Pop Shield

It’s been an odd day to polish off a whirlwind week.  OK, so my work week is ending on a Wednesday, but that’s radio.

I’m very proud of Little Sister Radio, who had a mighty axe hovering over her head last year and she not only dodged it, but also ran off with the biggest award in radio last night. Everyone in the building was fired up about it today.  It felt like the day after an office party, everything louche and open and skew-whiff.

Awards ceremonies remind me of school prize evenings.  Take a glass of richly deserved recognition and lace it with a trace of embarrassment, a pinch of paranoia and a smattering of sour grapes.  On the whole, technical staff are not much involved in these things.  Having DJ’ed at several departmental parties I can vouch that a room full of engineers is not the most happening of places.  Imagine, if you will, of a room full of (mostly) men standing by the bar and swapping wild stories about their latest home computer network solutions.  As a group, we don’t do ‘emotional’ very well.  For this reason, I’ve spent years watching colleagues getting excitedly dressed up for the ball and then carried on with the hoovering. All very Cinderella.

The upside of this predicament is that when the stuff hits the fan it’s a mighty safe place to be.  No more so, than when I was trapped inside the eye of the media hurricane that was the crazy public outrage following a certain Rusty Claypole show I worked on.  Welcome to life in the blind spot, so close to it all, but totally invisible. Truth is, I’m very comfortable in my invisibility cloak.

Today I rise at 4am, get in my taxicab and immediately recognise the driver: it’s Paul: reliable, portly, not too chatty. But he usually drives an MPV not this Prius. I get in behind the passenger seat.  “New car?“ I ask.  “Yep, hate it, too many bells and whistles” he says.  And sure enough, around South Mimms service station he bounces off the side of a textiles lorry whilst overtaking it.  I gasp, but it’s immediately apparent that there’s nothing to worry about. A flurry of pulling over, hazard lights and two men shouting ‘mate’ at each other.  I phone to alert the Broadcast Manager, but I’ve got a buffer time in hand and we’re soon sailing through the photographer’s dream of sunrise over London.  I contemplate the so-called best part of the day and the pros and cons of being up for it.

So, I get to work.  Top Cat was not only the presenter of last night’s prestigious radio awards but winner of a top award, so I am prepared for this.  The producers on this show are very disciplined people and left the awards early to be on form for all the challenges the show presents.  Even Top Cat, who usually cuts it fine, is fifteen minutes early, although he’s looking rather crumpled.  As I come out of the big disabled toilet, he is standing outside waiting to come in to camp out and read the papers, jump on the spot, tweet, and all his other normal rituals before addressing the nation.  I receive the usual namecheck for being on “the bells, whistles, levels and faders”.  Unlike Paul the cabbie, I quite like bells and whistles.

After the show an unusually stirred but still goy-gious News Schmu comes in to apologise for the ‘Japanese’ she levelled at production during what was just an off-morning for her.  We chat about whether the awful lady in the news should go to prison or not, then I go out for an egg butty and coffee.  On my way back in, I spot the wonderful Bob The Balancing Cat sitting on his owner James’s shoulders in our very own doorway.  Always a good omen.  Meanwhile, an emotional-looking Maso Mercury has just come off air and is leaving the building.  After last night’s victory, he seems to be precisely the type of person who would appreciate being shown a performing street cat, so I point him out.

My next little job is to edit up the little pieces of ‘smoke and mirror’ belonging to the crazy imaginary radio world of host Dave Wrong.  Ron Wobbleboard comes in for an interview and plays his wobbleboard.  The interview wraps and the turns stand around discussing the various incarnations of said wobbleboard.  Next, a somewhat cheesy American singer comes in.  He has had way too much plastic surgery.  The pressure of looking at his face for fifteen minutes clearly gets to Dave.  After the singer has departed, he vents: “Creepy doesn’t cover it!”

Through the window into the next-door studio, I can see that Waylon Wine has missed his live two-way slot with Zen Hoots, confirmed by the rare sight of a member of the Wine production team sitting at the guest mic to trail the show on national radio.  At the end of this, Waylon arrives wearing a leather jacket and not his usual smart suit jacket.  Hmm, definitely a wonky day.

Finally, on the way out I bump into Adam, and we have a little debrief from Ta-Dah! which was a massively stressful but fun exercise in trumpet-blowing which I worked on last week. It already feels quite some ago.  On my way home hailstones bounce off the roof of the train as I listen back to a live show I worked on last month about the sinking of a famous boat.  It already feels like a hundred years ago, such is the variety of events that have been taking place in my radio life recently.  I think it’s time for me to switch off now.