ON THE SMALL SCREEN
ASPERGER’S AND ME: CHRIS PACKHAM
WHEN you have a to-do list as long as Chris Packham’s, taking a day off can prove something of a rarity. “I work every day: I work Christmas day, I work my birthday, I just work,” says the naturalist, shaking his head at the mere suggestion of a break. “I’ve got things to do. I can’t stop..
“I was actually forced yesterday to take a couple of hours out,” he adds. “I had a load of work to do, but when I got to the hotel I couldn’t check in, so I went to the National Gallery. It was a good couple of hours.”
Chris puts his ability to handle such a gruelling schedule down to autism, a disorder that in many ways has come to define him.
“Sometimes (I’m doing) two or three jobs a day, so it’s one of those times that the Asperger’s mind is actually probably the only way it would work,” explains the 56-year-old, who has lent his encyclopaedic knowledge of the natural world to shows such as The Really Wild Show and Springwatch for three decades. “That’s what my agent says.”
Diagnosed in his 40s, the presenter – who went public with the condition in his 2016 childhood memoir, Fingers In The Sparkle Jar – is in London to discuss a candid new BBC Two documentary, Chris Packham: Asperger’s And Me.
In the one-off film, Chris tries to show what it’s really like being him – from the devastating trials of his adolescence and struggles in social situations, to depression, difficulty forming human relationships and heightened, often overwhelming, senses.
With scientific advances offering new possibilities to treat Asperger’s, he also travels to the US to witness radical therapies that appear to offer the possibility of eradicating autistic traits entirely. A journey that leaves him questioning whether he’d ever want to be cured, or whether, ultimately, Asperger’s has helped make him who he is today.
Much like everything else in Chris’s life, he was resolute the show itself would have a real purpose.
“I don’t do anything if it’s not going to achieve anything,” remarks the Southampton-born star. “I needed to be able to speak about the positive aspects, as I think that autism is generally perceived as something which is entirely negative. And I wanted to be able to articulate how it felt, so that people would have a better understanding of it.”
It’s about “shouting above the noise”, he insists, referring to punk rock band Penetration’s song lyrics as his “life anthem”.
“I have a small voice because I make wildlife programmes on the TV and I have to exercise that voice positively – that’s the purpose of having it.
“I think people that have that voice should do so,” he elaborates. “If they don’t say things either because they’ve got nothing to say or they’re too scared to say it – both of these are reprehensible.”
For Chris, such candour is part and parcel of his world.
“If you stick your neck out, you get your head cut off,” he says. “I get my head cut off from the hunting/shooting fraternity the whole time and I see that as part of a process – it’s not something I am intimidated by. And ultimately I don’t care,” he adds, frankly.
“There’s such a dearth of honesty in our society at the moment, that if you are truthful about something, it’s immediately refreshing to any audience.”
Head down, Chris – who calls himself “a little bit weird” – moves quickly from subject to subject, glancing up to make eye contact only a handful of times.
Hands tightly clasped on his lap, he talks of his decision to live alone in the middle of the woods with his “best friend”, Scratchy the dog, (as opposed to with his long-term girlfriend Charlotte Corney) as it’s the “only place I feel normal”.
“I’m a lot less guarded with people I trust and know – invariably my family have always taken the brunt of that,” he confesses, pinpointing his battle to connect with strangers.
“There are things I would say spontaneously to them that I wouldn’t dare say spontaneously to anyone else, because I would have to measure what I thought their reaction would be.”
I wonder if this show, and public diagnosis of sorts, will offer him some relief.
“I know other people who I have spoken to and they’ve said they found it immediately uplifting and empowering and cathartic,” he responds, having revealed in the film he’s spent years employing a range of coping mechanisms to fit in on TV.
“(But) it wasn’t like that for me, really. I had come to accept it and I’d certainly been working hard for a long time on managing it independently.
“There’s a certain amount of relief because, if I make a mistake, people now understand why,” he muses. “They don’t have to just say, ‘Chris is a nuisance weirdo’.
“That doesn’t, however, mean that I can count on their tolerance,” he quickly adds. “Television is very much about effective teamwork maximising and optimising what the team can achieve and I have to be an effective part of that team. “I don’t want people to make excuses for me,” he finishes. “I can’t take my foot off the gas. I mustn’t relax. I don’t want to be an encumbrance to anyone.” and Chris Packham: Asperger’s And Me, BBC Two, Tuesday, 9pm