ITN Editors Dictate Our Nations Youth!
One of my most keenly-felt embarrassing moments occur in lifts. Not just due to to the computer voice stating “going down” in such a way I feel I can almost hear the silicon eyebrows waggling.
Picture the situation: you step into the lift and just as the door is closing, someone breathlessly manages to get there in time and apologetically states “3, please”. I press the 3 button and the lift doors close (for some reason 90% of my jobs I’ve been situated on the second floor, I have no idea why) and then we stand there for half a minute in excruciatingly agonising silence, although sometimes there is a trailed off sentence or two.
Now imagine the same situation with somebody who’s famous. It just doesn’t bear thinking about.
Luckily today’s celebrity encounter took place outside.
I was walking along the road in my lunch hour shoving an avocado and mozzarella baguette into my mouth when I saw Sir Trevor McDonald walking the other way.
I thought I should shout something at him, like:
or, more succintly:
But I didn’t, and he walked past with his two friends laughing at some joke or other. So I returned to my baguette.
We once saw him at an art gallery. He was very smartly dressed.
He came round to view the house for sale next to ours once and I threw my ball over the fence in the vain hope that Trevor McDonut would hand it back and I could say “Oooookaaaay!”. I was into Tiswas at that point c.1978.
Come to think of it – Billy – I thought I saw you walking back from the big Tesco’s on the Cromwell Road the other week (I was stuck in a traffic jam). Sorry – I’m not a weirdo stalker but I could have sworn it was you. You were stuffing your face with some sort of snadwichy yummers thing. I was going to shout out the window but the traffic suddenly moved.
Ooh, I saw Trevor McDonald in a sandwich shop once, in Red Lion Square. You and Trevor are all about the sandwiches, clearly.
I’ve never seen either of them, with or without sandwiches.
I do get the Clinic reference in the title though.
A retired BBC newsreader from way, way back and whose name I forget, once held a door open for me at a pub in Shipston-on-Stour. He had retired from the news and traded antques in the area.
Must admit, when I saw Sir Trev in the art gallery, stood next to me, I thought “he’s a bad Trevor McDonald lookalike”. Then I looked at him again and realised that he WAS Trevor McDonald.
Are we allowed to change channels? I sat quite near Jon Snow in the cinema once. He’s hugely tall. And seemed to be with his perfect family. And I sat directly behind some old BBC geezer with magnificent hair, who must be something to do with Berlin, on an eaSYjeT flight. I was too scared to talk to him but I did help him get his hand-luggage down.
Geoff – He’s very smart.
RoMo – That wasn’t me, maybe it was my evil twin. He certainly sounds like me.
Patroclus – Yes we are, and rightly so.
Tim – I’m glad you got the Clinic reference. That was the only reason I wrote this post. I wasn’t sure if TV news has sub-editors so I left that bit out.
Llewtrah – But were you eating a sandwich at the time?
Betty – I did a double take when I saw him, thinking he looks like Trevor and then I realised.
BiB – I’d like to meet Jon Snow, he’s ITN as well so there is a chance.