Fuck Storyville

Enlightening breakfast meeting with Fifi at The Grill at the Dorchester, discussing at length what to do with the re-allocation of funds from Storyville.

[Personally I cannot wait for the extra cash to plow into innovative drama and spunky music entertainment with Zane Lowe]

She agrees with me that Storyville had long since ceased in its usefulness and been taken over by the predictable elitist artfilm wank brigade.

A bit like the Sheffield Documentary Festival.

I want my TV to be entertaining and fun and young. We should cater for The Kids, not a bunch of documentary obsessed rich Guardian-reading jacket&jeans-wearing white blokes... like me!

No!

Our output must be inclusive. Welcoming. Multi-dimensional. And have 360 degree scope.

So before you militant old school snore-umentary makers start picketing my office, please note that I am distributing a questionnaire through my alt-focus group community network of websites (Bebo, Myspace, Friends Reunited, FaceFluff etc), plugging mainline into what Da Kidz think.

They will have the final say.

TV QUESTIONNAIRE (please send back for your chance to win a PS3)
1) Do you know what The Corporation is? (for a bonus point have you ever heard of some 'geezer bloke' called Mark Thompson?)

2) When was the last time you saw a Storyville documentary?

3) Do you remember the name of it? (for a bonus point can you correctly spell the name of aforementioned documentary film?)

4) When was the last time you were at a 'banging' party and someone said the following: "yo, man, did you catch that great Storyville thinkpiece about karaoke singing farmers in the Ukraine last night, innit?"

5) When was the last time you ever met someone who worked in TV that watched Storyville and tried to get you to Sky Plus it (for a tenner and some free fags)?

6) Do you give a shit and prefer to download DVDs and happy slap your friends?

Once the results have been collated I will distribute them to prove once and for all that NO-ONE OUTSIDE OF TV GIVES A FUCK ABOUT STORYVILLE.

Now, where did I put my dental floss??

Richard Macer has been living in a Travelodge

Offbeat, one-off, camp documentaries hold zero interest for me these days. Especially if it involves Richard Macer sleeping on a camp bed in this ugly couple's hotel room. He's been living with them for the past 6 weeks making a film about what he calls their "heartwarming yet extraordinary" lifestyle.

Now that Todd Austin has done a runner, I suppose Macer sees me as his next port of call for his One Life-substandard documentaries.

Fuck off Macer.

Still *very* unhappy at the way he fucked up the access I'd semi-negotiated for him to go in and do an observational but fluffy series at Selfridges.

Macer won't be getting any more free rides from the Youth Channel. I suggest he goes and makes friends with Corporation rejects like Jo "happy" Clinton-Davis at ITV or Ralph Lee at Channel fucking Five.

Mexico season tender Part II

FROM: TVC01@Corporation.co.uk
TO: headgirl@silverriver.tv; s.wurtzler@target.tv; amanda_murphy@richochet.com; lauren.hennessey@walkoutthames.co.uk; sarah.walmsley@iwcscotland.com; amy@blastproductions.com; kellyf@maverick-tv.com; sarah_ramsden@cheetah.endemolglobal.inc.tv; leanne@wall2wall.com; r_wrigley@celadortv.co.uk; laura@outlineproductions.com; viv@gordongecko.com; virginia@fresh.com; lucysutcliffe@rdf.co.uk; jpilkington@monkeymagic.co.uk
BCC: Fifi01@Corporation.co.uk
SUBJECT: Mexico

Ladies,

I am exclusively inviting you and your teams to tender for a new Mexico Season I am thinking about for January08 (when it is really grey and depressing and people need to be cheered up).

I am keen to hear about your 3 F's (Fun Fabulous Fluffy) programme formats that are light, shouty, revelatory and sunny - so no 'favela slum makeover' shows please (!!!)

Is there a new hot 'n spicy Jamie Oliver that we can discover and nurture? How should My Channel tackle the world of fashion or art (think the new Frida Kahlo). What could we get Dawn Porter doing? (her take on whether Mexican men make great lovers perhaps?)

What's going on in the world of property prices over in Mexico City??

Although I am keen to explore Mexican society, I would prefer ideas that still reflected contemporary young female Britain. Think "Me & You TV" for the U-21 generation.

The deadline is 1st October.

Look forward to reading your ab fab ideas,

Love
TVC xxxx

Mexico Season Tender

FROM: TVC01@Corporation.co.uk
TO: timothy.hincks@endemolglobal.inc.tv; andrew.oconnor@objectify.com; adam.bullmore@october.com; psommers@tigertiger.com; tim.carter@2020.co.uk; tom_gutteridge@standingtall.tv; remy@amaze!me.tv; mckerrow@lovemeproductions.co.uk; bruce.goodison@feelgood.tv; roy.ackerman@diversity.com; mortimer_d@feverishmedia.com; magnustemple@fireblaze.co.uk; soldinger_m@fireflametv.com
BCC: Fifi01@Corporation.co.uk
SUBJECT: Mexico

Gentlemen,

I am exclusively inviting you and your teams to tender for a new Mexico Season I am thinking about for January08 (when it is really grey and depressing and people need to be cheered up).

Obviously I want to keep the season light, shouty, revelatory and sunny - so no 'peasants dying' films please.

Although I am keen to explore the prism of Mexican cultural life, I would prefer ideas that still reflected contemporary young Britain. Think "Me & You TV" for the U-21 generation.

The deadline is 1st October.

Look forward to reading your insatiable ideas,

TVC

Yo, big up to the TV massive!!!

"Welcome back TVC. I know it's last minute but shouldn't you be at the MOBO awards tonight to keep an eye on your channel's prestigious coverage?" Fifi said as a welcome greeting yesterday.

Fuck me, please no....

Not an evening of swaying to headache-inducing 'rhymes' and aggressive 'gangsta beatz' with all the other white Kidz.

What had I done to deserve such torture?

"Karl Warner is going, perhaps you two could use the time to Blue Sky upload about how we can attract more Me TV viewers."

Aha! An opportunity to show the little squirt who was Boss Man around here.

I called Anthony into my office, told him to drop everything and nip out to Oxford St to find me a suitably hip wardrobe for the evening that would impress the fuck out Karl Warner.

He winked at me, "Leave it to me boss, I'll pimp you up" (whatever this meant)

Three hours later, with bags under my eyes the size of Sky satellite dishes, I stumbled to the O2 Stadium in my new streetsmart gear.

I must admit, I thought I looked cool-as-fuck.

The music was deafening. I spent the evening on the exclusive Youth Channel table, sipping on half a glass of champagne and making small talk with Frank fucking Bruno.

Anthony told me that I should use this 'street sign' when saying hello to anyone black:



Everything was going well until I flashed the hello greeting to Lethal Bizzle - and he flipped out, stormed over, getting 'in my face' (as the kids call it, I believe) asking me "who the fuck" did my "whitey corporate ass" think it was?

I told him to calm down and flashed my Corporation ID badge but he just laughed and called me a "bitch muthafucka".

How rude.

That's the problem with this generation - no fucking respect for their elders!

Still, despite this little hiccup, the evening was a huge success. I thought Shaggy and Jamelia held the whole event together exceptionally well (maybe worth adding to the shortlist to front My New Friday Night Live show?)

It's also given me a cracking new idea.... seeing all the white kids 'shaking their booty' (Karl taught me this phrase tonight, do you like it?) made me realise that I should launch a new 'TOBO Awards' for 2008.

We'll get a famous black person (I'm thinking Moira Stewart and the football player Rio Ferdinand as a combo maybe?) to present the first ever TV Of Black Origin award ceremony.

Not only can I bump up my 12.5% diversity quota but it will score me HUGE brownie points with Fifi and send a noisy message to my Corporation rivals: I will not be moved.

Yeah!! I fucking love my job!! It's great being back.

My flight home from hell

You have got to be fucking kidding me?!

I rocked up at the airport to find the BA flight that Anthony had assured me would pick up from Cancun and fly directly back to LHR was in fact this:



His catastrophic flight bookings have probably cost the Corporation at least half a day of My Time (due to having to get over the jet lag, not having a 'rest spa' awaiting me at Heathrow, screaming fucking kids and goats sat RIGHT BEHIND ME.)

Check-in at Cancun was a nightmare. Queues as long as Elaine Bedell's latest expense account. Managed to get an aisle seat, but this mattered little once on board and the fucking SCREAMING KIDS STARTED.

I complained to the dumb short-sleeved-wearing air steward and stated that I was The Youngest Channel Controller in British Television History in the expectation that he would immediately upgrade me to Business.

But he just shrugged his unmanly shoulders and waltzed off, probably to stick a fucking pram in the overhead cabin.

The nightmare continued once we had taken off. The fucking children behind me carried on their crying and screaming, whilst I tried in vein to raise the volume on my iPod. But fuck all. Those expensive headphones couldn't block out the irritant noise.

Only 45 minutes into the 10 hour flight, I felt like kicking the window in. I really did. (Time I did a show about sensible, cleaver people "doing" air rage I think). Was in no mood to put up with the rude tourists returning back to England having spent their two weeks of sun in some secluded 3* all-inclusive resort eating western European food with the occasional taco thrown in and listening to La Bamba every night in the basement disco.

Finally landed, crawled through passport control and stood outside Terminal 4 looking for my car.

I waited.

And I waited.

And then I fucking waited some more.

2 minutes wasted.

Got the fucking BlackBerry out and emailed Anthony.

"Where the fuck is my fucking car to take me fucking home, you cock?"
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

I got no reply, and ended up jumping in a black cab that cost £43.75.

Someone's got a P-fucking-45 waiting on their desk tomorrow morning!

My boredom is killing me

Bored

Bored

Bored

Bored

Bored

Bored

Sigh

And über paranoid that I'm missing lots of important things back in the office...

I can't stand being so detached from the exciting hubub of the 21st century media coalface.

Texted Anthony:

"Has That Kid started work today? Do not fucking let him out of your sight. I want to know who he speaks to, what he does, and how he gets on. Hourly updates, cock, and I might bring you back a bottle of Tequila. TVC"

Thank fuck I'm going home tomorrow.

Me, Gerry and his Missing Daughter

Hola.

I have a difficult decision to make.

I've picked up an email on my BlackBerry from Danny Fenton at Zig Zag who wants an immediate answer to whether I'll commission a fast-turnaround film from him on this whole Madeleine McCann thing. I have already turned down Michaela's take on this messy affair which was tonally wrong for me, but Fenton claims to have a "killer 'in'"( Hmmm, unfortunate turn of phrase) to the whole story and promises a "definitive, exclusive and uniquely authored investigation into whether the parents killed Maddie".

Apparently, he has one of his Execs Jes Wilkins embedded with the GP parents, and reckons his testimony holds the key to whether or not the parents get prosecuted.

"We have some cracking handicam footage TVC, especially of Gerry and Jes playing tennis together. My boy got his girlfriend Brigid to film it. Terrific revelations!"

This is a typical dilemma for me: good idea from the wrong producer.

Can someone like Fenton (and his football hooligan reputation) pull off a film of this magnitude? He's hardly known for his current affairs credentials is he?!

And who the fuck is Jes Wilkins anyhow?!

Plus, according to the Mexican press, the News of the Screws have already got hold of the story, so I don't feel it is that "exclusive" enough for me.

I'm not stupid. I know what Danny Fenton's gameplan is here. He would snatch a Channel 4 or BBC1 (or even ITV) commission in a heartbeat, so why the fuck is he fishing in my digital domain?

I'm not going to be drawn into a bidding war for this project. I immediately email Fenton back and say:

"Hi Danny.

Thanks for this.

Obviously I'm interested but I will need to know an awful lot more before I can give you a proper response. I imagine Legal & Compliance at the Corporation will need to be across this too. I'm currently away, but will get back to you properly first thing next week.

TVC
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

I'm sure that will suffice for a couple of days whilst I finish topping up my tan.

My new format to save the world

Each time I step outside of the hotel compound this little fucker keeps bothering me for presents, food, cigarettes (I don't smoke) and money.

But why am I so cynical and hostile all the time? Here I am, a privileged, rich westerner - who could afford to feed him and his family for a year on a single week's wages - and yet I don't want to give him a penny.

If there's one thing I've learn't on my trip is that we really need to engage more with the economically deprived.

I am going to get that sob-umentary BAFTA winning director Brian Hill to work up "Save a Street Urchin" (BUT NO FUCKING SINGING!!) as soon as I get back to London.

I might also get that one man band-outfit Renegade to have Nicky Taylor do a special Mexican one-off called How F**king Poor Can I Get? where she has to beg a peasant family to take her in and spend a month trying to live below the Mexican poverty line eating ants, brushing her teeth in her own urine, etc just to ram home the shocking existence these happy-go-lucky folk face each day.

I think it is good that I have been moved in this way to commission programmes as a result of my week away. No different to the period when Jane Root (bless her soccer mom status now!) wanted loads of shows about home improvement because she and her hubby were doing up their house.

At least My programmes have a much bigger and altogether higher social purpose!

My food poisoning hell

Maria and her younger sister Tozi (who also works at the hotel as a chambermaid) have been at my side all evening. I have been unable to leave the confines of my bathroom. I have never, ever felt as rough as this before.

It all started at lunchtime. I had my favourite queso añejo and jalapeno enchilada with a glass of iced cherry cola at the poolside bar and 20 minutes later I was doubled up, bent over the side of the swimming pool.

(I am told by the hotel management that it took them 4 hours to clean and re-chlorinate the water afterwards.)

The next thing I knew I was in my room, on my knees, dizzy and totally out of it.

I still feel spaced out and light-headed. Think I'm having crazy dreams. Can't be certain but I think Maria has been asking me for "Two hundred American dollars please boss" for the past half an hour.

I cannot even focus. I think I've lost my glasses.

Squinting, is that Tozi I can see rummaging through my expensive leather wallet?

I am not feeling good at all. My t-shirt is still sick-stained. The smell is unbelievable.

Oh Christ, please, when will this hell come to an end??

Guess who's checked in??

Relaxing at breakfast and who should I see sauntering through the lobby in terrible 1980s dayglow yellow swimming trunks?

Dave fucking laughing boy Liddiment!


What the hell is he doing in such an impossibly trendy Hip Hotel destination as this??

I hid behind my copy of the New Yorker, and hoped to hell he didn't see me...

My sexy waitress Maria

This is a picture of Maria - one of the waitresses who works in my hotel - taken on my shithot postage stamp size 3G Sony Ericsson K950i.

She has been taking good care of me ever since I arrived and speaks perfect English. This morning as I was sat by the pool she noticed that I was reading some hardcore literature and whispered in my ear (as she poured me a glass of ice-cold cherry cola with such poise and elegance) "What are you doing later?".

Fuck.

I froze. This kind of thing has never happened to me before. I pretended not to have heard her, and tried to carry on with my Proust.

"If you wish, you may meet me later by the tennis courts. 3pm."

I looked up, threw her a faint smile and burrowed my head back in my book, before realising I had a sudden urge to take a long, ice-cold dip in the pool.

She's way out of my league

My new best friend Dave

Meet 'Sombrero Dave' (as I've nicknamed him), an American investment banker from Massachusetts. He has lots of spare cash and wants to invest in British 'New Media'.

[He was involved in NBC's $350million deal to buy Sparrowhawk Media!!]

I have hooked him up with Hincksy's email address.

'Sombrero Dave' is quite a character and oozes charm (especially when the ladies are around). He was particularly impressed by the kind of annual budget I have to play around with and has been sharing his observations on media with me over late-night Grand Margaritas (although obviously I've been sticking to cherry colas).

It is so fresh to hear ideas from people who don't work in television - and who are successful in their own right in their own country.

Don't tell anyone, but when I grow up, I'd quite like to be like Sombrero Dave.

My beach

Whilst dozing on My Beach this afternoon, I started thinking about who I want to host my exciting, fresh, spunky, spiky Friday night entertainment show.

So excited... I remember the glory days of Yoof Entertainment in the early 90s (when I was revising for my GCSEs) and my chums used to rush into school on a Monday morning gushing about The Word!

Here's my top 10 so far:

1. Fearne Cotton
2. Stephen Gately (the schedulers have told me we need a gay presence - according to the focus groups there are lots of young under-18 Pink Viewers who stay in on a Friday night to avoid getting beaten up in their provincial home towns)
3. Reggie Yates or someone else black from So Solid Crew
4. Dawn Porter (to do the obligatory OBs as a roving reporter)
5. Konnie Huq (her agent tells me she wants to 'go more adult')
6. Dave Brown from The Mighty Boosh
7. Kelly Osbourne (yo-yo dieters are 'in' right now)
8. Jamie T (he could rap the theme tune live each week)
9. Miss Dynamite
10. The girl who plays Stacey in Gavin and Stacey
11. And not forgetting Lauren Laverne - of course! (she ticks all the regional phwoar factor boxes)

That is some itchy as fuck line-up, even by my standards! And it certainly reflects the geological make-up of young faces My Channel works really hard to represent.

Or.....thinking totally outside of the box I could be REALLY bold and hire two nobodys who aren't yet famous.

Perhaps make it the first X-Factor-style Find A Face For The Youth Channel event with live auditions and SMS text voting?

Wow!!

I love the freedom I have to do proper blue-sky thinking now I'm away from my desk (seeing a proper blue sky helps a lot too).

My bedroom

Hola! This is my room in Mexico. Very fucking cool. Daisy G's hotel recommendation is totally spot on (as always). I feel right at home here. And inspired too.

F*ck the Planet

TO: Peter.Barron@Corporation.co.uk
FROM:TVC01@Corporation.co.uk
BCC: Mark Thompson
DATE: Thu, 6 Sep 2007 11:34:31 +0100
SUBJECT: Planet Relief furore

Peter, absolutely the right line to take. Well done. If Gordon Brown cannot save the planet then how on earth are we supposed to? Chat more about spiky current affairs for Da Kids when I get back.
Warm Regards,
TVC
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

TO: Fifi01@Corporation.co.uk
FROM:TVC01@Corporation.co.uk
DATE: Thu, 6 Sep 2007 11:38:11 +0100
SUBJECT: Hole in the schedule

FYI - I've consulted with the Board of Young Public Trust and the data indicates that My Viewers are looking for more environment based programming (sensitively handled - of course!) Can I talk to you about this ASAP when I get back from my holiday?
TVC
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

TO: Hincksy@Endemol.co.uk
FROM:TVC01@Corporation.co.uk
DATE: Thu, 6 Sep 2007 11:41:14 +0100
SUBJECT: Weather Porn

Hincksy,
On the plane writing last minute emails from row 32 of my fuel spewing Jumbo Jet. Can you get your lackies to work up Weather Porn Night for me A.S.A-fucking-P? Let's stick 2 fingers up to the global warming deniers and show the fuckers what a hurricane can really do!
I'll be back in a week,
TVC
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

TO: personalassistant01@Corporation.co.uk
FROM:TVC01@Corporation.co.uk
DATE: Thu, 6 Sep 2007 11:44:20 +0100
SUBJECT: Delay

Anthony,
Why the fuck hasn't the plane taken off yet? We're 10 minutes late. Get BA Customer services on the phone NOW! I want free air miles credited to me. Sort it.
Oh, and 'World Traveller' is actually fucking Economy you prick.
TVC
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

Fifi tells me to take a holiday

I'm not a happy bunny today.

Fifi called me into her study first thing and suggested that having taken Edinburgh by storm I should pencil a few weeks break in full preparation for the Autumn push.

She said that I was the only top-level executive on the 6th floor not to have taken full advantage of the handsome 45 days annual leave package, and that I would really benefit from "a recharge somewhere hot"

I hate holidays.

I haven't taken a proper holiday for years. Not because I haven't had the time, but because I don't actually like them. I can't stand being away from my work. I hate being out of the loop, not privy to what's going on with MY PROGRAMMES on MY CHANNELS.

And I get very, very bored if I'm not dealing with critical broadcasting issues.

Must say that my initial reaction was one of total suspicion. Why all of a sudden does she want to bustle me out of the building, just as I am getting totally stuck into the job?? Was I not meshing properly with the ecology of the Corporation corporate dynamic?

To make matters even worse I have NO IDEA where is hot and funky right now (Fifi wants me on a plane out of Heathrow by noon tomorrow).

Luckily Daisy G texted me to say that Playa del Carmen in Mexico was the place to go, and suggested a hot hotel that Wallpaper* covered last month. I must say it looks very funky, urban, yet by the sea...

Exactly the kind of place that someone like me should be seen holidaying in.

Why I hate small indies

Everywhere I went last week at Edinburgh I seemed to be dogged by earnest and naive 'regional' indies bosses.

Final straw today: being pitched (via email) an observational series looking at "...the tough times the Riverboat Authority has in keeping sober the thousands of canal-boat tourists that flood(!) to the West Midlands each summer..." by some fucking jumped-up lackies in Birmingham.

Contacted IT to try and block emails from outside the M25 (Surely this is a simple thing to do??).

Goodbye Moonbeam Films, Whizzkid Entertainment, Framework Television and PhartMedia.

Wake up kids, you are NEVER going to get on to My Channel. Ever.

I'm being cruel to be kind.

Because there is no fucking point to you. Not only do you waste MY time with your half-baked, poxy, regional ideas, you're really wasting your own time (and money I would have thought).

Don't get me wrong. I am always ready to listen to people like Mentorn Oxford, or RDF West. They have a track record. And a reputation. But some young unheard-of 'yocal' upstarts from the provinces?! Come on. I have a successful channel to run.

Try the fucking Community Channel, Teachers TV or failing that the highly annoying little twerp at ITV2.

Buzzspotting

Karl Warner beware!

I am going to start a brand new focus group with a difference - none of them will be familiar with UK television. In fact, none of them will have ever have watched the Youth Channel before.

Tina has promised me that for a bargain sum (under £55k) I can have my pick of her 'Buzzspotting' team who will fly across the Atlantic to "start gathering bluesky intelligence on the British youth scene" for me.

(for an extra insurance premium of £10k The Buzzspotters will even spend a few days hanging out in Camden)

Can you imagine the valuable data we will get from a bunch of sixteen year-old Americans who've never seen Sex...with Mum & Dad or Freaky Eaters before?

Who are not familiar with our love of social-realism and gritty northern cop dramas? Or the edgy comedy (Two Pints Of Lager And A Packet Of Crisps) and breaking new subversive talent like Live! Girls! Present Dogtown which prove us Brits are still way ahead when it comes to creating much-loved and long-running comedy institutions.

Who know who "that Simon Cowell guy" is (but have never heard of Simon Mayo).

Tina has promised me a '10 Point Plan to Target the Youth' which I can easily translate into several must-see itchy as fuck entertainment formats.

I will be the envy of everyone in the Corporation!!

(And maybe Andrea Wong might even start returning my calls...)

What is the point of MGEITF??

Shocked by this article in today's Broadcast magazine...

Doesn't this anonymous tit realise he'll never work in TV again if he carries on at this rate?

"Last Bank holiday weekend the most powerful people in British Broadcasting assembled in Edinburgh for their annual TV Festival, to sleep with each other, take drugs and participate in backslapping pastiches of well known TV programmes like Jim'll Fix It and Top Gear.

Why they needed to travel all the way to Edinburgh to do this is unclear.

In the most prescient festival of recent years, with scandal rocking the industry, MGEITF’s woeful inadequacies were fatefully exposed. Here was an ideal chance for us all to pick over the carcass of TV and face some uncomfortable home truths. Or at least be grilled by a tenacious audience – not a bunch of sycophantic producers too paranoid to open their mouths in case it jeopardises their next commission.

Despite Peter Barron’s best efforts to inject more journalistic purpose to proceedings (eg. News 24 studio) the festival remains lightweight, inadequate and representing all that is bad about the industry - nepotistic, socially and culturally homogeneous, blisteringly arrogant, and full of wankers.

Edinburgh TV Festival is sold as THE place to mix. Where an ambitious assistant producer can perhaps get some face time with a Commissioning Editor. Or a passionate researcher can actually tell the BBC2 controller what they'd like to see on their channel. But who are they really supposed to network when all the important people are secure over at fortress Soho House, far from the shop-floor?

Let’s cut the pretence and admit what the festival is really for: An opportunity for social climbers to self promote, ambitious freelancers to line up their next job opportunity and independent chiefs to cement relationships with their channel clients.

Why not just call it a Trade Show and be done with it?

The Guardian sponsored event feels like a very closed shop indeed, run by a a quasi-Bilderberg Group.

Here's how it works: An Executive Committee 'appoint' one of their own each year to head up the festival, session ideas are thrown around in clandestine monthly meetings by an 'advisory committee' who are made up of all the same predictable people peddling the same viewpoints, the sessions are then filled with available TV whores who agree to be involved in return for free festival passes.

So what happened this year? Were any awkward questions asked at the meticulously controlled ‘Sessions’ and ‘Masterclasses’?

Did ITV Director of Programmes Simon Shaps (resplendent in a Gary Davis medallion-man look) have to sit on a stage with Paul Watson, the (perhaps unwittingly) original architect of 'reality' television - and face an uncomfortable grilling about what really went on behind-the-scenes on Malcolm and Barbara?

Did Stephen Lambert and Martin Davidson explain exactly how THAT trailer was allowed to be used to flog A Year with the Queen all over the world?

Was Jana Bennett grilled over the inherent structural flaws of the BBC’s commissioning process?

Did Channel 4’s Hamish Mykura/ Ralph Lee or Jane Root face analysis over how Bear Grylls was allowed to fake an entire factual TV series?

Was David Frank called to defend how his brand of ‘formatted factual’ had mutated into an uncontrollable monster?

Did Michael Grade have to face the anger of young (and experienced) producers who he ignorantly blamed for TV’s current problems?

Of course not.

No-one was brave enough to stick their head above the parapet.

Except perhaps Martin Durkin from WagTV.

In a session curiously titled 'Fuck Off I'm a TV God' his was the only lone voice that dared to challenge Daisy Goodwin's preposterous claim that Grand Designs (made by privileged people for other privileged people) somehow had some higher social purpose.

Sadly, however, everyone glossed over the fact that Daisy had recently met with David Cameron's Tory Party to gain backing for a new Channel 4 traffic congestion social experiment, thereby being complicit in promoting another political agenda wrapped up as 'factual entertainment'. Why do producers of low-rent factual features suddenly have a god-complex to rival the cockiest of documentary big hitters??

A session which promised to uncover 'the guts and innards of the commissioning process' was an excuse for filmmaker Lee Kern to make a name for himself as a Louis Theroux replacement. Real insight? He wouldn’t dare.

The McTaggart was entertaining but if Paxman wants to be our moral conscience then he should start with what he does best and invite Jana Bennett on Newsnight, armed with a copy of the BBC’s budget for last financial year.

Instead of hoarding 2000 telly-types up to Edinburgh to live in a bubble for three days, perhaps we should look at News International (yes, I'm serious) and what they do with the senior editorial staff at The Sun. Bus them to Butlins at Weston Super-Mare for a long weekend to mingle with their readers.

Me? I spent my Saturday in a Fringe Festival tent until the early hours getting drunk and talking to a kid from Dundee about TV fakery.

It was the first real person I had the pleasure of meeting all weekend."

WOW!! Who is this person?? My phone rang off the hook with speculation about the author's true identity. I have my own suspicions..... step forward Andrew Newman.

(PS. Annoyed that my session or T-shirts never get a mention. Does Herring bother to do ANY press work on my media brand these days?!)

The Youth Channel +1

Sigh. Back to the media scrum this morning. Rocked up to the 6th floor to find Anthony had moved some of my office plants. Not best pleased.

My head really fucking aches. I knew I shouldn't have had that half a can of Stella on the train back to London...

Also faced with 18 Level One proposals waiting for my perusal, 12 memos from the interactive department proposing a "re-skin" of the website, and 287 emails in my inbox needing an urgent reply.

Double fucking Sigh.

Staring through the glass I could see Fifi strolling past arm-in-arm with Elaine looking very refreshed and pleased with themselves.

Locked the door and hid away to mull over my strategy for the next few months:

1) Rebrand the Youth Channel stings at great public expense (I'm sick of those claymation things anyway, aren't you?)
2) Start laying the foundations for a healthy, vibrant, shouty Youth Channel through spunky drama and entertaining factuality.
3) Launch The Youth Channel+1, my very own timeshift service allowing viewers to catchup on missed episodes of my important forthcoming commissions: Anthea Turner: Perfect Lay (sex advice series with a twist) and Life on Mars: Back on Earth (behind-the-scenes obs-umentary).

I simply must put this strategy in motion ASA-fucking-P if I am to successfully compete with my main rivals (ITV2, E4, Living) on more of a level digital footing.

Have decided to make a very public plea to Thommo at the Corporation's Controller Summit, happening next month in a spa hotel somewhere in Oxfordshire.

It's time he saw what I'm capable of.....!!!

My Edinburgh networking night of hell

Late last night, in The George, a very drunken Jonathan Stadlen (from Remy's new company) tried to bear hug me (in full view of everyone), slurring "If it wasn't for you TVC, we would still have Celebrity Big Brother to endure next year. Thanks!"

Thankfully I'm not sure anyone else heard him. Silly idiot might find he struggles to sell me any ideas over the next few months...

Got cornered by that cloying Sarfraz bloke trying to flog me a Bruce Springsteen biopic - again. Then ambushed by some TVYP 18 year-olds who insisted on quoting their favourite Little Britain catchphrases at me before demanding my business card.

Daisy G introduced me to her daughter (!?) and suddenly I felt very fucking old indeed. Thankfully, she didn't stay long, dragging the startled poor child away to some Warhol art shindig.

Running around like a bunch of girls on a hen weekend, high on alcopops, was Lisa Opie (in full Dynasty makeup) and her pathetic little gang (Leach, Barnes, Johnson). Now I know why Hincksy has dubbed them 'The Bitches of Eastwick'.

I was annoyed to see Bedell leave for Soho House without fucking inviting me (not that I would want to spend my evening with her anyway). At 1am I couldn't get a taxi for love nor money and ended up having to share a rickshaw with Ben fucking Gale, snuggling up together under a blanket.

How embarrassing.

Soho House was in full debauched merriment when we arrived. The great and the good in various stages of schmooze: Andrew O'Connor trying desperately to chat up a bored looking Camilla Lewis. Holly Pye in a revolting dress that advertised her cleavage like a slab of sirloin. Roly yawning and checking his watch every 5 minutes.

In a far corner Lygo was in deep conversation with notorious agent Perry Mansell so I tried to manoeuvre my way over to earwig.....only to be suddenly confronted by a crazy-eyed drunk curly-haired Scottish man. In a kilt. It was Hamish from IWC. He prodded me in the chest - "what's yer fecking problem I hear with scotteesh independents, eh laddie?"

I shrugged past him but he still made sure to shoulder barge me! (It fucking hurt!!)

Muriel Gray tugged his sleeve: "Leave it love, he's not worth it"

Jesus. What had I done to piss off the Mad Scotsman?? He's worse than fucking Cosgrove after a few pints!

Paranoid that things would deteriorate I stayed just another 10 minutes and slipped away.

On the way out Clive Anderson - swaying unsteadily on his feet - brushed past and spilled his red wine on my sleeve jacket. Instead of apologising he muttered "clumsy cunt" or something under his breath!!

Why is there so much needless testosterone in TV at the moment??

Glory!!

The Meet Me session was a total triumph. In a nutshell: Distinctive, clarity, purpose, evolution.

Tonally I'm v pleased with the mixed flavour ecology of it all - and I even managed a bit of flirting with Kathryn too- result! (Now I know my shows will get an easy ride from her for the next 6 months or so).

I come off the stage buzzing, pumped up and feeling energised - is this what taking drugs must feel like??

Elaine Bedell rushed up to air kiss me afterwards and said it was "quite possibly the best session of the festival so far".

But then things starting going badly wrong.

Two young college kids were standing outside the EICC with my brand new Itchy T-shirts struggling in vain to give them away to the cynical punters. All this hard work and for nothing?! I saw Richard Woolfe walk past and sneer.

[What the fuck am I supposed to do with the T-shirts now?? I texted Herring who responded "sorry, not my problem". There are currently 786 T-shirts piled up in boxes in the corner of my room.]

My "itchy" T-Shirts

Where the fuck is Alex Zane?? I turned up at The Malmaison at 7:45am and he never showed. The skinny arsed little punk is now permanently blacklisted from My Channel - no-one fucking treats me like that and gets away with it.

Not a great start to my important day. To make matters worse, I'm really unsure about this weird fucking T-shirt idea Herring has concocted.

He says I need a cutting edge viral marketing campaign to help raise the profile of my session appearance this afternoon, to "harness the potential" of the event and "seed" my 'itchy' channel message in the media subconscious.

(I barely understand 1 word in 10 when he's in full flow like this...)

"T-shirts attract eyeballs. Eyeballs attract viewers. And, presto! You're front agenda material"

As I write, a shipment of 1,000 'ironic streetwear' t-shirts are winging their way across Edinburgh to the conference centre.

Still haven't seen them yet... and starting to get very fucking nervous.

Herring even wants Kathryn to wear one in my session as she's quizzing me about the Youth Channel's shouty forthcoming Autumn schedule.

Let's hope The Dark Lord knows what he's fucking doing...

Fashion victims

Jesus wept, am I the only man alive in British Broadcasting that has a grasp of what is trendy and fashionable nowadays?

The delegates this year all look like the end result of an Oxfam closing down sale in Notting Hill.

Jane Root (in flat black strappy leather 'sneakers' and shapeless jeans) seems to have gone native with a Soccer Mum style, whilst Andrew Newman has decided that looking like a Butlins redcoat transported to 1950s Tennessee is 'in' this year.

Has everyone gone fucking mad?! Even The Smurf has ditched his trademark pinstripes and adopted The Impoverished Regional Indie disguise for the weekend.

Luckily, thanks to the ever-lovely Head Girl's last minute sartorial advice, I am dressed for understated impact in a dark blue blazer from Peter Jones and matching jeans.

I'd like to think that I look effortlessly shambolic and suitably 'down' with the delegates in a way that others are trying to emulate- but failing miserably.

And what the fuck is going on with Barron and his Martin Bell inspired attire? I almost thought he was a linecourt official from Wimbledon who had accidentally stumbled into the auditorium.

Have instructed the hotel to press my Paul Smith suit for tomorrow to be ready for a super busy day at the media coalface.

PS. During the MacTaggart James Herring texted to say "be wary of Maggie Brown- she's got an hidden agenda this weekend".

Phew, it's good to know The Dark Lord is on my side.

Stuck on a train with Dave Gravy

Huge cock-up with my train reservation to Edinburgh.

Instead of 1st class forward facing my idiot gay PA Anthony has only gone and accidentally booked me a 4-seat (with table) in cattle class...

As a result I have a very gormless, unattractive American couple in their 40s sitting opposite me, gawping at everything I do. Very unnerving. Strewn across the table is enough M&S snack food for them to survive a cold harsh winter in Belgrade.

When I whip out the Blackberry to fire off a few emails, they exchange looks as if I'd just pulled out my Little Piranha and started waving it around.

To make matters even worse, I'm sure the nauseating Dave Gravy is sitting in the next row in front of me. I can hear his grating scouse accent on the phone banging on to some lackie about "wanting more emotion from the daughter" and needing to "push fucking hard for her big breakdown moment this weekend".

I'm flabbergasted that Gravy is still up to his old tricks. Has this man not seen Channel 4's new Trust Guidelines?

To make sure The Lazy Cunt doesn't see me (and God forbid start up a conversation) I have slunk down in my seat as far as I can without slipping off.

But it's too late.

"Hi TVC! Didn't see you there! I'm going to the bar, do you fancy sharing a couple of tins of Tennants?"

I give a polite shake of the head, and flash a weak smile.

Christ. How many more hours till we get to this 'Scotland' place, please???

MGEITF Itinerary

V excited about my Edinburgh trip and looking forward to rocking up at the Conference Centre with my new Corporation posse. Yeah!

Anthony has sent through an itinerary for my weekend away. A little bit furious about the travel arrangements, but Anthony tells me that only "Thommo, Byfield, Paxman and Fifi are being flown up this year, and that the rest of you must take the train to do our bit for carbon offsetting" [whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean].

Anyway:

FRIDAY
08.00 - Depart Kings Cross (GNER First-Class + full English breakfast on board. Don't worry, you can have Kosher- I have checked)
13:00 - Arrive and check in @ The Witchery (Ref: 6e74f01. You're booked into the Guardroom)
15:00 - Late lunch with Sharon Horgan @ David Bann (best vegetarian in town!)
20:30 - Post McTaggart dinner with Barron, Fifi, Paxman et al
22:00 - Free time

SATURDAY
08:00 - Breakfast with Alex Zane @ The Malmaison re: his spunky format ideas for The Kids (Remember to listen to XFM podcast on iPod beforehand. Call Alex to confirm 07828 456899)
10:00 - Controller Session prep time @ hotel (Herring will call to give final pointers on how to manage the Q&As)
12:00 - Early lunch with Hincksy (Venue TBC) re: squash weekend in November
13:45 - Meet Kathryn Flett & Neale Simpson in the 'Blue Room 3' upstairs (ask any steward where this is)
14:00 - Controller Interview (Remember to take Coldplay music to play before you go on stage)
19:00 - Dinner with Abi Titmuss @ Martin Wishart to discuss Naughty Nurses: A Mischief Special and Being John Leslie's C**t
21:00 - Soho House party (then possibly meet Lauren Laverne 11.30pmish in Pond. She will call you to confirm)

SUNDAY
07.45 - check-out of hotel (not forgetting to sign the hotel guestbook!)
08:00 - Breakfast with Lauren Hennessy at The Caledonian re: Vernon Kay travel show idea
09.00 - 2nd Breakfast with James Herring @ The Scotsman
10:00 - 14:00 Free Time
15.20 - depart Edinburgh Waverley, arrive Kings Cross 21.48 (sorry, no first-class left, and engineering works mean you have to change at Peterborough, then get a bus to Hatfield and wait until 21.20 to get fast train into London. But at least you'll be doing your bit for the environment, and I'm proud of you for that!)

[REMEMBER: Take full credit for the success of Last Man Standing and HAVE FUN! Anthony x]

Final reminder to Kathryn Flett

FROM: TVC01@Corporation.co.uk
TO: Flett, Kathryn; Simpson, Neale
CC: personalassistant@Corporation.co.uk

Dear Kathryn and Neal,

Looking forward to our session on Saturday. Can I just reiterate some of the things we've been talking about? Feel free to call if there's anything you'd like to query.

Warm regards
TVC

PS. When can you send me the approved names of front row audience members?

BANNED LIST
1) Big Brother (or any sort of debate about the merits of "reality TV")
2) Race-related subjects (eg. Trevor Philips initiatives or internal diversity schemes etc)
3) Sex...with Mum & Dad, Help! My Dog's as Fat as Me, Touch me, I'm Karen Taylor, Conning the Conmen, or F**ck Off I'm a Hairy Woman (all misunderstood programmes which would take far too long to discuss properly)
4) Viewer trust (I am happy to talk in general terms about the challenging times we face but due to the ongoing internal investigations you will have to understand that I cannot give conclusive yes or no answers about anything)
5) The state of my relationship with Fifi and Kleiny (as reported in Ariel)

APPROVED LIST
1) My first 100 Days in office - the highs and lows
2) 'Itchy Reality' and 'Factlite' (how I originated the concepts and what the take up has been like)
3) The Young Board of Public Trust initiative - and why we need to engage with viewers in an unconventional way
4) Autumn schedule lineup (esp. noisy new comedy) and my holistic 360 degree Channel strategy
5) Anything to do with Lilly Allen and how well she fits tonally with my Bebo demographic

Lonely at the Top

Many, many years ago when I was just starting out on the road to becoming a creative maverick, my old mentor Goldberg told me: "It's surprisingly lonely when you reach the top, so don't be in any rush to get there, my boy."

Of course I scoffed at the time, but as the recent months have gone by I know EXACTLY what he meant.

Opening my inbox is like unleashing a shitstorm of personal doubt and worry (I notice last night that Fifi personally emailed Kleiny at 11:23pm to congratulate him on Tribe calling it "the best factual series currently on the Corporation").

It would be reassuring, just sometimes, to be emailed by Fifi in this way.....

(sigh)

Or for Execs and P/Ds to email and say how much they enjoyed and benefited from working for me.

It would be even more satisfying, on occasion, for my contemporaries [like fucking Higson, for example] to just admit ONCE IN A FUCKING WHILE that my shows consistently deliver noisy appointment-to-view itchy as fuck grenades that punch through the schedule!!

In my melancholic state, I called Peeptoe Jo into my office:

"I need you to massage my feet Jo. It's been one of those mornings."

She gave me dagger stares, made me kick off my polished brown brogues and got to work, very reluctantly.

Meanwhile I leaned back in my leather chair and focused my eyes up on my chaotic Thought Map, thinking dreamily 'Why oh why did I use use so much red pen???'

Edinburgh here I come!

Some nobody from the Edinburgh TV Festival has had the bloody cheek to email and invite me to appear on a last minute session called 'Racism House: Inside Big Brother's Big Problem'.

Told them in no uncertain terms that 'I would consider it'.

I have already formulated a 'holistic' channel vision powerpoint that I am v v excited about presenting at my Edinburgh Meet the Controller session on Saturday.

There are some brand new buzz words I cannot wait to unleash on the Broadcasting world:

Canapé factual. As in our viewers do not want to feel bloated after a night's viewing so thus, we should offer them more choice in bite-sized morsels.

Vapour. As in the channel brand should feel 'cool' but also mysterious, hard to pin down and identify - like a vapour mist.

Indigestible. As in 'fuck me did you see the latest episode of Rob Brydon's Anally Retentive? It was chewy and indigestible.'

[The Youth Channel definitely needs more vapour-tainment if we're going to fight off The Wolfster and his mob at Sky One]