The gutsy goss that never sees the broadcasting light of day. Sadly, after so much time dealing with this material, the body and mind go into overdrive and I can't sleep, and walk around like a loony, desperate to start broadcasting. Is there something wrong with me? Will the doc be able to prescribe something to ease the adrenalin out of the system and return me to normal? (While we're on the subject when did adrenaliN become adrenaliNE?) It'll soon be over. Or will it? I have a feeling we're going to get an awful lot more political news as the economy starts to turn from boom to bust. On the bright side, you wanna hear about my new play.

Enough blogging

What am I widdling on about? The more I look back the more stories I recall. The bane of a writer's life - too good a memory. Ah, but is it selective?

AND I WORKED HOUR AFTER HOUR AFTER HOUR

The title says it all. Also, got a lot of proof on paper. So, beware.../

OKAY, YOU GOT IT

This is a trained BBC radio and television journalist talking about Broadcasting. It ain't all about the BBC. BE WARNED!!!

TURN TO THE BBC

Pity the Freeview won't give us Sky. So, can't report on how well they coped with the floods. There's an old saying that in times of crisis the viewers turn to the BBC. Their coverage yesterday of the floods was excellent, admittedly in the hurry to get the news on air and the huge reduction in staff, quite often the words - when live - didn't match the pictures. A reservoir about to burst its banks became an industrial wasteland. But great stuff, Beeb. Thanks. While we're on the subject of things in news not quite going right I recommend watching 24-hour news with sub-titles. The best came on Sky about a year or two ago when an armoured personnel carrier had been attacked and disabled by a "bucket". You see, even machines have their faults.

TEAMWORK

No names, no packdrill. At one of my many television employers we had an A team and a B team. We struggled to put together complete A teams, usually a reporter, sometimes a director, always a cameraperson and a sound person (most of the time). It was impossible to get an entire A team together. Fate always intervened, not that it mattered. As long as at least one person had a brain cell the end result was always broadcastable, although it might not have reached the higher standard of a full A team. But, just as the full A team never happened, this was also the case with the full B team. Then one morning I looked down the list of stories and the list of the people crewing them and gasped out loud. WE HAD A FULL B TEAM. For the first time in living memory. True to form, they did not disappoint. It was the first occasion that a crew had come back with nothing broadcastable. In later years I witnessed far more dramatic versions of the B team - unbroadcastable stories shot in the Far East and the United States. But the first B team was the best - it creased us up for days.

ROGER GONE MAD

Back in the days when Roger Finn was joint presenter of Newsround with Helen Rollason he arrived a little late for the morning conference. Afterwards he sat beside me and explained thus: "I'm only a little guy and I was coming in on the M40 when this bloke in a massive car starts honking his horn and flashing his lights. So, to protect myself, I pretended to be a weirdo. I waved my arms about, shook my head so furiously that it nearly fell off, made strange horrible faces whenever I caught a glimpse of the driver...." Go on, I said. "Then, about a minute later the car started swerving violently across the road. I pulled over, got out and checked the wheels. Guess all he wanted to tell me was that I had two flat tires."

MAD ROD GILCHRIST

Sorry Rod, I know you've got a sense of humour and you will forgive the nickname, actually it was meant as a compliment, at least from me. Rod was my boss at New Era TV, run by the Daily Mail out of a warehouse in Fulham. Times were manic as we were working for the short-lived British Satellite Broadcasting. One thing I can say is that, unlike other BSB firms I worked for, when the whole caboodle collapsed the Mail honoured its cheques. We had loads of resources and I ran an excellent news programme. We filmed the most expensive house in The Bishops Avenue, quite an eye-opener. The builders bought it for £3M and were trying to sell for £25M. I guess it's still the most expensive one in the street; massive amount of land, wonderful rooftop views of London. I'd live there, guv, honest I would. However, my stint with New Era severely damaged my happy clappy hippy memories. Unlike the Beeb, where there is a massive well-oiled system allowing programme makers to use whatever music they want with the greatest of ease, we had to do all our rights applications ourselves. One day that meant faxing Roger Waters to use some Floyd. Unfortunately, the reply came back that we could have UK rights but not World Rights. Mad Rod wanted World to sell the progs here, there and everywhere. And we didn't even have an audience! Faxing a hero, indeed. There are many more Rod stories but the reason I mention this is that some of my closest friends live in the middle of nowhere in Italy. This week they supped wine on the beach, or at least in the sun, and guess who should sit down at the next table. You're right. Great memories, generally, even though a minimum of a twelve-hour day six days a week.

CHEEKY ROSS

Jonathan Ross dead cheeky last night at the start of his show. Referred to Nick getting the sack, laid into Beeb management with a baseball bat and then sent joke invites to his "30th" birthday party. Guess that when you have a signed in blood £18 million pounds contract you can do this sort of thing. I rather warmed to him. Never met the man but I did work with one of his brothers, who was utterly charming.

BILL FROST

A terribly sad book about Cocaine from the sister of a reporter who died from the drug. Clare Campbell's OUT OF IT: HOW COCAINE ADDICTION KILLED MY BROTHER couldn't have a more explicit title. I knew the young BBC reporter when he was on the graduate trainee scheme. They sent the young reporters off around the regions. I think it was either Radio Nottingham or Radio Humberside where I met Bill. He was friendly, kind-hearted, clever and great fun. The saddest part of this story was hearing from his sister how coke had taken over his life. In those days we went out for a drink of a night. I remember talking to Bill the following morning. We were comparing hangovers and I offered him a paracetemol. 'No thanks, Paul. Don't touch drugs.' Anyway, something like that. I was most impressed. Reading his obituary left me deeply touched, particularly this one from Kevin Marsh which summed up his character superbly. Another sad death of one of my journalistic comrades; joining the long list of the people I have been proud to share part of my life with. Say no more, except stay off the coke.

WHO'S RIGHT?

I was driving back home listening to Radio 2 and the Chris Evans Show and heard Fenella Fudge read a news story about SIR-VYE-EE-KAL Cancer. Very impressed that the proper use of the word was on the BBC. Wondered, idly, how they would all laugh had I been reading the news -- I have the best male news reading radio voice in Britain -- and used the wrong pronunciation. How they would have laughed, I thought. A few hours later I am flipping through the tv channels on Freeview and hear Ben Brown on BBC News 24 refer to SIR-VICK-AL Cancer. Oh please, this is surely a simple one to get right. It sounds like a load of bollocks until you understand that if the pronunciation is clearly wrong then so might the facts be. GEDDIT? And how many times did that go out? O NO Fiona Bruce on the Beeb TV Ten Headlines said the same as Brown. I guess someone high up said this was the correct pronunciation. But why have one version for radio and another for television.

NOT NICK ROSS

Can't believe Nick Ross is being forced out of Crimewatch. One of the most talented and most decent of all broadcasters. Met him in the early 70s when he was a reporter on the World at One. A kind face in a tough journalistic environment. 'You'll do well, Paul, he told me - with a memorable surname like yours.' Well, we're not finished yet, Nick. I am so sorry to see that 23 years of commitment to such a worthy programme has to come to such a sad end. It's a double whammy to read this since it reminds me of my friendly BBC acquaintance Jill Dando. Last time I saw her was at a friend's birthday party in South London. Next, she was dead, brutally murdered on her doorstep. Sad news this morning. Hope that, unlike in the case of Moira Stuart, there is a rapid rethink in BBC Headquarters and Nick is encouraged to continue as long as he can broadcast.

NOT AS MUCH FUN AS FIONA

Walking through the biggest warehouse on Hull Docks with ten thousand baying dockers yelling" PARASITE" at the tops of their voices. Just me, in the obligatory suit and carrying the obligatory Uher tape recorder, and a reporter from the Hull Mail. As we progressed through the centre of this crowd we saw the dockers' leaders high up on a dais at the far end of the room. I climbed up the stairs and the top man, Walter Cunningham, smiling broadly, shook my hand. "They're a bit excited this morning. You don't mind, do you?" That was the second occasion I had seen the sharp difference between the leaders and the pack. And in case you're thinking the top guys were soft let me assure you they were anything but. They became the leaders by being the toughest guys on the block, and then some. Happy memories.

FIONA RICHMOND and MY VOICE

She was appearing in We Have No Pyjamas at Hull New Theatre. Fiona Richmond, who had a wonderful voice, also seemed to love the young vocal attributes of a local radio news producer, although what the hell he was doing with an entertainment story....

DURY AND DYLAN

Musicians are taking over the airwaves. Mind you, Humphrey Lyttelton's been doing this for longer than I care to remember. Great to hear him in action on the BBC. Has no one told the youth police how old he is?

RADIO VERSUS TELEVISION

Time for a wee rant. I was immersed in radio during my twenties, as that was the medium in which I was working. Before that I rarely watched television. It was only nearing my thirties, taking a Sunday lunchtime break from BBC Radio Humberside, in the pub across the road, that the country music presenter Tex Milne ( yes Tex was not the name his Mum and Dad gave him ) offered me a non-working GEC hundred-foot wide wooden box thing. I accepted, got it operational and then was able to see wonderful colour pictures as I listened to Pink Floyd. No, that's not the rant yet. On moving from radio to tv I kind of lost touch with radio. On a couple of occasions I returned to it while temporarily without a tv. Then, a few years ago I gave up television, seemingly for good ( okay, didn't last, not my choice ) but I discovered an incredibly intellectually satisfying world. One that had not suffered in the way that television has over the years. I find some of the thinking behind many television programmes weird in the extreme. They're obviously aimed at the youth market but I have yet to meet anyone in this age group who watches them. I would make a special mention for Big Brother. From my anecdotal experience the only people watching this programme are the 40-70 generation hoping for a glimpse of something shocking, who presumably don't have access to the net. While we're on the subject, how can viewers possibly identify more strongly with characters from Eastenders than the people they live and work with? They do, believe me, they do. I'll soon post my other Tex Milne story: Tex and the Weapons of Mass Destruction. No, it's got nothing to do with either The Middle East, as I believe Tony Blair would like us to say when referring to Iraq, or nukes.

MY NIGHT LIFE

How much of this long-term stuff filters through into my work - Where Did I Go Last Night? Could be quite a lot. Didn't do George Orwell any harm basing so much of 1984 on life at the BBC. Oh come on, you don't believe me? It's true. I'll find the references somewhere but got a 'orrible idea they're in a book. You remember books? Great stuff for reading but not as helpful as the net for instant research.

BOB FOX

More good material from Robert Fox, whom I first came across when he was a Radio 4 reporter covering the Hull Prison Riot and I was just a newcomer BBC Radio Humberside producer. I learnt a lot from this journalist, without him ever knowing it. The first lesson was not to share my information with him when I was going on air five minutes before him. Even sharing the same phone was a bad idea, despite the fact I arranged it. Back to the article, there's a major point here about the arming of groups opposing our enemies along with the sale of arms. It goes right back to the days of World War Two, when the US supported the Viet Minh in the war against the Japanese, in particular saving downed American pilots. Had America supported Ho Chi Minh a little bit later when he wanted to establish an American-style democracy Nam, would never have happened.

DAY ONE - TRAGEDY

The first story I ever wrote and broadcast concerned a man who had stopped to help the victims of a road accident. This Good Samaritan, married with children, was on the edge of the road when he was knocked down and killed. An awful story. Some ambitious student might one day do a thesis on the effect on young journalists continually coming across such dreadful material. I suppose that rather like young doctors we used sick humour to counter these daily tragedies. Young people also have an inbuilt feeling of immortality. I recall, while producing BBC Look East several years later, the difficulty of persuading a 22 year old to report on a university conference about ageing. He really did not see that as part of his universe and was most peeved at even having to bother with such material. I guess now his views have changed!

THE FLIXBOROUGH DISASTER

The Flixborough Disaster of 1974 and my non-role in it. Tony Cook was there, though, as was Don Truscott. I was about to join BBC Radio Nottingham. This was the weekend I travelled blissfully up through the wild lands of Yorkshire, Lincolnshire, Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire to meet a friend in Ripley and spend the Saturday night in Derby. Great fun meeting the Fransham Family of Belper. That night I'd taken Victoria home in my Skoda. Several years later, while a news producer at BBC Radio Humberside, Paul, her brother, invited me on board the ship in Hull that he was Chief Engineer for. My friggin' car broke down outside Bridlington, early hours, well soaked, and Dad, poor half-paralysed Dad, came out to rescue me. Thanks Dad, and also thanks to the couple who allowed me to use their home phone to call for help. P.S. Paul, when the radiator is overheating, it doesn't work unscrewing the cap of the radiator and driving slowly! Mind you, I nearly got home, but nearly was not near enough. In those days we did not have mobile telephones and you had to be earning a fortune to have a car radio. What great days... I guess this is the Fransham website. Hope to meet soon, folks.

ONE TO WATCH

Came across this blog the other day, thanks to the Guardian. It's most pointed and is clearly ruffling a few feathers. It used to be said that you ought to be careful who you treat while on the way up the greasy BBC pole because chances are you'll meet them on the way down. When you look at some of the programmes being put on television these days you want to weep.

THE WORLD COLLAPSES

*** Okay, just the Humberside part of it. ***
Early Saturday evening I am in the studio reading the news. Through the narrow glass panels on the control room double doors I spot the Paull Hunsley Electric Wireless Show DJ TIM JIBSON appear. Placing his music case down on the floor, he crosses his arms, leans back and smiles at me. Behind him is an eight foot by six foot map of Humberside. Somehow he's pushed it back a tad or two and it's wobbling. I continue reading the news with one eye on the map. It is now most certainly falling forward. No one in the control has noticed. I wave. Tim waves back. I haven't time to hit the 'cough button' and explain. I wave again. Tim's smile grows broader. He waves more emphatically. The map is now airborne, its top at least a couple of feet out from the wall, against which it had been lying since Humberside went on air. It's going to land on Tim's head. It won't do him any harm but I am having serious problems trying to control the laughter welling up inside my chest. Think David Jason falling through the bar hatch in Only Fools and Horses. There is nothing I can do but watch. The map lands. Tim's arms stretch out in defence. The look of shock on his face is about to send me into the serious giggles. I cut the weather short and thankfully hand back to the late afternoon DJ.