It was, I think, 1989 or thereabouts. I often can't remember what I was going upstairs for by the third step, so the town's name stands no chance.
This was a village. There was a hut opposite a church and Lovejoy was filmed coming out of it, speaking a few lines and then getting into the car. My bit of fame was to drive him and some bald bloke, who was very pleasant to me, through the village and out into the country. It wasn't even 5 minutes but took us all of the week, and even then it wasn't filmed.
Lovejoy had a stand-in who looked remarkably like a 20-year younger version of him. The big difference was that he knew all the lines.
The majority of the crew were very helpful, especially as I hadn't a clue what I should be doing. I got told off quite severely for working on the Kwaker by a production assistant who wasn't, how shall I say, 100% dedicated to the hetrosexual way of life. He then returned a bit later and apologised. My reply, 'It's ok. I didn't take any notice of you first time.' was received with all the grace I expected.
Lovejoy, Mc someone or other, was a right pain. He would not speak to me directly but only through a minder who was as intelligent as a goldfish. And a dead one at that. When I was briefing him on what to do in the car, everything I said was repeated by the minder, despite the fact that he was on the far side of McLovejoy.
I had been told to act as if I knew what I was doing by the woman who employed me but I'd made loads of errors without realising, so they all knew I was green as Kermit. But I still tried to act in character and tried to act as if I was irritated by the reaction I was getting.
I told him not to touch the brake. He asked me, via the minder, why not. I said I didn't know, just don't touch it. He then said, "I'm used to working with professionals." (a fair point, given that I was probably doing it all wrong) and then undid his seatbelt and let it flick back. It all but hit me in the face and I reckoned he'd gone too far. I leaned forward, keeping him in the driver's seat - he's only little and a bit, well, wimpish - and I said, in a whisper that everyone could hear, "So am I, that's why I don't know what happens if someone's stupid enough to stamp on the footbrake when they've been told not to."
He wasn't amused, stormed out of the car, carefully not pushing into me, and went into his caravan. Or trailer as they called it, but it was a caravan.
One of the sound chappies said, "Well, that's filming over for the day." and advised me to go home. They helped me on with the door, I drove off and, evidently, the production chap had to apologise to my employer for me not being treated with respect.
She wouldn't let me go back, though. If I'd not been a policeman I'd have liked to be on the production side of TV. It was fascinating. They'd rented some farm buildings for the staff to do the things they were supposed to do and it was quite funny seeing all these gorgeous secretaries, typists and PR (know what I mean, wink, wink) girls, in skirts and stockings, walking across the farmyard to get to their desks.
The real god on the set was the camerman. Everyone, even the sound chaps, were quiet when he was around. He was spookily intimidating.
Did I mention just how gorgeous the girls were? Much, much better looking than any of the actresses. They spoke with me as well.
I got on well with the cook, an ex-RN chef, and he allowed me to pick the menu for one day just because I thanked him for an excellent meal. He made a filo-pastried salmon thing with an absolutly delicious sauce. The sweet was apple pie - the puff pastry to die for. I tell you what, if you could clean up his language he would beat all the other TV chefs.
I got paid £35 a day plus expenses. It was a real good time. |
, I think re-phrasing may be in order if Big M reads this you are in serious trouble mate.
, all for putting it through it paces but........ 
cheered me up with a cup of tea after a hard day. Spent 6 hours in a four seater aircraft flying around some amazing scenery, but that another story.
