Open All Hours creator talks making legendary sitcom: "It would never happen again"
Sir Roy Clarke on his important lunch with Ronnie Barker, a pairing made in comedy heaven and the gift of an idea.
Fifty years ago this month, a little corner store opened for business. Quintessentially northern but universally popular, Open All Hours was a hit for its stars and spawned a successful sequel, but in fact the bell above Arkwright’s door first tinkled in a pilot episode three years before in 1973. RT was lucky enough to gain a rare interview with its creator, Sir Roy Clarke... Last of the Summer Wine, Keeping Up Appearances and Open All Hours are just three of the hit shows that have kept Roy Clarke busy over the years. And so beloved are those comedies that he was recently appointed a Knights Bachelor for services to entertainment. Did the recent honour come as a surprise? “You can bet your bottom dollar!” says Clarke, 96. But what of the other birthday boy, Open All Hours: how did that come about? “The BBC put Ronnie and I together for a lunch to see if we could come up with something,” explains Clarke, “and in the course of that, Ronnie said, ‘I’ve always wanted to play one of these small shopkeepers.’ Well that clicked for me because my wife’s father was a grocer, she was raised in the trade, and when we were first married she ran a little shop, so I was comfy with the material and I went away quite happy with working on that.” The show was created specifically for Ronnie Barker for his 1973 comedy anthology series Seven of One, which also gave rise to Porridge. There was a three-year gap between pilot and series, so why the long wait? “Well, it was always Ronnie’s commitments.” As well as The Two Ronnies, Barker was also becoming established as “habitual criminal” Norman Stanley Fletcher in said cell-mate sitcom. So in Open All Hours, his skinflint shopkeeper Albert Arkwright, paired with David Jason as his naive nephew Granville, was a comedy dream come true. “It would never happen again,” says Clarke. “David happened to be just starting in his fame. At no other stage in time would it have been possible to have two stars of that magnitude in one show. So that was a huge bonus for me.” The team wasn’t quite complete, however. Nurse Gladys Emanuel, the focus of Arkwright’s permanent infatuation, was played in the pilot by Sheila Brennan and only subsequently by Lynda Baron. “The production didn’t think it worked, so they recast. Absolutely nothing to do with me.” It's not the only thing to change after that first instalment. Outside scenes of Arkwright's shop were initially filmed in Ealing, west London, but afterwards in Balby near Doncaster. The foundation was now in place for four series of fun, with ardent Arkwright constantly rebuffed by no-nonsense Nurse Gladys, and wet-behind-the-ears Granville perpetually thwarted in his own dating games by his accident-prone nature. It’s a tribute to Clarke that so many pre-fame actors queued up to play customers on the show, including Yootha Joyce (George and Mildred), John Challis (Only Fools and Horses), Liz Dawn (Coronation Street) and Barbara Flynn (A Very Peculiar Practice). “That was part of the gift of the idea, that in effect with the shop you’ve got a theatre. You’ve got the two regulars, Ronnie and David, keeping things always on a comedy level, then you’ve got your customers walking in. It was like old variety acts coming in, doing their turn and then going off again. It was a wonderful gift. “I think Ronnie, when he said that’s what he wanted to do, he sussed that, somehow. The instinct was there, telling him it was a good idea.” In fact, Clarke wrote another pilot for that springboard series Seven of One. It was called Spanner's Eleven and followed the misfortunes of a terrible football club. "Yeah, we won’t talk much about that!" he laughs. Open All Hours mixed slapstick, verbal dexterity and end-of-pier gags, as well as a smidgen of melancholy in Arkwright's end-of-episode ruminations. The show ran for four series and 26 episodes, until 1985. So what were some of Clarke's comedy inspirations, growing up? "I loved George Formby. I liked the American humour, I liked Crazy Gang and that sort of stuff." Clarke famously wrote all his early scripts in longhand. "I did. I used to when I had a legible hand, because typewriters in those days... I mean, if you had to make an alteration it was a huge labour. With pencil, at least you could soon scrub out and rewrite in a balloon or something, so it was easier." The show's “hero”, miserly, crotchety Arkwright, could easily have been unlikeable, so Clarke and Barker gave him a stutter. “For which I make no apology," says Clarke, "because he was big enough to handle that. In fact, he was so big a character, I think, Arkwright needed a little flaw. "Without a little humanity he would have been an appalling character, and that’s one of the wonders of people like Ronnie Barker that his decency came through, even with the terrible bloody things I gave him to do!” The decision to revive the show for Still Open All Hours in 2013 was a brave one, bearing in mind Barker’s death in 2005, but it was upheld by more than 13 million tuning in, and the show running for six series and 41 episodes – longer even than the original programme. “You tamper fearfully with a success,” says Clarke, “and it could have gone badly, but again, with David, you’ve got the talent that rescues it." Jason's turn as Granville, taking over the store following Arkwright’s death, was another winner for Clarke. It brought back running characters such as Wavy Mavis (Maggie Ollerenshaw) and Mrs Featherstone the "Black Widow" (Stephanie Cole), and introduced viewers to more comedy royalty in the shape of Brigit Forsyth, Johnny Vegas, Tim Healy, Sally Lindsay, Nina Wadia and others. In many ways it overcame Barker's absence by making his presence strongly felt. "Yes we did, that was deliberate. His photo was always there, and his presence was pretty huge, I think." Not to mention Arkwright's famous snapping shop till. "Of course," laughs Clarke. Although the BBC axed Still Open in 2023, Clarke has written a coda for the show in a documentary about Open All Hours and its legacy, to air on U&Gold later this year. "It's not a script really, it’s a piece to finish off the documentary, and it kind of winds it up." Two of his biggest successes, Open All Hours and Last of the Summer Wine, are both comic portrayals of northern life, but Clarke views them as separate entities: "Summer Wine is all expansive and hillsides and things, the shop’s a tiny theatre. And they both worked." Favourite episodes? “I liked Ronnie and the nurse going to a wedding... I like the funeral one, too, with Ronnie putting the buns in the hearse. But I like most of them, to be honest. It was such a pleasure working with that talent.” An official biography of Roy Clarke, Writing All Hours by Andrew T Smith, will be published by Ten Acre Books later this year. Roy Clarke Remembers... is on BBC Four on Tuesday 10 February at 7:30pm and afterwards on BBC iPlayer. Add shows to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Meet the BBC's last reporter remaining in Russia: "It feels like we're in the eye of the storm"
The BBC's Russia editor Steve Rosenberg admits the last four years have tested his optimism, but he has no intention of abandoning the country he loves.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. Steve Rosenberg is the BBC’s Russia editor, and the broadcaster’s only reporter left in the country. Over more than 30 years of living in Moscow, he has experienced the Communist and Boris Yeltsin eras, Vladimir Putin and now “Z”, the military symbol for Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Though journalists are often detained, arrested and tried, he continues to report from the country. You’re currently based in Moscow, but not in your usual office? Our main office flooded, there was a burst pipe in the building, so we’re in an emergency flat. We’ve had to build a temporary voice booth, using blankets and a desk. What were you doing when Russia invaded Ukraine, four years ago? I was woken by a call from the news desk in London. I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes and rushed to the office. That was a hell of a day – I was working non-stop, broadcasting live, doing reports for the main TV bulletins. There wasn’t a second to stop. At the end of the day, it hit me – this was a watershed moment, things were never going to be the same. As the only BBC reporter in Russia, what’s a typical day like? Going back 10 years, it would be hard to get on the news; that’s all changed. I sleep for four to five hours, get up at 5am and walk our rescue dog, Laila. After breakfast, I come into the office and review the papers for social media. Even though it’s a very controlled media environment, you find all kinds of nuggets in the Russian press. But the situation is so unpredictable, you never know what’s going to happen. It feels like we’re in the eye of the storm; it’s disconcerting. Last May, I was completely exhausted. The doctor said, “Eat better, do more exercise!” So I started going to the gym, having a decent breakfast, cutting out the snacks… I’m feeling much better. How is it, in the eye of the storm? We’re in a strange bubble. When you’re in Moscow, everything looks pretty normal. Then you see adverts trying to recruit people to fight in the war, and people who have lost limbs. A lot of Russians try to pretend this nightmare isn’t happening, but that’s becoming increasingly difficult. Russia’s affected more and more in terms of casualties. The economy is getting worse and the newspapers are talking openly about this. With only a handful of Western journalists left in Russia, do you constantly assess the risk? After Evan Gershkovich was arrested and jailed [the Wall Street Journal reporter was released in 2024 after more than 16 months in custody], a lot of foreign reporters left, understandably. There’s no guarantee something won’t happen to us, but independent Russian journalists who criticise the authorities are putting themselves at more risk than we are. The BBC correspondent Sarah Rainsford was expelled in 2021, and dozens of journalists working for BBC Russia pulled out of Moscow. Do you miss working in a bustling newsroom? My wife, and playing the piano, help to put the craziness behind me, because it feels as if everything has been turned upside down several times. And Laila, we love her to bits – you come home and she’s waiting there. Aside from Vladimir Putin, who would you like to interview there? Valentina, who sold newspapers in the local newspaper kiosk – she’s a lovely babushka with an incredible smile. We became friends, and I used to film our little conversations – with permission – and post them on social media. Her kiosk was an island of calm in this sea of craziness. But she left Moscow and moved to southern Russia. I miss her. She was a daily reminder of why I fell in love with Russia – the Russian soul, before this huge, dark cloud came over the country. What’s it like asking President Putin a question at his annual, five-hour press conference? The situation, in itself, is quite intimidating. It’s a big set-piece event, live on Russian state television, with millions watching. Often, he says something before you ask a question, perhaps to make you a bit ill at ease. Last year, he made some comment about the BBC. I paid no attention – you’ve got be focused. I don’t hold back. How does President Putin come across in person? As someone who believes that he’s invincible. His decision to invade Ukraine was a miscalculation. He thought this “special military operation” would last a few days. Having lived in Russia for 30 years, how did you feel when the invasion happened? I felt the Russia I’d known for so many years had gone. The familiar buildings were there – the Bolshoi Ballet, my local supermarket. But this was a different Russia. Suddenly you started seeing the letter “Z”, the symbol of the “special military operation”. Then repressive laws were passed, silencing dissent. The relationship with the West broke down. Our lives became very unpredictable. You went off-air for a short time? There was a moment after the repressive laws were passed, when bosses in London asked us to pause broadcasting while lawyers looked at the legislation for our own safety. For three days we were off-air and waiting. I sat at the piano and wrote a piece of music, Isolation, that expressed how I felt – that Russia was suddenly cut off from the rest of the world. I was allowed to post that. Music was another way of reporting, in a sense, what was happening. You’ve been on-air since, but your job comes with great challenges — not least being followed? On trips [outside Moscow], there are chaps waiting for you, who pop up regularly. I’m used to that now. Normally, they don’t get in the way of our work. “Keep calm and carry on” is the best advice. You’ve been called a “defecating squirrel” on Russian TV – quite a contrast with the 90s, when you were invited on-screen during the Eurovision Song Contest, when Russia was taking part. How does that affect you? Squirrels are quite cute. It’s being called an enemy of Russia, which I’m not, that’s unpleasant. I spent five years studying Russian, I’ve lived here for more than 30 years. I fell in love with Russian literature and Russian music – I married a Russian lady. A lot of Russians still want to talk to us, they still want a relationship with Britain. They often shake my hand, or ask for a selfie. That shows the very intense, anti-British propaganda on Russian state television doesn’t necessarily filter down. You’re up at 5am, reporting live on Radio 4’s Today programme and later the BBC television news bulletins. How do you relax? I watch 1970s British sitcoms – the ones I watched as a kid – on YouTube, isn’t that embarrassing? It’s quite a pressured job so it’s nice to watch an episode of Dad’s Army or Yes Minister. It feels as if the old world order is breaking down, so a bit of nostalgia helps. Your great-grandfather left Belarus when it was part of the Russian Empire… My grandma found a box of documents, including the passport that my great-grandfather used to leave the Russian Empire in 1894. The family story is that he wanted to go to America and bought a ticket. But when the ship landed in England, the captain said, “America! Everybody off!” How do you feel about the future? The last four years have been a nightmare, especially for Ukraine. The level of death and destruction is off the scale. Russia’s taken a very dark path, and the last four years have tested my optimism to the extreme. But little interactions with Russians give me hope that things are going to be better. Do you ever fancy an easier job? Not at the moment! I think, in a sense, my whole life has led up to this. Panorama: Our Man in Moscow is available now on BBC iPlayer. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Current Affairs coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
5 everyday household items that are toxic for you – from dishwasher tablets to air fresheners
Scientist and broadcaster Mark Miodownik reveals the toxins that lurk in our homes.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. Modern technology has allowed us to create homes of unparalleled comfort and convenience, but in doing so we have unwittingly exposed ourselves to invisible dangers through some of the products we buy. These dangers originate from the chemicals created by talented scientists trying to solve human problems and deliver miracle materials, some of which have been shown to be dangerous to human health and the biodiversity of the planet. Here are five everyday household items to look out for: Dishwasher tablets Per- and Polyfluoroalkyl Substances (PFAS) are chemicals with carbon–fluorine bonds, which give them properties such as non-stick, water-proofing and stain resistance in products like cookware, clothing, packaging and even dishwasher tablets. They gain these properties because the carbon-fluorine bonds are so strong that they do not chemically react with almost anything. But they are so stable and inert it’s hard to get rid of them as there are few micro-organisms that can break them down – hence why they are called forever chemicals. Their prevalence means they end up in our food and water. Evidence is mounting that as the concentration in our organs increases, they can cause illnesses and even cancers. Plastic food containers Plastics are wonderful and versatile materials. In the form of packaging they make food last longer and so prevent food waste and reduce prices. However, during the manufacturing of plastics, additives are added to give them strength and durability. Many of these chemicals have been shown to have a detrimental impact on human health. These include Bisphenol A (BPA), which interferes with the body’s hormones, affecting reproductive and metabolic systems. BPA acts like the hormone oestrogen, affecting the immune system – it’s also been linked to many other disorders. The EU has now banned BPA in all food-contact plastics, but in the UK it has only been banned for use in babies’ bottles. Avoid heating up food in plastic containers containing BPAs to reduce their ability to leach into the food. Synthetic clothing Another emerging problem with plastics is their ability to fragment and form tiny particles called microplastics. These fragments are often invisibly small and go unnoticed. They find their way into our food, drinks and even the air we breathe. One of the biggest sources of these particles are car tyres. The microplastics are produced as the tyres wear and are then washed into rivers and nearby land. The smallest ones are so light they become airborne and we breathe them in. Other major sources are synthetic clothing, paints and packaging. It’s not yet clear how they affect human health, although experiments show that they create an inflammatory response in cells and tissues. Evidence is growing that they are accumulating in our bodies as well as nature, affecting the health of everything from plants to fish. Air fresheners Many very useful products in the home are manufactured using volatile organic substances (VOCs). These are carbon-based substances like solvents that have low boiling points so in a warm environment like a home, they become gases and are part of the air you breathe. Since many VOCs are toxic, there can be a significant health impact, especially for people with respiratory conditions. Long exposure to VOCs can come from cleaning products, paints, personal care products, carpets and furniture. Many VOCs, such as solvents and air fresheners, smell nice but are often dangerous, nonetheless. Pet flea treatments The active chemicals responsible for killing fleas on cats, dogs and other pets are insecticides such as fipronil and imidacloprid. They work by attacking the nervous system of the parasites. They are powerful and indiscriminate and can kill a variety of pollinators, invertebrates and aquatic life. They are banned for use in agriculture in the UK, but are still used in “spot-on” treatments. Studies show that these chemicals are quickly spread around the home by pets, including on to their owners. The health risks are not well researched but there is evidence they are linked to diabetes and high blood pressure. If washed into rivers their impact on biodiversity is dramatic. Mark Miodownik presents Toxic! on Monday 16 February at 11am on Radio 4. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Audio coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
The Archers at 75: Reflecting on the British institution with BBC Radio stars and its celebrity fans
From cake competitions to coercive control, The Archers has captivated its devoted listeners for 75 years and counting.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. For all the gentle storylines about lemon-drizzle cake and family tiffs, there is something oddly majestic about The Archers and its survival for 75 years. It’s not about thriller events – though there’s a grand shock revelation coming very soon. The more solid pleasure of the radio drama lies in getting to know the characters over years, watching them arrive, reveal themselves, scrape against the others, maybe intermarry and bear children, with all recognisable tensions and worries and rows. And the reason that this tapestry of lives becomes sort of majestic is its sheer longevity: the following of fictional lives in real time. And in a largely urban society, it perhaps helps to remind those in cramped cities that food comes from hard work and green fields. When you meet the long-serving actors they always stress that peculiar sense of living in a parallel reality. Pat Gallimore, who has played Tony Archer’s wife Pat for 52 years, says: “If anyone had told me at that audition in 1974 that I would be around for half a century, it’d be unbelievable. But like your own life it becomes part of you, surviving and thriving. A second life, a second family.” Gallimore’s character Pat is a classic example of a figure listeners have heard evolving over the years: from a Welsh-accented CND firebrand and leftist, who cancelled Tony’s Express for The Guardian, we’ve heard her support the farm going organic “way before it was mainstream”. The Archers was part of that new acceptance just as it reflects today’s rewilding enthusiasm. Her Pat also worked through a delicate handling of grief over her elder son’s death on a tractor. I remind her how furious farming people were when the then-editor giggled in an interview about his departure as a “fun” plot. “Yes,” says Gallimore thoughtfully, “we all know that things can hit people personally. It matters.” Another storyline that hit people personally, making national news, was the “coercive control” story between Pat’s daughter Helen and Rob. She portrayed a mother entirely unaware of what the listener – in genuinely troubling scenes – had heard happening. “I did argue a little bit at the time, asking why hadn’t Pat spotted what’s going on,” protests Gallimore. “But I suppose she had come to trust Rob, he helped on the farm.” That was a big story, but over 75 years there have been many smaller ones that gripped listeners, with news of them sometimes (as in my case) drawing back midlife listeners who got irritated or bored and gave up for two or three years. Returners easily fall back into the entangled stories of imaginary Ambridge, amused by changes in half-familiar characters, soothed by the rhythm of life. And of death, too: my generation has seen the end of several, from the roguish Joe Grundy and Walter Gabriel to wicked but repentant Rob and, just lately, the formidable matriarch Peggy herself. It’s a narrative hymn to humanity and mortality, and that is no small thing. My mother once said, “It helps us age, it’s company.” When the performance and script are particularly well done (right now under Jeremy Howe, a serious veteran of radio drama, it is on a high), it can touch hearts and change attitudes. A modern-slavery story a while back made many listeners say they became more conscious of how a plausible gangmaster would exploit homeless men, chillingly alluding to them as “the horses”. But all this wasn’t really the aim, back in 1951 when it launched nationally on New Year’s Day. When farmer Dan Archer was invented, paired with a London girl called Doris in a fictional village called Ambridge, it was actually an educational project for farmers: there was still rationing after the Second World War and it was vital to boost the national food supply. The BBC, with government urging, wanted to publicise new ways forward, beyond the plough-horses and steam threshing machines. But its first editor Godfrey Baseley realised that, actually, it would be family and neighbourhood relationships that kept the interest going. He gradually created a balance, so that the agricultural story editor’s rather plodding information wouldn’t overwhelm the general listener who just wanted “an everyday story of country folk” to calm them down while making supper. Successive editors devised non-farming plots to run alongside the informative stuff about dairy and arable problems, and kept up with changes in society. The Archer family – spreading sideways into the Aldridges with the marriage of Peggy’s daughter Jennifer to the rakish, affluent Brian – has always dominated, but gradually, to the relief of many, the working-class Grundys and Horrobins have been elevated from mere cartoon yokels. (Neil Kinnock once said The Archers should be called “The Grundys and Their Oppressors”.) Add Radio Times as a Preferred Source on Google Keep up to date on what’s worth watching with your favourite entertainment news from Radio Times – see more of our exclusive news and interviews featured prominently in Top Stories when using Google. The economic pressures on all classes are woven in: whether it’s Brian fretting about the cost of a £150,000 farm machine, old Peggy’s will supporting Alzheimer’s research and rewilding rather than her family members, or Emma’s heart breaking because she will never own a house. The introduction of Asian characters has been gradual (artfully, the first one fell in love and married the vicar). That again reflects the nation, albeit sometimes stretching rural probability: the old joke is that it’s the only village in England where the year revolves round Diwali and the Pride festival. The latest, touchingly, is Akram Malik (Asif Khan), husband of the new local doctor, who involves himself with the Ambridge farm people because he is homesick for family farming in Pakistan. But aside from race and technology, producers also, with cautious but determined steps, had to keep up with changes in morals and family values since the staid 1950s. Doris Archer’s stout-knickered world is not ours. At a BBC event celebrating the life of June Spencer – who played Peggy for 70 years – I was asked to speak about the changes this matriarch had seen. I mischievously listed the “sexual rewilding” of Britain – Archers coping with adultery, divorce, hookups, abortion, single mothers with multiple baby daddies (including an anonymous donor and a “friend with benefits”), gay and lesbian couples, surrogacy, a granddaughter drunk while pregnant, and even a family grandson selling sex as an escort. Some more traditionally minded listeners objected to this, especially the acceptance of uncommitted hookups, but it does reflect modern mores just as faithfully as Brian’s £150,000 seed-drill and bovine TB anxieties reflect modern farming. Sunny Ormonde, who for 20 years has played the ageing femme fatale of the Archer family, cheerfully observes, “Lilian seems to have had affairs with almost everybody in the village, though never Brian. “When I started in 2000, I wanted to check whether listeners would take this middle-aged manhunter on board... but it’s interesting how things change as the long story goes on. With the loss of Peggy as well as her sister Jennifer, family dynamics change. There’s nobody left to put Lilian in her place, she’s had to grow up. Be the new matriarch.” Like several of the other professionals who receive scripts and recording dates, Ormonde completes the curious, beguiling loop between listener and actors that the series has created. “You see, I am a listener as well as being part of it. Sometimes I hear something that I didn’t know anything about and think, ‘Oh, my goodness!’ And I’m in it!” Indeed, the urge to be in it for a few lines of cameo has captured over the decades starry names from Princess Margaret to Queen Camilla, Dame Judi Dench to Sir Terry Wogan and Sir Bradley Wiggins. The jury that finally acquitted poor Helen of stabbing evil Rob included Catherine Tate and Dame Eileen Atkins. It’s become a bit like being asked to be in Who’s Who. As to the real cast, any theatre company talking to journalists can paint itself as a happy family, whether in truth it is or not. But I have over the years run into a fair few of the Archers cast, and it really does seem to be a reality in that sense. Certainly those who get killed off tend to strike a slightly wistful note, and there are apocryphal tales of senior actors complaining at not getting enough scenes (it is, of course, piece-work!). Pat Gallimore reflects, “I can’t remember any major fallings-out. Certainly not with me involved. One thing about it is, even though you’re together in scenes for years, it’s not claustrophobic like a real family. You do your work and come home. In the studio, we particularly enjoy the table scenes, loading the dishwasher and arguing about who’s making the supper, all together. But of course,” she adds, “as an actor it’s much more fun to play conflict or crisis. “I remember dear Colin Skipp [the original Tony] saying, when John [Pat and Tony’s son] died, that in a way those scenes are easier to play because there’s something to react against. Doing the workaday stuff, feeding the cows, doing the shopping, is actually far more difficult to get right. But you’re hardly going to win an Oscar for saying, ‘Let’s go and make some blueberry yogurt,’ are you?” Read more: The Archers confirmed for live 75th anniversary tour as fans can celebrate beloved radio drama Bridge Farm to be brought to life at new RHS show to celebrate The Archers' 75th anniversary Celebrity fans Ruth Jones The Archers is my little 13-minute daily sanctuary. I’m not going to lie, they’re in bed with me almost every night. Sometimes I get really frustrated with it but that’s part of its joy. I nearly stopped listening when David and Ruth Archer almost lost the farm when it was threatened by a new road. I can picture all the characters in my mind, and yes, I do have favourites. I love Jazzer and in more recent times George and Brad. But Susan is also a joy, as is Tracy. My absolute top favourite though is Lilian (Sunny Ormonde, top right). Her wicked gin-swilling laugh, and her life-affirming, life-grabbing presence cheer me up every time she’s in a scene. Though the truth is I love ’em all. Seventy-five years – I won’t be around in another 75, but I do hope The Archers will. Brad Horrobin might be the future Joe Grundy, Martha Carter may be the future Lilian and who knows if the Bull will still be serving, but I’ll keep listening into my old age if I’m lucky enough! Sir Stephen Fry One of my very earliest memories is of fitting myself under the chair that my mother sat on and listening with her to The Archers. The theme tune was as familiar to me as Pop Goes the Weasel, Happy Birthday or Baa, Baa, Black Sheep. In fact, I cannot really remember a time when I didn’t think of The Archers as a natural and inevitable part of my life, like the milkman and the chimney sweep. Those have more or less stepped away from our world, but The Archers is still there. I listen to it more religiously, rarely missing an episode, much more when I’m abroad than when I’m at home. Because it always takes me right back to England. And, like England, it can be as banal, embarrassing and ridiculous as it can be charming, brave and lovable. The people of Ambridge are for the most part sound, well intentioned, friendly, forgiving and kind. It is always the same, but it changes with the times without one quite noticing. There’s minimum tillage and mob grazing on the farm now, and Pat and Tony’s yogurts are kefirs. Alan Titchmarsh Thirty years ago, my wife told me that she would only consider that I had “made it” when I’d appeared in The Archers. I thought there was no chance. Then I was asked if I would judge the Ambridge Best Garden competition – as myself. I got to meet Lynda Snell and was driven around the village by Joe Grundy (actors Carole Boyd and Edward Kelsey, right) in a pony and trap pulled by the legendary Bartleby. The fact that the “trap” was one table upturned on another with two broom handles placed between them to allow movement mattered not a jot. What a fun day. But I can’t for the life of me remember who won! Still, my wife now admits I’ve made it. David Mitchell My mum has been listening to The Archers for as long as she can remember, almost since it began, and I think she still does. So I heard a lot of it during my childhood. I haven’t entirely kept up, but I’m very glad it’s still going. And in a frightening and changing world, I think it’s great that some things continue. And it’s the original soap opera, isn’t it? Congratulations to it! Emma Freud My favourite characters have to be the Grundys — not because they’re easy to like (they’re not), but because they’re written without flattery. They’re flawed, often irritating, and test our sympathy, but even when they’re horrendous, I find myself rooting for them. I want them to win, to prosper. Maybe I want them to take over Ambridge? The Rob and Helen storyline was a slow, devastating depiction of coercive control. Each episode contained so much thoughtfulness, research and creative discipline. The writers didn’t hold back: scenes were as uncomfortable as they were impactful. But for every Rob and Helen storyline, there’s delightful eccentricity – such as the “soiled pants” competition, where characters buried their underwear to test the soil. Only The Archers. I love the low dramas – precious episodes when life just potters on with its moments of sweetness, meanness, small wins, small losses, long-term love, loneliness, Clarrie’s arthritis. It’s life… and it’s gently talked about in a way that only happens behind closed doors. I know some villagers better than my own family but I never have to buy them Christmas presents. I also love the lack of money. We rarely hear details of salaries, house prices, rents or the cost of a gift. This means we can exist in a world where we aren’t constantly looking through the lens of finance for status or position or value. It’s a subtle but welcome omission. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Audio coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Derry Girls creator talks new Netflix show How to Get to Heaven from Belfast: "You can't separate us from what's happened here"
Following her BAFTA-winning Derry Girls, Lisa McGee is pivoting to something a bit creepier – but with friends, laughter and fun at its core.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. If you ever catch an Irish brunette staring as you argue with friends, beware: it might be Lisa McGee, and she might write you into her next comedy. McGee’s huge hit Derry Girls, about a group of teenagers growing up during the Troubles, hit the mark with viewers thanks to its precise and hilarious observations about the way family and friends often talk to each other. And while writing her new series, which also follows a group of bickering pals, McGee admits she takes a lot of inspiration from real life. “I love watching people argue,” she says. “I have a group of close friends from school and when we go away together, I just listen. The arguments are unbelievably funny.” While McGee changes and embellishes the real-life stories she hears – and usually asks permission – she admits getting into trouble once when she forgot to tell a friend she was pinching her story about a family feud. “My friend was like, ‘Lisa, what the hell?’ But I just go, ‘Well, you shouldn’t tell me’. Everyone knows it’s all up for grabs, my mum especially. You can see it dawning on her as she’s telling me a story and she’ll go, ‘Don’t you dare’. With my mum – tough. I’ll use it anyway.” Her new series, How to Get to Heaven from Belfast, has the same DNA as Derry Girls but is edgier, according to McGee. And that’s not the only difference – rather than a six-part sitcom this is an eight-part thriller going out on Netflix, which means a bigger budget than Derry Girls had on Channel 4. View oEmbed on the source website The plot revolves around three school friends now in their 30s – Saoirse, Dara and Robyn – who discover their fourth friend has died suddenly. They haven’t seen Greta since school and when they go to her wake, they realise the cause of her death may not be all it seems. Soon, they’ve stumbled into investigating what really happened while facing up to their own past lives – and lies. The idea came to 45-year-old McGee when she visited her old school in Derry, which had been derelict for 20 years and become a favourite location for ghost hunters. “It was really weird,” she says. “There were school skirts hanging up and writing on blackboards. I was walking down a little path and I got this freaky feeling I was going to bump into myself as a teenage girl. I didn’t, but it made me ask, what would she think of me and my choices? That’s where the idea started. “As you get older, I think you go back to the true person you were. I was a little girl that just liked writing and the older I get, the closer I get to that person, because she had it all worked out, actually. The death of their friend shakes these women and connects them to the teenagers they once were, and that spirit they thought they’d lost. It’s about friendship and self-discovery.” Add Radio Times as a Preferred Source on Google Keep up to date on what’s worth watching with your favourite entertainment news from Radio Times – see more of our exclusive news and interviews featured prominently in Top Stories when using Google. While Derry Girls was an out-and-out comedy set around a very specific area and time (the mid-1990s), How to Get to Heaven from Belfast is much harder to place tonally. It’s certainly a very funny thriller, but it also includes moments that are fantastical, spooky and heartfelt. Aware of how bonkers it may sound, I tentatively ask McGee if the likes of Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca and the cartoon Scooby-Doo were influences on the show… “I love you!” she laughs. “Scooby-Doo was our biggest reference, and people thought I was mad. The director Michael Lennox and I would go, ‘Let’s make it 30 per cent more Scooby-Doo’. We wrote a list of unhinged references. And yes, Rebecca is one of my favourite books. The A-Team was also in there, Murder, She Wrote, Father Ted. I’ve got away with doing two insane shows, and no one’s stopped me. I count myself so lucky.” It’s a more complicated series with more money behind it, and as the follow-up to the BAFTA-and Emmy-winning success of Derry Girls, I assume McGee must have felt pressured to deliver another hit. But when I put this to her, McGee says she felt far less pressure than during the third series of Derry Girls, which ended with a poignant episode about the Good Friday Agreement. “Derry Girls started to feel like it wasn’t mine,” she says. “I really felt I had to deliver, because it wasn’t just for me any more, it had become this thing people were invested in. With this, I’m not representing a big moment in history, or my town or my people. I’m just trying to tell a banging story. “I’ll be disappointed if people don’t enjoy it, but it’s not the same level of scrutiny as Derry Girls. It’s been quite freeing. I had to not be the Derry Girls writer, because it could cripple you to be worrying about that.” As in Derry Girls, the protagonists in How to Get to Heaven from Belfast are a varied group: Saoirse is a high-flying writer based in London; Dara is a gay Catholic who lives at home with her mother and sister; and Robyn is a glamorous, stressed mum. McGee agrees they could absolutely be seen as grown-up versions of Erin, Orla, Clare and Michelle, but says she didn’t find herself slipping into repeating jokes or cadences from Derry Girls. “I love writing about female friends,” she says, “but the thriller aspect meant I couldn’t do some of the cartoonish stuff I would have done in Derry Girls. The stakes are higher for these women because they’ve got careers, kids or a mum to look after – stakes that Michelle and Erin didn’t have. I also found myself, for the first time, stripping out a lot of jokes because they detracted from the tension. That would have been unthinkable on Derry Girls.” How to Get to Heaven from Belfast may not tackle as serious a storyline as the Good Friday Agreement, but it doesn’t shy away from jokes that are close to the knuckle. One gag has the women breaking down after filling the car up with the wrong type of petrol, to which a Garda [police officer] from the Republic of Ireland tells the Northern Irish women, “It’s not like you lot to waste petrol.” There are also running jokes about Dara having “an attack of the Catholics” every time she feels guilty. Still, McGee says she knows where to draw the line to avoid upsetting her Northern Irish compatriots. “You can’t separate us from what’s happened here, you just can’t. It never really goes away, and I think it can be funny.” However, she does concede that there are subjects that are definitely off limits since becoming a mother (she has two young sons with writer husband, Tobias Beer). “Being a mum, with all the crazy and chaos, is good for comedy,” she says. “There’s more I can write and access now. But there are certain topics I won’t go near because they’re just too dark. “When people write well about things like sexual violence, it’s very important, but there needs to be space for women to just enjoy and laugh and have escapism. I was a very silly person when I wrote Derry Girls, and a very hopeful person, so everything was positive. It could still have been a brilliant show written by someone else, but it might have been bleaker. “I want people to come away from my shows feeling a wee bit better about things. My characters are never cool, they’re always eejits. I think people respond to that: my characters make people feel a bit better. I’m very comfortable writing silly women being silly.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. How to Get to Heaven from Belfast arrives on Netflix on Thursday 12 February. Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Blue Lights star argues that there are still so many realistic stories to tell about sex workers
Despite her BAFTA, the actor says that every role she gets is still like winning the lottery.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. What’s the view from your sofa? I used to have a small TV because I was against letting it dominate the room, but my partner is a massive film geek and viewing is very important to him. So, I doubled the size of my TV, but it doesn’t dominate the room. We have a corner suite that we watch it from. What have you been watching on your room-appropriate TV recently? I’m drawn to documentaries, and I’ve just watched Sean Combs: the Reckoning on Netflix. I’m also enjoying The Beast in Me. Who controls the remote at home? We share it. If I walk into the room and my partner is watching a programme, he will stop to talk to me. He doesn’t just continue watching, which is incredible, isn’t it? You recently starred as a crime boss in the drama Blue Lights, and you play the head of MI6 in the comedy Black Ops. Which genre do you prefer? I like immersing myself in characters and I’m fascinated by good writing. As long as my mind is engaged, I’m a happy bunny. I just try to make things interesting and bring some humanity to even the baddies I play – they were kids once, too. But being around people who do a lot of comedy is always lovely. Black Ops also makes pertinent points about racism and corruption. Do you think comedy is an effective medium to explore difficult topics? Yes, and I think it gets overlooked. Even though I’m not employed in a lot of comedic roles, I’m still aware of the need. I revere comedy and I don’t think it gets the respect it deserves, budget-wise, as well as the kudos. Your breakout role was as a sex worker, Simone, in the 1986 film Mona Lisa, and you played another one in the 1990s TV drama Band of Gold. What’s your opinion on how TV series and films represent that occupation? In the area of sex workers, there are still loads of stories to be told from a realistic point of view. When Band of Gold came out, hearing and seeing these women at home, it was revolutionary. I let go of my prejudices of sex workers on that job, because I met them in person for research – the prejudices were there, but I thought, “I’ve got to drop them before I play this part.” I’ve heard that the film Anora [starring Mikey Madison as a sex worker from Brooklyn] is exploitative, not that it shouldn’t be, but the way it was done was exploitative. However, I do want to watch it. Were you offered a lot of similar parts after Band of Gold? Yes, so I veered away from them. Kay Mellor [the series creator] asked me and the other cast members if we wanted to do a fourth series, and because of my desire to do something different – and even though I didn’t have a lot of money back then – I said no. I thought, why not leave on a high, because I know things can be watered down. Add Radio Times as a Preferred Source on Google Keep up to date on what’s worth watching with your favourite entertainment news from Radio Times – see more of our exclusive news and interviews featured prominently in Top Stories when using Google. Is having variety as an actor important to you? I became an actor for variety, but I don’t make a judgement on other people if they’re happy in what they do. If you want to be in a situation for 20 years, the security and the feeling of family that brings is absolutely fantastic. When you finish a job, it’s like a death every time, so I can understand why people would want to avoid that. You won the BAFTA for best supporting actress in 2022 for the Channel 4 drama Help. How did that feel? When you get a nomination, that’s an honour in itself. Every job I get is like winning the lottery. Help was a very small part, and the other people in my category had a lot more screen time, so I didn’t expect it. Sometimes you think, “I can stop acting now. I’ve done what I’ve needed, so if you want to retire, you can.” But when I look at it, it reminds me to be a good actor, to work hard and to still have aspirations. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
I'm a documentary filmmaker and have met Tony Blair, Donald Trump and Volodymyr Zelensky – this is what they all had in common
Michael Waldman reveals what he’s learnt from interviewing our global leaders.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. Over three decades as a documentary-maker, I’ve been able to get up close to – and even under the skin of – some of the most powerful figures of our time, from President Zelensky and Donald Trump to, most recently, Sir Tony Blair. Power is irresistibly fascinating for those of us who don’t possess it. But what have I learnt from interviewing some of the most powerful people in the world? Tony Blair, who I interviewed for the three-part Channel 4 series The Tony Blair Story, kept me on my toes. His self-assurance rarely cracks, even when interrogated about what many view as his gravest mistake, the invasion of Iraq. Despite this conviction, what emerges is a level of emotion and psychological introspection that’s rarely been seen on camera. I was also able to speak with his wife Cherie, and – unprecedentedly – three of their grown-up children, Euan, Kathryn and Leo, which added a more intimate perspective on a man whose decade in power has shaped Britain and the world. It was evident, power can be a solitary business. “One of the things you learn,” he told me, “is that ultimately you sit in the seat. You’ve got to take the decision.” His former spin doctor Alastair Campbell recalls how, late into the night after the invasion of Iraq, he found Blair at his desk in Number 10: “It was one of those moments when I wished I could paint. It was an absolute portrait in the isolation of power.” President Zelensky, who I interviewed in 2023 for BBC Two series The Zelensky Story, presented a different challenge. Head of state of a country at war, it was a tall order to get him to give an interview and then open up about himself. It required two trips to Kyiv to secure, with sleep interrupted by descents into the air-raid shelter as sirens blared. Despite unimaginable pressures, Zelensky proved to be engaging, thoughtful, touching and funny. My encounter with Donald Trump at Mar-a-Lago in 2022 – after the end of his first presidency – started coolly. He was head down, signing papers, gesturing to my colleague and me to sit down on the other side of his large, untidy desk. There to discuss the remote possibility of an observational documentary, within minutes he indicated that he was very unlikely to agree, and he still hasn’t. But the trip to Palm Beach was not unproductive. The conversation suddenly turned to Putin and Ukraine, Queen Elizabeth (about whom he believed I was an expert), the then Princes Charles and William, and why he and I were both lucky to have a full head of hair – yes, really! It demonstrated the power of charisma and ceaseless confidence. Despite his record of outlandish statements, I could almost see how he had been able to seduce millions of voters. Queen Elizabeth, of course, never gave interviews, but in making Our Queen for ITV during her Diamond Jubilee in 2012, we gained permission to film the beginning of her audience at Balmoral with then Prime Minister David Cameron. Near dusk, we were ushered into her sitting room, with its dog-beds and cushion embroidered “It’s good to be Queen”. Amateur photographer that she was, she asked me, “Is the light all right? The sun goes down so quickly.” And joked about Queen Victoria – it felt like gold. She wielded her strange form of power with an entrancing serenity. What did Queen Elizabeth and Blair talk about every week for the 10 years of his premiership? That I couldn’t ask him. But about almost everything else I did. There’s no doubt power changes a person, as Cherie Blair reflected when she discussed her husband leaving office in 2007: “Your skill as a politician is about knowing about the people and living with the people and understanding what the people want. Ten years of living in the goldfish bowl, you kind of lose contact with reality.” Words that, perhaps, anyone in power should heed. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. The Tony Blair Story is on Tuesday 17, Wednesday 18 and Thursday 19 at 9pm on Channel 4. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Vinnie Jones explains why Clarkson's Farm comparisons are "upsetting" as he returns with In the Country
The footballer turned actor on playing gangsters, the great outdoors and coping with loneliness and grief.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. After a headline-grabbing football career, Vinnie Jones burst onto the big screen in Guy Ritchie’s 1998 debut Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Since then, he’s played soldiers, supervillains and enough gangsters to fill a crime family. But Vinnie Jones in the Country, now in its third series, follows the actor’s true passion: preserving and exploring the countryside from his 2,000-acre estate in West Sussex. Just don’t compare it to Clarkson’s Farm… When did your love of the outdoors begin? I caught my first trout with my dad when I was seven. He was always a passionate country man – we had fishing rods and guns and bred working dogs. We were in Watford, and I still remember finding my first lapwing nest in a field. If I were on Mastermind, my specialist subject would be British nature – not many people would beat me. You’ve moved from football to acting to country living — is it in your nature to reinvent yourself? I couldn’t just sit on my arse watching daytime TV. I get anxiety attacks if I don’t have plans for every day of the week. Doing all of this is where I’m in my element. For me, it’s 1988 every day: playing Liverpool in front of 100,000 people at Wembley. It’s like reliving my childhood, which was all countryside and football. Now it’s all countryside and acting. You had the idea for Vinnie Jones in the Country before Covid — did the pandemic change your approach to the show? I’d just lost my wife [Tanya died in 2019] going into the pandemic, so I couldn’t have been lonelier. I spent lockdown watching Netflix box sets. When we came out, the first thing I wanted was to dive into the countryside. It felt like being on the top board with the ladder taken away – I had no choice but to jump in. The show was the same: I dived straight in. How would you describe the show? It’s a show without an agenda, and it’s not a farm show – it’s an in-the-country show. Everyone’s tried to hang it on Clarkson’s Farm, which I find a bit upsetting. Jeremy’s done a fantastic job raising awareness for farmers, but ours is a different little show. After our second series, I think we were given a sponsored rake. Look at Clarkson’s Farm: tractors, combines – everything! Did you set out to explore grief and male friendship this series, or did that emerge naturally? It was never planned, but we’ve let the show take its own course, like a river: if it hits a dam, it goes another way. There’s a lot to be said for discussing mental health in the countryside, because it can be a lonely job. Are people surprised by your interest in nature and mental health? In the past, many newspapers were filled with stories about me being a lunatic, but a lot of that I brought on myself with the drinking. But I’m 12 years sober this April, and I wanted to show people what I actually do in my spare time. Yesterday, I sat for six hours just to see a kingfisher. I’m not a south-London gangster, never have been. After 15 years in the US, did you miss the British countryside? We moved there for my acting career and were up in Burbank, across the valley from Beverly Hills. I saw lots of wildlife – although mostly on golf courses! I’d also go up to Canada two or three times a year to fly fish and see the eagles. My favourite place on earth is just north of Vancouver. It’s a different world up there. What’s next for your partnership with film-maker Guy Ritchie? The new series of The Gentlemen, and I’m pretty heavy in this one. I may have another big movie with Guy this year, too. [Jones has just been confirmed as one of the leads in Ritchie’s new film Viva la Madness, based on the Layer Cake book series, alongside Jason Isaacs and Jonny Lee Miller]. There’s no time to stop swinging, but for me, and my mental health, that helps. In the show, you call your manor house “the new Yellowstone”. What else have you been watching on TV lately? We’ve watched MobLand and I’ll always watch Attenborough, he’s one of my heroes. I also like Grand Designs and The Chase. But other than football, we don’t watch a lot of telly. The countryside takes it out of you, so we’re often knackered and in bed before 9pm. We’ve got a little puppy too, so that also keeps us busy! Will there be more In the Country? We haven’t decided yet. I don’t want it to drag – three was our magic number. We’re building the lake house now and filming that, but do we want a construction series? When I played football, I wanted to finish at the top, not go back down through the leagues. We’ve had fun, but look at Clarkson’s Farm – there’s lots of politics there. I never want our little show to get like that. Ours is more of a hobby. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
What is the greatest modern British TV comedy? Vote in Radio Times's poll
Radio Times is hosting a landmark poll to decide which British TV comedies are destined to become the next generation's classics – and you can make your voice heard right now. The British sense of humour is world-renowned and, contrary to what some might say, it hasn’t gone anywhere. But it's getting tougher to show it off on TV, with shrinking budgets and fragmenting audiences making it tricky to raise the funds to raise a chuckle. But that doesn't mean that broadcasters haven't been creating great sitcoms and comedy shows in the last few years, with new classics emerging to take their place alongside Fawlty Towers, The Office and Only Fools and Horses. RT is looking to shine a spotlight on the newer shows worthy of becoming part of that comedy canon, from the funniest talents working today. With your help, we're looking to crown the best 'modern' comedy of recent years. Of course, what one defines as 'modern' may vary – for the purpose of this poll, we've drawn a line at the start of the 2010s. After all, only one show from that entire decade (Detectorists) ranked in our previous comedy poll in 2019, which saw Fawlty Towers voted the all-time greatest sitcom. Seven years later, this vote is not a replacement for that result, but rather a companion to it – your winning shows will sit beside earlier classics to form a snapshot of British comedy's past and present, which could also help point the way towards a bright future. We’ve curated a shortlist of 25 newer comedies based on the picks of more than a dozen industry experts, including the BBC's director of comedy Jon Petrie, Ghosts co-creator Laurence Rickard, stand-up comic Phil Wang and actor/Taskmaster survivor Emma Sidi (find the full list beneath the poll). But it’s up to you to make the final call – which one deserves to be known as our best modern comedy? Find more details on each shortlisted show below, including reactions from the creators themselves, and vote for your favourite here: View Riddle on the source website Thank you to the participants of our expert panel, who curated the shortlist. Alex Moody (Sky Studios, head of comedy commissioning) Asim Chaudhry (People Just Do Nothing co-creator) Charlie Perkins (Channel 4, head of comedy) Daniel Lawrence Taylor (Boarders creator) Emma Sidi (Starstruck) Holly Walsh (Motherland co-creator) Jack Rooke (Big Boys creator) Jon Mountague (Netflix, scripted comedy content creative) Jon Petrie (BBC, director of comedy) Laurence Rickard (Ghosts co-creator) Mawaan Rizwan (Juice creator) Nana Hughes (ITV, head of scripted comedy) Phil Wang (Stand-up comedian) We followed up with the creatives and stars of the shortlisted shows to find out what makes them so special – find out more about each of them below: After Life 2019–2022, Netflix Ricky Gervais broke hearts as widowed reporter Tony Johnson, whose suffering manifests in unfiltered observations. "No one talks about grieving," Gervais says. "People want to see themselves on telly – even if it’s something that they’ve never talked about before." Available on Netflix Alma’s Not Normal 2020–2024, BBC Two Sophie Willan was a force of nature in this semi-autobiographical series, about a working-class woman with dreams of becoming a star. Co-star Lorraine Ashbourne, who played grandma Joan, is still impressed. "It takes bravery to be as open as Sophie was when she was making this series," she tells RT. Available on iPlayer Big Boys 2022–2025, Channel 4 An unlikely friendship forms in ramshackle university digs. You might think you know what to expect, but Jack Rooke’s scripts will surprise you. "My inspiration was The Royle Family," Rooke says. "The tone of that was dramatic when it needed to be but also silly." Available on Channel 4 streaming Brassic 2019–2025, Sky Max Joe Gilgun and Michelle Keegan led Sky’s flagship comedy, following the lives of Hawley’s petty criminals. Co-creator Danny Brocklehurst credits Brassic’s success to "the mix of good-hearted high jinks with a very potty mouth". He adds: "We dealt with serious themes, but against a backdrop of silliness." Available on NOW Catastrophe 2015–2019, Channel 4 An unplanned pregnancy sparked a romance between two (almost) strangers, played by co-writers Rob Delaney and Sharon Horgan. "We wrote and spoke about what we wanted," Delaney recalls. "It’s undiluted, and if it hadn’t been, I don’t think it would have been successful." Available on Netflix Changing Ends 2023–present, ITVX Comedian Alan Carr revisits awkward childhood memories for this '80s-set coming-of-age story. "I wanted to push myself and not have a swear word as a punchline," says Carr. "Just good old-fashioned jokes that resonate with people." Available on ITVX Chewing Gum 2015–2017, E4 Michaela Coel gives a star-making turn as Tracey Gordon, whose Christian upbringing clashes with her urge for sexual liberation. "Michaela managed to portray life on a London council estate through a completely different lens," says executive producer Nana Hughes. Available on Channel 4 streaming Derry Girls 2018–2022, Channel 4 An exemplary ensemble plays misfit Northern Irish schoolgirls (and boy), to whom the "real Troubles" are the indignities of teen life. "To be able to put my people on screen is a joy," says creator Lisa McGee. Available on Channel 4 streaming Detectorists 2014–2022, BBC Four Mackenzie Crook concedes that Detectorists was a “strange idea”, but this unassuming show about metal-detecting hobbyists became a 'comfort watch'. "I was against that [description] at first, but I realise that’s what it is," he says. "It doesn’t mean it can’t be funny if it’s gentle." Available on iPlayer Dreaming Whilst Black 2021–present, BBC Three Struggling screenwriter Kwabena (Adjani Salmon) attempts to launch his career in a blend of showbiz satire, office humour, romance and social commentary. "We aren’t married to the traditional sitcom, but that allows us to subvert the audience at any point," says Salmon. Available on iPlayer Fleabag 2016–2019, BBC Three Phoebe Waller-Bridge achieved stardom with this adaptation of her one-woman show. "It was the biggest cultural phenomenon I’ve experienced," commissioner Shane Allen says. "Phoebe’s personality imbued Fleabag with this huge charisma, and her writing was ground-breaking." Available on iPlayer Friday Night Dinner 2011–2020, C4 Family gatherings are rarely more stressful than a night with the Goodmans, but viewers couldn’t get enough of these eccentrics, "loosely" based on Robert Popper’s own relatives. "I like it when things go wrong," he says. "You have your hands over your eyes, thinking ‘Oh, God, what’s going to happen?’" Available on Channel 4 streaming Ghosts 2019–2023, BBC One This crowd-pleaser turned paranormal activity into a party for all ages. "Creating Ghosts was our biggest achievement, and its success was beyond what we could have imagined," says star Martha Howe-Douglas. "But we were just great friends doing our dream job together." Available on iPlayer Inside No. 9 2014–2024, BBC Two It doesn’t always resemble a traditional BBC comedy commission, but this creepy anthology packed enough laughs into nine series to warrant inclusion. "I don’t think there’ll be anything like it again, especially as it was written by just two people," suggests Steve Pemberton, who co-wrote the show with Reece Shearsmith. Available on iPlayer Man Like Mobeen 2017–2025, BBC Three Reformed drug dealer Mobeen (Guz Khan) raises his teenage sister in a sitcom that never shies away from social issues and places "authenticity" above all. "It’s a show about friendship and laughter," Khan says. "You never see male characters from a working class background on British telly showing as much care as these lot." Available on iPlayer Mid Morning Matters 2010–2016, Sky Atlantic Neil and Rob Gibbons revitalised Alan Partridge (Steve Coogan) with this window into North Norfolk broadcasting. "It doesn’t have those big, broad set pieces from back in the day, but what it does have is a very dense concentration of jokes of different types," explains Neil. "It’s a dose of neat Alan." Available on NOW Motherland 2016–2022, BBC Two A group of suburban mothers (and one stay-at-home dad) jump through the hoops of child-rearing, in the series that gifted us Lucy Punch’s gloriously pretentious Amanda. "Even rich, beautiful people are unhappy, and that’s something that keeps us all going," says co-creator Holly Walsh. Available on iPlayer Mum 2016–2019, BBC Two Lesley Manville brings warmth to widow Cathy Walker, as she inches towards romance with friend Michael (Peter Mullan). "The show is a slow burn and that’s not an easy thing to get away with," says creator Stefan Golaszewski. "I can’t imagine anyone could predict what it became by the end." Available on iPlayer People Just Do Nothing 2014–2018, BBC Three Cameras followed the deluded crew of a pirate radio station in this hysterical 'cringe comedy'. "The BBC were terrified of us and rightly so, because we weren’t actors or writers," recalls writer/star Asim Chaudhry. "They did back us, and we learnt a lot, but it wasn’t easy." Available on iPlayer Peter Kay’s Car Share 2015—2018, BBC One Peter Kay and Sian Gibson struck gold with their charming commutes to work, which captivated viewers with relatable gags and an unspoken romance. "We knew exactly how to make each other laugh," says Gibson. "The fun we had making the show comes through on the screen." Stath Lets Flats 2018–2021, Channel 4 Few comedy characters emerge as fully formed as bumbling estate agent Stath Charalambos (Jamie Demetriou). Viewers were quickly sold, but properties were not. "I’m forever flattered that people loved the show," says Demetriou. Available on Channel 4 streaming Such Brave Girls 2023–present, BBC Three A mother and her adult daughters exchange barbs in this brilliantly warped sitcom from Kat Sadler. Executive producer Jack Bayles says: "It’s packed with character and jokes, but with trauma and mental health issues baked into its DNA." Available on iPlayer This Country 2017–2020, BBC Three Siblings Charlie and Daisy May Cooper vividly depict rural life for young adults in one of the best shows to adopt the 'mockumentary' format. "They are comedy geniuses, pure and simple," says BBC comedy commissioner Shane Allen. "It’s a modern classic that’ll be watched by generations." Available on iPlayer Toast of London 2012–2020, Channel 4 Matt Berry dreamt up a bizarre world for failing actor Steven Toast. "The show contained material that myself and Arthur [Mathews, co-creator] found funny, and we hoped that Channel 4 would think it was OK," Berry tells RT. "To be fair, they let us do anything we wanted." Available on NOW W1A 2014–2017, BBC Two Workplace politics and public scrutiny collide in the adventures of the BBC’s Ian Fletcher (Hugh Bonneville). Creator John Morton, who first conceived the character for comedy Twenty Twelve, says: "It’s about people trying to organise something important under pressure and stubbing their toe on the details." Available on iPlayer Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast. Add shows to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more.
Adam Richman's ultimate Italy food guide: From 'tag bol' to chocolate fountains
Swapping New York for Italy, Adam Richman embarks on a city-hopping adventure in search of the country’s best-loved dishes.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. If you weren’t hungry before listening to Adam Richman describe food, you certainly will be after. The presenter of Man v Food, Adam Richman Eats Britain and Adam Richman Eats Football has worked in New York kitchens since he was 13, so the Brooklyn native knows his stuff. For his new series, though, he’s munching his way across 10 Italian cities – and letting RT in on his very best bites from the trip… ROME - Porchetta sandwiches at Er Buchetto “Er Buchetto opened its doors in 1890. The name literally means ‘little hole’, and it’s an itty-bitty restaurant that’s known for serving porchetta sandwiches. Porchetta is pork, and here it’s a deboned suckling pig stuffed with rosemary, spices and olive oil, cooked for three to four hours. It has crispy skin and it’s super juicy inside and they serve it cold on traditional Roman bread, though some people get it with cheese or other condiments. “The owner, Alessandro Fioravanti, is the fifth generation of the family running it; his son is now representing the sixth generation. Get there early though: there’s normally a line out the door and they can sell out by the afternoon.” Browse our holidays to Italy here FLORENCE - Bistecca alla Fiorentina and Brunello at FrancescoVini “I really try to do my homework, but that does not mean I can’t be wrong – there have been times when a chef has corrected me, like at FrancescoVini. The wine cellar there is in the remnants of the fifth largest amphitheatre in the Roman Empire, and I was talking to the owner, Fabio La Brusco, about Super Tuscans [red wines from Tuscany]. He said, ‘That’s what we make for Americans. If you’re having Bistecca alla Fiorentina [a steak dish], you’re having a Brunello.’ View oEmbed on the source website “Afterwards he apologised to me and said, ‘I know you just spoke about this whole thing, we can cut it,’ and I said, ‘We are not cutting it.’ The showrunner of Man v Food taught me that the worst thing any host can do is play cool, like, ‘I got this, I know this.’ How can I know Florence better than a Florentine?” Request a brochure and get inspiration for your next holiday BOLOGNA - Tortellini en brodo at Ristorante Biagi “There’s no spag bol in Bologna – the real thing is technically tag bol, because it’s tagliatelle bolognese. But in Bologna, you have to have tortellini en brodo. It’s tortellini with, usually, pork, mortadella, prosciutto, Parmigiano Reggiano and some spices – salt, pepper, nutmeg – in a clear broth. At Ristorante Biagi, it’s one nonna [Italian for grandma] who comes in and makes around 5,000 tortellini a day, all by hand. There’s no machine. “I thought I was going to be eating big, bold, bright tomato sauces and mozzarella on everything, but that’s just what you get in America. Dishes in Italy look deceptively simple. Some of them, like the one in front of me, are beige, yet eating it felt like getting a back rub or a hug from your grandma. It is truly delightful.” VENICE - Bigoli in salsa at Osteria al Cicheto “Bigoli in salsa has hardly any ingredients: rough pasta – which itself is just two ingredients – with Chioggia onions, olive oil, a clove of garlic, salted anchovies, maybe some wine. It’s a peasant pasta: it’s called cucina povera, the cuisine of the poor. It has produced mine, the crew’s and the world’s favourite recipes. The rationale was that peasants in Venice only had an onion, a bag of flour and some salted fish and that’s it. It’s unbelievably moreish.” FLORENCE - Lampredotto at Da Nerbone “Lampredotto is the fourth stomach of a cow. It’s where the rennet enzymes come from to curdle milk into cheese. It’s a very traditional Tuscan dish, and Da Nerbone is a stand that opened in 1872. It’s now run by Fabio Giolli, who made me the lampredotto sandwich. And it was spectacular, with the flavours of his two sauces, salsa verde and a chilli/pepper one, with the bread soaked in the cooking broth. “All morning, I was making these eye-rolling jokes, like, ‘Wow, I have to start my day with a stomach sandwich.’ I was grossed out by it without trying it. And yes, I am acutely aware of just how disrespectful I was being. Poor people ate it out of necessity, but it’s endured because it’s so good. It was one of the best bites of the whole show.” Sign up to our mailing list to receive more content like this from Radio Times Travel, Shop and Money - click here AND FOR DESSERT… ROME - Ice cream at Gelateria Come il Latte “They have these chocolate fountains that are always running, and their cones are made fresh. They fill the cone with chocolate first, then put your gelato in. After, they hit it again with the chocolate and threw this little cookie in. It was such a joy and I regressed to being a little boy again.” Adam Richman Eats Italy airs Monday at 9pm and 9:30pm on Food Network. Check out more of our Travel coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Susie Dent: In the age of AI, I believe being a geek may never have been so important
We need to encourage our kids to celebrate, not mock, their intelligence, says Susie Dent.
Add Secret Genius to your watchlist As someone who has spent decades charting language, I’ve learnt to push aside any personal bugbears when it comes to the evolution of our words. English has always been a democracy, going its own merry way without government from above. But one recent development has found its way under my skin, for very personal reasons. It is the appearance of the word “neek”, a blend of “nerd” and “geek” that describes someone with a strong – and, by extension, “uncool” – interest in a particular subject. It takes me back to my childhood, when I discovered that a love of learning was something to hide rather than celebrate, for fear of being labelled a swot. For a long time, I hid it away as something shameful, despite the pleasure it gave me and the encouragement of my teachers. Decades later, while filming our new series Secret Genius, Alan Carr and I discovered that not a lot has changed when it comes to the desire to fit in. The aim of our show was simple: to illustrate how genius can be found in any walk of life. Mensa estimates that there are over a million secret geniuses walking among us, which means most of us will know one of them: the friend who gets to the punchline of a joke way before the rest of us; the colleague who can make complicated calculations at the drop of a hat; or the partner who spots a pattern in an apparently random sequence. They might be a stay-at-home parent or a bus driver, pharmacist, paramedic, carpenter, train guard or singer – all professions represented in Secret Genius by people who have little idea just how brilliant they are. We are not talking about academic cleverness here, but rather an innate intelligence that sets someone apart from the crowd. Time and time again, the individuals (ranging in age from 20 to 63) we invited onto the show to participate in fiendishly clever and immersive puzzles told us of their struggles at school, of how they wanted desperately to fit in and so suppressed their natural intelligence, becoming instead the class joker, the constant interrupter or the quiet one who didn’t dare to engage. Each of them felt different, but each was unsure what to do with that difference other than to pretend it didn’t exist. All they needed from their peers was validation, but for many of our secret geniuses, the recognition they received on the show had come agonisingly late It’s true that the trajectory of many of the words once used to belittle people for their intelligence is looking promising. “Geek” in particular has undergone one of the most dramatic shifts of any word in the dictionary, having started out as a 19th-century description of a performer of extreme acts at freak shows, including biting the heads off live snakes and chickens. The word broadened to include any kind of extreme behaviour, particularly an interest in a single subject, before arriving at today’s keen pursuer of knowledge who is no longer bizarre, but classy. So far so good, but the arrival of “neek” threatens to take us backwards. Ask any teenager: no one wants to be a neek. It’s time that intelligence in all its forms – especially the natural, curious kind – is shown to be cool. We need to encourage our children to celebrate, not mock, it and to feel fearless when it comes to expressing their interests and ambitions. In the age of AI, being a geek may never have been so important. There’s no doubt we’ve come a long way in recent years, yet as Secret Genius shows, there is still much to be done. As for Alan, I’ve long suspected he may be a genius himself. And if Celebrity Traitors taught us anything, it’s that he is extremely good at keeping secrets.
I'm Susie Dent and in the age of AI I believe being a geek may never have been so important
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. As someone who has spent decades charting language, I’ve learnt to push aside any personal bugbears when it comes to the evolution of our words. English has always been a democracy, going its own merry way without government from above. But one recent development has found its way under my skin, for very personal reasons. It is the appearance of the word “neek”, a blend of “nerd” and “geek” that describes someone with a strong – and, by extension, “uncool” – interest in a particular subject. It takes me back to my childhood, when I discovered that a love of learning was something to hide rather than celebrate, for fear of being labelled a swot. For a long time, I hid it away as something shameful, despite the pleasure it gave me and the encouragement of my teachers. Decades later, while filming our new series Secret Genius, Alan Carr and I discovered that not a lot has changed when it comes to the desire to fit in. The aim of our show was simple: to illustrate how genius can be found in any walk of life. Mensa estimates that there are over a million secret geniuses walking among us, which means most of us will know one of them: the friend who gets to the punchline of a joke way before the rest of us; the colleague who can make complicated calculations at the drop of a hat; or the partner who spots a pattern in an apparently random sequence. They might be a stay-at-home parent or a bus driver, pharmacist, paramedic, carpenter, train guard or singer – all professions represented in Secret Genius by people who have little idea just how brilliant they are. We are not talking about academic cleverness here, but rather an innate intelligence that sets someone apart from the crowd. Time and time again, the individuals (ranging in age from 20 to 63) we invited onto the show to participate in fiendishly clever and immersive puzzles told us of their struggles at school, of how they wanted desperately to fit in and so suppressed their natural intelligence, becoming instead the class joker, the constant interrupter or the quiet one who didn’t dare to engage. Each of them felt different, but each was unsure what to do with that difference other than to pretend it didn’t exist. All they needed from their peers was validation, but for many of our secret geniuses, the recognition they received on the show had come agonisingly late. It’s true that the trajectory of many of the words once used to belittle people for their intelligence is looking promising. “Geek” in particular has undergone one of the most dramatic shifts of any word in the dictionary, having started out as a 19th-century description of a performer of extreme acts at freak shows, including biting the heads off live snakes and chickens. The word broadened to include any kind of extreme behaviour, particularly an interest in a single subject, before arriving at today’s keen pursuer of knowledge who is no longer bizarre, but classy. So far so good, but the arrival of “neek” threatens to take us backwards. Ask any teenager: no one wants to be a neek. It’s time that intelligence in all its forms – especially the natural, curious kind – is shown to be cool. We need to encourage our children to celebrate, not mock, it and to feel fearless when it comes to expressing their interests and ambitions. In the age of AI, being a geek may never have been so important. There’s no doubt we’ve come a long way in recent years, yet as Secret Genius shows, there is still much to be done. As for Alan, I’ve long suspected he may be a genius himself. And if Celebrity Traitors taught us anything, it’s that he is extremely good at keeping secrets. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Endeavour legend Shaun Evans talks saying goodbye to Morse and why he kept his Liverpudlian accent for ITV's Betrayal
Shaun Evans moves on from Endeavour with a spy thriller – and a fresh sense of freedom.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. The last time I interviewed Shaun Evans, we both had a little cry. Me, because I'd been poorly and watching every episode of his peerless Endeavour had sustained me through three bedbound months. Him… well, because he's a very nice man, and also because he recognised the import of saying goodbye to young Morse after nine series. We signed off saying, "We will speak again." And now we do, three years later, when the first thing Evans does is enquire after my health. Like I said, he's a nice man. But we're here to talk about Betrayal, an espionage thriller/marital drama he has both produced and stars in. Evans's character John Hughes, an MI5 agent battling on many fronts – fighting "voluntary" redundancy requests, struggling to save his marriage, all the while investigating a national security threat – has the same solitude and righteousness of his Endeavour, but in a very different, contemporary setting. John is often at home with his children and troubled wife Clare, where we see the pressures on an ordinary man of an extraordinary job. "I was interested in playing a man having a midlife crisis," says Evans. "Plus, there's always an appetite for the spy genre, so I was curious to see if we could mix together those two. At work, he follows his instincts and it ends in catastrophe. His marriage is on the rocks. The four episodes trace his attempts to solve these seemingly intractable problems." The two key themes in the show are the world of espionage, and the act of betrayal. For the first, producers recruited former BBC security correspondent- turned-podcaster Gordon Corera as production adviser. For the second? "I always think imagination is more important than knowledge," says Evans. "It's interesting to play these characters who are different from you, and find the reason for why they behave as they do. That's the job, making the imaginative leap." It's a full and considered answer that gives nothing away. He'd make a good spy. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2026/01/directed.-He-never-told-me-a-take-was-bad-although-sometimes-he-probably-should-have.-There-were-times-where-I-was-going-way-over-the-top-and-hed-come-up-to-me-and-laugh-saying-okay-weve-got-f2e19fd.jpg" width="3000" height="2000" alt="A man wears a black baseball cap and discreetly looks around a corner." title="ITV-betrayal" /> In Betrayal, as in his previous drama Until I Kill You, the actor eschewed the neutral tones of Endeavour for his native Liverpudlian accent. For the latter, his character, real-life murderer John Sweeney, was also from Liverpool, so that was an obvious choice. For Betrayal, Evans wanted to lean into the class element. "We expect MI5 officers to be from Oxbridge, but it's no longer the case," he says. More generally, he's been using accents as a tool since he graduated from the Guildhall School of Drama over 20 years ago. "When I first started, I wanted to play parts far away from me, to transform into someone else and leave any of my baggage behind." He pauses. "In a weird way, when you play someone with your own accent, you have to work harder to make the leap." I imagine accent-switching with such ease must also make it easier to sit in a pub unrecognised? "Yes, exactly. It's like wearing a big coat." When we last spoke, Evans – credited with not just matching the quality of the much-loved Morse but perhaps surpassing it – was planning to give himself a proper, extended break, what he called "decompression", after playing the same character for nine intense years. His plans included taking himself off to Italy to study the language and indulging his great passion for photography. When I ask how much of this came to pass, he swiftly takes a small camera – not a phone! – out of his pocket by way of proof, and adds, "I did go to Italy and attend a language course. I'm not fluent, but I'm pretty good. I return there a lot. I took a lot of photographs, had a small exhibition when I got back, then I got offered another job and threw myself into that." Now Evans is once again a jobbing actor, albeit one whose name can greenlight primetime projects, life must feel quite different from the days when he was working flat out as title star, producer and sometime director on a massive TV franchise. "There are pros and cons," he says. "Every element of Endeavour was joyful, and all those people are still in my life." Even his co-star Roger Allam, famously unsentimental about his projects in interviews? "Ah, he presents like that, but underneath he's a big softie." Just like Inspector Thursday, then. "Gently, gradually, your life moves in a new direction," Evans continues. "Endeavour was a huge education for me, and I felt I graduated. Different jobs mean bringing all my skills to bear. I like the variety." Even though his Oxford detective is often to be found on ITV3 in the afternoon, Evans rarely watches this or any other screen appearance. "I hope everyone else enjoys it but, for me, I'd rather focus on the day, and then step back and leave it. I love the freedom of being a gun for hire, just going in and doing a good job. What gets my juices flowing? The work itself." The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Betrayal will premiere at 9pm on Sunday 8th February on ITV1 and ITVX in 2026. Add Betrayal to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Michael Palin talks returning to acting in new comedy from The Office legend – and how he approaches old age
Sir Michael Palin couldn’t resist Small Prophets.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. You don’t act much these days. What made you want to play Michael’s dad Brian in Small Prophets? Travelling and writing books take up most of my time. I really enjoy acting. I’ve done A Fish Called Wanda, The Death of Stalin and GBH, which were wonderful, but they don’t come along often. What Mackenzie writes is very special. I enjoy his humour, his understanding of people. There was no question of saying, “No, I can’t do this, I’m busy travelling.” Brian lives in a care home and is the first elderly person you’ve played. Did you have any reservations? I found playing this part fine. He’s old and forgetful but able to interpret extraordinary text and put old bits of machinery together again. He’s definitely not the archetype in a care home. I wouldn’t like to just be in a chair, dribbling away, and then you die. As you get older, you do forget the most obvious things — names, places — I sometimes find that tricky. But if I’m going filming in Venezuela, say, I’ll know everything about Venezuela for a bit. My children keep saying, “Careful, careful,” but they’re being overcautious. In the show, Brian is not cautious and likes doing mad things, like trying to ride a motorbike aged nearly 90. Do you think that’s quite true for a lot of people of your generation? I was lucky to grow up in a period where being young was great — which my parents’ generation couldn’t because they’d been embroiled in two world wars. After university in the 60s, it was the Beatles, Mary Quant, Pete and Dud, and Spike Milligan. You could do anything. There was no real censorship, not to the degree there is now. In Monty Python we could write what we wanted. Now you’d have to be more careful. We just thought, let’s be silly. The way that Mackenzie writes is quite Pythonic because it’s understated. The best humour is done without a smile. When people take themselves absolutely seriously, that makes me laugh more. That’s what Python was all about: the absurd things that we all do. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
This Morning star Ben Shephard: "I am happy to take pride in how I look"
The host of This Morning on looking good, keeping fit and loving big-screen telly.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. What’s the view from your sofa? We have a pretty average-sized TV – I had to leave my massive 75in telly behind when we moved house as we didn’t have space for it. That was one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever had to do. What have you enjoyed watching recently? Landman is incredible. Normally I’ve got four or five episodes waiting so I can watch a few at a time, but I just couldn’t stop myself. I’ve absolutely fallen in love with the work of Taylor Sheridan. From Landman to Yellowstone to Mayor of Kingstown, there is nothing he’s doing that isn’t extraordinary. Who controls the remote at home? I like to have it close at hand at all times. My boys [20-year-old Sam and 19-year-old Jack] tend to watch their iPads, as does my wife [Annie]. She likes cosy crime shows like Poirot, but I need the big cinematic experience. What was your first job on TV? Andi Peters gave me my first job in telly on T4, but I also screen-tested alongside Fearne Cotton for GMTV’s kids’ weekend show, Diggit. She was only 16 and I was 21. I didn’t get it, but we became mates and still talk about how hilarious that was. Which TV presenters do you admire? I loved Terry Wogan for his eloquence. Chris Evans is unquestionably one of my broadcasting idols: I just love his energy, enthusiasm and passion. In sport, it has to be Jeff Stelling, and Davina McCall just makes me smile and is incredible at what she does. What makes a good presenter? Someone who’s authentic and is no different off screen as on. If you’re not being your true self, I think people can tell. Also, someone who’s curious and constantly looking to improve. What’s been the biggest highlight of your presenting career so far? Being given the responsibility to front a news programme during important historical moments, like an election or the Queen’s funeral. Fortunately, I got to do it alongside the best in the business with Susanna Reid – we had such implicit trust in one another. Talking of pinnacles, what’s the premise of your new show The Summit? It’s set against the jaw-dropping backdrop of the Southern Alps in New Zealand, where 14 ordinary people try to climb a mountain in just 14 days. Whoever reaches the summit gets a share of £200,000. You’ve run 14 marathons and climbed Kilimanjaro. How do you think you’d do as a contestant? I’d have loved the physical challenge, but I would have been hopeless at the strategy. I’d have been too keen to please everybody. They’d have me wrapped around their finger in moments. How have your views of fitness changed compared to when you were younger? I’ve always loved keeping fit, but as I got into my 40s [Shephard is 51 now], things started breaking down a bit and my approach to health and wellness changed. I became aware of the importance of looking after myself, so that I can be fit into my 70s and 80s. I enjoyed the most amazing trip to Australia on the British and Irish Lions tour with my parents, who are both in their 80s. I want to do that with my boys and, if I’m lucky, with my grandkids, too. Do you think there’s more pressure on men than there used to be to look good on screen? There is a lot more focus on how we look and what we’re wearing, which has always been something my female colleagues have had to deal with, but TV is visual and I am happy to take pride in how I look. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Entertainment coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Adolescence writer Jack Thorne reveals why BBC's new Lord of the Flies sticks to an all-male cast – and explains his "sensitive" adaptation of classic
From Skins to Adolescence, Jack Thorne is a master of telling gritty teenage stories. Now he’s tackling the big one – Lord of the Flies.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. During the summer of 2024, Jack Thorne was commuting between the sets of two drama series he had written – one on a tropical island off Malaysia and one in Yorkshire. At the risk of upsetting one tourist board, which location did he prefer? “Glamour on both sides,” laughs Thorne. “I love both my children equally.” The locations seem distinct, but the subject matter overlapped: the potential psychopathy of prepubescent boys. The English project was Adolescence, the Netflix drama that won eight Emmy awards, while the series that was filmed in South East Asia was Lord of the Flies, a new four-part BBC adaptation of the 1954 novel – instrumental in winning William Golding the 1983 Nobel Prize in Literature. “Toxic masculinity” – a term widely applied to the 13-year-old murderer Jamie Miller played by Owen Cooper in Adolescence – might also be applied retrospectively to intellectual Piggy, arrogant Ralph, charismatic Jack, shy Simon and ominous Roger who, in Lord of the Flies, contest control of a group of schoolboys marooned on an island after the crash of a plane evacuating them from a threatened nuclear attack on Britain. “It’s a funny old term, toxic masculinity,” Thorne reflects. “I think just masculinity is better. And Golding writes about that so acutely.” Thorne first read the novel while still at school: “The edition was orange and on the inside cover it had a stamp saying Portway English Department because my mum was a substitute teacher and she kept the copy. So, I first read Lord of the Flies in a stolen edition! I’ve reread it many times as an adult and felt totally different about the characters. “When I was a kid, I felt like a Simon. But, as an adult, you realise that the way you dismissed Jack as totally unfeeling is unfair. You realise Golding cares for all these kids. Lord of the Flies is used as shorthand for all sorts of things – the source of evil, society’s division – but it’s actually more subtle than that. You’re watching a group fall apart because of little micro-decisions. It’s about the roles we play and the echoes of our parents that are passed through us.” View oEmbed on the source website Thorne had once started developing the novel for Channel 4 but the screen rights were not available. Then Joel Wilson – a producer friend with whom Thorne had worked on the series Cast Offs and Glue – invited him to Sunday lunch. “I had the rights to a very hot, fashionable book and I asked Jack to adapt it but he said it wasn’t for him,” Wilson recalls. “So I said, well what book would you do if I could get it? And he said, ‘Lord of the Flies’.” Thorne’s recollection differs: “I just remember Joel asking, probably as he took the potatoes out of the oven, what my favourite book was and I said Lord of the Flies. I have no recollection of him offering me another novel first. But memory is a strange thing. We are all in a post-truth age now. Joel will probably say that we didn’t have roast potatoes.” These different perspectives on a recent conversation are relevant to the adaptation because the pitch Thorne and Wilson made to the Golding estate – led by the novelist’s daughter, Judy – was for four episodes each seen from the viewpoint of one boy: Piggy, Jack, Simon and Ralph. The writer used a similar tactic in both Adolescence and National Treasure, his Channel 4 drama about a disgraced entertainer: “I was taught to write on a show called Skins, and that was all about viewpoint and spending time in different people’s heads. In Lord of the Flies, Jack’s perspective in episode two opens up the story so when you see him in three and four, the effect is very different because you’ve seen him from inside – the hurt and pain that is there.” Does this storytelling style also reflect our general experience that two people rarely agree on the meaning of a personal or historical experience? “Yes. I’ve just had it at Christmas where there was a little family argument, and there are six different versions about whose fault it was and whether we should be angry at this person or that person. That’s why I love living in different perspectives and what it does for drama.” The two men also decided that – against proper modern sensitivities about gender representation in drama – the series should follow the novel in it being only about boys. “Joel and I talked about that a lot,” says Thorne, “but we decided that, if girls were involved, it would change everything. My son is nine and, watching him and his friends in the playground, it’s fascinating how much more sophisticated and emotionally nuanced the girls are at that age. Girls are negotiating quite complex things while boys are working out how fast they can run into a wooden post without hurting themselves.” With approval from the Golding estate and co-funding from the BBC and the Australian streaming service Stan, the next challenge was to find a remote tropical island with no land in sight but a mountain and jungle visible from the beach. “We started off in Australia, but couldn’t make it work there,” says director Marc Munden. “Then we went to Mauritius and ended up in Malaysia.” Cynics might think you would take as long as possible to find your tropical location, travelling between paradises and finding them just lacking... “Ha! We did spend a long time accidentally walking through people’s wedding and honeymoon videos.” They eventually settled on Langkawi, a Malaysian resort island, as a production base, with boat trips to an uninhabited island for shooting. The next challenge was casting a show in which every major role requires actors between the ages of 10 and 13. “That was a big worry,” admits Thorne. “It’s different from Adolescence because Owen [Cooper] had adult actors around him. With this, the children are on their own. The casting process was incredibly difficult.” That difficulty fell to casting directors Nina Gold and Martin Ware. “It wasn’t a case of, there are these three well-known child actors, let’s put them in it,” explains Ware. “They wanted unknowns so there are no short cuts.” “Almost all of them are new to acting,” notes Gold. Their records show that they considered up to 7,000 boys: discovered by visiting 100 schools in person and inviting self-tapes from others, as well as putting out a social media invitation for a short self-introducing clip. The crash survivors in Golding’s novel are predominantly public schoolboys – with the possible implication that those were who the government first chose to save – but Gold says, “We tried to be less tied into the class aspect than the book is.” Hardest to cast was the central character, Piggy, whose weight, asthma and spectacles are mocked in the book. When the project was announced, jokes circulated in the industry that, in a BBC version, Piggy would lose his nickname and be tall, slender and with 20/20 vision. His novelistic description survives but, joking aside, the protagonist’s treatment now raises proper questions of sensitivity. “Absolutely,” agrees Ware. “There’s a child psychologist on the show. When we were putting out a brief for Piggy, we wanted to be sensitive about how it looked on a noticeboard at school. Later on we would send scripts to the parents of contenders.” Eventually, they chose David McKenna, a young boy from Northern Ireland whose performance of precocious emotional depth seems likely to draw comparisons with Cooper in Adolescence. “David sent us a grainy chat through social media,” recalls Ware. “But there was a spirit and attitude that we were intrigued by.” “The moment we found David was a time of intense relief because we were struggling to think who we could cast as Piggy,” admits Thorne. Directing such a young cast means, “you were starting from square one: don’t look at the camera!” says Munden. “But, after that, there were joyful surprises from their acting.” “We never once had to cut because someone had forgotten their lines,” adds Wilson. “Which is unusual enough with adults.” However successful Lord of the Flies is, it likely won’t match the spectacular reception of Adolescence: staggering viewing figures, parliamentary discussion and media storms. Some writers of a viral hit become frozen by the hopelessness of following it. Thorne, though, hasn’t experienced that: “I’m psychologically obsessed with work. There’s nothing else I can do. I’m useless at every other aspect of life. So I just go on sitting in a little shed, typing and hoping.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
I'm Mackenzie Crook, and this is the 16th-century inspiration for my new comedy Small Prophets – and how we brought it to life
Supernatural homunculi grown in jars… Crook reveals the recipe behind his quirky new comedy.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. When I wrote the first series of Detectorists in 2013, I was unaware I had been sitting on the idea for the show for years, until I discovered an outline written in an old notebook from 1998. For all that time it had been slowly percolating in the back of my mind until it was ready to bubble up to the surface. My new six-part series on BBC Two had been about the same length of time in the procrastination phase, until I finally realised what the story was and how to tell it. Small Prophets is the tale of a suburban alchemist who attempts to grow supernatural beings in his shed from instructions given to him by his elderly father. It’s a strange idea, but let me try to break down how several elements eventually came together to provide the recipe… The Ingredients: 1. An ancient text The seed of the idea came from a footnote in an old book about Paracelsus, a 16th-century Swiss philosopher and alchemist. Why I was reading this book I can’t really remember or explain, but I’m glad I did. The passage intrigued me and I squirrelled it away for future use. It told of a mystic who had grown eight homunculi, magical spirits able to predict the future, in glass jars full of water. It described the process of how these creatures were generated (including a step where the jars were buried in a steaming heap of horse manure) and went into such precise detail that you could start to believe it might actually be true. 2. A comic master I first met Pearce Quigley when we were both cast in a play at the Royal Court Theatre in London, which then transferred to Broadway. You might recognise Pearce as the slightly creepy, bearded Russell from Detectorists. He is about the funniest person I know but I’d never seen him in a lead role, and it was when I realised this that the whole story started to crystallise in my mind. Pearce plays Michael Sleep, the central character in Small Prophets, who I think audiences will fall instantly in love with. 3. A puppeteer Ainslie Henderson is an animator I’ve known for over 20 years. He specialises in stop-motion animation and the films he makes are works of art. When I started to think about these mysterious creatures growing in the shed, I knew that Ainslie and his long-time collaborator, Will Anderson, were the ones I wanted to work with. I made some sketches of how I imagined the homunculi might look and we brought them to Mackinnon & Saunders, an animation studio based in Manchester. You may know their work from films like Tim Burton’s Mars Attacks!, Corpse Bride and Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr Fox. The team at M&S took my drawings, improved and developed them and built a set of incredible stop-motion puppets, breathtaking in their intricate detail. Ainslie and Will then took these puppets and, at a rate of eight seconds of footage per day, painstakingly brought them to life. 4. A musician I love music but I don’t understand how it’s made, so I’ve always been in awe of musicians. To me they seem like alchemists, conjuring magic with their mystical instruments. One of the things audiences loved most about Detectorists was Johnny Flynn’s soundtrack – many couples have had his beautiful theme tune played as they’ve walked down the aisle. With Small Prophets I approached another favourite artist, Cinder Well, whose music has bewitched me for years. I think her specially composed theme tune, The Wise Man’s Song, will become a heartbreaking classic. All mixed together in... the laboratory They say, “write about what you know”. Well, this time I’ve written about where I write. Since lockdown, all my scripts have been written in a shed at the bottom of my garden. It has a desk, a work bench, tools, books, plants, an aquarium and everything I need to be comfortable and focused. It’s not a “man-cave”, there’s no calendar of saucy ladies or beer cooler (although I do have a fridge where my tortoises hibernate in the colder months), but it’s where I can concentrate on my work surrounded by all the things that inspire me, collected treasures that may have a story gestating within. It’s also a laboratory where I cook up ideas and make props, and I decided that Michael Sleep should have a similar space to work in Small Prophets. When I took the idea to the BBC, they commissioned a short “taster”, a couple of scenes to see how the show might look and to try out the animation. In the summer of 2023, a small camera crew came to my house and we spent an enjoyable day filming in my shed. When we came to start shooting the full series last year, the art department built a replica of my shed in a film studio in Manchester with walls that could be removed to make space for the cameras and crew. One of the only differences was that Michael has an old armchair in which he occasionally takes a nap. I couldn’t have a comfy chair in my own shed – the temptation would be too great… The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Six Nations podcasters James Haskell and Mike Tindall talk landing Prince William and Princess Kate as guests on their show
Radio Times talks to the stars of The Good, the Bad & the Rugby.
It’s hardly enough for a line-out, and certainly not a scrum. But two big men joined by one smaller man is just the right amount for a very successful podcast. First broadcast in 2020, The Good, the Bad & the Rugby features former England rugby union internationals Mike Tindall and James Haskell, and journalist Alex Payne. Tindall, 47, a centre, was part of the 2003 World Cup-winning team. Haskell, 40, a flanker, famously played with a back injury in England’s 2016 Six Nations grand slam victory against France. Payne, 45, the smaller one, adeptly holds things together. It’s one of the world’s biggest rugby podcasts – the trio now sell out live tours and received the royal seal of approval when they recorded an episode with Princess Anne and the Prince and Princess of Wales at Windsor Castle; something Tindall, who is married to the Princess Royal’s daughter Zara Phillips, called upon family connections to get. “That was special,” he says, when we talk. “Everything I hoped it would be.” Counterintuitively, the show’s success might be down to its comparative lack of rugby minutiae. “We’re not really interested in ruck laws and scrum laws,” says Tindall, “We’re interested in the people. This is a very masculine sport. "You have to be a warrior on the field, but you can’t ever show your pain. What we’re trying to do is show that people do have emotions, to peel back a few layers.” They do this by mixing emotional openness with dressing-room banter. “Some of us are more bombastic than others,” says Tindall, possibly thinking of Haskell, who arrives late as he has been at a “diversity and inclusion” session. “I learnt workplace banter is absolutely fine,” Haskell says. “As long as it’s not funny, directed at anybody, or says anything of any remote interest.” He’s jesting, I think, and so is Payne when he says, “Working with James for eight years has driven me to a therapist.” As Tindall points out: “James has seen a therapist since he was 17 years old, to try and maximise the best out of what he could do while he was playing, and that’s continued post-career.” Consequently, Haskell is very serious about the mental health of young men. “You’ve got guys like Andrew Tate, false prophets that people are now adhering to,” he says. “A lot of young men are left behind, not going to university, not doing the things that they should do.” Haskell quotes an unsettling statistic: “Male suicide is still up, and it’s still the biggest killer of men under 40. It’s something that’s got to be addressed.” Rugby union isn’t short of other issues to address. There’s turmoil at club level, a continuing debate about concussion and the shadow of Motor Neurone Disease. That condition claimed the life of Scotland’s Doddie Weir (and rugby league’s Rob Burrow) and there have been more recent diagnoses for union’s Ed Slater and Lewis Moody, although Tindall says we shouldn’t presume it was caused by playing rugby. “It isn’t as simple as hits and concussive blows,” he says. “I think we spend a lot of time in rugby telling negative stories, but what’s special about rugby is, if it does happen to one of our own, the sport rallies around people that have been affected and the community comes together.” In 2023 the trio launched the award-winning Blackeye Gin, through which, says Payne, “We’re trying to raise a million quid a year for injured rugby players.” But it’s former players’ mental health issues, often after their international careers, that feature regularly on the podcast. Joe Marler, a guest star on the show, has been public about his own struggles. Now, Marler is admired by millions after his tenure on Celebrity Traitors. Payne is pleased, but also frustrated by the game’s failure to make the most of such an asset in an age where young fans follow players rather than teams. “It’s sad that a character as big as Joe Marler has had to go on The Traitors to unlock his full potential,” he says. “Rugby cuts off its tallest poppies, and that’s something that it needs to address if it wants to get some of that high-profile exposure.” High-profile exposure isn’t always positive. Haskell recalls a festival last year where he made a joke about his divorce from Chloe Madeley (daughter of TV hosts Richard Madeley and Judy Finnigan): “‘If I put as much effort into my marriage as I did into finding the perfect pint of Guinness, I’d still be married.’ That was reported as, ‘James Haskell admits his drinking problem got in the way…’” If happiness requires self-awareness, Haskell appears to be going the right way. “With entertainment and fun, you can often become the worst version of yourself to sell that amusement,” he says. “But there’s a real depth to what we do, that’s why the podcast has lasted so long.” But hang on, we haven’t talked about the rugby – which home nation can win, England, Scotland, Wales or Ireland? “It’ll come down to a grand-slam game at the end between England and France,” says Tindall. “Well, I won’t bet my house on England,” says Payne. Haskell shakes his head: “England are brilliant, they will win the grand slam.” But then, he would say that, wouldn’t he? Check out more of our Sport coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Ben Affleck and Matt Damon's The Rip proves the upsides and downsides of using real-life Hollywood friends
When real-life bromance meets movie rivalry, the stars’ off-screen friendships become the real story we’re watching.
It may come as a shock to learn that, despite playing the "it’s for work" card, I occasionally lose control of the TV remote, which is how I ended up sitting through The Rip, a heist-based, gun-heavy, F-bomb-flooded thriller that I will describe, without apology, as "probably a film for boys". On the plus side, it starred – nay, was almost rescued by – Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, and when I wasn't watching another shootout through my eyelids, it got me thinking about them and how we feel when film-star friends appear together on-screen. It’s almost 30 years since this golden pair arrived in our lives. The story of how two longtime friends co-wrote Good Will Hunting, defying all their Hollywood doubters and going on to score box-office millions and an Oscar each for best screenplay, has become as rich in mythology and inspiration as the film itself. The film’s most moving moment comes when Affleck's blue-collar loyal friend Chuckie tells Damon’s maths genius Will he's worth more than the life he’s settling for: "You’re my best friend. I call for you every day. The best part is when I knock on your door and I think maybe you won’t be there." Cut to 2026, and The Rip proves that day has not yet come – the Affleck-Damon alliance still tight in life as on screen. View Green Video on the source website A similar challenge is posed by the George Clooney-Brad Pitt pairing in Wolfs. As in The Rip, the film sets two solitary operators in competition and seemingly reluctant comradeship. Except, of course, they’re played by two of the world’s most recognisable men, famous for being handsome, successful and, most pertinently, great friends ever since they dazzled together in Ocean’s Eleven. Studios have long used the same trick to seduce audiences, repeatedly pairing equal and sort-of opposites like Paul Newman and Robert Redford, or channelling the unstoppable-force-meets-unmovable-object charisma of Alain Delon and Jean-Paul Belmondo. We happily sit through hours of fictional rivalry and mistrust, even when we’ve seen the stars sharing a red-carpet joke or hanging out in a boat on Lake Como. Does it matter? Well, it means we can’t fully immerse ourselves in the narrative. If it’s hard enough to believe in any screen character when the face belongs to George "grinning, gravelly" Clooney, it’s almost impossible when he’s squaring up to Brad Pitt. Their widely documented, endlessly photographed real-life friendship means we can never take on-screen conflict between them entirely seriously. Nor are we meant to. We’re not really investing in the stories of The Rip’s competing cops or Wolfs’ mutually suspicious fixers. What we’re immersing ourselves in are these real-life bromantic backstories: Affleck and Damon, the former leaning on the latter through years of rehab; Pitt and Clooney, bonded by decades of practical jokes on film sets. There’s nothing remotely reluctant about any of these partnerships. Anyone who’s worked on a film set will tell you about the long days of downtime between takes – and how much more bearable those hours are when spent playing cards and swapping stories with your besties. The best moment in The Rip's five days running time (OK, just under two hours) is a quiet action-free scene shared by the two stars. "Great work today, man," says Damon. "You, too," says Affleck. Thirty years on, one still calls and the other’s still there. Read more: The Rip ending explained: who was the traitor in the Netflix thriller? Is Netflix crime thriller The Rip based on a true story? The Rip is streaming now on Netflix. Check out more of our Film coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Ben Kingsley talks returning to the MCU with Wonder Man, his connection to the Beatles and revering Queen Elizabeth II
Despite the awards and success, the actor values his knighthood from the late Queen above all.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. Sir Ben Kingsley is one of the most garlanded actors of his generation. An Academy Award winner for Gandhi, he has also received Bafta, Golden Globe and Olivier awards, and worked with directors such as Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg. Among his most famous roles are Itzhak Stern in Schindler’s List and Don Logan in Sexy Beast, but now he’s back in the Marvel Cinematic Universe for Hollywood satire Wonder Man, in which he plays Trevor Slattery. So, who is Trevor Slattery? Trevor is an aspiring actor who never quite hit the spotlight. After falling among thieves and posing as a murderous terrorist [in 2013’s Iron Man 3], he is imprisoned, then broken out of prison, and so returns to Los Angeles to try to recreate himself as a serious actor. This is my fourth visit to Trevor. He is a character that I would never have dreamt would span 15 years of my career. You were born Krishna Pandit Bhanji in 1943. Your father was a doctor of Gujarati Indian descent and your mum was an English actress and model – how did they meet? I believe my mother attended a Guy’s Hospital dance, where my dad was training. You changed your name to Ben Kingsley; how did you decide on that? My dad’s nickname was Ben and Kingsley is derived from his father; he was a spice trader on Zanzibar and his nickname was King Clove. As a youngster, you were taken to see the Italian film Never Take No for an Answer, and you were mistaken for one of the young actors in it. This inspired you to pursue acting – how different would your life be if you hadn’t been to the cinema that day? Oh, golly… I’m eternally grateful to the universe for placing me for those two hours in front of that flickering black-and-white screen, because it was an absolutely fundamental, primal moment. And when one looks back and thinks, what if that hadn’t happened – the whole of my life would be different. Absolutely. Without question. In another Sliding Doors moment, John Lennon encouraged you to pursue a singing career. Were you close to being a pop star? Very close. Brian Epstein, who managed the Beatles, was producing a play I was in. He introduced me to Dick James of Northern Songs, who published the Beatles’ songs, and James offered to mould me into a rock star. The following day I was offered a season at Chichester Festival Theatre. I accepted that instead, and then from Chichester was offered a role in the Royal Shakespeare Company. So the theatre snatched me, and I swam along with it. In the past you’ve talked about approaching acting as a painter, trying to create an entire portrait with one brush stroke… The single brushstroke is the one essential gesture in the character – that gesture could be physical or a feeling. For Gandhi his essential gesture was anger, but he translated that into something miraculous. In Schindler’s List the essential gesture of Itzhak Stern was that he had to witness what he witnessed. The universe placed him there to witness. In film, you’ve worked with some of the greatest directors – is there a quality they all share? There are two categories of directors. One is always auditioning you. The other says, here is the role. It’s the director who can gift the role to the actor generously that I love to work with. Peter Brook, whom I worshipped, said the worst thing a director can say: “Trust me”. The kindest thing I can say to a director is, “No, you trust me”. You won an Oscar for Gandhi in 1983. Your fellow nominees were Dustin Hoffman, Jack Lemmon, Paul Newman and Peter O’Toole. How did that feel? Watching, you could tell I was in shock. I looked like a demented wine waiter holding up my Oscar, saying, “Who ordered the chardonnay?” I mean, I was completely spaced out, and my fellow nominees were titanic stars. You’ve won many awards for film and theatre, you’re also a knight and have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. If you could have just one thing, what would it be? My knighthood. I revered greatly the late Queen Elizabeth, her father’s nerve and the family’s nerve during the Second World War. I long to be a tribal storyteller; when my tribe says, “We have seen you, and we have heard you and we thank you,” nothing quite compares as an acceptance and an embrace. You’ve been a professional actor for 60 years. Does the job get easier or harder? Neither – I think it gets more joyful. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. All 8 episodes of Wonder Man are available on Disney+ from 28 January. Check out more of our Sci-fi coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
After the Flood's Lorraine Ashbourne talks Sherwood twist, Riot Women season 2 and living at home with her adult children
Climate - Sustainable contributions within wider content
In her mid-60s, Lorraine Ashbourne is one of our most in-demand actors and busier than ever – and she’s relishing every moment.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. As an interview icebreaker, I wish Lorraine Ashbourne a happy birthday for the previous day. She frowns and peers into her computer screen at her home in north London. I panic – was it a faux pas to mention her age? “Fake news!” she declares, before bursting into laughter. “I’ve had quite a few birthday messages, but I’m an Aries. I’m not 65 until April.” As it turns out, Ashbourne is perfectly happy to be hitting her mid-60s. She is, after all, in her prime – in the past 18 months or so she has been in four huge TV shows. In After the Flood, the ITV murder-mystery set against a backdrop of environmental breakdown, she plays a widowed mother with a can-do attitude. She stunned us all in the second series of Sherwood with the big reveal that her character Daphne Sparrow was a former covert spy cop; she didn’t tell a soul about the twist and relished keeping the secret. “It was delightful! The hard part was the intensity of the role, playing a character trapped with a past she can’t escape. But I never take my work home; I’m very in the moment, very practical.” Across two series of Alma’s Not Normal, Ashbourne played a grandmother in leopard print for whom we care so deeply that her diagnosis of lung cancer was utterly heartbreaking. In true Ashbourne style, she ended last year with a bang as Jess in Sally Wainwright’s smash-hit BBC series Riot Women, playing the drums in the eponymous punk band of menopausal women. All of which suggests that there’s been a shift in terms of casting older women in interesting parts. Just over a decade ago, Meryl Streep revealed that she had been offered three roles as a witch in the year she turned 40. “My mid-life years have been very kind to me, and I’ve grown into myself,” says Ashbourne. “I agree that there’s been some kind of shift, with writers realising there is value in older people. We are interesting. We are fabulous. We are brilliant. I’ve been saying for years that older people have more to say, more to offer. “I’ve often watched a TV programme and thought it’d be more interesting if it was played by an older woman. Sometimes I get disheartened when I see someone young and sexy in something, because it’s just not that interesting. Nothing against beautiful young people!” As Ashbourne also acknowledges, she is “dead lucky” – not every female actor her age can co-star in four killer series in just over a year. Then again, not many have her prodigious talent, her ability to channel emotional reality in all her roles, to slip from pathos to comedy to fury so easily. Sally Wainwright, who was a writer on Kay Mellor’s Playing the Field in the late 90s, recalls writing for Ashbourne’s character, Geraldine, but didn’t properly meet her until Riot Women. “I knew I’d get a fabulous performance from Lorraine – incisive, witty, down to earth. There’s a deep truth in what she does. As you say, she can turn on a sixpence, from being funny to ‘Oh my God, I’ve just had my heart broken’.” Wainwright reveals that when they were filming Riot Women in Hebden Bridge, Ashbourne stayed in Wainwright’s Yorkshire home with the writer’s drum kit. Due to work commitments, Ashbourne came on board late and only had three weeks to learn the drums – as opposed to the other actors in the band, who had five months to learn their respective instruments – and still managed to pull it off. “My neighbour, who is very ethical and environmental, was impressed with Lorraine,” adds Wainwright. “She didn’t have to remind her to recycle, among other things. Lorraine cares deeply about everyone and everything.” Although Ashbourne enjoys her long-running role as the Featherington family’s housekeeper Mrs Varley in Bridgerton – after the interview she is dashing off to be fitted for a dress for the Paris premiere of the new series – she relishes “any opportunity to show women making decisions and being in control.” In the second series of After the Flood, which concludes this week, her character Molly Marshall has become a councillor for Waterside, intent on raising awareness about moorland fires threatening further environmental catastrophe to the fictional Yorkshire town. “Climate change is at the heart of the story, which I really like. [Writer] Mick Ford finds entertaining ways of showing us just how desperate things are. The world needs people like Molly, who are fighting for change. She’s feisty and I feel powerful in a similar way. I don’t care what people think any more.” She also loves the relationship Molly has with her daughter Jo [Sophie Rundle], a detective, if only because you “never quite know who the parent is”. Ashbourne herself knows a thing or two about parenting. She met her future husband Andy Serkis in 1989 after she’d been to drama school in her native Manchester and they were in a play together at the Royal Exchange. They have three grown-up children, all of whom are actors and go by the surname Ashbourne Serkis: Ruby, 28, will appear in the Peaky Blinders film The Immortal Man later this year; Sonny, 26, was in Masters of the Air; Louis, 21, was a “cute young hobbit” in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey at the age of eight and was most recently in 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple. All three kids live at home, alongside Ashbourne’s parents. “Bizarrely, as I get older, I’m taking on more. But it’s exciting, it’s thrilling. I just wish there were more hours in the day.” I say I can’t imagine what it’s like having five actors in the house. “It’s chaos! The kids come in at different times. I’m thinking, ‘I’m menopausal, I need more sleep, I’m off to bed,’ but then one of the kids will come in at 10.30pm and I’m like, ‘Hi, sweetheart, how was your day?’ I’ll try to go up again and another kid will come in with a friend who I haven’t seen for ages… It’s 1am before I’m brushing my teeth and then I’m anxious I won’t sleep because it’s so late.” Did she grow up in a chaotic household? “Not at all! My dad was a plumber who was home by teatime. I feel pulled in lots of different directions as a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, but I’m dead happy – I feel very blessed.” It’s quite something to stay with the same bloke for nearly 40 years, especially when acting requires so much time away from home. “It’s true! But we’re still together and I don’t mind him. “Maybe there’s a bit of me that thrives in the chaos. The house is always a mess. My husband is about to go to New Zealand for a year [to film Lord of the Rings: The Hunt for Gollum] and all I can think of is how much I’ll get done while he’s away!” When the kids were younger, the family lived in New Zealand, while Serkis was shooting earlier films in the franchise. “My parents were brilliant at looking after the kids, but I’ve never said no to a job; Andy and I have dragged our kids everywhere with us. We’ve had them on set as babies and put them in school for nine months in New Zealand. Taking off for a year could’ve been a terrible thing for my career, but I just picked up where I left off. I took a risk, trusted my instinct and it all worked out OK. The kids have fantastic memories of being there.” Ashbourne will take the grown-up kids to see Serkis at some point this year, and then she’ll take her drum kit out of the basement and start practising again ahead of the second series of Riot Women. Was she surprised by the success of the first series? “It caused a mini revolution! People come up to me on the street, saying it hurt them to watch it, but that it really helped.” As a way of talking more openly about the menopause, ageing, female friendship, motherhood? “All of that, yes. Sally is really quite hard on the opposite sex, which might have been hard to take. At one point I did worry that it might be unpalatable, but it’s not at all; men absolutely love it.” She is, she says, fascinated with writers. “I can’t write – I tried but couldn’t do it to save my life. Sally fascinates me; her understanding of human nature, of who we are, of men and women, is extraordinary. It’s why her work is such a success, it’s so relatable. I don’t often watch the stuff I’m in – I get very defensive with my family if anyone says anything [negative] – but I watched all of Riot Women with my dad and he loved it. Everyone is, I think, screaming for the second series.” Ashbourne is, in a way, a director’s actor. When she auditioned for the acclaimed 1988 Terence Davies film Distant Voices, Still Lives, she was fresh out of drama school, and it was her first screen job. Davies auditioned her himself, “got very emotional” and gave her the role on the spot. Perhaps, then, it makes sense for Wainwright to have the last word. “Directing Lorraine on Riot Women was pretty breathtaking. She always surprises you; you get what you think you’re going to get plus a ton more. She’s utterly unique.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. After the Flood is available to watch now on ITVX. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Scottish curler Bruce Mouat reveals experience of coming out and why one needs a burner phone during the Winter Olympics
After winning silver in 2022, Bruce Mouat led the men’s curling team to two world championships. Now he’s on target for Olympic glory…
Bruce Mouat doesn’t like to remember how it felt to miss out on curling gold by the narrowest possible margin at the Winter Olympics four years ago. Deadlocked against Sweden after three hours, amid unbearable tension, the men’s team final went to sudden death – only for Great Britain to be edged out. For the skip (captain) of the men’s quartet, the sting of defeat – despite coming away with a silver medal – was enduring. “Until we competed again seven months later, I dwelt on the fact we didn’t win it,” says Mouat, curled up in a chair at home in the town of Bannockburn near Stirling. “It was so bitterly disappointing.” Yet Mouat’s rink, as a skip’s team is called in curling (where players slide 18kg granite stones on the ice), found the way to motivate themselves once more. “I tell kids in my sport not to be scared of the losses, because you learn much more from them than the wins,” he says. Then he grins on hearing the motto of tennis world number one Carlos Alcaraz: “I don’t win or I lose; I win or I learn.” “Ooh, that’s good,” smiles the Scot. “I might steal it.” Download our free Winter Olympics viewing guide, with a day-by-day TV planner to help you follow every winning moment Mouat, 31, goes into the 2026 Games vying for two golds. Now world champions, the line-up – Mouat, Grant Hardie, Bobby Lammie and Hammy McMillan – is unchanged from the Beijing defeat, the better to focus on gold in Milano Cortina. In the mixed doubles, he and Jen Dodds will repeat their Beijing partnership, where they finished fourth. It makes for a daunting 16-day schedule. “We actually start the mixed two days before the Opening Ceremony, and go right through to the last day – it’s intense,” says Mouat, who spent a total of almost 40 hours on the ice in Beijing. “I slept for three days after the 2022 Olympics.” Growing up in a Cairngorms village, Mouat was not steeped in curling. “No one in my family played it until my dad saw a newspaper article about a local club. I was too young to play then, but I went along to watch my older brother Colin until I could do it, too.” Soon after he started playing, he was given a curling video game, which became foundational to his development. “I played it endlessly with my grandpa, sitting on his lap at our cottage in Nethy Bridge. I drove him and my dad mental with it. At that age, about eight, on the actual rink I wasn’t strong enough to execute the shots – but I could in the video game, and it taught me about strategy and how to win.” Both on and off the ice, every detail matters, even restricting himself to using a burner phone throughout the Games, rather than his own mobile. “It’s to shield us from social media, put the blinkers on to avoid the negative comments you don’t want to see,” he says. “We have to look after ourselves physically and mentally.” Emotions have an impact. Mouat has been with his partner Craig Kyle for almost five years. Having come out to family, team-mates and friends when he was 19, he began to speak openly in public about his personal life just before the 2022 Games. “Coming out made not only my personal life but my sporting life so much better,” he says. “Previously it was about my own fear. It’s hard for me even to think back to that time, it was so scary. “I had built it up to be so extreme that it would impact how all my friends and family saw me. I felt unable to be myself around my team-mates. When you’re 17 or 18, all your friends are talking about girls. I couldn’t relate and was very conscious of what I was saying all the time. I didn’t know anyone in my sport who was gay. “But as soon as I came out, I could just relax, not feel like I was walking on eggshells to make sure I didn’t give myself away. It was such a relief – and from there my team had a long string of significant victories. There’s a very close connection.” The Olympic schedule means that, much as he would “love to see every single other sport” in Milano Cortina, he probably won’t be able to go to any of them, or the Opening Ceremony. Still, if he can surpass his Beijing silver, then he might well repeat the honour accorded to him four years ago when he carried the flag for Team GB at the Closing Ceremony. “To do it with my friends, family and Craig watching,” he says, “that would be great.” Men’s curling round robin starts on day 5 (final day 15) of the Winter Olympics. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Sport coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Skeleton racer Tabby Stoecker reveals the impact of opinions she has encountered around race and culture: "It would shock me"
Swapping the trapeze at circus school to train for the skeleton at the Olympics was a brave move. Now, after a bumpy start, Tabby Stoecker’s courage is paying off.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. As a teenage student at circus school with a flair for flying trapeze, Tabby Stoecker learnt how to handle danger. On the skeleton track in the Dolomite Mountains, those years of training are sure to come in handy. Stoecker will hurtle headfirst down the winding course at speeds of up to 90 miles per hour, her face just centimetres from the ice. “I’ve had experiences when it hasn’t gone right, and I’ve hit the wall hard, skidded, or flipped on to my back,” says Stoecker, who will be competing at her first Winter Olympics after winning World Cup and European Championship medals. But when it goes to plan, she adds, sliding the corners of the frozen course while experiencing extreme G-force is “an absolute state of flow”. “You can’t remember what’s happened because you are so present. You’re in tune with your breath, the track and sled. You can feel, see and hear everything but also nothing at all. You’re at one with what you’re doing.” Stoecker, 25, is the first British woman in more than a decade to win an overall skeleton World Cup medal. Yet just seven years ago, she hadn’t even heard of the sport that she excels in. That changed in the summer of 2018 when, aged 17, she spotted an advert on Instagram seeking young people who, with support, could become future Olympian or Paralympians across a range of disciplines. At the time, she was living with her mother in London, combining flying trapeze, clowning and juggling alongside her A-levels. She dreamt of joining the entertainment troupe Cirque du Soleil but doubted she would ever make it. Stoecker’s application to the talent programme was accepted, though her start was far from smooth. “I hadn’t even heard of skeleton when I signed up,” she admits. “I told my mum about the sports in the talent ID. She knew about skeleton – she’d watched Lizzy Yarnold win in Pyeongchang on the telly. “I was just bad. I was thrown in at the deep end. I didn’t really grow up doing winter sports and I hadn’t considered sports as a career.” She struggled in the gym, despite her background in gymnastics and circus training. “They had me squatting with a stick in the corner while everyone else was doing weights, because my body didn’t know those movements. I had no idea!” Download our free Winter Olympics viewing guide, with a day-by-day TV planner to help you follow every winning moment Following the Covid pandemic, she moved to the training programme based in Bath. But Stoecker, who has Nigerian ancestry on her mother’s side, felt alienated. “I wouldn’t say there’s often overt racism, but there’s a lot of people who grew up never seeing other cultures and races. They would come out with opinions that… never against me innately, but it would shock me. “I didn’t feel like I fitted in but I’m so glad I stuck at it. It took a while for me to believe I had physical qualities that would flower. When things are hard, it’s the worst time to make decisions. You have to push through.” The lightbulb moment came later in Norway when Stoecker launched on a sled for the first time. “It was the coldest I’ve ever been. As soon as you take off a layer, your extremities start to go solid. The coaches said, ‘Relax, just try to count where you are as you go down.’ I was extremely nervous and couldn’t feel my fingers or toes. You’re so close to the ice, but your brain is taking in all this information. It was addictive, an adrenaline rush. I got to the bottom and was fairly unscathed. I couldn’t believe what I’d done and wanted to go again.” What followed was years of hard work and dedication. What does she miss? The opportunity to live free of her “athlete brain” for every single decision, she says. “If I go out for brunch, I might want a massive stack of pancakes but there’s not much protein or colour on my plate. Or before I go to bed, I think I should have this disgusting protein shake as I was on my feet for longer than usual and I don’t want to lose weight overnight. Or there’s sleep hygiene – not looking at your phone an hour before bed, when sometimes you just want to watch a film and then sleep! “And I miss being able to play with my niece and nephew when they say, ‘We want to race you, Aunty Tabby’, without worrying about injuring myself.” But, as every athlete knows, it will all count on race day, when victory can come down to a hundredth of a second. A win would “feel like all the sacrifice and hard work I’ve put in, my partner, family and team have put in – it would be the perfect way to give back,” Stoecker says. “There’s such power that comes with the Olympic Games, and the way it connects everyone. Skeleton doesn’t get that much coverage, but it’s one of the most-watched sports in the Winter Olympics. There will be all these eyes who have not really seen me, what I do or what I stand for before. “I’d love to be stood on top of the podium, with those eyes on me reflecting this positive image of a young woman who has gone after her dreams, and succeeded, even when she didn’t think they were possible – or even know about those dreams until she was 17.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Sport coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Emilia Fox marks 30 years of Silent Witness and talks finding the positives after a big break-up
The Silent Witness star on her famous family and mischievous mutts.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. What’s the view from your sofa? The sofa faces the television, but when my daughter [15-year-old Rose, with ex-partner Jeremy Gilley] and I try to watch something, mostly the view is of our dogs Dolly and Clive, who climb on top of us. Dolly likes to be held like a baby and Clive sausages himself between us. What are you watching at the moment? I have a rule that I don’t watch television or read while I’m working, because I always think I should be studying my script. Rose said, “Mum, you’ve got to watch The Traitors, Strictly Come Dancing and I’m a Celebrity,” So, I caught up on those. Now I’m watching The Hack. Who controls the remote, you or Rose? Rose, hands down. For starters, she knows how to use it. I only have it when I’m switching the TV off to say, “OK, that’s enough.” It’s the 30th anniversary of Silent Witness this year. When it debuted in 1996 starring Amanda Burton, it was still unusual having a female lead. Has that situation improved? There was also Helen Mirren playing Jane Tennison in Prime Suspect – but it was such a big thing at that time for Amanda to play Sam Ryan and to portray the difficulties of women working in pathology or forensic science. Now I see such great parts for women who are older and I think good drama should reflect the experiences of people of all ages. And it gives me hope, personally, as an actress in her 50s! What’s informed how you play forensic pathologist Dr Nikki Alexander? What impacted me most was going to see real postmortems before I started Silent Witness. For me, so much of the job is about the respect for the deceased and how they are treated within a mortuary, and the interest in finding clues through someone’s body about how they’ve died. The show moved from London to Birmingham in 2024. How did you manage the commute from London? It wouldn’t have worked if Rose hadn’t started weekly boarding school. She wanted to be with her contemporaries, which I really understood. I did the same thing at 13. I was effectively an only child for a long time, because my half-sister Lucy is 15 years older and my brother Freddie wasn’t born until I was 15, so I wanted to be with my peers. Rose has flourished and it’s meant I can be away from home for a longer period of time. Did you find it hard being away from your partner? Actually, Jonathan [Stadlen, a TV producer] and I separated last February. The end of a relationship is always sad, but with age and life experience, you draw on the things that make you feel better and do them, like going on girly trips with Rose and being with friends. It’s been nearly a year now and I’m feeling positive. Add Radio Times as a Preferred Source on Google Keep up to date on what’s worth watching with your favourite entertainment news from Radio Times – see more of our exclusive news and interviews featured prominently in Top Stories when using Google. You come from an acting dynasty that includes your parents Edward Fox and Joanna David, brother Freddie, uncle James and cousins Laurence and Jack. Has anyone ever called you a nepo baby? This is a whole new expression to me. Are you a nepo baby only when you’re in the entertainment industry and not other professions? I didn’t want to be an actress growing up and I wasn’t exposed to their industry. But then I got lucky and got a holiday job during university [playing Georgiana Darcy in 1995’s TV adaptation of Pride and Prejudice] and I was like, “Wow! This is a nice job and now I don’t have to think about what I want to do.” You’re also the star of crime series Signora Volpe, you’ve presented the documentary series In the Footsteps of Killers and you narrate the Audible series Crime Scenes. Would you like to try a totally different genre? I don’t have a particular interest in true crime, but I like playing characters and exploring people who are good and are trying to make sense of what’s going wrong in the world and get justice. There’s a really nice feeling in that. But if I was given the choice, maybe I’d play a baddie. It would be a nice challenge to get into the mind of someone completely different from me. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Silent Witness airs Mondays and Tuesdays on BBC One and BBC iPlayer from Monday 2 February. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Snowboarder Charlotte Bankes reveals why she doesn't need to diet and worry about what she eats
"Wherever I am in the race at the Olympics, I won’t give up until I cross that finish line."
Great Britain’s 30-year-old Charlotte Bankes is among the favourites for the snowboard cross event at the Winter Olympics. One of the most exciting alpine sports, Olympic snowboard cross features four riders battling for position on a course between 1,000 and 1,500m long with curved banks (berms), humps and waves that help to launch riders into the air. The current World Cup mixed snowboard cross champion, Bankes’s career is laden with victories but no Olympic title yet. Is this her time? Your family moved from Britain to the French Alps when you were a child, so you initially represented France, until 2018… We didn’t move for snowboarding so much as the possibility of living a more outdoors life, but I feel fortunate they made that decision. Although I’ve grown up in France, I still feel British and feel proud to represent Great Britain. But the local community in France still supports me, so I’ve found the right balance. So, French coffee or British tea bags? I’m fuelled on tea; I probably drink two litres of tea a day. I take a flask with me on the hill so I can have a cup of tea before the start of a race. I’ve also got a kettle for the hotels so I can make a proper cup of tea. I take my own bags of Yorkshire Tea with me. Do you have a special diet, plenty of protein shakes? No, I don’t like any of that stuff! Riders don’t have to be that careful with what we eat, it’s more about getting a balanced diet that fuels the body properly. I really like a curry. There are certain mornings before races where you’re not that hungry and my go-to is toast and Marmite. Riders can reach speeds of 70km an hour, are you scared of crashes? Fear is there but it makes you concentrate. If you’re riding in a pack with people around, then you really have to focus on your own moves before wondering what the others are doing. You damaged your pelvis in 2011 and then, in 2025, crashed in training — how has that affected you going into these Olympics? My preparation hasn’t been the same as usual because I was injured. I broke a collarbone training on the World Cup track last season and I damaged my ACL [anterior cruciate ligament] in training. I was only back on the snow at the start of November. You have to stay focused on yourself, but also have to get back out there racing so you can perform. You won the mixed event with Huw Nightingale at the World Cup in Cervinia, Italy in December after being at the back of the race… I’m in a comfortable place when I’m just behind the pack and chasing. I’m good at seeing spaces to get past and making those overtakes. But wherever I am in the race at the Olympics, I won’t give up until I cross that finish line. Download our free Winter Olympics viewing guide, with a day-by-day TV planner to help you follow every winning moment The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Sport coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
I'm Clive Myrie, and my new BBC ancestry series left me angry about history – but with a constructive way to use it
Use your identity as a positive force, writes Clive Myrie, who has embraced his African roots.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. In a confusing world, we search for our origins. Within many of us there is a deep yearning to find our roots, to discover where our own unique stories begin. This yearning is behind the remarkable popularity of ancestry DNA tests and the success of television shows like Who Do You Think You Are? In making my series African Adventure, I’ve fed penguins in South Africa and explored the wonderful and chaotic exuberance of Lagos in Nigeria. But I’ve also experienced a traditional naming ceremony in Ghana, where I was metaphorically welcomed back into the African fold and given an African name – an origin. As well as this new name, I had a flag made by a craftsman of the Fante people, who still practice this ancient folk-art in Ghana. It’s beautiful, vibrant with colour and designs that include symbols representing my Jamaican history. It’s hanging above my desk at home and I take pleasure in this layer being added to my identity. You might think I have enough identity already. I was born in Bolton in Lancashire, so I’m a Northerner and proud of it. But I’m also very proud of being British and then there are my Caribbean roots, that come courtesy of my Jamaican parents. Thanks to them I remain Caribbean in my bones; I love West Indian food and Jamaican culture. So, do I have room for another Clive Myrie? My answer is yes, for if you want to be true to who you are, then you really do need to know who you are. In my case, I have parents from Jamaica but before them my ancestors were African. I’m not sure exactly where from, but a DNA test suggests somewhere on what was once called the Gold Coast, most likely modern Ghana or Nigeria. Whichever it was, they were sent across the Atlantic as slaves on the terrible Middle Passage journey to the Caribbean. In my new series, I’ve visited the slave fort in Ghana where my ancestors could well have been kept in appalling conditions before they were taken through the “Gate of No Return” and loaded onto ships. Unlike my ancestors, I was free to come and go as I wished; being there was painful for me and some of the American tour group I joined at the fort were in tears. Experiences like that can make you very angry about history, about how your ancestors have been treated. But what is that anger going to do for you? Instead, I prefer to use my emotions constructively, to find out more about those people, keep their stories alive (for we should never forget what happened) but also to find out more about who I am. Today identity is often used in a negative way; you can see it in the ethno-nationalism playing out across the western world. But you can also use identity as a positive force, to say, “This is who I am, just as important and as individual as anybody else.” And you can afford the same privilege to others; respect their right to the same dignity you would claim for yourself. For we are all essentially the same flesh and blood. As the Jewish Shylock says to his Christian tormentors in The Merchant of Venice, “If you prick me, do I not bleed?” Making African Adventure has been emotional and powerful. We’ve all come from somewhere and I may well have come from this part of West Africa; knowing that makes me feel a little more grounded, a little more connected to the people of Africa and more knowledgeable about who I am. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Clive Myrie's African Adventure begins on BBC Two and iPlayer from Monday 26 January at 6:30pm. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Alpine ski racer Dave Ryding talks mental health journey: "I really don't think UK Sport understands"
With an Olympic medal having eluded him in his career, Dave Ryding is determined to go out on a high.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. High in the Italian Alps, a 39-year-old Englishman is preparing to race. Soon he will lock into his skis, take a deep breath of sharp mountain air and then throw himself down the compacted frozen snow of the Winter Olympics slalom course beneath Monte Vallecetta. When he hurtles towards the finish-line, Dave Ryding will zigzag and turn through a series of gates marked by polymer poles, subjecting his knees and ankles to immense forces, while reaching speeds of 80km an hour. With some understatement Ryding, known as The Rocket, describes this as “quite stressful”. Downhill racing is faster, but slalom is the more technical event where competitors are more likely to make a mistake and crash – with hundreds of cowbell-clanging spectators waiting for him to do just that. “It’s an amazing experience in front of a big crowd,” he says. And frightening? “You learn to perform under pressure, to take the energy from the crowd and not have nerves about it.” Download our free Winter Olympics viewing guide, with a day-by-day TV planner to help you follow every winning moment When we talk, Ryding has just breakfasted on Greek yoghurt, oats “and blueberries from Aldi”. In summer he grows his own blackcurrants in the Lancashire home he shares with his wife, Dutch skier Mandy Dirkzwager, and their three-year-old daughter, Nina. Ryding, it’s clear, is emphatically not someone who spent months in the Alps every winter. He was brought up near Pendle in Lancashire and, rather than Courchevel, the first time Ryding encountered winter sports it was on the local artificial ski slope – taken there by his father Carl, a ski-mad visionary who sensed, rightly, that his six-year-old son might be good. Carl coached his son on the plastic slope and worked on a market stall in the nearby town of Leyland. “He sold women’s underwear,” says Ryding. “Then he became an industrial cleaner.” When it became increasingly apparent that both Ryding and his younger sister Joanna were talented skiers, Carl retrained as a gas engineer to increase his income and help pay for his son’s one holiday a year in the Alps to practise on the snow. Ryding’s mother, Shirley, who ran her own hair salon, kept the household going and drove the children to races. Even his grandparents helped. “My family had to make big sacrifices,” says Ryding. The sacrifices paid off. He went on to be the most successful British skier of all time and among the best slalom skiers in the world, getting seven world-cup podium finishes but no Olympic medal and always falling just short of the career-defining victory that would put him among the greats. “There have been more bleak moments than good,” he says. “But I’ve managed to maintain an attitude of ‘Why am I doing this?’ It’s not always about winning, but getting the best performance out of myself.” At the 2017 World Cup in Finland, Ryding was winning and then crashed. “I can still feel that moment when my skis went away from me and I fell. I’ll feel that until I’m 90. It was hard to take because I was so close. There was a sense of, ‘Will I ever get another chance like that?’” Then, just when he’d begun to doubt that he could do it, Ryding won. On 22 January 2022, at the World Cup in Kitzbühel in Austria, he took first place; the first Briton and, at 35, the oldest man to do so in the event’s history. Three weeks later Ryding was the flag-bearer for the Great Britain Winter Olympic team in Beijing and strongly tipped for a medal. But Ryding was unravelling. “The Word Cup was the ultimate high; I’d tried to achieve this my whole life, and worked to that moment,” he says. “I had a lot of positive feelings, but I just felt so drained, absolutely empty, to be honest. And then having to go to China in a Covid lockdown situation, I wasn’t mentally or emotionally ready to compete.” He was only 0.78 of a second behind a bronze medal place but came in 13th place. There were immediate consequences. As a result of what it judged to be a poor Winter Olympics performance, UK Sport withdrew much of skiing’s World Class Programme funding ahead of the 2026 Games. This lack of empathy for what Ryding had been through still rankles. “I really don’t think UK Sport understands,” he says. “They put a big emphasis on mental wellbeing, and they took no interest in what actually could have been going on in my mind for that Olympics.” A very different man is heading out to the 2026 Winter Olympics. As well as becoming a father in 2022, Ryding has also announced his retirement. Milano Cortina will be his fifth and final chance to win an Olympic gold. “The decision is an easy one,” he says. “I’ve got a family who I would like to dedicate some time to.” The final will be judged over two rounds. “That’s the beauty of slalom. Because you have to do it over two runs, and on the second run, it counts down so the leader goes last. So not only is the course at its bumpiest for the leader on the second run, but the stakes are at the highest. If you’re leading, you’re the one with it all to lose.” Moreover, the leader must sit in a chair with a camera pointed at him, waiting to see if he is beaten. “If there are another 10 people to go, and you’re leading it, you still have that buzz every time someone comes down.” In the past, Ryding has added some theatrics to the process by playing air guitar as he waits. “Some will think, ‘What a saddo!’, but it shows that I’m human, not some kind of robot,” he says. “There’s nothing worse than someone sitting in that chair showing no emotions.” Ryding is highly likely to be the oldest competitor in his event but is relatively unconcerned about his levels of fitness and credits his time on Pendle’s plastic slopes. “Touch wood, I sit here with no pains. I think it’s because I didn’t overuse my body when I wasn’t as strong. “When I was young, I’d ski twice a week on the dry slopes and it’s totally different – you don’t get the bumps, you don’t have the same crashes. If I had been born in the mountains, it could have been different. So, I look back and I wouldn’t change what I did. What I’ve achieved has been fantastic.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Sport coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Bridgerton legends explain "juvenile" season 4 feud for Queen Charlotte and Lady Danbury
There's trouble afoot for the two Bridgerton friends.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. “There’s a little bit of an upset with our best mate, Lady Danbury,” is Golda Rosheuvel’s description of the trouble at the top in Bridgerton series four. (And note the appropriate use of the regal plural – Rosheuvel has been playing a Queen for six years now and speaks fluent majesty). “She comes into the season thinking that she has a lovely new toy in Whistledown (Nicola Coughlan), that they’re going to be best mates and she’s going to be able to control the gossip. And then she’s wrong-footed by Danbury asking to leave.” “Danbury’s hit that time in her life,” explains Adjoa Andoh, “where she wants to know all of who she is. We have to remember that Danbury was sent over from Sierra Leone to the UK to marry an old git. As we saw from the Queen Charlotte series, she had a loveless marriage, four children and then he dies. Phew, thank goodness. Now I’m independent.” In series three, her brother Marcus returned and the issue of her family and background re-emerges. “And at a certain point she realises there’s a piece of the jigsaw in her life that she doesn’t have available to her, and that is: ‘Who was I in Sierra Leone?’ I know from friends who have been fostered or adopted that there’s something about filling in a gap that – at a time in your life – becomes more necessary.” Danbury’s announcement that she is off to find herself forces a schism at the top. “The Queen is lonely,” says Rosheuvel. “She needs her best friend by her side. She’s terrified of what the outcome will be for their friendship.” Predictably, the Queen doesn’t take it well. “She says, ‘I’m the Queen, so you have to do what I say,’” say Andoh. “And Danbury goes, ‘Well, if I have to do what you say, I won’t be your friend.’” Cue juvenile squabbling. “How they’re going to resolve that in a satisfactory way is their story arc throughout the season.” It’s a tale of significant friendships and how they mature – and sometimes falter – over time. Something both women are familiar with. “I have a great friend who was in America and she’s just moved here,” says Rosheuvel. “Years ago, when someone asked me out, she was the person I phoned and went, ‘What do I do?’ She was like, ‘You don’t have to marry her, just enjoy what you’ve got.’ It was great advice – because I’d been on my own for five years at that point. And 12, 13 years later, I’m married to that person.” View Green Video on the source website Andoh’s closest friend is her younger brother. “He’s a musician and he lives in LA so he’s not around the corner, but we share a sense of humour being from the West Country – ‘All right poo face, you look like s**t.’ ‘You don’t look much better’… that kind of thing. “If I’m in LA, I go back to my brother and I’m in a grounded place immediately. He’s always been in bands – I was a punk; I got him into it. In fact, that’s all I ever wanted to do – be a bass player in a punk band.” Which both is and isn’t very Lady Danbury, all at the same time. Read more: Bridgerton season 4's leading couple talk about their Cinderella story and steamy river scene: "It was cold in the water, though" Bridgerton season 4 star reveals Lady Violet's sexy new romance as a mature woman: "We're not dead!" The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Bridgerton season 4 part 1 premieres on January 29th and Part 2 on February 26th, both on Netflix. Seasons 1-3 are available to watch on Netflix now. You can buy the <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Bridgerton-Collection-Inspiration-Netflix-Original/dp/0349430187?tag=radtim0b-21&ascsubtag=radiotimes-2381335" target="_blank" rel="sponsored" data-geniuslink="https://buy.geni.us/Proxy.ashx?TSID=114542&GR_URL=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.amazon.co.uk%2FBridgerton-Collection-Inspiration-Netflix-Original%2Fdp%2F0349430187%3Ftag%3Dradtim0b-21%26ascsubtag%3Dradiotimes-1612614&dtb=1">Bridgerton book series on Amazon. Add Bridgerton to your watchlist on the Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more from the biggest stars in TV, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
When did TV documentaries become all about celebrities and 'being' and stop being about people actually doing something?
The good news is that there are green shoots of fresh geek-dom on our screens.
My friend and I used to be fans of a big documentary festival until about a decade ago. After yet more films about a boy wearing mascara, or a girl holding a Kalashnikov, we walked out after a screening and she said, "It’s all about being. When did people stop doing stuff?" To be fair, documentaries remain a crucial platform for investigative journalism, but when it comes to our TV screens, my friend was right. We aren’t short of what TV commissioners call "factual entertainment", but it feels like a million variations on a single premise: two celebrities in a car swapping their "stories", between stops where they buy a house and a surprisingly valuable bit of art. Or, if it's Channel 4, an intentionally provocative session with some kind of sex practitioner. If an expert is called upon, it’s to answer the questions of yet another celebrity. Where are the people doing stuff? It wasn’t always this way. I grew up watching people like Keith Floyd, Ann Ladbury and Fred Dibnah and their infectious enthusiasms for, respectively, cooking without a recipe (but with a glass of red), cutting sewing patterns and demolishing chimneys. They were all doing it anyway; fame came through their passions, not the other way round. The word "geek" – which just means a deep, tireless interest in a subject, often niche – has been given a bad rap, associated with a bad haircut and passion for planes over personal grooming. Well, give me an unsmoothed expert enthused to share over a slick celebrity paid to learn any day of the week. The good news is that there are green shoots of fresh geek-dom on our screens. With a doffed cap to the storytelling talents of scientist Dr Hannah Fry, the numero uno of nerds is Guy Martin. First spotted by TV producers on his bike in a 2009 TT race, the Grimsby-born presenter brings his love for all things mechanical to TV, from building a boat to breaking the world record for the fastest toboggan. Refreshingly averse to celebrity over substance (he said no to hosting Top Gear), Martin must navigate authenticity with keeping producers happy. His latest series explores "proper jobs"– which I’m guessing means those requiring pre-dawn starts and dirty hands (strangely, I’ve not yet received the call), and it’s something he clearly admires. Nearly two decades after stardom beckoned, he still turns down TV work in favour of mending lorries and driving tractors. There are plenty out there. If you don’t recognise the name Wintergatan, you’re not one of the 276 million who have tuned into YouTube to watch this Swedish band’s frontman Martin Molin play an instrument he built using 2,000 marbles. Subsequently, Molin abandoned the project, calling it unreliable for the planned world tour. Like Martin, this techie is not for turning. On paper, Francis Bourgeois sounds dreadful: "TikTok content producer, brand ambassador, model." But at heart, he's a trainspotter, whose enthusiasm for all things locomotive has garnered millions of followers on social media. View oEmbed on the source website For a Channel 4 doc, he flirts with the idea of going to space and has a reality check when he prepares to meet a real astronaut: "I have to carry my engineering expertise to this meeting. The power of social media, that can only take one so far." Well, indeed, but in an age where we no longer learn how to mend a Land Rover, sew a dress or demolish a chimney, it is the modern mastery of such self-promotion that is key to promoting these skills and passions past, and where we’re reminded that there is no happier companionship than a shared niche. When Guy Martin's host family of dairy farmers throw him a party, the bubbly is popped, the burgers are turned, but where’s Guy? In a corner, showing the farmer’s son what ChatGPT has to say about hydraulic engine fluids. Doing stuff. Enthralled, enthralling. Mission to Space with Francis Bourgeois begins on Sunday 25 January at 6:50pm on Channel 4. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Death in Paradise legend Don Warrington talks "outcry" to Selwyn's departure – and whether he'll leave the show
After much speculation, Commissioner Selwyn Patterson is back on Saint Marie – but Don Warrington is making no promises on his Death in Paradise future.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. Having starred in 14 seasons of the BBC One peak-time drama Death in Paradise, Don Warrington is often recognised in streets or shops by fans of his character, Commissioner Selwyn Patterson. But since March last year – when the latest series ended with Patterson moving to London for “family reasons” – viewers have had one question: had Warrington left the series? “What I’d say to them was, ‘Wait and see’,” says Warrington, who is 74. “That was all I was allowed to say because ‘Has he?/Hasn’t he?’ was part of the story.” Having waited, viewers were rewarded with Patterson making cameos in last month’s Christmas specials of both Death in Paradise and its spin-off Beyond Paradise. And now, any concerns are laid to rest with the opening episode of the 15th series starting with Selwyn flying into the fictional Caribbean island of Saint Marie to resume his duties. Was that story arc always planned or does it reflect frantic background negotiations between actor and producers? Had Warrington ever at any point actually left the series? “No, I hadn’t,” he insists. “They came to me and told me the plan for the character and it seemed to me a good way to expand the series. Because Commissioner Patterson comes back with a different energy. But I love speculation. It’s such fun. Rumour is wonderful.” The reaction to his possible departure must have been flattering – especially from a series that has been written to accommodate cast rotation with Ben Miller, Kris Marshall, Ardal O’Hanlon, Ralf Little and Don Gilet having now played the lead role of a British cop seconded from London. “Well, it came as a shock to me, I have to say,” admits Warrington. “I thought it would just pass by under the radar and we’d carry on. But, apparently, there has been an outcry. It’s flattering and I would be dishonest if I said it wasn’t. But it came as a surprise to realise how deeply the characters had got into the consciousness of the public.” Anyone who could have predicted in 2011 that there would be a 15th season of Death in Paradise in 2026, with or without Warrington, would long ago have retired after winning the lottery several weeks running. In fact, when I told a media journalist I was interviewing Warrington about the show, they expressed surprise it was still going. Did he ever have a sense of how long he might stay in it? “No. I thought we might get three seasons out of it if we were lucky. “It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The intelligentsia, if you like, tend to look down their nose at this kind of thing. Popularity has never been a quality the English admire, unlike the Americans. There’s a kind of innate feeling: if it gets more than 20 people it can’t be any good. But there we are.” Some shows may now almost literally be getting 20 viewers as terrestrial TV audiences decline, but the last series of Death in Paradise drew in an average of 5.79 million viewers. Warrington’s explanation is that this committed core audience is due to the show’s concept: “It had a great premise in that it was a show about a man who gets a job in the perfect place but hates being there. It’s a brilliant dramatic concept – putting someone in paradise but to them it’s hell.” When the show started, however, some critics complained that it was a colonial or empire fantasy of a white cop from London bringing justice to the Caribbean. Did that ever worry Warrington? “I thought about it, yes. I understand why people talk about the show in that way. But, I think one has to go back to where the series came from.” Series creator Robert Thorogood was inspired by the real-life example of a white Englishman, Mark Shields, a British cop recruited to become Deputy Police Commissioner of Jamaica. His tenure included a murder investigation into the sudden death of former England cricketer Bob Woolmer, who was the Pakistan cricket coach during an international tournament in 2007 (an inquest returned an open verdict), and the bizarre overnight theft of 500 truckloads of white sand from a beach. So although detractors object that Death in Paradise lacks reality, it’s important, Warrington says, to acknowledge the series’ loose roots in Shields’ CV. “He fell in love with Jamaica and stayed, but some people argued he became like a Jamaican so they sent out another cop from London and that’s the idea it comes from. But that concept has evolved, so now you have a black British policeman [Don Gilet’s DI Mervin Wilson] who has family on the island but is still in a sense a fish out of water who has to adapt.” It would have been hard if not impossible for the franchise to go on sending white actor-comedians to Saint Marie, so is the current situation – with two lead actors of colour in Warrington and Gilet – a crucial evolution for the show? “Yes, of course. Everyone realised the world had changed so we had to change with it. And it has given the series a richness culturally. “I think there’s a fear that, unless you represent the mainstream audience as they see themselves, they won’t respond in a positive way. But I think people are interested in other people and if we make those people interesting, be they black or white, the audience will respond. What we are trying to do here is present people of colour in a way that is unclichéd – they are simply people getting on with the job and in that sense their colour is irrelevant. “Television is behind the times; all media is behind the times,” Warrington adds. “What people are living on the streets is quite different from what they see on television. And I think this programme has taken giant steps in giving a different picture of the world.” Warrington’s long career has been bracketed by two huge popular hits. Before Death in Paradise, there was ITV’s Rising Damp (1974–1978), in which a twenty-something Warrington played Philip Smith, a young man of African heritage lodging with Rigsby (Leonard Rossiter), an instinctively racist landlord. “What amazes me,” remarks Warrington, “is that people still recognise me from Rising Damp. I think of myself as a completely different person when I look at that very slim young man.” As is much discussed now, there are series from the 1970s that can never be repeated – Love Thy Neighbour, The Black and White Minstrel Show, Mind Your Language – due to racist stereotypes, with it almost seeming remarkable that they were ever made. Rising Damp is a rare series from that period with a black character that does not appal audiences or embarrass the actor due to Warrington’s character being far cleverer and more likeable than the bigot from whom he rents. The show – co-starring Rossiter, Frances de la Tour and Richard Beckinsale – can still be enjoyed in reruns. “Again, as with Death in Paradise,” says Warrington, “I think it’s important how things begin. The writer Eric Chappell had worked at the gas board with a guy who was incredibly racist. And he fantasised about that man being challenged. And so he created – in the stage play The Banana Box, which he then adapted as Rising Damp – a black character who always won. So, Eric’s intention was to expose the ludicrousness of racism and I think that’s why it survives.” Some black actors now look back in anger at scenes they were given to play or lines to say, but Warrington feels no desire to edit his television CV. “I’ve never said anything in a performance that I’ve regretted saying because I wouldn’t have done it. I’m a black man and I’m proud of that and I avoided any of the stereotypical nonsense that went on.” Finally, going back to where we began, might Warrington surprise us by not being in Death in Paradise if it comes back for another series in 2027? “It’s a year at a time. That’s how it has always been and how it will continue.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now - subscribe here. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. 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