I appeared on Channel 5’s “The Wright Stuff” (it’s a pun) this morning. Ostensibly this was to promote my book (Talking Cock, Ebury Press, out Oct 9th – oh please give it a rest), but after I had agreed to appear I was told that I wasn’t allowed to mention the title or subject of the book, or talk about it at all. What a great promotion exercise.
I had reservations about appearing. I wasnÂ’t sure what I felt about the show or about Matthew Wright. I do occasionally watch it. And I think my feelings about Wright might be influenced by some of the work he produced as a journalist a few years back. Aside from being a bit smarmy and eager to show off about his young girlfriend, he comes across OK on the show.
In the old days I would have refused to go on, I think. But, it’s a live show and I was able to say what I wanted (as long as it wasn’t about cocks) and I figured that it is better for me to be doing stuff and remind people that I’m OK at my job than to be sitting at home and watching the show and shouting at Matthew Wright on the TV when I could be being paid £50 (a hundred if I made my own way to the studio) and shouting at Matthew Wright in person.
After all I canÂ’t really claim IÂ’m above it. IÂ’ve been on (and been sacked from) GMTV.
The show is recorded in the MTV building in Camden. Me and Stew briefly presented a show called MTV Hot from there. When we met the Spice Girls, Scary Spice recognised us from this show and excitedly rang her (then) boyfriend. Then she asked for our autographs, which she got on a post-it note which she stuck to her own stomach. It is probably one of the oddest things that has ever happened to me.
The production team apologised for me not being able to mention my book. I said that it was OK and pointed out that Matthew Wright hadnÂ’t been allowed to mention the alleged rapist in Ulrika JohnsonÂ’s book, but that hadnÂ’t stopped him. They didnÂ’t think this was funny.
They gave me the news stories that I was to talk about. One of these involved the footballers who are accused of rape. I was able to make more jokes about naming the anonymous men (even though I was unable to as I had no idea who they were, or what team they played for). The production people looked nervous and repeatedly told me to be careful that I said nothing contentious or revealing. I wasnÂ’t even allowed to name the team that had been mentioned on the front page of the Sun. ItÂ’s a shame the production team hadnÂ’t gone to this level of worry before Wright named John Leslie. But, of course they stood to be taken off the air if the same thing happened again.
The show is live. Repeatedly telling a comedian not to do something is a bit like holding a red rag to a bull, whilst simultaneously doing a satirical impression of the bull implying that he is feminine.
As time of transmission approached I was ushered into the studio. It was surprisingly small, which is always the trite thing that people say when they go into TV studios that they have only previously seen on the idiotÂ’s lantern. But it was really true of the Wright Stuff studio. It was literally the size of a shoe box and Matthew Wright is no bigger than an ant. This made me have sympathy for him, though at one point I did accidentally step on him and squashed him into oblivion. Luckily the production team just brought in another smiley, identical Matthew Wright ant, so the show could go on. Presumably they breed these ants in some kind of mound beneath the studio. But thatÂ’s only a guess.
The other panellists then arrived and the audience soon followed. There werenÂ’t many of them, but there seemed to be a large percentage of them who might be described charitably as eccentric. There was an old lady wearing a tiara. I assumed she was probably one of the minor royals, though she seemed to be escorted by a younger man with big Elvis side-burns. So I canÂ’t be sure.
There was also a pretty lady who put the calls through to Matthew (called Beth, I believe). They keep her in a special Perspex box (maybe this is where David Blane got the idea). I presume this Perspex is there to protect her from the audience, though maybe also the wandering tentacles of the Matthew Wright ant colony.
The show was actually quite good fun to do and I think I did OK. Matthew Wright did mention the book (though not the name), though I managed to do my inoffensive “Talking Clock” version. I didn’t mention the names of any of the footballers, though a bloke in the audience told me who the international was and what team the accused are from. So I could have mentioned it later if I’d wanted.
I decided that I didnÂ’t actually want to go to prison.
At the end of the show, we got to talking about marriage proposals and a man in the audience then asked his girlfriend to marry him. I knew this was going to happen, but the girl didn’t. She was genuinely surprised and delighted and she gasped “yes!” It was quite moving. Though I did have to wonder what kind of a man would think it was romantic to propose on “The Wright Stuff”. I don’t know why I wondered this. It was obvious that the man in front of me was the kind of man who would do this. He seemed like a nice man. His fiancé kissed him passionately. Even my cynical heart could not help but be touched. “They can’t keep their hands off themselves,” said Matthew Wright. I thought that maybe he meant to say, “They can’t keep their hands off each other”, but then I wondered if he was actually talking about some of the less savoury men in the back row who were watching the whole thing a little more intently than might be seemly.
I travelled home on the tube.
Two girls from the audience were in the same carriage.
They didnÂ’t say anything to me.
