It’s September. That means back to school. And not just for the kids.
With Edinburgh hangovers barely forgotten, and TV execs and politicians still reeling from Dorothy Byrne’s outlandishly honest MacTaggart Lecture, conference season gets into full swing.
Not in Bournemouth but in Cambridge, courtesy of ITV, for the RTS biennial convention. There’s no prorogation for us.
OK, in the spirit of apologetic full disclosure, this ain’t a normal week for me. It’s August. Piers and Susanna are off (deservedly – thought I’d better slip that in) on their French car factory-style summer sojourn. I’m also sneaking in a bit of R&R and extra-curricular that the normal 100-hour week doesn’t allow.
At Latitude, the hybrid Glasto crossed with church fête Suffolk festival, where, among the middle aged of the mojito-fuelled mosh pit, I bump (literally) into my ex-ITV boss Peter Fincham for our annual blokey embrace.
My week starts the way it has done most Mondays for the past three years – sitting in a university library. There’s one big difference. At this time of year, there is a veil of calm. The underlying current of stress has dissipated. It’s a big change from the tensions of exam season a month ago.
Chairs stand unoccupied and academic books are tossed aside. I am finally on my last chapter. This one is entitled “The real world of television”.
"It’s a lot smaller than the telly makes it seem,” I think to myself as I stare out at the infamous Hollywood sign. LA is the last place you’d expect to find a wildlife filmmaker who’s more accustomed to being holed up in a shack in the Arctic wilderness. I’m on the 10th floor of a Hollywood hotel pondering the events of the last week.
To Belfast for the weekend, staying at a Titanic-themed hotel next door to the studios where HBO films Game of Thrones. The charred battlements visible above the lot are a clue to how the final episodes play out.
Over eight seasons, Game of Thrones has spent more than €320m in Northern Ireland. In addition to the Titanic Studios, there’s another studio in Belfast Harbour filming a Superman spin-off.
Parliament is “a sick house” right now. That’s not a comment on the politics of the place but a diagnosis by Philippa Whitford MP, the Commons’ most senior medical figure. The SNP politician has a long career as a cancer surgeon behind her, and MPs aware of her medical background have been bending her ear to tell her of their anxiety issues.
Whitford says sleepless nights and persistent stress are rampant and she’s had MPs telling her of their inability to process information as a result.
Surprise hit of the week is 100 Vaginas, in which the artist Laura Dodsworth photographs the genitalia of 100 women and then talks to them about the images and how they feel about their bodies. It’s a great film – bold and political and warm – but firmly at the art-house end of the channel’s output. Everyone is delighted when it attracts an audience of more than 1 million.
The week begins with an epic clear-out of my extremely messy home office in time for a makeover. Marie Kondo I am not. What does spark joy, though, is a small brass plaque inside one of the fitted cupboards. It reads: “Specially installed for Lynne Perrie.” This is a reminder that soap history is literally in the walls here.
My working life was turned on its head nine years ago, the summer after I became a father. Presumably out of panic, I began two projects that were meant to run alongside my normal stand-up comedy, but these now dominate the working week.
My three children seem not to mind both ventures – for now, at least – and actually help on occasion.
We are currently filming the bulk of the eighth and ninth series of Taskmaster. What started as a one-night stand at the Edinburgh Fringe took on a life of its own – and took over mine.
This week, like most weeks, has been a little busy. And when I say, “a little busy”, I mean rushed-off-my-feet-no-time-to-sleep busy. I mean, is sleep really necessary?
I’m thinking, no, not really. Apart from the Bags for Life under my eyes, I am really happy, and every morning I wake up with a smile on my face. I still can’t believe that I get paid to make people laugh. I am living the dream.
