Cracker by Damian Christie

Absolute Genius: The New Paul Henry Show

For the past couple of years, as part of my teaching at AUT, I’ve given a lecture called “Writing for Television News”.  It was adapted a few years ago from notes from a lecture that I believe Mike McRoberts had given prior to that. Philip Sherry probably wrote the damn thing 40 years ago, and like whatever the non-racist name for Chinese Whispers is these days, it probably bears no resemblance to whatever it was when it started.

The point is, writing for television is quite different than writing for radio.  The former already has pictures, it doesn’t need them to be painted.  A combination of pictures and words can be used to say much more in a shorter space of time (I’m talking about news theory here, obviously television can also say very little for a great deal of time, as anyone who’s sat in front of a Kardashians marathon can attest). 

 A simple example of words and pictures combining: A voiceover reads “The Auckland Council is looking at selling a number of key assets”, while showing a picture of the Airport, the Museum and Motat.  In radio, you’d have to include the names of those assets to give the same meaning.  At a more basic level, I can introduce someone with the line “but not everyone agrees” and then cut to a statement from Dick Quax, who has a key (which is what we call the name and title that flashes up on screen when someone talks).  On the radio, you’d have to say “but not everyone agrees, including Auckland Councillor Dick Quax”.

Then there’s some things that will never work on radio. A dog on a skateboard. A death-defying extreme sport stunt. Highlights from Fashion Week. Things that listeners of RNZ are probably quite grateful for avoiding.

Where am I going with this?  Am I going to teach the broadcasting syllabus one blog post at a time?  No.  I’m pointing out that if you’re looking at starting a new breakfast TV show, making it also work for radio is no mean feat.  Which is exactly what Mediaworks is coming to grips with as it prepares to launch the new TV3 and Radio Live breakfast show with Paul Henry. 

I can’t say for sure that it was ever intended to begin when most such shows resume this year (about this week), but it’s definitely not now. An acquaintance at TV3 says it’s posing a few challenges (that’s a polite paraphrasing), and will be more like April or May.

Like most of you, I’m guessing, I’m not particularly excited to see or hear from Paul Henry.  His “I’m amazing” shtick is more tedious than offensive, although the marketing team at Mediaworks seem to be loving it so much that they’ve adopted it as a recruitment tool.  Although to be fair, when I think “tool”, Paul Henry does spring to mind.  In the past, I've defended at least his abilities - I’ve seen him do very good interviews, interesting journalism, marred by the occasional tosspot outburst.  That ratio has long since turned on its head.

But regardless of what Mediaworks or Paul Henry might think, this isn’t all about him.  A multi-platform breakfast show will employ dozens of people, and many of them will be good, hard-working people.  I know some of my former students will be among them.

So if it’s possible to tune out Henry, even for just a minute, I’ll be fascinated to see if, and how, a TV show that’s also a radio show will work.  There aren’t any great examples I can think of from overseas.  The closest thing we have here is when Radio Live plays the TV3 news at 6pm, and that’s a good example of how it doesn’t work: dramatic pictures not speaking for themselves, nameless interviews, invisible sports highlights and a vacuum where isobar maps should be.  At least (I’m told), on the new breakfast show(s), the news breaks will be split into separate radio news and TV news bulletins. 

It’s not hard to arrive at the opinion that rather than a brave step into a dynamic multi-platform environment, Mediaworks aren’t instead simply  giving up on Radio Live.  Marcus Lush hasn’t made any substantial inroads into Newstalk ZB’s breakfast audience, why not save his (by all accounts, considerable) salary and get two for the price of (by all accounts, a considerable) one with Paul Henry?  At the same time pare back the over-resourced late night Paul Henry Show into a more modest late news show (cheap presenter, no co-host, no special reporters), the bottom line looks better, the company looks more attractive to a potential buyer, etc.  

I can only think in the same situation, if TVNZ had decided to scrap its failing late night show, breakfast show and (if we had a radio arm) a breakfast radio show, the NZ Herald wouldn't have gone with a similar line as the one  attributed to (a very misinformed) Brian Edwards, that "MediaWorks was capitalising on Henry's late-night television success".  I presume "Crisis at State Television" would've been more the angle.  

As a journalism teacher and maker of television, I find any shift in the media landscape interesting, and a genuine effort to create a multiplatform show on a major network particularly so. I'm really curious.

 If it works, and I genuinely hope for those journalists employed there that it does, it might be time to rethink that lecture on writing for television.  Maybe I’ll invite a guest lecturer instead, some genius from the Paul Henry Show. No, not that one.

[EDIT: I tend to assume people know these things, but for the record, I work on a casual basis for TVNZ News & Current Affairs, and co-host Back Benches on Prime TV]

New Year, New Post.

I was a bit disappointed to realise, on December 30th, that 2014 would pass without me finishing a single book.   I picked up a copy of Steve Braunias’ election collection, Mad Men, but even its slender spine defied my belated efforts. 

Likewise, I’d barely written a word all year.  A few blog entries (I’ve never been prolific, for sure, but that’s a new low even for me), no magazine articles or columns or anything.  For some reason, unable to read or write.  Practically, if not literally, illiterate. 

December 31st being a traditional time for setting unrealistic expectations for the year ahead, I resolved to do more of both these things.  To write regularly, like I’m doing now, and to try and knock off a book each month or thereabouts. Though The Luminaries (still unread, on my bookshelf) might have to count as two or three of those. 

What went wrong in 2014, I ask on your behalf, like so many annoying politicians setting up their own questions (“Could we be doing better? Of course. Are we working to improve the economy? Yes. What sorts of things are we doing?”).  Yes what went wrong?  Well nothing really.  Our second child turned up in May, a little fella named Eddie who is an absolute joy, and what little time was left went to work, the rest of the family, and occasionally, sleep.  Rather than reading, I’d drift off in front of a comedy show, laptop thudding to the ground more often than not.  (Still works, other than the delete key. I've just learnt to never make mistakes…) 

Last year I subscribed to the New Yorker too. I’d get guilty looking at the pile of unread issues, but tried to at least dedicate my weekly flights to Wellington for Back Benches to reading them – in the past I would’ve worked my way through a book, but  I fucking love the New Yorker, and even if I only read 1 in 4 mags, the relatively cheap annual sub (about $120 I think?) is money well spent, and I couldn’t recommend it more. 

I’d meant to write a number of times during the election campaign.  But it was all so damned depressing – not the outcome per se, but the fact that most “normal” people I spoke to (ie those who don’t have Twitter accounts and get their news from the TV or an actual newspaper) weren’t particularly exercised by the Dirty Politics affair simply because they always thought politics and politicians were like that anyway.  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, there’s a reason why MPs are down there with journalists among the least trusted professions, but working alongside so many back bench MPs, I think I’ve generally had a more optimistic view of the people I’ve gotten to know. I say “generally” – I mean there have been some completely c**ts too. 

The other thing I’d meant to tell y’all is that my student media site,, is launching a TV show, through TVNZ On Demand.   It will feature the best content submitted to, as well as content commissioned from young people around NZ, a magazine show mix of news, reviews, interviews, arts, music, entertainment, social issues and so forth.  If you have young (13+) people in your house, let them know, and if they’re content creators, let me know!  We kick off in March (thanks NZ On Air, as well as TVNZ for backing me).   

If we do get off the ground on schedule, we’ll probably beat the new Paul Henry Breakfast TV and radio combo show being put together by Mediaworks – from what I understand it won’t see the light now until April or even later.   I’ve got some thoughts on this show, but rather than use all my ammo in this first post, I might try and save it for a bit more detailed consideration in the coming weeks. 

Don’t be surprised if comments aren’t enabled for my posts.  While I think there are some really good discussions on PAS, there’s also been some shitty ones, ones that have put me off contributing here, and I know have seen others leave in the past.  Just because we don’t call each other pinko commie twats like they do on other blogs, doesn’t mean it’s always a “safe space”, or even just a nice place to be.   If you really wanna talk about something, I’m on Twitter @damianchristie 

…Speaking of ‘safe space’, what’s crawled up Twitter’s arse and died in the past weeks?  Arguments over God-knows-what (even by Twitter’s usual standards), people locking up, leaving… What I find weird is that people – and I’ve done it here myself – attribute it to Twitter somehow.  Like it’s universal, when actually all of our accounts are a unique combination of people we’ve chosen to follow. And you only have to look at the trending hashtags to realise that most people aren’t arguing about safe spaces and mansplaining and privilege and marginalisation and so forth, they’re discussion how much they love One Direction and/or the cricket.  So how did I end up in this humourless, needlessly argumentative chamber? 

Sometimes I think Twitter would be better if you could just turn off the comments too. 


The Colorado Experiment

I went to Denver, Colorado last week.  It’s part of a project I can’t really talk about at the moment, but it’s fair to assume my visit – coinciding with the 420 Rally on 4/20 – had something to do with cannabis.

Coming home, into the midst of a nationwide debate over the status of legal highs, simply reinforced what I’d felt for a long time: that by refusing to even consider the legalisation of cannabis, we’ve ended up with something far worse.

I’m not much of a pot smoker, and nor were the crew I travelled with. Many of my friends are of course, and they thought it particularly unfair that I of all people would get to go to Colorado for what must be the biggest event on the worldwide cannabis calendar.

Possession of cannabis became legal in Colorado on 1 January 2014. The 420 Rally has long been a popular event in the state, but this, the first since legalisation, was always going to be huge.  And it was – tourists from both within and outside the US turned up in droves, hotel occupancy was up by 70%, and for the duration of our stay, most floors of our hotel had a pungent aroma.

There were dozens if not hundreds of events put on especially for the weekend. The 420 Rally in Denver’s Civic Park attracted tens of thousands on Saturday and Sunday, the search-for-the-best-buds Cannabis Cup was also a two-day affair, and live acts and DJs across the city were programmed to delight the smokers. Snoop Dogg played to a sold out crowd at the iconic Red Rocks Amphitheatre on the big night.

At the same time, oddly, if you were walking through Denver’s bar district late at night, around Larimer Square, you’d have absolutely no idea what was happening elsewhere.

Legalisation in Colorado does not mean ‘free for all’. There’s no smoking weed in public, no smoking in or outside of bars, and no smoking in your car. You’ve got to be 21 to buy it, there are limits to how much you can buy or possess (an ounce in most cases) and how many plants you can have (6). 

And it’s taxed. According to a lawyer I spoke to, who was largely responsible for pushing the proposition through, it was the Soccer Moms who helped it pass, with one condition: The first $40 million of revenue goes to school construction in the state. It’s estimated the tax on weed could raise $125 million in its first year. Of course, the ‘free-weed’ brigade still believe there should be no restrictions whatsoever on the blessed herb.

 At the same time, the state also runs a medicinal marijuana regime. You require some form of ailment treatable by marijuana – the poster I saw at the dispensary recommended a particular indica strain for “fungal infections”, so I’m guessing Athlete’s Foot would do the trick. Medical marijuana is not subject to the same tax as recreational marijuana – the price difference is enough to still make it worthwhile to find an affliction. I’m not saying there aren’t those legitimately benefitting, but I spoke to enough people with “back spasms [wink wink]” to have my doubts. The dispensary I visited said it was about 50/50 medicinal to recreational users, so either the system is being abused, or Denver is a very sick city.  Also, I don’t think it’s good for a person to pretend to be sick to get their fix – while the recreational buyers happily discussed their preferences, the medicinal lot demonstrated all the joy of a doctor’s waiting room.

 The grow operation we went to was a professionally run business. Quarantine procedures to prevent contamination of crops, clinical cleanliness, happy workers all fulfilling their part of the chain, from tending plants, trimming buds, drying, curing and packaging. At the attached dispensary, the larger-than-life shop assistant helped people choose from the plethora of strains and blends on offer.


I’ve never been much of a smoker because I don’t like some of the effects. I don’t particularly enjoy the pungent smoke (and the coughing fit it inspires), I feel slow, dumb, occasionally paranoid, my gums and mouth feel weird, I don’t return to normal until after having a good night’s sleep, and even the next morning I can feel a haze of stupidity hanging over me. That’s just me, and of course I realise that millions of people feel differently, and good on them. Just as I appreciate the aesthetics of a runny poached egg on toast, while retching at the taste, so I can understand why it is people like to smoke pot.


When in Rome, of course, and I was curious to know if the benefits of legalisation included a strain of cannabis I might enjoy. I wanted something that would make me giggle, reminiscent of my early experiences with the drug, probably when it was a lot less strong and/or 50% oregano thanks to the local skinheads we’d buy from.  I bought three different strains at the dispenser’s recommendation. Later that evening, tears were streaming down my face as I laughed uncontrollably. I still don’t think I’d make a habit of it, but it was fun for an evening.


I often think those most vocal about legalisation make the worst advertisement for cannabis, and the first day of the 420 Rally had aspects of that. In a state where it’s legal, would you choose to simply exercise your rights with friends at home, or don marijuana-motif tights, hoodie and cap, and smoke in public? There were definitely kids well under 21 there, getting blazed, their motivation draining before your eyes, and mothers smoking up while holding their babies. It was a bit gross. One boy told me he used marijuana to help with his schizophrenia. Another bombarded me with tales he was close with Obama, played with Van Halen and wrote the script for Anchor Man 4.

The next day, 4/20 was illustrative of the broader church of pot smokers, normal people rather than NORML people. 30,000 people packed the park to smoke their strains to the strains of Wyclef Jean and B.o.B among others, and the mood was festive. Smoking in public is illegal, but police were turning a blind eye, their presence a response to the 2013 rally, where rival gang violence saw two people shot. As far as I saw, there was no trouble this year. And the mass smoke-up at 4.20pm was something remarkable to observe.

“No trouble” seems to largely sum up Colorado’s cannabis experiment – a process being watched from within the US and around the world. I spoke to a State Trooper, and to the Department of Transportation. No rise in crime, no rise in cannabis-related traffic accidents (anecdotally at least – it’s still a little too early to tell from the stats). One person fell to his death apparently after consuming a pot cookie. Personally, I’m also not keen on the prospect of children mistaking cannabis-laced ‘gummie bears’ for their more benign counterparts, and I’m told there will be more regulation around the edible products. But for the most part, it’s been smooth sailing.

Back home, and we’re freaking out about people going cold turkey from whatever the hell it is in the synthetic cannabis they’ve been smoking. We’re still debating testing on animals and million-dollar safety regimes as politicians run around trying to score points for being tough on this bizarre Frankenstein’s Monster of an issue. The barons of synthesis are rich while people are in prison for growing a few plants.

I’m no pot smoker (although I’d prefer to avoid any workplace testing for the next 28 days or so), but to me the answer seems pretty obvious.


I’d been thinking about writing this post last week, before the news of Charlotte Dawson’s death.  In some ways the post is now even more relevant, but at the same time it’s become far more complex, trying to separate the one small point I was going to make away from the myriad issues of celebrity, depression, cyber-bullying and more.

My initial post was triggered by a poll I saw on  It seemed innocuous enough at first, it seemed to blend with the other ‘Entertainment’ stories on the page. But as I read, re-read, and re-considered it, the more I kept coming back to one conclusion: That’s Fucked.

If you need me to join the dots for you on this one, then sure: You’ve got three people who have jobs at a company.  They’ve only just started those jobs for the year, two of them have only been in the position less than a month. The show’s had some issues – this re-jig is seen as a bit of a fresh start, and everyone’s putting their best foot forward. Despite what might be seen as a cack-handed publicity effort, willfully misinterpreted by a gossip columnist as a sign of imminent blood-letting, there is no suggestion any of the three jobs is for the chop, other than the sense any primetime employment is tenuous at best. But again, two of the hosts had only just been employed, and if they’d wanted to get rid of the third  they’d had the perfect opportunity at the end of last year. 

Let’s be clear. There’s no reason to suspect one of the three has to go. So why have a poll, asking the public which of these human beings they’d “like” to be fired? Oh, you know, shits ‘n’ giggles. Some clicks. The general enjoyment of reducing someone’s livelihood to a reality-show-style public elimination round.

If it were anyone other than presenters whose jobs were being voted on, I think there’d be outrage.  If there was another round of job cuts at APN, and TVNZ ran a poll of which Herald journalists should get fired, that’d be pretty awful. If Vodafone did the same thing about Telecom employees, disgusting.

I’d tweeted my thoughts on this poll last week, and pointed it out again in response to a conversation being had this morning on Breakfast in which TVNZ staff read out some of the worst tweets they’ve received. Hideous stuff.

 Am I trying to silence media criticism as someone suggested? No. But I don’t consider the repugnant example above fits that category. I mean, you don’t have to be Arthur Nielsen to realise its more skewed than one of Colin Craig’s polls. Let’s say, just say, that you like all three presenters, or God forbid, you actually like the show. How do you reflect that in the available answers? You can’t, and so the show is either being let down by one of the three; all three; or doomed regardless.

You’re smart people, you get what I’m saying.

The feedback I received from my last post was interesting. A lot of those inside the media read it as saying people outside should be nicer. Those outside, the opposite. What I had intended was a little from column A, a little from column B, a bit of holding hands and singing Kumbaya. Some got that.

Twitter, and the twits on it, certainly caused Charlotte Dawson anguish at times.  I’d seen it happening (online at least), and mentioned it in my own account of life on Twitter:

“[On] Twitter, the Simon Cowell does hear you. They can (and largely will and should) ignore you, or they can respond. Unless it’s truly for sport, I think the latter is unwise. When I’m faced with that situation, I think “What Would Charlotte Do?” and then do the opposite. Engaging, retweeting, absorbing all that bile, well clearly it doesn’t do you any good. Sorry Charlotte, you need to put the Twitter down and step away.”

But Charlotte also faced attacks from the media. It’s interesting that most of the coverage I’ve seen has focused on cyber-bullying, conveniently saving the media from gazing inward. Any journalist now recounting stories of abusive tweets should take a moment to consider whether they’ve ever published a story that’s caused unnecessary hurt – and by “necessary” I don’t mean because it’s a “good yarn” or guaranteed ratings-winner.

Charlotte’s relationship with the media was complex. The relationship was symbiotic rather than parasitic. The Ridges were on Breakfast this morning, giving their two cents’. When the personal becomes the professional, the line between professional criticism and personal abuse blurs, or disappears. How do you say “I hate The Ridges” without saying “I hate the Ridges”? *

The same doesn’t have to apply to news and current affairs programmes. If I say “I don’t like 3 News”** do you automatically assume it’s the presenters I hate, or the reporters, the editors, the camera operators? No. It’s possible to dislike the show without disliking anyone on it.  Unless you make it personal. Unless you run a poll. Then it’s personal. Then people get hurt.

*I don’t hate The Ridges. The Ridges I could take or leave.

**I don’t dislike 3 News. It was an example. 


How Media Made me a Bad Person.

Working in media does bad things to people. 

 It’s probably not surprising, it can be a brutal industry.  Not only are you sometimes asked to do things no decent human should ever have to do – I’ve alluded to some of these before, and one day will say more, perhaps in the guise of fiction – but all the while, your entire output is being watched and judged. 

Every business has its competitors, but only in media – and especially in television – is every day’s efforts rated, and held up against the competition for comparison. Even sportspeople usually only play once a week, and political polls are monthly – ratings are published daily, and can be magnified down to minute-by-minute. They’re then analysed by other media, eager for stories of failure.

Think about that for a second.  If your shoe shop stops selling as many shoes as it once did, there are no articles in the national newspaper talking about your staggering decline, or how your arse is being kicked by the shoe shop down the road, predicting your inevitable demise.  But that’s what happens, if not every single day, then certainly a few times each week when you work on a primetime news or current affairs programme.

If ratings were used as designed, to put a price on advertising, it wouldn’t matter. But instead the media – both externally and within the programmes themselves – use them to judge the programmes’ worth, and by implication, the worth of those working on it.  The pressure to rate, and more particularly to out-rate the other channels creates fierce competition, and a general desire to see your opponent fail, so that you might win.

You’re expected to be loyal to your side. Yeah, you have friends who work across the fence, but when you get together you’ll argue about who’s got the best line up, the better interviews, the biggest scoop. When you’re out in the field together, you’ll hold on to key information in the hope their story ends up missing the angle. When the shows go to air you’ll watch them side by side, blow for blow, scoffing at story selection, talent choice, the lack of good pictures.

Your loyalty is as fierce as it is fleeting and fickle. Once you ‘defect’ to the other side – and that’s how it’s considered – it’s important to give your former employer a swift public kick in the shins before the door closes – there are at least a couple of recent high profile examples which spring to mind. And once over the fence, you speak of the bad old days, while your former colleagues now view you with suspicion.

It can turn you nasty, basically.

I’ve been guilty of this. Four years ago I wrote a post or two about murmurings around Campbell Live, and whether it was for the chopping block. I pointed to the relatively low ratings and said it didn’t seem sustainable for a prime time show. Campbell Live is clearly still here, even if my point was perversely proven when Close Up – which generally rated higher – was scrapped due to low ratings itself.

The posts I wrote weren’t inaccurate necessarily, but I regret that I felt the need to write them at all; to spread the gossip that was doing the rounds, to revel in what seemed to be the imminent demise of a competitor, under the thin veil of ‘media analysis’.

It wasn’t even because I didn’t like Campbell Live, or Mr Campbell himself. In fact one of my only experiences with John Campbell had come through this very blog – he’d read something I wrote, and taken the time to email me to say how much he enjoyed a particular turn of phrase. It was a lovely thing to do, and I was chuffed.

 It’s telling if not surprising then, that the sole example of magnanimity I can ever recall seeing on TV was Mr Campbell’s quite touching on-air farewell to Mark Sainsbury and the crew of Close Up on their last day. He turned up to the farewell drinks too. That was all class.

 The nastiness happens at an individual level too, where the competition is between colleagues for the best jobs, the chance to present, be an overseas correspondent, or even to get off the intern desk just once and do a story. It turns friends into rivals, even enemies, remarkably easily. Just this week I heard another case of a ‘friend’ betraying another’s confidence, effectively stomping on the fingers of their colleague as they climbed up the ladder.

I remember years ago a media friend of mine and I busted each other gossiping about the other. We genuinely liked each other – still do – so why? It was part envy, part mischief, and sometimes just going along with whatever the group might be saying.  We had it out one day over lunch, then made a pact. It’s one I’ve stuck to, and extended to others, never to criticise each other, and if someone else was to say “don’t you think so-and-so is awful?” to explicitly disagree and stick up for your friend – an act so uncommon and unexpected in media that it often elicits an immediate backdown.

None of this is particularly revelatory I’m sure, but I wanted to say it anyway. To point out that it’s bullshit, and it’s reinforced by the public perception – including in the comments on sites such as this – that those working in the media are deliberately stupid, lazy, corrupt or inept, or all of the above. That it’s okay to Tweet how such-and-such a reporter is rubbish; their day’s work a pile of crap.  That writing reviews which thinly veil your hatred and bitterness towards a medium you once inhabited yourself, is a productive way to earn a living.

I don’t want to write that, and I don’t want to read it.  Not because I don’t enjoy reading it, but precisely because I do enjoy it, and I don’t like that about myself. Like many, I struggle against those demons that want me to be nasty, bitchy, gossipy, to revel in the misfortunes of others, even if ‘misfortune’ in this case is that they didn’t get the weekend weather presenter job, or whatever it might be.

That’s not to say there isn’t merit it speaking out against the indefensible – I think public reaction to racist cartoons, Bob Jones and Michael Laws should be encouraged, and makes us better, not worse, as it strikes against exactly the sort of toxicity I’m speaking about.

I like to think becoming a dad has made me a better person, or at the very least made me want to be. It’s hard not to be upbeat, albeit constantly tired, when there’s this amazing giggling mass of energy running around you the whole time, dragging you outside to jump on the trampoline with him, or out back to water the garden. And I think that contrast with the somewhat toxic media environment has become even more stark.  At the same time, running (the site I set up last year for creative youth) has put me in touch with so many keen, positive young people, and likewise with my teaching at AUT (I started last semester, teaching journalism there part time), I hope things could possibly change. That the old, almost FPP-style of two main newspaper companies, two big TV news organisations, two radio networks might become less cutthroat as it evolves into numerous online platforms, each with a part to play.

None of which is to say I want to lose my bite entirely. There’s a lot of merit in satire, wit, and a well-timed put down, especially when leveled against authority. But I’d like to think that if you meet me this year, you might see a slightly different person. A tired one probably – there’s a new arrival due in May – but one that’s slightly nicer to be around. One who finds merit in the old "if you can't say anything nice..." adage. One day at a time.

A final note. There are good people in media – I wouldn’t want to suggest that everyone is toxic. There are some I could single out; anyone who’s met Wallace Chapman knows there’s no malice anywhere in that man, and every interaction I’ve ever had with the mighty Keith Quinn, who is always willing to help out. John Campbell, as I’ve mentioned (I’m sorry) – even that scamp Duncan Garner this week agreed to have coffee with one of my students, an aspiring political journo, just because it’s a decent thing to do. (by the way there’s a lovely piece by Steve Braunias on Duncan in this month’s Metro that had me welling up on the plane). There are many others, but I guess my point is, there could be many more – fundamentally decent, intelligent people who have allowed themselves to be consumed with bitterness, envy and naked ambition. I hope some of you are reading this and might have a think before you speak the next time someone disses a colleague, or the show on the other channel. 

Me, if I may borrow a phrase: I think you’re all bloody marvelous.

(Comments are open on this post. Go easy.)