Alan Partridge - I, Partridge - We Need to Talk About Alan

‘Not that she’s dead. She’s hit in her upper arm, which must come as some relief. If it’d been her neck, it would have been curtains for both her and the rest of the afternoon’s archery action, coming to you live from Taverham.

‘And while the lady steward squeals like an impaled but quiet pig, I can tell you she’s gone into shock – you can see that from here. The colour’s drained from her and she’s all a-quiver. And actually … like “a quiver”, she has an arrow in her.

‘Erm … it’s an unusual sight, certainly. A person lying there with a big rod coming out of them, like a human kebab or – if you prefer – some kind of lady lolly. And a not unattractive lady lolly, I must say. One that I’m sure every man here would dearly like to lick.

‘But that’s not to in any way trivialise what is clearly a distressing situation.

‘Er … St John’s ambulance are nearby. Not doing anything, of course, but I’m not sure they’re trained to administer medical care. They’re to a real paramedic what the Salvation Army is to a special forces soldier. Still, they look smart enough.

‘And the arrow’s out! The arrow is out! It’s been plucked from the woman like a pointy Excalibur. Well done that man …

‘Right. Next to shoot is Mark Allen …’

When I played the tape back to Carol the next morning, she agreed (in an uncharacteristically effusive show of support) that it had been ‘a powerful and moving broadcasting tour de force’. 57

And she wasn’t the only one impressed. With my commentary played out on BBC radio news bulletins up and down the land, I was thrust into the national limelight. Suddenly, I was hot property.

And so it was that, six months later, I was included on a round-robin circular memo to BBC reporters, asking for applications to join the team of a new Radio 4 current affairs show. I was a wanted man!

45Press play on Track 10.

46Listen to.

47Biographical shorthand for: alcoholic.

48I just did a click with my fingers.

49He explained that this was ‘radio tradition’, and I diligently kept the practice up until years later at Radio 4, when I was challenged about the existence of Wetwipple Dog Track. A subsequent BBC disciplinary was only made bearable by the presence of the kindest BBC HR adviser to ever discipline me. NB – false greyhound racing results are not a radio tradition.

50I once retorted with ‘Alright! Keep your hair on!’ (He has chronic alopecia.) He wasn’t that impressed.

51Press play on Track 11.

52‘Bi-monthly’ is a funny word. Twice a month or once every two months? In this case, it depended on audience demand. Mainly the latter.

53Dickie Davies.

54Elton Welsby.

55Barry Davies.

56Tony Gubba.

57My words. Her agreement.

Chapter 7

Joining the Bbc

I’M STANDING IN FRONT of a building that is literally steeped in history. Behind me is London’s swanky Regent Street, home to the Café Royal, Hamley’s toy store and a genuinely impressive two-storey McDonald’s.

Ahead of me, as I say, is a formidable structure, headquarters to broadcasting magnificence. Inside its browny-coloured walls are rooms, studios and cupboards that have played host to some of the greatest moments in broadcasting: Just a Minute, Gardener’s Question Time, John Birt’s 55th birthday party.

I’m about to start work for an organisation that needs absolutely no introduction, qualification or explanation. Reader, I’m about to work for Radio 4, the BBC1 of UK radio. 58

Before this big break, I’d been to London before: once for Carol’s birthday when she was going through an ‘unfulfilled’ phase and had ideas above her/Norwich station, and another time when I had to pick up a cagoule that had found its way on to the Charlton Athletic team bus after a fractious post-match interview.

But working in the capital? This was quite unexpected. I’d received the good news during an intervention – Carol’s brother Tim was drinking too much, so we’d effectively ambushed him in our lounge – and I was pleased that my own success could in some small way deflect attention from his enormous failings. To provide a bit of levity, I left the room for a moment and came back in wearing a bowler hat and umbrella, saying ‘I’m going to work in London!’ while marching up and down. I thought that was absolutely hilarious. After a stern word from Carol, the intervention continued in earnest and I’m delighted to say it was a success. Tim’s barely touched a drop since then, apart from wine.

Although it was a Sunday, I thought it best that I telephoned every one of my Radio Norwich colleagues to tell them I’d been plucked for national stardom and I’d be leaving Norwich. It was best they found out from me, as I knew that the loss of the station’s Mr Sport would hit them hard. Most of them took it well and showed tremendous stoicism, displaying almost no emotion.

I began to make arrangements for my new life. But it was only after I’d completely cleared my desk weeks later that I found out that On the Hour was to be a weekly show, which meant that we were only required in London on a Friday.

I spoke to the station controller of Radio Norwich, quickly unresigned and set about returning the items to my desk. There were a few snide remarks from colleagues but I was unperturbed, glad even, that I’d made the error, as the process of clearing and then restocking my workspace was an absolute pleasure. It allowed me to conduct a full stationery audit, think seriously about the strategy and ergonomics of my desk, and devise a new layout that was fresher, simpler and more logical.

The telephone was switched to the far left, on the grounds that I tended to wedge the receiver under my left jowl and use my right hand to scribble notes or gesticulate. To that end, my pen jar and notepad were migrated from the leftermost reaches of the space to a new position, just by the right hand. The computer monitor – previously slap bang in the middle – was perched in the right-hand corner, angled jauntily in my face’s favour. Snacks and chocs were housed in a new Tupperware box in the top drawer, a radical departure which freed up a good quartile of the desk’s surface. Staplers, hole punches, sticky-backed plastic, Post-it notes: gone, in a hard-headed cull of underused items. The angle-poise was placed – nice touch, this – on an adjoining cabinet, not impinging on the desktop at all and casting its beam from an unusual angle which gave a quality of light that was genuinely different from that of the desks of Elaine Clark (news), or Sophie DeVault (weather).

It was a pared-down and original layout that was user-friendly and looked good too. I’ve tried several other designs since but have honestly never bettered this one. If I have the time, I’ll sketch it out and put it in the appendix, entirely free of charge. 59

It all felt like a fresh start for me. A new city, a new job, a new desk system, even a new brother-in-law who could speak clearly and wasn’t over-affectionate with my kids. I was cockerel-a-hoop.

Radio 4’s On the Hour was a weekly news programme with seriously big balls. It made Newsnight look like Newsround and The Nine O’Clock News look like Newsround. If other shows were a normal-sized packet of crisps, On the Hour was very much a grab bag. And for those of you unfamiliar with the denominations of crisp bags, that means it was large.

It was a serious break for me and I knew it. 60 I’ll never forget my first week in the job. On the morning of the show I’d arrived at London’s [CHECK NAME OF STATION] with nothing other than a Slazenger back-pack, a selection of snacks and sandwiches, a spare shirt and tie, a notebook, pens, pencils, pencil sharpener, first aid kit, an emergency 50p for the phone box and (I hoped) a glint in my eye.