That's me on TV!
Hotdog asks: Ever been on TV? I once managed to "accidentally" knock Ant (but not Dec) over live on the box.
We last asked this in 2004, but we know you've sabotaged more telly since then
( , Thu 11 Jun 2009, 12:08)
Hotdog asks: Ever been on TV? I once managed to "accidentally" knock Ant (but not Dec) over live on the box.
We last asked this in 2004, but we know you've sabotaged more telly since then
( , Thu 11 Jun 2009, 12:08)
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This very morning in fact
A couple of Thursdays ago, I went to see a recording of the incredibly amusing radio programme I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue. After a fabulous show, a friend and I stumbled into the Newcastle night, raving about how good it all was. Walking along, we failed to noticed a man brandishing a camera until it was too late.
"Hi there, we're doing a piece about the show for breakfast television, can we ask you a few questions?"
Having just done a journalism postgrad, I know how annoying it is to get the general public to talk to you when you have a camera, so I thought I'd be exceedingly gracious, grabbed my friend who was beating a hasty retreat, and smiled winningly at the camera.
He asked us a number of questions, basically trying to get us to say how good the show was, which we dutifully did. I remember rambling about how the show's humour had transcended the decades, remaining as funny now as it was in the 70s. My friend said some equally eloquent stuff, and, after having spoken to the men for about five minutes, we left thinking we'd have to check it out the next day.
However, the next day came and went and there was no sign of a feature about I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, so we assumed the piece had been dropped in favour of this swine flu furore and I thought no more of it.
That is, until this morning. Imagine my surprise when, at about 8.15 this morning, while I was nursing a hot, sweet cup of tea and blearily channel-hopping, I heard the ever-familiar theme tune ringing from the TV. "Oh," says I, "They're doing a piece on Clue." It took me far too long to put two and two together, that is, until I saw two very familiar people appear on the screen. Yes, it was me and my friend - and while she said something very meaningful and thoughtful, I gazed off to the side, looking a bit grumpy and confused. Before I could say my (just as philosophical) bit, the scene cuts to Rob bleedin' Brydon or someone.
And that's how I was caught on breakfast TV, looking far grouchier than one should after having just left a comedy show. Chuh.
( , Mon 15 Jun 2009, 18:33, 2 replies)
A couple of Thursdays ago, I went to see a recording of the incredibly amusing radio programme I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue. After a fabulous show, a friend and I stumbled into the Newcastle night, raving about how good it all was. Walking along, we failed to noticed a man brandishing a camera until it was too late.
"Hi there, we're doing a piece about the show for breakfast television, can we ask you a few questions?"
Having just done a journalism postgrad, I know how annoying it is to get the general public to talk to you when you have a camera, so I thought I'd be exceedingly gracious, grabbed my friend who was beating a hasty retreat, and smiled winningly at the camera.
He asked us a number of questions, basically trying to get us to say how good the show was, which we dutifully did. I remember rambling about how the show's humour had transcended the decades, remaining as funny now as it was in the 70s. My friend said some equally eloquent stuff, and, after having spoken to the men for about five minutes, we left thinking we'd have to check it out the next day.
However, the next day came and went and there was no sign of a feature about I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, so we assumed the piece had been dropped in favour of this swine flu furore and I thought no more of it.
That is, until this morning. Imagine my surprise when, at about 8.15 this morning, while I was nursing a hot, sweet cup of tea and blearily channel-hopping, I heard the ever-familiar theme tune ringing from the TV. "Oh," says I, "They're doing a piece on Clue." It took me far too long to put two and two together, that is, until I saw two very familiar people appear on the screen. Yes, it was me and my friend - and while she said something very meaningful and thoughtful, I gazed off to the side, looking a bit grumpy and confused. Before I could say my (just as philosophical) bit, the scene cuts to Rob bleedin' Brydon or someone.
And that's how I was caught on breakfast TV, looking far grouchier than one should after having just left a comedy show. Chuh.
( , Mon 15 Jun 2009, 18:33, 2 replies)
Unfair :(
Tricksy editing staff, making you look grumpy.
Also I miss Humphrey Lyttelton.
( , Tue 16 Jun 2009, 11:58, closed)
Tricksy editing staff, making you look grumpy.
Also I miss Humphrey Lyttelton.
( , Tue 16 Jun 2009, 11:58, closed)
On second thoughts...
Actually, I saw the footage again this morning and I would have to re-evaluate my facial expression. It starts off grumpy, then becomes bewildered, then gormless. Bugger.
I miss Humph too :-(
( , Tue 16 Jun 2009, 13:45, closed)
Actually, I saw the footage again this morning and I would have to re-evaluate my facial expression. It starts off grumpy, then becomes bewildered, then gormless. Bugger.
I miss Humph too :-(
( , Tue 16 Jun 2009, 13:45, closed)
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