Status Anxiety

12 April 2008

Pitching television programmes is like wining and dining a gorgeous blonde

Jane Root, then controller of BBC2, liked the idea and invited me to come and talk about it to a roomful of executives at an ‘open meeting’. She and her lieutenants had set aside an afternoon to review all the best proposals that had been submitted in the previous year. I would be one of dozens of hopefuls, each allotted five minutes. It was a bit like Pop Idol, only for aspiring television presenters rather than singers, and some of the ideas were so harebrained it probably would have made an entertaining TV show in its own right: Pitch Idol.

I was awarded the last slot of the afternoon and, given how bored they would be at that point, I decided my best hope was to turn my proposal into a five-minute stand-up routine. It was essentially a series of gags about why I wanted to be on television. (I quoted Ian Hislop’s line that, on the idiot box, you only have to have a pulse to be branded a ‘sex symbol’.) It went over quite well and afterwards I was told that it was the best pitch they had heard all day.

The following morning I was informed that BBC2 wanted to commission it. According to Jane Root’s second-in-command, it was simply a matter of finding the money from next year’s budget as they had already spent everything in their coffers. But it was a mere formality. As far as her boss was concerned, it was a done deal. I couldn’t believe it. The blonde was finally going to put out.

Then — nothing. At first when I called I would be put through to the relevant executive immediately and told how close they were to finding the money. Then she became mysteriously unavailable and, eventually, Jane Root left the Beeb to work for the Discovery Channel. To this day, I still don’t know what happened. It was like winning the National Lottery, only to discover that Camelot wasn’t paying out that day. Apparently, even if you persuade the bitch goddess to sleep with you, you still won’t end up in bed together. She is the ultimate prick-teaser. She says ‘yes’, closes her eyes, opens her lips — and then disappears in a puff of smoke.

Any day now I expect BBC2 to announce that it will be broadcasting a four-part series in which someone I have never heard of attempts to work his way through the celebrity alphabet. I am sure it will just be a coincidence.

Toby Young is associate editor of The Spectator.

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David Short

April 11th, 2008 12:39am Report this comment

Why does the Speccie just get worse and worse; it hard even to hark back to the old standards now. They've slipped so far that now we must simply point out mistakes that shouldn't be seen in any publication not edited by morons.

Why couldn't anyone see what is very wrong about this sentence: 'Time after time, they have taken me out to lunch to discuss programme ideas, only to disappear when the cheque arrives...'. It should 'check', ie the bill. Otherwise, it doesn't make sense as criticism, i.e. why would TB care if the exec had disappeared as long as the 'cheque' had arrived. He'd been paid; the exact opposite of getting ripped off for the lunch bill.

Didn't you learn anything from that issue when you printed the same story twice?

D Short

April 11th, 2008 8:57am Report this comment

Hey, Speccie. It's 'check' (as in 'bill' not 'cheque'! Isn't it time you brought back sub-editors? Didn't you get enough egg on your face when you published the same story twice? This mistake screws up the meaning entirely. To think The Spectator was once a 'literary' magazine.
This is my second attempt at trying to register this point. Hope I won't be censored this time.

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