This is Cornwall --
I've never given garden gnomes much thought. Unfortunately, the first time I'd ever had pause to consider the merits of these rod-wielding micro-men and women was on national radio. It was live, too, so whatever nonsense fell from my mouth would be hard to scrub from the record.
"Gnomes are being allowed into the Chelsea Flower Show for the first time ever, they'd previously been banned, presumably because the organisers thought they are vulgar," boomed Andrew Rawnsley, one of Britain's top political commentators, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Gnomes, Graeme, a good or a bad thing at the Chelsea Flower Show?"
Head pounding. Mouth drying up. "I'm pretty ambivalent about gnomes," came my reply, which what it lacked in wit I hoped made up for in honesty. "It should be an inclusive festival so let gnomes in," I continued, when pressed, not really making anything approaching sense. Oscar Wilde it wasn't.
I couldn't tell you exactly how I ended up on the panel of Leader Conference, a Radio 4 current affairs show that affects to be a group of journalists working for the same newspaper exchanging ideas about what should be in tomorrow's leader column (see left). It's a neat device allowing hacks to kick around the days news. More original than the much-mimicked review of the first editions, a favourite of rolling news channels.
Anyway, why me? The line-up was daunting. Andrew Rawnsley is a dominant figure in political journalism, a terrific writer and interviewer who has a fabulous crockery-shivering timbre to his voice. The panellists included Nigel Nelson of the People, Fleet Street's longest-serving political editor, and the Guardian's Aditya Chakrabortty, who I'm guessing has forgotten more about economics than I'll ever know. Lesley Riddoch is a leading commentator on Scottish politics and Kirsty Buchanan, of the Sunday Express, is a top story getter.
Me? A provincial newspaper hack. I think that was the point. When I was approached, the show's producer, Simon Coates, explained he had invited journalists from regional papers in previous series to offer a different perspective. The national media often sees the world through the viewfinder of the London metropolitan elite. You'd think farmers were little more than subsidy junkies if you took your news entirely from national outlets.
The trouble with being an emissary of the regions is there's at least a modicum of pressure to know what you're talking about. Who wants to listen to views they could easily get from the front seat of a mini-cab?
At first, I wasn't overly concerned. Being fortunate enough to call Parliament "the office", I've picked up enough in the last three years to busk my way through most political debates.
But then a Westminster colleague, blissfully unaware of my upcoming appearance, remarked the previous week's show had been "cerebral". Now, my colleague is an experienced broadcast journalist and commentator who has, to borrow his phrase, a "plausible manner" when on the box or wireless. Even if he didn't know his onions – he does – he sounds convincing.
"I'd be daunted," he said of the show if he was asked to appear. You could have heard my "gulp!" in Belgium.
I've got a little broadcasting experience. But nothing near a 45-minute panel discussion show with some of Britain's biggest political brains. The date in the diary – four weeks away – was taunting me in any case. Something akin to a best man's speech at a wedding. And it was live. What if I spilled coffee on my lap and started swearing like a docker? I'd not be able to look my mother in the eye again.
And so to showtime, live from the swanky new Broadcasting House. Alarmingly, while picking over pre-match snacks, fellow guests read through detailed crib sheets. Curses! At the risk of sounding like the brilliant student feigning that they hadn't revised for an exam (I'm not), I was profoundly unprepared. I was concerned an hour surfing the net wouldn't pass muster. Could they actually ask me to leave mid-show? That would be some debut.
I need not have worried. Andrew was a fantastic host and – to maintain the fake newspaper conceit – editor. Sure, the detailed, lucid arguments ping-ponging around the studio, as we sat in horse-shoe formation, had my head spinning at times. But, for the most part, I was waving not drowning. We agreed the Tories should quit their squabbling over Europe – my laser-sharp contribution being that farmers and fisherman are affected by Brussels, so it's not a narrow Westminster concern that many claim – and that communities could take the strain from the NHS to ease the A&E crisis.
And the gnomes? Hindsight is 20-20, but I could have remarked that Oasis singer Liam Gallagher had apparently requested tickets to Chelsea Flower Show. A garden gnome or rock'n'roll star. Which is more vulgar? Maybe next time. Reported by This is 3 days ago.
I've never given garden gnomes much thought. Unfortunately, the first time I'd ever had pause to consider the merits of these rod-wielding micro-men and women was on national radio. It was live, too, so whatever nonsense fell from my mouth would be hard to scrub from the record.
"Gnomes are being allowed into the Chelsea Flower Show for the first time ever, they'd previously been banned, presumably because the organisers thought they are vulgar," boomed Andrew Rawnsley, one of Britain's top political commentators, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Gnomes, Graeme, a good or a bad thing at the Chelsea Flower Show?"
Head pounding. Mouth drying up. "I'm pretty ambivalent about gnomes," came my reply, which what it lacked in wit I hoped made up for in honesty. "It should be an inclusive festival so let gnomes in," I continued, when pressed, not really making anything approaching sense. Oscar Wilde it wasn't.
I couldn't tell you exactly how I ended up on the panel of Leader Conference, a Radio 4 current affairs show that affects to be a group of journalists working for the same newspaper exchanging ideas about what should be in tomorrow's leader column (see left). It's a neat device allowing hacks to kick around the days news. More original than the much-mimicked review of the first editions, a favourite of rolling news channels.
Anyway, why me? The line-up was daunting. Andrew Rawnsley is a dominant figure in political journalism, a terrific writer and interviewer who has a fabulous crockery-shivering timbre to his voice. The panellists included Nigel Nelson of the People, Fleet Street's longest-serving political editor, and the Guardian's Aditya Chakrabortty, who I'm guessing has forgotten more about economics than I'll ever know. Lesley Riddoch is a leading commentator on Scottish politics and Kirsty Buchanan, of the Sunday Express, is a top story getter.
Me? A provincial newspaper hack. I think that was the point. When I was approached, the show's producer, Simon Coates, explained he had invited journalists from regional papers in previous series to offer a different perspective. The national media often sees the world through the viewfinder of the London metropolitan elite. You'd think farmers were little more than subsidy junkies if you took your news entirely from national outlets.
The trouble with being an emissary of the regions is there's at least a modicum of pressure to know what you're talking about. Who wants to listen to views they could easily get from the front seat of a mini-cab?
At first, I wasn't overly concerned. Being fortunate enough to call Parliament "the office", I've picked up enough in the last three years to busk my way through most political debates.
But then a Westminster colleague, blissfully unaware of my upcoming appearance, remarked the previous week's show had been "cerebral". Now, my colleague is an experienced broadcast journalist and commentator who has, to borrow his phrase, a "plausible manner" when on the box or wireless. Even if he didn't know his onions – he does – he sounds convincing.
"I'd be daunted," he said of the show if he was asked to appear. You could have heard my "gulp!" in Belgium.
I've got a little broadcasting experience. But nothing near a 45-minute panel discussion show with some of Britain's biggest political brains. The date in the diary – four weeks away – was taunting me in any case. Something akin to a best man's speech at a wedding. And it was live. What if I spilled coffee on my lap and started swearing like a docker? I'd not be able to look my mother in the eye again.
And so to showtime, live from the swanky new Broadcasting House. Alarmingly, while picking over pre-match snacks, fellow guests read through detailed crib sheets. Curses! At the risk of sounding like the brilliant student feigning that they hadn't revised for an exam (I'm not), I was profoundly unprepared. I was concerned an hour surfing the net wouldn't pass muster. Could they actually ask me to leave mid-show? That would be some debut.
I need not have worried. Andrew was a fantastic host and – to maintain the fake newspaper conceit – editor. Sure, the detailed, lucid arguments ping-ponging around the studio, as we sat in horse-shoe formation, had my head spinning at times. But, for the most part, I was waving not drowning. We agreed the Tories should quit their squabbling over Europe – my laser-sharp contribution being that farmers and fisherman are affected by Brussels, so it's not a narrow Westminster concern that many claim – and that communities could take the strain from the NHS to ease the A&E crisis.
And the gnomes? Hindsight is 20-20, but I could have remarked that Oasis singer Liam Gallagher had apparently requested tickets to Chelsea Flower Show. A garden gnome or rock'n'roll star. Which is more vulgar? Maybe next time. Reported by This is 3 days ago.