Celebrity Interviews

A surprising number of people have been in touch asking how I'm managing to interview the likes of Danny Dyer and David Attenborough. I presumed the fact David Attenborough said he wanted to be fired out of a cannon at his funeral would have been a hint that these interviews are all a figment of my imagination, but for anyone still unsure, these interviews are all a figment of my imagination.

Greg Wallace

GEN: Obviously you’ve been at the heart of a media storm recently, regarding comments you made to various-

GW: And, once again, I’d like to make a sincere apology to any of the women who may have taken some entirely innocent comments, I allegedly made, the wrong way. It was all just a silly misunderstanding.

GEN: The allegations seem to cover at least a decade.

GW: There’s no time limit on misunderstandings.

GEN: Would you call yourself a misoginist?

GW: Of course not! I love women! I’ve been married four times for goodness sake, that tells you everything you need to know.

GEN: So you’d say most of your comments were just playful banter?

GW: Exactly. Just very, very funny jokes and blisteringly quick one-liners that were taken the wrong way, by a certain ilk of woman.

GEN: What do you mean by that?

GW: Well, I never heard any of the attractive female interns complaining! They just got me, they understood my humour, they would always laugh along. In fact, everyone below me on the call-sheet laughed along. The only ones who complained were the other A-list celebs; at least the ones who were, shall we say, a bit older. A bit more middle-class. I hate to use the word sour-pusses but I think you catch my drift.

GEN: People like Kirsty Wark?

GW: Bingo. I mean, she should be so lucky to get an innuendo thrown at her these days! She’s hardly a spring chicken. And I should know, I've spent my life around poultry.

GEN: I think people have also found it slightly distasteful that you’ve used your recent autism diagnosis as an excuse for your actions.

GW: But I can’t help my disability, can I? The whole point of autism is that you end up making lots of social gaffes - it basically says it on the tin. I mean, if I’d accidentally groped a woman - not Kirsty obviously, but someone younger and more attractive - and then been diagnosed as fully blind, would those people still be annoyed at me for bringing up my disability? I doubt it.

GEN: I don’t quite follow what you’re -

GW: I’m saying if I’d groped a woman - again, not Kirsty, but some hot young blonde - and got in trouble, and then was diagnosed as being completely blind, my condition would be a perfectly valid excuse for my actions as I clearly couldn’t see what I was doing. Well, autism is like being completely blind in every social setting, with no stick or guide dog to help you - every conversation I’m involved in I’m out there on my own, feeling around with my hands, hoping the other person will understand that I didn’t mean to grope them, metaphorically speaking, I was just searching for the light switch. My autism basically excuses everything I’ve ever done, and yet people are somehow still annoyed at me for bringing it up.

GEN: Your ghostwriter Shannon Kyle claims you opened the door to her completely naked.

GW: As I say, us autists do some whacky stuff, I don’t get it either. It’s a condition.

GEN: Do you think there’s a way back for you in the mainstream media?

GW: Definitely. As long as me old mucker John Torode is still on Masterchef, fighting my corner, I’m sure that-

GEN: John was fired for racism.

GW: Bollocks. What did they get him on, his aborigine joke? I told him to stop doing the dance, but he just wouldn’t listen.

GEN: Greg, thank you for your time.

Alan Titchmarsh

G.E.N: I was surprised to discover that you’ve been working in broadcasting, as a gardening expert, for nearly fifty years now.

A.T: I have, yes. Although it only feels like yesterday! I just don’t know where the time’s gone.

G.E.N: And you first appeared on the Radio 4 programme You and Yours, is that right?

A.T: I did. And then in 1988 I hosted the show A House in a Garden on Radio 2, alongside the lovely Gloria Hunniford. And even though it was only radio, she would still take me out on the weekends and give me lessons on how to present to the camera - you know, tips of the trade on how to work in television. I think she must have seen something in me even then, and I'll always be grateful to her for that.

G.E.N: What sort of tips would she give you?

A.T: Oh, you know, just little things, like smiling with your eyes not your mouth, and making sure you’re always standing on tiptoes when the cameras are rolling, and pinning back your ears with sellotape - you know, just the obvious things that all presenters do naturally now, but I was very naive back then. And over the years I went on to develop my own advice, that I tried to pass down to the next generation of gardening presenters.

G.E.N: Such as?

A.T: Well, for example, I’d tell them to rub a little mud on their cheeks before they started filming, to help it read on camera that they'd just been doing some gardening. Or to have a small piece of celery in their pocket, which they could snap in half whenever they went from standing to kneeling, to make the authentic sound of a gardener's knees. And I also told Monty Don to get himself a couple of dogs, to draw the viewers' attention away from how wholly unqualified he was to be presenting a gardening programme, having spent the past ten years as a jewellery designer.

G.E.N: I must say, for people of my generation, the show I will always associate you with is Ground Force, which you presented for the first five years alongside Tommy Walsh and Charlie Dimmock, who became celebrities in-

A.T: Ah, lovely Charlie, yes.

G.E.N: Were you all good friends?

A.T: To an extent. I mean, Tommy I could take or leave, but I think a lot of that was down to his drinking, as he struggled with the fame. The problem was that he didn’t actually like the taste of beer, or wine, or spirits, so he’d be forced to drink alcopops all night. He would arrive at work the next morning stinking of Hooch, or Smirnoff Ice, and his hands would be shaking from all the sugar in his system. I once found him sitting in a shed with three boxes of Bacardi Breezers on his lap - there must have been at least fifteen empty bottles around him. I asked him whether he thought it was time to look into The Priory, or some sort of rehabilitation centre, but he simply kicked the door shut in my face. He just wouldn’t me let in. Although eventually he did agree to pass the lawn mower out through the window.

G.E.N: But you got on well with Charlie?

A.T: Oh, Charlie was an absolute dream to work with, yes. It was me who told her to lose the bra! Luckily there was no such a thing as HR in those days, as they might have frowned on a comment like that, especially from a BBC presenter to a female colleague, but Charlie just took it in the spirit it was intended. She instantly whipped her bra off, pulling it down one sleeve and throwing it over her shoulder, before she carried on digging. And, right then and there, that was the moment I knew we had a hit show on our hands. Because I could have watched her for hours. Sometimes I did, and would still come in on my days off, with a packed lunch, just to watch her pushing a wheelbarrow over bumpy ground. If she was installing a water feature, I’d book the whole afternoon off.

G.E.N: But in 2002 you left the show, and Kirsty King took over the presenting duties. Why did you leave?

A.T: I thought it was best to go out on a high, and I stand by my decision. Although the last day was certainly emotional, saying goodbye to everyone. I distinctly remember delivering my last piece to camera, before Tommy rushed over to give me a hug, the bottles of Reef and VK Blue clanging around in his pockets. And then Charlie came over and shook my hand. It was very difficult saying goodbye to the pair of them, and I must admit I had tears in my eyes, but she let me take one last photo which I still treasure to this day. And you can definitely tell they're Charlie's, because her chin's popping in at the top of the frame.

G.E.N: Alan, thank you.

Danny Dyer

G.E.N: Hello Danny, thanks for giving up your time today. Why don't you start by telling us more about your latest movie?

D.D: Right, well it’s a bit of a passion project for me, you know, and I’m doing the lot - I’m the one what wrote the film, I’m directing it, starring in it, editing it, part financing it-

G.E.N: And it’s a biopic, is that right? Covering your childhood growing up in London?

D.D: Yeah. Well, that was the original idea, yeah. But then, you know, you get a few ideas in the old loaf and things start to change.

G.E.N: In what way?

D.D: I don't know, I was just having a bit of a crisis of confidence with it all, looking down the lens every day thinking, ‘Is this really the film I want to make?’ So I started making a few little tweaks, then these turned into bigger tweaks, and it all just sort of escalated really.

G.E.N: So how has the story changed from the original script?

D.D: Well it’s not really an autobiographical thing anymore. I'm not even the main character.

G.E.N: So what’s this new script about?

D.D: It’s about the Peloponnesian War in 431 BC, between Athens and Sparta.

G.E.N: …sorry?

D.D: Yeah, I don't know really, it just sort of kept changing and changing, and then before I know it the whole thing's set in ancient Greece.

G.E.N: …and have you always had an interest in ancient Greece?

D.D: Not a chance! Didn’t have a scooby about any of that stuff, but on my lunch breaks I was popping into this Greek gaff up the road, to work on the rewrites over a lamb kofta, and I got talking to the owner. Anyway, this Spiro geezer starts telling me stories about his homeland and how it used to be made up of all these separate states who were always scrapping with each other, and I thought, ‘Hold on, here we go, this sounds a bit tasty.’ Then he tells me this one story about when these Athenian mugs went to war with this other firm, thinking they'd have it large, you know, but then these Spartan lads absolutely smashed the Athenian slags all over the shop, and went on to establish themselves as the hegemonic power in the Aegean. And I thought, ‘Bosh! Now that's the sort of movie I want to see!’ But obviously I only had Spiro telling me this stuff, and his English weren’t even all that good, so I knew that if I was going to change the script from an East End coming-of-age story, to an epic military trilogy set in the Mediterranean, I’d have to do some proper research first. 'Cos if you want to be taken seriously as an auteur, it's all about truth, you know?

G.E.N: So what did you do?

D.D: Well what could I do - I shut the shoot down for a month and got bang on it! Was spending fifteen hours a day down the British Library, reading all the books I could find - they even let me down in the vaults, with those fancy little gloves on, fingering up all the old manuscripts. But the more I found out, the more convinced I was that this idea was the dog's bollocks, and that I'd be perfect playing this Alcibiades fella, who was very much the crafty cockney of his day.

G.E.N: And what did the other actors think of the changes? Did you have to recast or-

D.D: They loved them, which was an absolute touch. And it was easy changing the roles up really, (Neil) Morrissey became Lysander, the Spartan general, and Natalie (Cassidy) went from playing my mum to starring as Pericles, the heroic statesman and orator. And honestly, I’m not just saying this, but if I were you, I’d bang a monkey on her winning the Oscar 'cos trust me, from what I’ve seen so far in the edit - phenomenal. Probably her best performance since Sonia in Eastenders.

G.E.N: So when does the film come out?

D.D: We’re still right in the middle of filming it at the minute, and we're actually on the hunt for a few more financial backers if you know anyone - so we can pay for the flights to Greece, and hire a few thousand extras for the battle scenes. But hoping it should be out in time for Christmas. 'Cos it's also sort of a Christmas film now, after yesterday's changes.

G.E.N: Danny, I can't wait to see it. Thank you. 

D.D: Mustard, nice one.

Sir David Attenborough

G.E.N: Sir David, you’ve spent the past seventy years showcasing the amazing wildlife on planet earth, but if you had to pick just one animal as your favourite, which would it be?

D.A: Goodness. Well, as you can imagine, I am actually asked this question rather frequently. And yet, I still find it tremendously difficult to choose just one. However, I must admit that I do hold a very special place in my heart for the Yellow-headed Day Gecko, which can only be found on the island of Madagascar. It lives in the remote bamboo forests, in the North East of the country, and it has the most wonderful, iridescent colouring running along the length of its spine, to the very tip of its nose. And, I must say, for the record, they’re also absolutely delicious.

G.E.N: You’ve eaten one?

D.A: I have been fortunate enough to try them on numerous occasions, yes. Whenever we’ve filmed on the island.

G.E.N: Are they like a local delicacy or something?

D.A: No, not that I’m aware of.

G.E.N: …so why did you eat one?

D.A: Ah, well, you see, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always insisted on a clause in my contract that affords me the opportunity to try any of the animals we might have encountered during filming that day.

G.E.N: …right. As in -

D.A: Naturally, when I was a much younger man, I would simply wait for the director to call cut and then sprint forward, attempting to catch any animals I could with my bare hands. But, regrettably, those days are now long behind me. Instead, in recent years, the production team have equipped me with a motorised wheelchair, and a large net, and when the cameras stop rolling I’ll simply drive into the middle of the scene and see if I’m able to swipe anything for supper. The key is to target the older and weaker animals, at the periphery of the herd, chasing them toward a friendly soundman who might corral them back your way.

G.E.N: Are there any animals you’d refuse to eat?

D.A: I remember filming in Ecuador, documenting the Pinta Giant Tortoise, and finding out, during the shoot, in fact, that these two magnificent creatures, happily grazing in front of us, were thought to be the last two living examples of their entire species. And so, understandably, I did release one of them back into the wild.

G.E.N: One of them?

D.A: I'm afraid they were declared extinct not long after our visit. Alas, yet another dark day for the world.

G.E.N: Do you fear for our world in years to come?

D.A: Yes, I dearly do. You only need take the rainforests, for example. It’s not difficult to make the analogy that these incredible environments act like our planet’s lungs, and yet by continually chopping down this vital habitat, we’re effectively suffocating ourselves.

G.E.N: And when do -

D.A: And by raising the temperature of the seas and oceans, through our relentless addiction to fossil fuels, we’re essentially boiling our own blood.

G.E.N: And wh -

D.A: Then I guess the clouds might be our hair. The rocks could be our bones. Maybe a volcano for a mouth.

G.E.N: Yeah, do - as you near your one-hundredth birthday, do you often find yourself thinking about your own mortality?

D.A: Perhaps not as often as one might think! No. I try to concentrate on all the things I would still like to achieve instead. That is, before I’m ushered off this mortal coil and gently led into the endless, eternal abyss.

G.E.N: Well if anyone ever deserved a grand state funeral, it would surely be you.

D.A: That’s very kind of you to say but, I must admit, I have never been one for pomp and circumstance. In fact, I’ve informed my family that I would prefer a simple, humanist ceremony instead. I envision my funeral taking place on a quiet beach somewhere, at sunset, with the music of Ladysmith Black Mambazo, from the Baked Beans commercial, playing softly in the background. Then, my body will be brought out, in front of the small congregation, and lowered into an enormous cannon, at which point I will be fired two hundred feet into the air and out into the ocean, as I make one final journey back to where it all started, back to the place where all human life originated, where biology and consciousness first came into existence. Then it's on to the buffet.

G.E.N: Sir David, thank you.

Fiona Bruce

G.E.N: Your Wikipedia page says that you’re fluent in both Italian and French-

FB: Ja.

GEN: But if you could only live in one of those countries, which would it be?

FB: Hmm, tough one. I do love parmesan cheese, but I also like the fact that France has its own nuclear arsenal which, if absolutely necessary, could be deployed in a pre-emptive strike. So let’s go with France.

G.E.N: While studying at Oxford university you-

FB: Actually Italy. Let’s go Italy. Forgot about mozzarella.

G.E.N: While studying at Oxford you were a self-proclaimed punk rocker and died your hair blue, but what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done in your life?

FB: Ooh, I’m not sure I can say publicly! But it did happen at university, yes.

G.E.N: Can you maybe give us a hint at-

FB: (laughing) I mean I’d rather not! Let’s just say it involved a homeless chap, who did go on to make a full recovery.

G.E.N: …right. After graduating from university you worked in advertising. What do you think the greatest marketing slogan of all time is?

FB: It has to be the Rice Krispies one - Snap, Cackle and Pop.

G.E.N: Crackle and Pop.

FB: I think it’s Cackle, like a witch.

G.E.N: But isn’t it supposed to be the noise it makes when the milk is-

FB: Which one of us worked in advertising?

G.E.N: What’s the hardest thing about presenting the news?

FB: Probably when the cameramen try and put you off! You’ll be there talking about some famine in Africa, and Tony on camera one will be wiggling his finger out of his flies. It’s why Huw Edwards left in the end, he was fed up with all the practical jokes - whoopee cushions on his seat, salt in his tea, that sort of thing.

G.E.N: I thought he was forced to resign following a sex scandal?

FB: ...go on, I’m not familiar with this story - who was the woman involved?

G.E.N: It’s - I’ll send you a link to the article. Last couple of questions - what’s the best bit about presenting Antiques Roadshow?

FB: The money. Sorry, that probably sounds crass! But I don’t mean my BBC wages, I mean my finder’s fee.

G.E.N: Your finder’s fee?

FB: Well only a few people can be featured on the show each week, can’t they? So I’ll often wander around the event early doors and pick some people out myself, then say to them, ‘That’s a nice pot - would you like to get it valued on National Television?’ Naturally they’ll say yes, then I respond with ‘Great, I want 5% of whatever it turns out to be worth.’ It’s not like I’m making a fortune or anything, just enough to keep it interesting.

G.E.N: Final question, David Dimbleby hosted Question Time for 25 years, how long do you think you’ll host it for?

FB: Certainly not that long - I’ll be nearly 60! It is a fun show though, and I do look forward to being there every week. It’s just a shame we have to get all those c*nts in the audience involved.

G.E.N: Fiona, thank you for your time.

FB: Gesundheit.