The Stink From Studio Ten
Studio G10 is just down the corridor from my own office and is home to the MacAulay & Co. I popped into the control cubicle this morning when I heard that Fred and co-host Frances Healy were interviewing Sharon McAllister, a contestant in the Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú2 programme The Apprentice. At least, she had been a contenstant until last night, when she heard Sir Alan Sugar tell her "you're fired".
The Apprentice is one of the few TV programmmes that myself an Mrs Z make a point of watching together and I knew she'd be interested to know what Sharon looked like in real-life. In other words, I went in for a nosey. I only wish I'd been able to leave my nose behind. Why? Because something fishy was going on.
In the control cubicle I met "chef-to-the stars" John Quigley who was holding a large round tin with Scandanavian writing on the label. John and I go way back to the days when he made a weekly appearance on the old Scottish Connection programme. We exchanged chit-chat and then I looked through the glass into the studio where Fred, Fran and Sharon were having fun with the Daily Dementor quiz. Then it was time for John to go through to the studio.
It turns out the tin contained a Norwegian delicacy which, if I remember correctly, was some kind of fermented herring. John asked Sharon to hold the can in place while he got to work with a tin opener. There was an audible hiss as the can was punctured and, at that point, I saw the colour drain from Sharon's face. She stood up, threw off her headphones and ran from the studio. From my safe position behind the glass I watched as the odour from the herring gradually touched each person in the studio. John remained calm, but Fran stood up and reached for a bucket. Fred also go to his feet and edged back towards the studio wall.
Then Sharon came into the cubicle and, as she did so, the stench came in with her. It was like raw sewage. Soon enough it started to drift along the corridor. Presentation staff in the offices across the corridor came through asking if there had been a gas leak.
To their credit, Fred and Fran talked their way to the end of the show and then made a dash for the door. Fred phoned into the production office later that day saying that was now in his car, seventy miles from Glasgow, but that he could still smell it.
Back home, Mrz Z asked me about Sharon McAllister. "A little smaller than she looks on TV, " I said, "but otherwise what you see is what you get."
But if today has taught me anything it's that I need to stop being so sniffy about television. Sometimes radio just stinks.
