As Marshall Mcluhan predicted back in the sixties, everyone will have their fifteen minutes of fame. Indeed, with television companies breeding as fast as Kelvin McKenzie's News Bunny, it is becoming difficult not to be on TV at least once in a while.
My own experiences were, needless to say, connected with promoting the 'naughty but nice' retail sell video Better Sex - The British Way. While the greater icons promotes their books via Start the Week and Clive Anderson, I got to go on Live TV...
Funnily enough I was once on Midweek, and a pathetic mess I made of it. I was determined that however mediocre the station I would do better this time round, and decided to do some preparation. Friend and colleague Becky put me through my paces with her impression of Jeremy Paxman. 'Come on, now. This is just exploitation, isn't it? Simple exploitation of women!' 'Oh, I wouldn't say that exactly...'
Live TV sent a cab to pick Loretta (one of the girls who appeared in the video) and me up at about 9.30 in the evening. We were taken to London's newest landmark, Canary Wharf and whisked up to the 30th floor. Not being quite sure what to do, we followed another group down two floors where we found a cafeteria and a cup of coffee. I have to say, the view was quite something.
Eventually we were led upstairs to the set... Here the differences between Live TV and, say the BBC, become most apparent. The sets for the various programmes were literally scattered around the open-plan office area of the floor. So, in typical production office style, there are rows of desks with computers on them, and at either end (and in the middle) a couple of flats and a different coloured sofa from where different programmes are anchored. The news was read by a man sitting at one of the ordinary office desks (and the Researcher climbed into the News Bunny suit immediately beforehand. After briefly meeting the presenter, Helen Gibson (The show, by the way, is called the Sex Show) Loretta and I were shown to the Green Room (a small area divided from the office with partitions, featuring a moth-eaten sofa, and with some plastic cups and a bottle of warm white wine). Here there was a TV monitor so we could see the programme going on.
In this bizarre situation, I finally saw the infamous Topless Darts programme. This famed publicity stunt lasts about 5 minutes, is recorded on Bondai Beach, and features girls with very presentable breasts; these contestants cannot throw a dart to save their lives, which matters little as the camera lingers lovingly on their largest assets; it is all made watchable by an outrageous Aussie commentator. As the winning competitor leaped up and down in excitement, we heard 'allright, love. It's only frigging T-shirt, for Chrissake...'
Helen, sitting on a sofa on the right introduced a tortuously boring half hour of Tarot readings, with sad people phoning for advice and predictions. I am forced to tell you that these calls were real, we heard them coming in. Helen was visibly bored, and it was a relief when, during a newsbreak, she nipped across to a second Sofa for the Sex Show. We were now summoned down to the end of the office and fixed up with the mikes. The total number of staff running this nation-wide television station was, as far as I could see, as follows - a presenter, a cameraman, a floor manager... and presumably someone I couldn't see in control. John Birt, eat your heart out!
It was quite difficult to decide how I wanted to come across; we wanted to say that the video was funny and that it was sexy - it would be all to easy to make it sound like a piece of soft porn, or to look like a dirty old man. My line was to play it straight. 'There are all these sex-education videos about different sorts of sex, yet no-one has celebrate the unique style of English sex.' I served up a number of jokes for Helen who, having actually watched the programme, proceeded to hit for six e.g.. 'We interviewed some foreign girls in the street, and asked them about British lovers, and the results weren't all bad...' Helen 'Err, well they were, actually.., they were appalling...'
I discovered later that we were on for 9 minutes, but at the time I thought it was 3!
Just time to take off the mikes, grab our coats, back in the cab and home for 1.00am. Apart from those I asked to tape it, I have not yet met anyone who actually saw this performance. With luck it may have helped to sell about ten copies...
Next week on Channel One (Nottingham), Geoff Challinger Explains - Accountancy...