I was approached by Wesley Gould, the
philanthropist, who had this idea about a radio station broadcasting
popular music to the youth of Britain. Of course, I was heavily
involved in a production of 'Not On My Wife' at the Cheshire
ballrooms, and so was unable initially to entertain such a premise,
or was until a phone call saying the whole thing had been cancelled
after the first production. Unusual for a matinee, but the building
had been deemed unsafe after the unrest.
The notion Gould had was this; we would
be on a ship in international waters and would broadcast to the UK
from international waters. It would be an eclectic mix of music and
information which the kids would find interesting and informative.
Adults could tune in as well of course. As could seniors. And very
young people too. We had no age bars. It was literally a radio
station anyone could listen to. All you needed was a radio and some
ears.
Now, firstly, let me declare I have
always had a thing for the sea. I cannot count the times I have been
at the edge, between land and water, contemplating the meaning of it
all, but it's at least three. Growing up as I did during the war, I
used to imagine being one of the staunch captains, ordering the
destruction of an enemy vessel, be it a warship or a submarine,
capturing the survivors and then treating them to a selection of
impressions and songs from the shows. On other days I would imagine
being a pirate, sailing the oceans plundering and wotnot, my hold
filled with prisoners and treasure, fighting authority and taking
what I wanted when I wanted it and paying no heed to laws. As I grew
up these ambitions became more realistic, and eventually I envisioned
myself as a boson on a P. & O. Ferry.
But this was a big chance. I could
really 'connect' with younger listeners. Who knows, I could inspire
them, like Kennedy or Martin Luther King, my oratory on how things
could be would change the world, punctuating the gap between The
Animals and The Kinks. There would be statues erected to my wisdom.
My name would be mentioned in Parliament.
The job of a disc jockey was to project
your personality. Between those interludes of musical excellence, the
DJ would have to invent something to say, and this is not as easy as
it seems. After the first few shows I was told people were
complaining about my constantly saying what clouds look like. But I
had nothing else. I scanned the paper and then it hit me. I would
involve my listeners in the crossword. The trouble came when we spent
seventeen minutes on 'Focus or focal, your attention please. Use this
as your guide (8)' The answer was of course Cynosure, but some people
rang up with the most peculiar suggestions, several of them on the
internal line, and even fewer to do with the puzzle at hand.
It was then I heard a young tyke with a
gimmick. This fellow had a recording of a dog, which he would play.
“Hello Albert” he would say and the dog would dutifully bark.
This not only gave him a friendly air, but a device by which people
could say 'He's not that bad. He has a dog'. I immediately decided
this had inspired me and for my next programme I introduced Terry the
Tortoise. “Hello Terry” I would say, and Terry would much some
lettuce. Anyone who has worked in radio knows that a tortoise eating
doesn't make compelling radio, even on Radio Three. I needed another
tack.
I tried all manner of animals. Cats.
Owls. Lizards. Frogs. At one point I actually had a leopard. But none
of these grabbed the same intimacy as Albert the dog, and frankly the
Air Ambulance people were very scathing about having a leopard on a
tug boat. We never did find Adrian Dunbar.
I was running out of time. Gould was
looking at the listening figures and mine were, apparently, and I use
the radio jargon here, 'bloody rubbish'. Then another stroke of
McPhereson genuis hit me. Why not present a list of records which are
selling very well in order of the amount they are selling? I could
play those records and say 'this is' and a number denoting it's
retail popularity. And because people were purchasing these things,
people would listen. It was a plan, audacious and new – as far as I
was aware. I would call it 'Records that are selling very well near
you in a reverse numerical listing arrangement'.
Sadly the idea was lost forever because
as I was presenting my afternoon programme the tug fell foul of a
unexploded torpedo which hit our little boat ripping it apart and
destroyed the whole station. And so my career as a DJ came to a
close. I did try with other broadcasters for a while but many of them
– the ones who replied – said I shouldn't try to improve what I
had done on the pirate station, as it was probably impossible to make
it any better. High praise indeed, and I know, should I fall foul of
this thespian life, I have something to fall back on.
