Pop Shield

In a week that has seen both a second national UK lock-down due to coopervirus, and the defeat of Ronald Flump at the polls, my main highlights have been (a) the hygiene-safe removal of an award-winning veteran comedian’s pop shield, and (b) a jolly punctuation-off with one of the most famous guitarists in rock music.It is Thursday.  I’m working in the Corporation Theatre.  We are recording a show with Mark Sheffield, a comedian who is as polite in the flesh as he is potty mouthed on the microphone. Mild mannered to a tee, on stage Mark likes to shout.

We are not generally encouraged to use popshields these days.  It’s due to the virus, not the HF loss.  As ever, audio decisions rarely govern procedure. Meanwhile, the Korrekt SM58, emblematic of stand-up comedy, is not always tolerant to the plosive nature of the genre.  Many a pub quiz has seen me sneak to the mixer while the quizmaster has nipped to the toilet to slip in a high pass filter.  Sometimes needs musts.

Confusingly, nearly everyone on this gig is called Mark.  The comedian, the theatre manager, the show balancer, and the remote sound guy in a darkened room just inside of the M25. Whose job it is to mix the laughs of 500 virtual audience members sat in their bedrooms far away in Barnyard Carterton. All watching via Room, and who have inevitably failed to follow the instruction to wear headphones.

Marc and I are working out the various aux and multitrack feeds from the desk.  Mark is trying to find a place to have Room meetings which are out of earshot of sound checking, and not breaking any social distancing rules. Gary, who is not called Mark, has finished editing the audio clips and is trying to find a spot to play ukulele in a quiet place away from the soundcheck which is not breaking distancing regulations nor interfering with Mark’s Room call.  It’s all a little like the puzzle where you have a boat, a fox, a chicken and a sack of grain.

After a while Gary comes back to the control room, strumming rhythmically and steadily G, Am, D and G over and over again.

“What are you learning, Gary?”

“Baby Shark” he replies.

“Baby Shark! You’ll never get it out of your head again!” I exclaim.

“Apparently” says Mark, “it’s the most watched MeView video ever. If you put all the global views end to end it would run for 30,000 years!”

Gary plays and I sing and do the actions. Then we get back to work.

“Mark?”  says Marc.

“Yes Marc?” replies Mark.

“Since Mark is a bellower” says Marc, “please can I have special dispensation to use a pop shield?  Pop says it’s ok if we bag it up safety afterwards.”

“Well, yes, alright.  But we don’t have a system in place.” says Mark.

“That’s ok, Mark.  We can make a system.” I offer, in my traditional way.  I like to call it a ‘can do attitude’, others possibly call it ‘downright pushy’.

“Do we have any little plastic bags around?”

“You need something like a dog poo bag” says the PC.

“We need something exactly like a dog poo bag”, I say.  “Who owns a dog?”

“I do”, says Marc.

“In which case, you’ll definitely have a dog poo bag in your coat pocket.  Don’t you, Marc?

“Yes, I do.”

Yes. We’re in business.  Literally.

It’s an enjoyable, if strange evening, watching a man perform to an empty room.

Time to derig.  “Can you ask Marc for his dog poo bag” I holler over to the vision mixer, who is standing by the door of the control room. “He’ll know what I mean”

“It’s on the Dither & Co. desk!”  comes the reply.

I grab the dog poo bag, a little over-excited, and throw it over the 58 with the dexterity of a reptile hunter capturing a wild lizard. I pull off the pop shield.  Then seal the bag with camera tape and label it MARK SHEFFIELD – 05/11/2020 and stuff it into an already full drawer underneath the printer, ready to be discovered in 2025.  It’s quite a robust system. Job done.

Meanwhile, fast forward to today.  I’m working with Mickie Junction, star of Up The Junction quiz farce fame.

The Corporation has now entered a bizarre era where programmes are held together with bits of string and sticky tape.  Well ok, personal mobile phones.  Depending on the day of the week, these may or may not be logged onto the somewhat flaky Corporation WIFI.

At the start of the show, I send a little Wassup message to a couple of celebrities to let them know that I’m going to be calling them for interview from this number.  GDPR seems a hazy memory.

I send a polite message to Sir Derek Spring.  A man who is rock royalty, a pioneering guitarist and the head champion of the Otter Preservation Society.

“Hi Derek!” I begin, wanting to keep the tone upbeat, in keeping with the Nations Favourite radio station.

“Hi Pop!” he replies.  “I’m standing by to stand by. Del”

The upbeat tone seems to be working.  But Del?  Wow.

“Perfect – thank you!” I reply.  Now that I’ve started this exclamation mark thing, I just can’t seem to stop myself.  “I’ll call you in about 5 minutes.”

“OK!!” comes the reply.  Wait, now he’s gone up to two exclamation marks!! What shall I do?  If I tone it down, he might think there’s a problem.

So naturally, I do what anyone would do in this situation. Show off about it to their immediate colleagues via Wassup.

“Use the otter emoji!” says Guy.

Nice touch, but I decide to wait until after the feature, just in case I balls it all up.  I hurriedly silence my phone notifications.  It’s not very professional sounding to have wildlife emoji Wassup notifications pinging their way through an on-air interview.

Speaking of which, Guy had a good one the other day.  He had a guest patched through to the live broadcast desk via her mobile phone and was all ready to fade her up.  Meanwhile her husband had gone outside their house and powered up their car on the drive to take the kids off to school.  The presenter threw to the guest, meanwhile the guest’s mobile phone automatically connected to her car’s handsfree kit via bluetooth, leaving the husband and the kids on air instead of herself.  Brilliant.

Another blinder recently was where the newsreader had accidentally left a PC running a backup player faded up on his desk.  Prior to the bulletin he had additionally used that same PC to check a detail on the network’s home page. Which unbeknown to him, was auto playing a delayed live feed of network.  Which as soon as he went to air was also containing, yes you guessed it – a feed of himself.  All of which resulted in utterly surreal chaos on air, featuring a man trapped in a never-ending nightmare of being announced and starting to talk, then being announced and starting to talk.  Over and over again in a never-ending loop like a right TK Turnstyle.

Thankfully, the interview with Derek does not ensure such ill fate. After Mickie’s sign off, I fade Derek out and thank him in person.  That should really be enough, but for good measure, I send ‘Del’ a little follow up message.

“Thank you for a lovely interview!!!

THREE exclamation marks.  Touche. Then I throw in an otter emoji.  Why not, let’s turn it up to 11.  He is a rock and roll guitarist after all.  The reply comes back.

“Thanks to you too!  Enjoyed it!  See you any time!!! cheers!  Del”.

I leave it there.  Always quit while you’re ahead!!!!