Bloody hell. What did I say? All I wondered (out loud) was whether we could get Bear 'Edward' Grylls to do an urban version of his survival exploits (would have much more resonance with my core younger viewers than Edward poncing about the fucking Himalayas or wherever... more street, more cool, more edge etc)
Even worse, he then accused The Corporation of "sexing up" last night's one-off Top Gear special.
He reckons all the "jeopardy" of Clarkson, Hamster et al suffering out in the North Pole "...must have been tough to pull off... you know as well as me that you're not going to let A-list stars risk genuine life and limb like that...Besides, the cost of the insurance would be huge".
Steady on Robbie. Calm the fucking regional anger! Plus, not even on my channel mate!
What is his problem??
I checked with the ever-boyish Elaine Bedell whether Clarkson and the lads had been "at risk" from hypothermia. She laughed loudly back: "Of course not! We had St Johns Ambulance on-board, fully-trained Swedish masseurs to ensure no-one got frostbite, proper Hollywood trailers for 'the boys' to rest and recuperate in, and an emergency helicopter on standby. Why on earth do you ask?" she said stroking my leg.
I sent this email straight back to MacIver:
"I am deeply saddened by your accusations Rob. You must know how seriously we take Factuality here at The Corporation. With this in mind, perhaps it is best that you don't try and peddle Edward Grylls to us. When we 'do adventure' we do it properly, and without safety nets. Warm Regards, TVC."
Go on, scurry the fuck back off to pitching real 'fakes' over at Horseferry Road and Discovery House, you regional west-"cuntry" cider-drinking cynical old twat!