Newsflash: suspicious socks found in BBC fridge
A GOOD FACE FOR RADIO
by Eddie Mair (Little, Brown £18.99)
EDDIE MAIR is the presenter whose wry, irreverent wit has turned Radio 4’s PM into one of the most unmissable of the BBC’s news and current affairs programmes, or, at any rate, one of the least missable.
However, his many fans — and I count myself as one — should be aware that his commitment to the truth does not quite extend to the packaging of this book. Or perhaps we should blame his publisher.
Whatever, it is plainly presented as an autobiography. Nowhere on the jacket are we told that it is actually a collection of Mair’s columns in the Radio Times between 2010 and 2016 — not all of which exactly fizz with relevance as we approach the end of 2017.
That caveat aside, there are some gems here, especially when Mair gets all Victor Meldrew-ish about modern life.
And he’s at his waspish best being indiscreet about clashing egos at the BBC. The recent brouhaha about unequal salaries might have focused on a male-female imbalance, but it was nothing new.
Back in 2011, Mair cheekily described one of the frequent gatherings open to anyone at the Corporation with an on-screen or on-air role. He confided, there are only ever three items on the agenda at these meetings: ‘1. Aren’t we all terrific? 2. Aren’t things going downhill but for our unstinting work? 3. Shouldn’t we all be paid a good deal more for being so marvellous?’
But this particular summit followed the revelation that 19 unnamed stars at the BBC were earning more than £500,000 a year.
There was uproar, with one ‘well-known voice’ bellowing that there should have been a ‘giant super-injunction’ to prevent the story getting out in the first place. Ah, the exquisite hypocrisy of those we subsidise to give us the news.
What shines from these pages, though, is Mair’s love for the medium that has made him famous. He is touchingly in awe of the late Sir Terry Wogan’s genius at the microphone, describing an occasion when Wogan’s show came from a North Sea oil platform, yet still he handed over to Jimmy Young back in London with perfectly timed banter.
‘Guess who you’ll be talking to next week,’ said Young, about to announce his holiday stand-in. ‘Er, Diana Dors,’ said Wogan. ‘David Frost!’ declared Young, theatrically. ‘Same thing,’ quipped Wogan, and then lined up the next piece of music: ‘That was Jimmy Young. This is Frank Sinatra, who’s not quite as old . . . ’ At which, bang on cue, Sinatra started singing.
And how about this, an email circulated to all those sharing the office where ‘broadcasting’s finest talents’ make PM, The World At One, Today and The World This Weekend: ‘Sorry to be the one to have to send this email, but I found another pair of socks in the fridge this evening . . . I am genuinely sorry if the person doing this has a medical condition. I’m not trying to be mean. Have you considered a coolbag? But please stop putting your socks in the fridge. It’s just plain gross. Thanks, Jastinder.’
Regrettably, we never find out who the socks-chiller was. My bet is John Humphrys.