Twenty-one

On the box!

In the summer of 1986, I received a telephone call that was to start a new chapter in my life. It was from Nick Brittan, a well-known motorsport personality and rally organiser who was assisting Lombard, sponsor of the RAC Rally. He knew of my after-dinner performing and commentating activities, and suggested to the BBC that a ‘rally expert’ might assist Barrie Gill, doyen of the old Wheelbase television programme, in the commentary box for the live one-hour special stage in the grounds of Badminton. Nick asked me to meet John G Smith, the producer of the live coverage of the rally to be held in November, and I duly did at a nearby hotel in Towcester, where he was filming another programme. I had a nice meal with John and his team, but it was only at the very end of the meal that he discovered I had actually won the RAC Rally; he must have missed that bit of the conversation when we first met. I was asked to ring John at the BBC’s Pebble Mill Studios in Birmingham a week later, and was told I should meet the rest of the production team at Pebble Mill one morning, later in the week.

I met executive producer Dennis Adams, among others, and also John Burkill, a VT editor who had special knowledge of rallying, and was an integral part of the RAC Rally coverage. Thankfully, John now knew all about my rally history, and I knew I had his support. We all went to the BBC bar where pints of beer were consumed, although I stuck to sparkling water, thinking I might have to go for a camera test or some other form of audition. After a good hour I gained the impression that our meeting was coming to an end, and was told I had the job, and there would be no further audition. Sometime later I was told I got the job because they all knew I wouldn’t dry up during the live transmission!

When the rally came round, I reported to a hotel near the Bath starting point and met the rest of the crew, including presenters William Woollard, Sue Baker, and Barrie Gill. I was told I should go to scrutineering at nearby Colerne airfield next morning, the day prior to the rally. Nobody said what I would be doing, but I knew I could chat to rally drivers and polish up my notes for the live commentary, and in any case, my wife, Sue, would be present selling the Lombard rally gear from our company’s stall. No-one had said anything about me doing any filming, as I had been booked for commentary purposes only for the whole event. It was, therefore, a bit of a surprise for me to be suddenly asked to go and do a couple of interviews as a “bit of an audition.” This was a whole new world to me, and none of the camera or sound crews knew who I was or what I was doing there. One camera operator was, unusually, a pleasant young lady who suggested I keep my cap on for the interview. She said she thought it looked nice, obviously meaning that my hair looked not very nice.

My first ‘victim’ was one of Britain’s top female rally drivers, Louise Aitken-Walker, who I later found out was considered not particularly easy to interview. I remember my very first words of introduction. Speaking to camera I said “There are only two lady drivers on the rally this year: Suzanne Kottulinsky from Sweden, and our own Louise Aitken-Walker. Louise, why are there not more women here? ...” I thought Louise answered my questions very well, and I was extremely relieved that the interview went without a hitch. I was then given further interviews to do including Tony Pond, Markku Alén, and Stig Blomqvist, all of whom I knew well, which probably helped the interviews.

My splendid camera lady, Karen Lamb, looked happy with the results, and I owe her a huge debt of gratitude for it was her idea I should wear my cap, which became my trademark on television throughout the next twenty years. Karen moved on to run Ventura Productions with her husband, Paul Colbert, and I subsequently appeared in their productions including a series on successful pubs and restaurants in Britain, a visit to Las Vegas for a short series of programmes, and the production of a sixty-minute video for Eddie Stobart, the famous haulage contractor.

The live stage transmitted on Sunday morning went without a problem, and Barrie Gill and I worked well together. Having a producer and director talking into my headset throughout the hour was slightly disconcerting, but I soon got used to it. So, the end of my first live television broadcast arrived without any dramas, and I was relieved to join a camera crew in their car to drive off to the Harrogate overnight halt, and then the next day to Edinburgh, with little to do until a night-time special stage at the Ingliston racing circuit.

I’m a big believer in being in the right place at the right time, and Ingliston was certainly one of these places. I didn’t realise it, but I had entered bedlam! Nearly everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. The move of the technical facilities from Badminton to Harrogate did not go well, and tapes were slow reaching the mobile editing suites. The November weather was dreadful, and the helicopter that was due to bring the tapes of the Kielder forest stages could not fly. The heavy rain over Edinburgh caused gridlock, and to cap it all, the plans to cover the live stage at Ingliston showground were a shambles. It was pitch black and there was completely inadequate lighting. Now, just before the rally, the BBC had without warning decided to change the person in overall charge of Top Gear and its associated programmes. Tom Ross was the new executive producer who was thrown in at the deep-end; he discovered the plans for the live transmission were fatally flawed, and that if something was not done, rallying might be dead on television for a generation.

I was unaware of the politics and dramas, but Tom, whom I had only briefly met in Harrogate the night before, had to inform the BBC in London that because of a delay in starting the stage (not mentioning the fact that thirty minutes of car headlights in near pitch darkness would not be riveting television) he would not be able to produce a full 30-minute programme. London would have to fill in with a Tom & Jerry cartoon, and he’d supply a much shorter programme of the day’s events. It was then decided to interview the early arrivals at Ingliston – but who could do it? Tom dragooned an exhausted film crew that had arrived from the forests, and took me to interview early leaders Juha Kankkunen, Mikael Ericsson, and Timo Salonen. Tom, being completely new to the programme, might have thought I had more experience of television than I actually had, and this could have been another disaster. In fact, my impromptu interviews went very well, and all was not lost. The programme escaped free of criticism, and, thankfully, I emerged without egg on my face. When the weekly Top Gear programme returned to the screens in spring 1987, Tom Ross announced that the programme would have a rally expert who would be expected to pounce on rally drivers and secure interviews, regardless of whatever else might be going on. Coverage of rallying was going to increase, and I would be able to play my part in it. As a television performer, I had arrived. It could be considered by mistake, actually.

True to his word, Tom Ross informed his two Top Gear producers, Jon Bentley and Ken Pollock, that rallying would be on the menu, and in May 1987 I was despatched to Northumberland with Jon Bentley to film my first ever item for Top Gear. I enjoyed being with Jon enormously, and particularly liked his sense of humour, as we pursued the cars competing on the Hadrian Centurion Rally, galloping around in the forests to interview the drivers at service halts. Jon had then scripted a piece to camera for me to perform, and this is where my career very nearly came to a premature end! TV viewers may not realise that a piece to camera is one of the most terrifying things imaginable for a performer. Firstly, you have to learn the words, then you have to sound as though you understand them, and then you have to appear completely at ease and very natural. And you have to repeat the performance time after time until the cameraman and producer are happy. Oh! I forgot. You will almost certainly have a group of bystanders (known as ‘the great unwashed’ in TV circles) who will rudely jeer if you get your words wrong. Leaning nonchalantly on a rally car I tried, time after time, to deliver the lines, but it was a pathetic performance, and must have looked so bad on the rushes back at the TV studios that the item was put together without a piece to camera. This was unheard of, and almost certainly one of the only times an item has been transmitted without the presenter being seen.

I was lucky to escape from my calamitous performance, and Tom and Jon never really mentioned my failing, but agreed that Jon should meet me in Pebble Mill car park one Saturday afternoon to practise further pieces to camera, and even ‘drive and talk,’ another thing that looks a lot easier than it is. Jon Bentley’s help was invaluable, but he felt I had to struggle ‘to sound like Tony Mason’ at first. He was very patient, and I often think of that early tuition when I see Jon on television as a presenter on The Gadget Show and other programmes.

Although I was feeling a lot happier after another couple of items had been transmitted, I did not feel I was portraying the jollity and enthusiasm that was my trademark off-screen. However, another stroke of luck came my way when I met Ken Dodd after a show at the Opera House, Blackpool, where he had been starring. As I mentioned earlier, I had met Ken once or twice previously, but I was amazed when he said he had seen my early efforts on television and that he was very interested in cars. He then gave me the best advice I ever received. He said that before a recording or live transmission, I should think of someone I knew and liked, sitting on a settee and smiling and looking forward to seeing me. He then said that I should talk to that one person in a warm, friendly way and every other viewer would automatically think I was talking to them. From one of the greatest communicators in show business, this was advice I followed for the rest of my career. Doddy also said that Top Gear had quite a few ‘smart alecs’ on the programme, and I should develop a happy persona and always remember I was going, uninvited, into someone’s house. I may have gone over the top occasionally, but it seemed to work. The Daily Mirror called me ‘cheery’, Anne Robinson on Points of View called me the friendliest of the Top Gear tribe, and national newspapers called me “ever-jovial.” Ken Bruce, on his regular morning programme on Radio 2, said that I always reminded him of Wilfrid of the Bash Street Kids in the Beano comic! However, the London Evening Standard called me ‘rumpled and bumbling’ whilst Jeremy Clarkson referred to me, in one of his books, as having a relentlessly chirpy style which was a bit annoying. You can’t win ‘em all!

As the eighties went on I expanded my repertoire, so to speak, with a variety of items for Top Gear, including sand racing, banger racing, an old bus rally, the Land’s End Trial, and various small rallies around Britain. Wherever possible, I would have a go at driving whatever vehicles we were featuring, and, over the years, handled trucks, buses, tanks, and fire engines. When we featured the centenary of the Leyland bus and truck company, I drove the actual Leyland PD3 double-decker on which I went to school. This really was one of the high spots of my career, I must say. I enjoyed the Leyland item enormously, and remember running up the steps to the top deck and sitting on the front seat, saying “See! I can prove it was this bus – my chewing gum is under the seat.” When Pope John Paul visited Britain in 1982, Leyland built his ‘Popemobile,’ which is still on display at the Leyland museum. I climbed aboard and sat in the papal chair and gave a little wave, but director Chris Richards thought we had better not film this bit.

Another memorable item was a feature on two young racing stars of the future, David Coulthard and Allan McNish, who were emerging from successful kart racing. Both were predicted to do great things in Formula 1 and David certainly did, winning 13 Grands Prix. Allan also drove in Formula 1, but achieved his greatest success in sports car racing, twice winning the Le Mans 24 hour race twice. Prior to Formula 1, David drove for Paul Stewart Racing. I filmed with Paul and his father, Jackie, on several occasions along with David, who once asked me for advice on television interview techniques. At the time I was running courses on this very topic for budding rally drivers, on behalf of Shell, so I pompously lectured David on the dos and don’ts. Every time I see and hear him on the regular BBC Formula 1 coverage now, I think of those early days and wonder if any of it helped him. Probably not!

During the making of the Top Gear item about the ‘young guns,’ I interviewed Nigel Mansell about his views on the new talent. Ken Pollock was producing and directing the item, and told me to have a good chat with Nigel about other aspects of his career, which I did, with all the usual delays for changing camera positions, changing lights, and fiddling about with the microphones. After about half an hour of his valuable time we released Nigel and thanked him. Some weeks later, after the transmission of the McNish item, Nigel accosted me angrily at the Motor Show at the NEC. We had shown about half a minute of my interview with Nigel, which disappointed him somewhat, as he and his family had sat down to watch Top Gear thinking the entire programme would be devoted to him.

Although my forte was rallying, I seemed to be getting involved with racing drivers quite a lot. For the Tour of Britain in the summer of 1989, it was decided to put me in a Vauxhall Astra with five-time Le Mans winner Derek Bell, no less. I knew Derek quite well already, and it was an enjoyable trip. Derek had competed on the RAC Rally once or twice, so enjoyed the forest stages, although I must admit I was very careful to call every bend as accurately as possible to help him keep on the road! However, he came into his own on the race tracks and on other hard-surface tests, which included a very short Mickey Mouse autotest around a lot of bollards laid out on a supermarket car park in Norwich. We flew round very satisfactorily, and I have dined out on this little outing many times, for I must be the only person in the world to co-drive the five-time Le Mans winning driver on a race round a Tesco car park. Another racing driver with whom I was asked to share a car was fellow Top Gear presenter Tiff Needell, when we participated in a great scenic tour of Scotland called the Ecosse Tour. There was very little competition, if any, but there were lots of very interesting cars and crews, and our Jaguar XK120 was one of the best. Ken Pollock was directing and producing, again, and we fitted an ‘in-car’ camera so we could see all the wonderful roads over which we were travelling. The cameraman fitted the recorder under my passenger seat, and I thought he told me to press a switch down to record any nice views. I’m absolutely sure he said ‘down,’ but the long and the short of it is that I should have switched ‘up’ to film and ‘down’ for off. The result of this was that we obtained no road shots, but some lovely close-ups of walls and fences when we had parked the XK for an overnight halt in Oban. Ken was not too pleased! One person who thought it was hilarious was comedy actor Rowan Atkinson, who was competing with his wife, and whom we joined some evenings for dinner.

After my surprise debut in 1986, I became a firm fixture in the RAC Rally presenting team, and my ‘pouncing’ interviews were a regular feature. I knew all the teams and drivers, and had contact with them prior to the event, so they all knew I would be performing for the BBC. I had complete access to all the teams in the service areas; being a former competitor, I even had access to the motor homes, and could hoik a driver out for an interview. My interviewing on rallies continued for fifteen years, and I can honestly say I was never refused an interview or had an unfriendly reaction from a driver, even in the heat of battle or during any incident. The coverage of the annual RAC Rally was most impressive, with two programmes each night plus a full half-hour preview programme, and an extended version shown to peak audiences during Christmas holiday time.

I had my own producer and camera crew for all the RAC rallies, and we covered almost as many miles as the rally drivers. In-car cameras were in their early days, and involved huge, cumbersome recorders. The BBC arranged to fit them in one or two cars belonging to amateur drivers, but until 1987 they had never been fitted to a works car. All that changed when I wrote to Cesare Fiorio, the chief of the all-conquering Lancia team, asking if we could have a camera in one of his cars. Cesare agreed that a camera could be fitted to Markku Alén’s, which thrilled all the producers, directors, and me, of course, as Markku was a spectacular driver and would surely give us plenty of action. It was a great disappointment, however, when the fiery Finn decided that the whole caboodle was too heavy, and after just a few special stages, he threw all the camera equipment out. That was a great pity, as Markku rolled the Lancia on the next stage at Chatsworth, and it would have provided a highly entertaining shot for our viewers. ‘Sod’s Law’ is a regular feature in TV work!