Friday 27 July 2012

Monday 9 July 2012

Helympics

Turns out I was a bit too pessimistic about yesterday's Old Harry's Game recording:


128 meant I got to sit downstairs and - in one of the rare situations where going somewhere alone is an advantage - I got tacked on the end of a row a bit further up than the rest of the 120 - 150 sticker group. 

The staff organising the seating on Sunday were a bit clearer and more rigid in their queuing system but there was still no shortage of very polite, Radio 4 style loitering going on. Imagine 250 people in a small space, all of whom desperately want to get a good seat but not at the expense of being seen as pushy or getting in anyones way. Thank goodness for organised studio staff with microphones.

I hadn't thought before about the differences between seeing a sketch show and seeing a full half-hour comedy (or rather, two of them) but it was a very different experience. Is it ridiculous that I found myself wanting to shut my eyes and just listen? Considering I'd travelled to London specially, probably yes. But there's something odd about seeing the actors stepping out of scenes to sit down when they don't have lines for a while - however practical it is - that messes with my suspension of disbelief.

I think I have pretty good suspension of disbelief. I'm basically extremely gullible. Go on, try me, I'll believe just about anything up to a point. But, strong as my suspension of disbelief is, it's also extremely fragile and once that point is reached there's no going back. I can't enjoy certain parts of The Lord of the Rings films because I accidentally saw a bit of the extras that included footage of Fangorn Forest. Now my brain knows that it's a set so I see a set. This is why I never watch special features on DVDs. Ever.

Although I'm looking forward to hearing John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme broadcast (1. there's a whole other recording's worth that I've not heard; 2. I will finally get the insomnia song out of my head) I think I may be looking forward to Old Harry's Game more. Although I've heard the complete two episodes, which are broadcast Thursday 12th & 19th, I need to know whether I'll enjoy it for what it is or whether I've blown my suspension of disbelief entirely. If I have, it doesn't matter. It'll come back. Because I finally know what Jimmy Mulville looks like and he looks nothing like the Thomas I've got in my head.

Andy Hamilton closed the recording with a tribute to James Grout, who died this week. Brilliant as Annette Crosbie is, James Grout's voice was something else entirely. I think the whole audience felt privileged to give him the tribute of a round of applause.

Sunday 8 July 2012

Punctuality II

Once again I'm in the queue outside the BBC and once again I've got my timing wrong. Although I'm a good half hour earlier than yesterday, the queue is already back to the corner. I wonder just how early this queue starts.
Although I'm closer to the start, I think the queue is more densely packed so I'm going to predict sticker number 202. And a long line for the bar once we're in.

Saturday 7 July 2012

Things I Have Learned II

Things I've learned today:
1) if you want to go to a radio recording, go early
2) the radio theater is really quite big
3) John Finnemore has shoes that make his feet look long. Or long feet. Not sure which.
4) the Jubilee Line has travelators!
5) even in the age of ipads, radio scripts are still paper
6) when I tipsily said back in April that you should listen to John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme because it'd be funny, I was right. You should and it is.

Punctuality

As I type this on my irritatingly small phone keyboard, I'm looking out over a massive pit of BBC workstations at Broadcasting House. The canteen area in which audiences wait before radio recordings has a wall with glass windows and, no matter how often I've seen this sort of thing on TV, it's still weird to see it in real life. It's like the secret lair of a bond villain, complete with odd tracks just outside the window for equipment to go back and forth.



Why am I here? Because I was lucky enough to get tickets for the recording of John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme. Happy as I was to get that confirmation e-mail, it's got nothing on the relief I felt when I got a little sticker on my e-ticket 20 minutes ago.

The advice that the ticket unit gives you is: "admission on site 6.15, studio doors open from 7:15". What they don't tell you is that, of you turn up at 6.20, the queue will already be right the way round the corner of the building and the people all around you will already be joking about getting turned away in an "I'm not going to admit just how bothered I'll be if I'm turned away" sort of tone.

Fifteen nerve-racking minutes later and I was in.

I'm now in a very informal queue that seems to have formed just because a couple of people went to stand by the doors. I'm not sure that we even know that they're the right doors but no one is going to miss out on a good seat for the sake of a little extra queueing.

I don't know if things have just changed a lot since the last time I went to a recording or if this is the John Finnemore effect. I've seen one girl in a pilots jacket so I suspect the latter.

Monday 2 July 2012

Soapbox

In January, many popular areas of the internet took part in a blackout to protest against internet-related bills. Yes, these were American bills but this is the internet, there's not really any such thing as 'American' here. 

Broadly speaking, anyone who understood the internet was against these measures. With an extremely loud voice, the internet stood up and said "Um, actually... no" and the bills were shelved.

As in normal life, the internet has a very large silent majority and an activist core. The January blackouts raised awareness far beyond that core, reaching out to a lot of people who'd never really thought about what the internet meant to them.

A little like the Occupy protests, the blackout consisted of a lot of people saying, "No, that's not what we want for the world." The obvious next question is: "Well, what do you want?"

Far less like Occupy, the internet has an answer. Okay, so it has a few million answers. That's what freedom of expression gives you. But it has a rallying call:



We stand for a free and open Internet.
We support transparent and participatory processes for making Internet policy and the establishment of five basic principles:
Expression: Don't censor the Internet.
Access: Promote universal access to fast and affordable networks.
Openness: Keep the Internet an open network where everyone is free to connect, communicate, write, read, watch, speak, listen, learn, create and innovate.
Innovation: Protect the freedom to innovate and create without permission. Don't block new technologies, and don't punish innovators for their users’ actions.
Privacy: Protect privacy and defend everyone's ability to control how their data and devices are used.

The internet isn't the newspaper of our generation. It's not the radio station or the town hall. It's the soap box and the park bench and the kitchen table of our generation. It's where we speak our minds, meet our friends and share our creativity. 

Oh, and if I've not swayed you with my argument, try this one from a fellow signatory
Patrick from Webster, TX
Our collective creative expression and potential for innovation has never been more transparent. The idea of actively cutting ourselves off from this pool of wealth and knowledge is beyond ridiculous. The Internet is not something you can control, only maintain. To attempt control would be to invite chaos. Please don't take away my porn.
The internet: Land of eloquence, creativity and pornography. Keep it free.