Blog On The Motorway

A few years back, I actually came pretty close to a career in journalism. I was hired by a small company in Leeds to be first a writer for, then editor of a publication called the Asian Express. Not being Asian myself I had a few misgivings, but a job is a job, and this was going to be my first proper paid writing job.

One of my first assignments was to interview Jimmy Saville. Again, a strange thing to do for an Asian newspaper, but apparently he was due to open a new community centre or some such. Jimmy has always been really active in community politics in Leeds, so along I trundled.  As always I was to be both reporter and photographer, and when I got to the venue Jimmy was running late, so I got chatting to a few of the assembled crowd, all of them delighted to be meeting Jimmy.

After an hour or so of waiting, Jimmy turned up suddenly and with no announcement, other than to stand at the doors and say loudly through a cigar filled mouth; ‘Now then, now then.’  The crowd went as bonkers as a collection of Asian businessmen and women can be expected to go.  I started snapping some pics, happy for Jimmy to make his way to me eventually.

This was my first time ever interviewing a celebrity outside of the music scene, and I have to admit I was a bit nervous. I mean, Jimmy Saville. A bona fide celebrity, and a man who was always on the telly when I was growing up. So when he made his way over to me I already had my first question lined up: ‘So Jimmy, how come you never replied to the letter I sent you?’

It seemed quite erudite and witty in my head, but he fixed me with a look that showed exactly how many times he’d heard it. Quick as a flash the look was gone and he smiled that big silly grin of his and replied; ‘Because you forgot to put a stamp on it.’

Pleasantries exchanged and ice awkwardly broken, we continued with the rest of the interview, with both of us enjoying the fact that this was a puff piece of zero consequence. I found him to be a bit odd but hugely likable.  I commented on how fit he looked (not like that) and he told me all about the marathons he runs each year, and about his time as a wrestler.

Once the interview was over, the organisers of the event were hovering close by, clearly wanting to be photographed by me so as to appear in the paper.  I obliged with a few quick snaps. As soon as I was finished, Jimmy motioned that I should get a photo with him. ‘I’m sure you want a photo with me!’ he said, and he had a point. I found someone who was willing to take the shot and went over to Jimmy.

I stood next to him, giving my best ‘look, I’m with Jimmy Saville’ expression, when suddenly his arm went around my neck and placed me into a rock-solid headlock.  I grasped his arm and tried to remove it but it was like a steel cable around my neck. I was being strangled by an old man while a small Asian man took a photo.

After the photo was taken Jimmy released me and patted me on the back, while I spluttered for air. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said and then he was gone, with me bent double, trying hard to remember how to breathe normally.

Unfortunately, when I left the company many months later, I forgot to take the photo with me, and so I have no photographic proof of the incident, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that there is a girl in our office who has never heard of Jimmy Saville. When we found this out we stared at her incredulous for a moment. She’s in her early twenties and never seen Jim’ll Fix It, or any of his TOTP episodes, or indeed anything with him in.  Less than ten years behind me and she’d never heard of the magic man who so dominated my childhood.  No matter how many crap impressions we did, photos we showed her, or theme tunes we sang at her prised him from her memory.  If that doesn’t make you feel old, I don’t know what will.