First TV Interview (1968)
To celebrate the fact that, in a parochial way, an inhabitant of the kingdom of Bohemia was beginning to make good, a hooligans' party was given. . .The party was a lively but rather awkward gathering of people whom I knew intimately, slightly or not at all. Among them was a man well dressed and well-behaved beyond the demands of the situation. When he left the other guests asked one another in awestruck tones, 'Who was the visitor from the outer world?'
In fact he was a televisionary who, on leaving, promised to 'see what he could do for me'. A few weeks later it was at this command that I was summoned at the dead of night to the BBC studios in Shepherd's Bush.
I found myself in the cast of a program called Late Night Lineup whose other members were a monk and Fanny Craddock.
. . . I was questioned three times as to whether I was nervous . After twice saying no I asked, 'What have I got to lose?' 'Quite right.' said my interrogator. . . I only had negative goals. I wanted not to start every sentence with 'Well' or 'Er'. I wished to survive whatever was said to me without displaying embarrassment or shock. . . The questions were very bland. Most of them concerned the oddities of my appearance and of my domestic routine.
As the years have flown by, the questions have remained much the same. It is the answers that have changed, not in content but in manner. I no longer regard television interviews as ordeals that must be endured without flinching. They have become welcome opportunities for presenting myself and my ideas to the world - mini-parties which I enjoy and through which I try to offer entertainment to others. I could almost say they have become a way of life.
In fact he was a televisionary who, on leaving, promised to 'see what he could do for me'. A few weeks later it was at this command that I was summoned at the dead of night to the BBC studios in Shepherd's Bush.
I found myself in the cast of a program called Late Night Lineup whose other members were a monk and Fanny Craddock.
. . . I was questioned three times as to whether I was nervous . After twice saying no I asked, 'What have I got to lose?' 'Quite right.' said my interrogator. . . I only had negative goals. I wanted not to start every sentence with 'Well' or 'Er'. I wished to survive whatever was said to me without displaying embarrassment or shock. . . The questions were very bland. Most of them concerned the oddities of my appearance and of my domestic routine.
As the years have flown by, the questions have remained much the same. It is the answers that have changed, not in content but in manner. I no longer regard television interviews as ordeals that must be endured without flinching. They have become welcome opportunities for presenting myself and my ideas to the world - mini-parties which I enjoy and through which I try to offer entertainment to others. I could almost say they have become a way of life.