him and me, he’d summoned all the commissioning editors in the Entertainment Group (if indeed that is what we are), plus the finance and marketing people, for a big strategy meeting, so there were about ten of us festooned about his office. The subject of the meeting was the BBC’s plans to get into movies, so it should have been an exciting discussion, but with the cloud hanging over me I couldn’t get worked up. What’s more, I was the last to arrive, which is always a dodgy thing to be with a sarky up-himself swine like Nigel.
‘Good of you to pop in, Sam.’
I should have told him to stuff it but I didn’t, of course, I started to try and explain. What is it Churchill or Thatcher is supposed to have said? ‘Never apologize, never explain.’ Well, they were right. Nigel didn’t let me get any further than, ‘Sorry, I was…’
‘I see,’ he said. ‘So having wasted our time being late you want to waste more time telling us why. Is that it?’
I couldn’t believe it! The bloke is younger than me . George and Trevor were both in the meeting but they were no help, they just studied their briefing notes intensely.
‘Uhm…‘ I said. Not a brilliant retort, I’m prepared to admit.
‘Uhm,’ Nigel repeated. ‘Well, as answers go it has the virtue of brevity, but I think that completes its list of recommendations.’
Some of the others actually laughed at that! Snivelling sycophants. Not George or Trevor, of course, but a couple of the accountancy people and a young woman with pink hair who came over from Sky. I’ll remember you, I thought, but why bother?
She’ll probably be my next boss.
Anyway, I slunk into a corner and Nigel got down to some serious pontificating.
‘Nobody watches television nowadays,’ he said, ‘or at least none of my friends do. Television is wallpaper. Television is fast food.
Television is arse produce. Movies are the millennial art form.
Where do you think I’m going with this? Come on, come on, anyone!’
Honestly, it was like being back at school.
‘The BBC should be getting into movies,’ said the young woman with the pink hair and Nigel positively beamed at her. ‘Hullo,’ I thought, but actually I think Nigel could only ever properly fancy himself.
‘Exactly, Yaz,’ he said and proceeded with great self-importance to rap out the names of recent British movie hits.
‘ Four Weddings, Full Monty, Trainspotting, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Emmanuelle Goes Beaver Hunting…’
This last one took us all a bit by surprise but we let it go.
‘British movies have never been more healthy,’ he continued, banging his desk. ‘There were at least three last year that the Americans quite liked. We need to be a part of that revolution.
We need to reposition our goddamn asses.’
I swear he said it: ‘reposition our goddamn asses’.
‘We need to be making movies.’
Everyone seemed terribly excited at this idea but I always thought the BBC was a television company and said so.
‘Boots is a chemist, Sam. That doesn’t stop them selling chicken tikka sandwiches with yogurt and mint dressing.’ This got a big laugh from Yaz, who leant forward to pick up her coffee conspicuously pointing her cleavage the Controller’s way. Nigel didn’t notice, being the sort of man who’d rather harangue his subordinates than look at a nice bosom.
‘Jesus Christ, Sam! At least try setting your brain for the twenty- first century! As Britain’s premier media provider, the BBC is perfectly placed to connect up with the real cutting-edge talent that is out there making New Britain hip. Writers, producers, directors, women, the cream of Cool Britannia, the tip top of Britpop. We need to interface with these people. We have the resources to make films, we have the budgets to make films, all we need is the ideas.’
Later, discussing the meeting in the BBC bar, George and Trevor were very excited about it. After all, for people like us who spend our time
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