Diary – 9 January 2010

I’m going to be a big TV star. Big, big, big. Well, maybe not. As the saying goes in the movie world, every film is a great success until it’s released. My peak-time ITV1 show Michael Winner’s Dining Stars, one hour of me (could anything be better?), is currently much loved by those aware of it. If it flops, they won’t answer my phone calls. That’s show business. The gag is that I enter homes of real people and judge their cooking. On the way my life is contrasted with theirs. Then I come to their town or village and accost people in the street — some marvellous conversations occur — eventually arriving at the victim’s door. You’ve heard of the play The Iceman Cometh. This is The Axeman Cometh.

It was massively enjoyable in spite of some oddities. It’s the first time I’ve been employed as the front-of-camera star. Behind the camera — that I’m used to. I knew I was in trouble on the first day. I was filmed getting onto a private jet to take me to Italy. I paid for that, not ITV. They’re a bit short of cash. It was a Thursday and the crew had five days in which they could have turned up at Lake Garda to film me and my adorable fiancée Geraldine. They’d chosen the following Monday. ‘Dare I ask,’ I said with underlying menace, ‘have you checked the weather forecast for Lake Garda?’ They looked at me as if that was a really stupid question. ‘No,’ they said. ‘We always do in movies,’ I volunteered, ‘so I checked it for you. The Monday you’re planning to shoot shows non-stop rain and low cloud. Tomorrow, sun all day. I suggest you get out there to film tomorrow.’ They did. It was sunny.