Was my decision to appear on Have I Got News for You a colossal error of judgment?
‘Wow, that’s brave,’ said John Kampfner, the former editor of the New Statesman. ‘I’d never do that.’ I had just told him I’d agreed to be on Have I Got News for You and, as soon as he said this, I began to have second thoughts.
‘Oh Christ. D’you think I’ve made a terrible mistake?’ ‘It depends how quick-witted you are,’ he said.
He was right — and the truth is I’m not that quick on my feet. For instance, when I appeared on Question Time in 2005 I had to field one of those dreadful ‘funny’ questions at the end and completely fluffed it. The exchange went like this: Audience member: If the two contenders for the Tory leadership were animals, what animals would they be?
David Dimbleby: OK, have we got any wits on the panel? Who’s got a quick answer? Toby Young?
Me: Er, two velociraptors disguised as teddy bears?
I have not been asked back since. In the runup to my appearance on HIGNFY, I became so nervous that I asked Lloyd Evans — the Spectator’s drama critic — if he could come up with any topical jokes I might be able to steal. He suggested emailing one of the writers on the show — a man he vaguely knew — to see if he’d be willing to sell me any of the jokes he’d written for that week’s show which the producers had rejected.
‘Brilliant,’ I said. ‘Send him an email.’ The following day, Lloyd forwarded me his reply: ‘Nice to hear from you. I have indeed written for this week’s show, so it would be tricky to sell him the second-rate gags that have already been rejected! I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with guests employing people to work with them on material for the show — but I think it might actually be a bit weird for it to be one of the show’s writers. Nonetheless, I hope he has a good show — and being a thoroughly decent bloke, I won’t forward this email to the producers so it can be read out on the show to embarrass him!’ As soon as I read that, I broke out in a cold sweat. Of course the writer would forward Lloyd’s email to the producers — and it was a racing certainty that Paul Merton would read it out on the show. Why hadn’t I anticipated that? What a blithering idiot I am.
On the day of the recording, I was so nervous I asked my wife and parents-in-law, whom I’d arranged to be in the studio audience, if they’d mind not coming. Being humiliated in front of ten million viewers is one thing, but in front of your wife and her parents is quite another. Unfortunately, the answer was yes — they would mind. My wife told me to stop being such a wet blanket.
Guests are told to arrive a couple of hours beforehand to give them a chance to catch up on the week’s papers and to have a brief chat with the other panellists. I was on Ian Hislop’s team and, to my intense suspicion, he was all sweetness and light. He gently offered me some advice on how to be a good guest — ‘Don’t interrupt if Paul’s on a roll’ — and then wished me luck. I told my fellow guest, comedian Reginald D. Hunter, that this kid-glove treatment was clearly a ruse to lull us into a false sense of security.
‘You better believe it,’ he said.
‘Are you all right?’ asked one of the producers who came to check up on me in my dressing-room.
‘Yes. Why? Shouldn’t I be?’ Afterwards, he told me he had never seen a guest look so terrified.
As I feared, the show got off to a tricky start. Ian asked me a question about the US presidential election and I said I didn’t understand why white Americans were patting themselves on the back quite so enthusiastically given that Barack Obama isn’t really black. He’s mixed race. Paul immediately posed the same question to Reginald Hunter, an African-American. ‘He’s black enough,’ he said, giving me a stern look. Cue rapturous applause from the audience.
After that, things took a turn for the better. Ian didn’t attack me, Paul didn’t read out the offending email and I even managed to come up with a couple of decent gags. I don’t suppose I’ll ever be asked back, but I’m glad I didn’t disgrace myself. John Kampfner, if you’re reading this, you have nothing to worry about.
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