Working in children’s Saturday morning TV was meant to be a dream come true, but it quickly became a nightmare. It was like being given a golden ticket to Wonka’s factory only to find the chocolate tasted like shit and Willy was a c*nt.
Welcome to national television, eat shit and die, asshole.
Saturday morning kids TV meant so much to me growing up in the 1980s and 90s. My parents both worked so there was no expectation to do anything apart from watch TV. As soon my sister and I woke up, we’d stick the box on. Three hours later we’d think about getting dressed or even eating.
Our favourite shows included ITV’s anarchic No 73, presented by the brilliant Sandy Toksvig. It was a house where all kinds of malarky went on. I remember Julian Cope performing World Shut Your Mouth in the cellar, and thinking it was the best thing ever. I think they learned so much from the Young Ones – anarchy and fun. We later moved on to BBC One’s Going Live with Sarah Greene and Philip Schofield.
The show introduced the comedic duo of Trev and Simon (‘Swing your pants’). Highlights included pop group Five Star being told they were ‘fucking shit’ by a kid on a live phone-in. Legend. They also had Rik Mayall and Ade Edmondson on to publicise their famously ‘child-friendly’ sitcom, and tour, Bottom! A kid earnestly asked if they thought their antics drinking bleach and beating up a gas man, would influence children. “Yes, I hope so,” said Ade.
Going Live was later replaced by Live and Kicking, and headed by Andi Peters and Emma Forbes. Mr Blobby, played by Barry Killerby, was a fixture (more on him later). Under presenters Zoe Ball and Jamie Theakston the show had a massive 2.5million viewers. Every kid and teenager I knew watched it.
But by the time I’d bagged a week’s work experience on the show, in summer 2000, Ball and Theakston had moved on and were replaced by Steve Wilson and Emma Ledden. As lovely as they both were, the show was on the wane. Trev and Simon had gone too. Mr Blobby was doing the heavy lifting (and probably dropping everything). Perhaps this all explains why the production staff were all so dead-eyed and miserable.
I walked into the drab office, at BBC TVC, full of cheer only to be met with a look that said, ‘what are you doing here? Fuck off!’ As the days went on, I felt hated and I couldn’t understand why. Maybe they thought I would take their jobs (I was still at university, by the way). One woman with an Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction hairstyle virtually snarled at me when I said goodbye to her one day. She was feverishly sucking on a cigarette at the time. But each day I returned because I wanted to be there when the show went out on the Saturday.
I tried to bond with someone in a similar position to me, let’s call her Helen. She was on a short fixed contract, and was popular with the staff who thought I was Satan incarnate. I thought we’d get on, but every time I asked a question she would exhale like it was all so massively inconvenient for her. On the Friday, Helen gave me a job to do. Steps’ new single (When I Said Goodbye) had been delivered by courier, in a jiffy bag. It was on cassette tape, which seems so primitive now. She took to me an unused office that overlooked the Blue Peter garden. In the corner was a chunky stereo with a double tape deck. She handed me a blank tape and asked me to record the single on to it, so there was a spare. Helen explained how to use the machine, like I was an idiot. I was a prolific mix tape maker, this was a doddle, don’t worry. Helen gave me a look that said, ‘don’t fuck this up’ and jogged off. I did as I was told and put the tapes in the ‘right’ compartments. I pressed play/record on one side and play on the other. I looked out of the window while the tape dubbed over. I watched the Blue Peter dogs being walked for a minute or so. But I then realised I couldn’t hear the music. I felt my stomach lurch. I was wiping the master copy. I didn’t think anyone could roll their eyes with such hatred and venom but that’s what Helen did when she returned. A massive fuck up. The one copy they had was gone. She ran off presumably to explain what everyone already knew. I was a fucking idiot.
I was sent to the studio for the rest of the day, out of their way. Which came as a relief. It was exciting as they prepared for the show. It wasn’t a fixed set as other programmes were made in the week, so the floor was being repainted and the rest of the set was being constructed like it was Meccano. It was exciting watching the preparations. I even put my artistic skills to use when I was asked to make Mr Blobby’s hat for the show. He was playing Dolly Parton so I had to cover a cowboy hat with glitter and sequins. For the first time I felt of use and appreciated. I was thanked enthusiastically for what I created. But then it occurred to me they were treating me like the simple kid at school that the teachers couldn’t do anything with, apart from perform some rudimentary tasks and basic errands.
I turned up for the show on Saturday morning bright and early. No one spoke to me or gave me anything to do. Was this the life I wanted? Nope. But I decided I would just enjoy myself and observe it all coming together. Not many people get this chance. Children arrived on set ahead of broadcast and Mr Blobby, played by Barry Killerby, chatted to them in full costume with his own voice. He asked them about school and what they’d been doing. It was quite surreal seeing Mr Blobby behaving himself and holding a conversation. After a week of feeling like a piece of shit it was nice to observe kindness and people feeling seen. Mr Blobby got a lot of stick, but Barry Killerby, a classically trained Shakespearean actor, was by all accounts a nice guy. I wish I’d had a proper chat with him.
Everything went well. Steps mimed and danced along to their new single. A new tape was couriered over swiftly. No drama. They all seemed nice. Rio Ferdinand was also a guest and was asked if he was going out with Baby Spice. He looked flustered and denied it. Sting was on too. He was asked, ‘why the name Sting?’ and he replied, ‘why not?’ which I thought was a shit answer. Blue Peter’s Katy Hill looked in my direction and smiled.
The last time I saw Helen she was running down a corridor, I said something about the show going well, she looked back and didn’t say a word. I wasn’t worth the breath. I decided after that day if I ever made it in the media world, I would always be kind and speak to the work experience kids. I stuck to that and I’m proud I did.
