Here's my BBC TV report of the day I was made up like a pantomime dame.
The two guys who did it are Britain's most succesful ugly sisters.
The big name star of the piece is Brian Conley.
And I'm the one in the Joanna Lumley wig.
It may lose me some credibility and I'll probably never be asked to present The World Today again, but it was fun.
Click here to watch
Friday, 12 December 2008
Friday, 29 February 2008
Animals in the UK earthquake
It's funny how animals seemed to sense the UK earthquake long before humans knew anything about it. I went to Ferry Farm to interview some animals about it. Click below for my report.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/player/nol/newsid_7260000/newsid_7267900/7267955.stm?bw=bb&mp=wm&news=1&bbcws=1
http://news.bbc.co.uk/player/nol/newsid_7260000/newsid_7267900/7267955.stm?bw=bb&mp=wm&news=1&bbcws=1
Thursday, 7 February 2008
Rik Mayall
One of my all time favourites BBC reports was when Rik Mayall took to the streets of Nottingham abusing people for being 'northern'.
He was on tour as Alan B'Stard MP in The New Statesman. As Rik he was a delight to interview, but as soon as he changed into his B'Stard outfit he completely altered his character and became this awful politician.
We wandered around the city centre and his behaviour was outrageous. If you click below you can see the piece, but it's the bits that were left on the cutting room that were really shocking. He stuck fingers up at pensioners and pretended to have sex with a community policeman. The poor copper didn't know what to do. I would have been quite shocked if I hadn't been so busy laughing.
I took out the clip where B'Stard claimed to be 'bigger than Hitler, better than Christ'. It contravened at least three BBC guidelines, but after a huddle with the producer decided it was OK to use the clip where he asks a passerby if he's on drugs.
Click to Rik
He was on tour as Alan B'Stard MP in The New Statesman. As Rik he was a delight to interview, but as soon as he changed into his B'Stard outfit he completely altered his character and became this awful politician.
We wandered around the city centre and his behaviour was outrageous. If you click below you can see the piece, but it's the bits that were left on the cutting room that were really shocking. He stuck fingers up at pensioners and pretended to have sex with a community policeman. The poor copper didn't know what to do. I would have been quite shocked if I hadn't been so busy laughing.
I took out the clip where B'Stard claimed to be 'bigger than Hitler, better than Christ'. It contravened at least three BBC guidelines, but after a huddle with the producer decided it was OK to use the clip where he asks a passerby if he's on drugs.
Click to Rik
Pancake Day
This week I learned how to make healthy pancakes, watched a pancake race and was amused by the antics of the shrovetide footballers in Ashbourne, Derbyshire.
You can see my BBC news report below.
It features the sorries pancakes you'll ever see made by staff at BBC Leicester who then tossed them during a race. My original draft script contained the phrase 'BBC staff in Leicester were a bunch of useless tossers' , but after a chat with the producer it was agreed that this line should be removed. I went for the less offensive 'flipping heck it's pancake day' as the opening piece to camera.
- click here
You can see my BBC news report below.
It features the sorries pancakes you'll ever see made by staff at BBC Leicester who then tossed them during a race. My original draft script contained the phrase 'BBC staff in Leicester were a bunch of useless tossers' , but after a chat with the producer it was agreed that this line should be removed. I went for the less offensive 'flipping heck it's pancake day' as the opening piece to camera.
- click here
Tuesday, 5 February 2008
Ray Winstone
WHO'S THE DADDY?I'm not usually one to be star struck, but when this chap came down onto the pitch at Upton Park, I had to have my picture taken with him.
Ray Winstone when he's not scaring the pants off people at the movies is a huge West Ham fan, much like myself. He has his own executive box at the ground, where my mates Angela and John stayed, when I was married at the stadium. All the boxes turn into hotel bedrooms on non-matchdays. Just in case you were worried about them sleeping on a dining table.
He came down to the pitch recently as his daughter was one of the official mascots. Club snapper Steve Bacon took this picture of us.
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Three houses, two husbands, one street
In memory of my lovely Nanna.
Sylvia Barrett of 21 Friars Way, Littleport , was remembered at a service of thanksgiving at St John’s Methodist Church on August 13th 2007.
She died on 28th July at Kings Lynn Hospital at the age of 89.
Born Sylvia Fincham in Willow Row Drove in Littleport in Cambridgeshire in 1918, she married farm labourer and later smallholder Ernie Nicholas in 1936. After the birth of their only son, Bernie, they moved into number 32, Friars Way in 1937. The street had just been built and it was to be her home for the next seventy years. Later she was to move across the road to number 5, ‘because it was a better house’.
She worked for many years at Hope Brothers as a sewing machinist, making shirts and pyjamas. When the factory was taken over by Burberry she made raincoats. She finished her working life at Gurteens in Ely, making men’s trousers. As a young woman she enjoyed swimming and playing tennis.
During the war Sylvia worked for the civil defence, answering the telephones, taking young Bernie with her, when Ernie was on Home Guard duty.
In 1952 when the King died, she went to stand at Littleport station to watch the train going by carrying his body from Sandringham back to London. On a whim she decided to go up to London for the funeral, with her friend Hannah. They left their bemused husbands Ern and Perce behind and set off on the last train to the capital. They found a spot on the funeral route and stayed out all night to claim it. ‘We stood in front of some bins, so no-one could stand behind us’. After the procession had passed they somehow managed to get into Westminster Abbey and stood at the back during the service.
She encouraged Bernie academically and she was very proud that he won a scholarship to Soham Grammar School and then studied pharmacy at college in Sunderland. Bernie’s future wife, Audrey Hodson was studying to be a teacher at training college in Saffron Walden. Every other week, Sylvia would post her a packet of biscuits, even though the post must have cost almost as much as the biscuits.
Her world was turned upside down one day in 1963. Ernie was knocked off his bicycle by a lorry and killed. Worried that he was late home, she actually found out when she heard someone in a shop say there had been an accident, and ‘a chap called Nicholas had died’. From that day on it was very important to her that her family told her personally news of any births, deaths or marriages. She didn’t want to hear about it ‘up the street’.
The focus of Sylvia’s life became her grandchildren: Kathryn, Jeremy, Melanie and Julie. When Bernie’s work took him to London she would visit every three weeks. She would make the long journey by train and tube and arrive with an enormous bag full of treats for the children. Using her sewing skills she would make fancy dress outfits for them. She couldn’t do enough for her grandchildren.
After 19 years as a widow, Sylvia remarried. She said she had her eye on Les Barrett when she was a young girl, but didn’t like his red hair. She waited for it to turn grey. Les was also widowed and they were both keen fans of snooker on the television. Les only had a black and white television and Sylvia had colour, so he would go round to watch the snooker. They married in 1982, but not before she’d written to her son and grandchildren so see if they minded.
Sylvia left number 5 and moved just up the road to number 21, where Les lived because it was at the end of the road and ‘had a view of the whole street’. It was her third and final house in Friars Way.
It was a new lease of life for her, especially as Les had a car. They loved day trips out to garden centres and especially to Long Melford in Suffolk to see Bernie and Audrey. She enjoyed coach trips. She travelled miles with Storeys coaches. Her favourites were the mystery tours, although the destination itself was rarely a mystery to her, she’d been to about every place Storeys ever visited.
She never learnt to drive, although she was responsible for Ernie failing his motorbike test the first time round. He passed every stage of the test with flying colours, but at the end the examiner told him had no option but to fail him. ‘I’m sorry Mr Nicholas’, he said ‘I saw you arrive outside the test centre with a young lady riding pillion. Learner riders aren’t allowed passengers’.
In later years with Les she regularly went on outings with the Stroke Club. Now this was more of a mystery, as neither of them had ever had a stroke. But they loved their days out with the club and were made honorary members.
She was never one to leave her Christmas shopping till the last minute. In fact it was often finished by the end of the summer. Each day trip out would involve buying small items which were then hidden away ready to be wrapped up. She would love to spend her money on her four grandchildren and later her four great-grandchildren, Christopher, Julian, Kate and Joe. Occasionally she would buy something for herself, often prompted by her good friend Nora buying one as well. ‘Nora had one, so I had one’.
Sylvia had a remarkable talent for understatement. During her widowed years she would come in from work and eat her tea off a tray. The three girls made her a tray cloth. They spent ages making it by hand and gave it to her saying, ‘We didn’t buy it Nan, we made it’.
‘Never mind’ came the reply, ‘I will like it just the same’.
When Kathryn rang to say she was pregnant with Christopher, her first great grandchild, Sylvia was obviously very happy and they chatted for a while. At the end of the call she said, ‘Is there any other news, or is that why you rang?’
At the end of every visit, grandchildren and later great grandchildren were summoned to see her. ‘I want you’, she would say. Small hands would be held out and she would put some money into it. She would then fold the small fingers over the money so it was hidden. ‘Don’t tell nobody’, she would insist.
A few years ago there was an exhibition about the Home Guard in Littleport. Sylvia was surprised to see her two husbands sitting right next to each other. She said they used to have Home Guard exercises together. One day Littleport Home Guard was meant to be launching a mock attack on Little Downham Home Guard as a practice for a possible invasion. But instead of a charge the two sets of village men just walked up to each other, shook hands and sat down for a drink.
Sylvia was very ill last year and while she was in hospital Les died. She was always a fighter though and made it back to good health, determined to attend her grandson Jeremy’s wedding.
At Sylvia’s memorial service there were readings by her great grandchildren Julian, Kate and Joe. The eulogy was given by Sister Joyce who did so much for Sylvia.
Sylvia and Les both wanted to be reunited in death with their original partners. Les was buried with his first wife, Ivy. Sylvia will have her ashes scattered with Ern’s along the River Ouse. Just before she died, she said she had already seen Ern. He was waiting for her at the ‘airport’. She sent him home, because ‘his hat was dirty’. He must have come back with a clean one, because she departed shortly afterwards to rejoin him after 44 years.
She will be remembered for her terrific sense of humour. She would love to join in the party games at Melford at Christmas time. She would sometimes laugh so much she would be crying. She will be very sadly missed this Christmas. It won’t seem right to have a tree with no presents underneath that say ‘Love Nanna’. Instead there will be a Secret Sylvia scheme, where everyone buys someone else a gift and signs it ‘Love Nanna’. For the first year the socks and toiletries will probably be put aside. Everyone will be needing the hankies.
Sylvia Barrett of 21 Friars Way, Littleport , was remembered at a service of thanksgiving at St John’s Methodist Church on August 13th 2007.
She died on 28th July at Kings Lynn Hospital at the age of 89.
Born Sylvia Fincham in Willow Row Drove in Littleport in Cambridgeshire in 1918, she married farm labourer and later smallholder Ernie Nicholas in 1936. After the birth of their only son, Bernie, they moved into number 32, Friars Way in 1937. The street had just been built and it was to be her home for the next seventy years. Later she was to move across the road to number 5, ‘because it was a better house’.
She worked for many years at Hope Brothers as a sewing machinist, making shirts and pyjamas. When the factory was taken over by Burberry she made raincoats. She finished her working life at Gurteens in Ely, making men’s trousers. As a young woman she enjoyed swimming and playing tennis.
During the war Sylvia worked for the civil defence, answering the telephones, taking young Bernie with her, when Ernie was on Home Guard duty.
In 1952 when the King died, she went to stand at Littleport station to watch the train going by carrying his body from Sandringham back to London. On a whim she decided to go up to London for the funeral, with her friend Hannah. They left their bemused husbands Ern and Perce behind and set off on the last train to the capital. They found a spot on the funeral route and stayed out all night to claim it. ‘We stood in front of some bins, so no-one could stand behind us’. After the procession had passed they somehow managed to get into Westminster Abbey and stood at the back during the service.
She encouraged Bernie academically and she was very proud that he won a scholarship to Soham Grammar School and then studied pharmacy at college in Sunderland. Bernie’s future wife, Audrey Hodson was studying to be a teacher at training college in Saffron Walden. Every other week, Sylvia would post her a packet of biscuits, even though the post must have cost almost as much as the biscuits.
Her world was turned upside down one day in 1963. Ernie was knocked off his bicycle by a lorry and killed. Worried that he was late home, she actually found out when she heard someone in a shop say there had been an accident, and ‘a chap called Nicholas had died’. From that day on it was very important to her that her family told her personally news of any births, deaths or marriages. She didn’t want to hear about it ‘up the street’.
The focus of Sylvia’s life became her grandchildren: Kathryn, Jeremy, Melanie and Julie. When Bernie’s work took him to London she would visit every three weeks. She would make the long journey by train and tube and arrive with an enormous bag full of treats for the children. Using her sewing skills she would make fancy dress outfits for them. She couldn’t do enough for her grandchildren.
After 19 years as a widow, Sylvia remarried. She said she had her eye on Les Barrett when she was a young girl, but didn’t like his red hair. She waited for it to turn grey. Les was also widowed and they were both keen fans of snooker on the television. Les only had a black and white television and Sylvia had colour, so he would go round to watch the snooker. They married in 1982, but not before she’d written to her son and grandchildren so see if they minded.
Sylvia left number 5 and moved just up the road to number 21, where Les lived because it was at the end of the road and ‘had a view of the whole street’. It was her third and final house in Friars Way.
It was a new lease of life for her, especially as Les had a car. They loved day trips out to garden centres and especially to Long Melford in Suffolk to see Bernie and Audrey. She enjoyed coach trips. She travelled miles with Storeys coaches. Her favourites were the mystery tours, although the destination itself was rarely a mystery to her, she’d been to about every place Storeys ever visited.
She never learnt to drive, although she was responsible for Ernie failing his motorbike test the first time round. He passed every stage of the test with flying colours, but at the end the examiner told him had no option but to fail him. ‘I’m sorry Mr Nicholas’, he said ‘I saw you arrive outside the test centre with a young lady riding pillion. Learner riders aren’t allowed passengers’.
In later years with Les she regularly went on outings with the Stroke Club. Now this was more of a mystery, as neither of them had ever had a stroke. But they loved their days out with the club and were made honorary members.
She was never one to leave her Christmas shopping till the last minute. In fact it was often finished by the end of the summer. Each day trip out would involve buying small items which were then hidden away ready to be wrapped up. She would love to spend her money on her four grandchildren and later her four great-grandchildren, Christopher, Julian, Kate and Joe. Occasionally she would buy something for herself, often prompted by her good friend Nora buying one as well. ‘Nora had one, so I had one’.
Sylvia had a remarkable talent for understatement. During her widowed years she would come in from work and eat her tea off a tray. The three girls made her a tray cloth. They spent ages making it by hand and gave it to her saying, ‘We didn’t buy it Nan, we made it’.
‘Never mind’ came the reply, ‘I will like it just the same’.
When Kathryn rang to say she was pregnant with Christopher, her first great grandchild, Sylvia was obviously very happy and they chatted for a while. At the end of the call she said, ‘Is there any other news, or is that why you rang?’
At the end of every visit, grandchildren and later great grandchildren were summoned to see her. ‘I want you’, she would say. Small hands would be held out and she would put some money into it. She would then fold the small fingers over the money so it was hidden. ‘Don’t tell nobody’, she would insist.
A few years ago there was an exhibition about the Home Guard in Littleport. Sylvia was surprised to see her two husbands sitting right next to each other. She said they used to have Home Guard exercises together. One day Littleport Home Guard was meant to be launching a mock attack on Little Downham Home Guard as a practice for a possible invasion. But instead of a charge the two sets of village men just walked up to each other, shook hands and sat down for a drink.
Sylvia was very ill last year and while she was in hospital Les died. She was always a fighter though and made it back to good health, determined to attend her grandson Jeremy’s wedding.
At Sylvia’s memorial service there were readings by her great grandchildren Julian, Kate and Joe. The eulogy was given by Sister Joyce who did so much for Sylvia.
Sylvia and Les both wanted to be reunited in death with their original partners. Les was buried with his first wife, Ivy. Sylvia will have her ashes scattered with Ern’s along the River Ouse. Just before she died, she said she had already seen Ern. He was waiting for her at the ‘airport’. She sent him home, because ‘his hat was dirty’. He must have come back with a clean one, because she departed shortly afterwards to rejoin him after 44 years.
She will be remembered for her terrific sense of humour. She would love to join in the party games at Melford at Christmas time. She would sometimes laugh so much she would be crying. She will be very sadly missed this Christmas. It won’t seem right to have a tree with no presents underneath that say ‘Love Nanna’. Instead there will be a Secret Sylvia scheme, where everyone buys someone else a gift and signs it ‘Love Nanna’. For the first year the socks and toiletries will probably be put aside. Everyone will be needing the hankies.
Friday, 10 August 2007
Some fins up- a shark's tale
So who'd have thought it, that shark off the coast of Cornwall turned out to be a hoax. It was taken by a doorman while on holiday in South Africa. It was a Great White alright, it just wasn't Newquay. The doorman did it for a laugh and was surprised anyone took it seriously.
You'd have thought a journalist might have checked it first before splashing it in the papers. Maybe they didn't want to make waves. And it is silly season, when any stories get in the papers. I never believed there was a Great White off Cornwall. I spent years down there on holiday as a kid and it's far too cold too swim in the water.
My suspicions were aroused when the shark experts said it was unlikely, the locals said it was very unlikely and the tourist board said it was extremely unlikely. Well they would I suppose, I've seen Jaws and the tourist officer was virtually shepherding the kids back into the shark infested water to keep the local economy (if not the boats) afloat.The only person who I saw interviewed, who seemed to think there was a Great White in Cornwall was the owner of a boat that gives shark tours of the area. Like all predators he could sense he was about to make a killing.
I spend my life interviewing people for TV and it's always worth asking yourself as you watch the news, why the person is saying what they are saying. Are they an impartial observer or should they really declare an interest. Never mind shark bites, always listen for the sound bites.
So if you are heading down to the south west with the family, you won't be needing that shark net after all. The local sharks are all basking sharks. Now that sounds like my kind of shark, doing nothing except a bit of basking.
best wishes
Jem
You'd have thought a journalist might have checked it first before splashing it in the papers. Maybe they didn't want to make waves. And it is silly season, when any stories get in the papers. I never believed there was a Great White off Cornwall. I spent years down there on holiday as a kid and it's far too cold too swim in the water.
My suspicions were aroused when the shark experts said it was unlikely, the locals said it was very unlikely and the tourist board said it was extremely unlikely. Well they would I suppose, I've seen Jaws and the tourist officer was virtually shepherding the kids back into the shark infested water to keep the local economy (if not the boats) afloat.The only person who I saw interviewed, who seemed to think there was a Great White in Cornwall was the owner of a boat that gives shark tours of the area. Like all predators he could sense he was about to make a killing.
I spend my life interviewing people for TV and it's always worth asking yourself as you watch the news, why the person is saying what they are saying. Are they an impartial observer or should they really declare an interest. Never mind shark bites, always listen for the sound bites.
So if you are heading down to the south west with the family, you won't be needing that shark net after all. The local sharks are all basking sharks. Now that sounds like my kind of shark, doing nothing except a bit of basking.
best wishes
Jem
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