Surveillance City

Last night I was a talking head on ITV's Surveillance City (contrary to some previous bad advice about transmission dates given out on this blog). It was a decent five minutes of post-pub propaganda. As there are six episodes scheduled, I might be back for more, before the whole thing runs on a continuous loop on the History Channel.

Apologies for the acidic-looking tie and purple shirt: this was a cunning ruse to distract from my combined hayfever/cold symptoms, which left me looking even more like the Face of Boe when I go on TV than usual. Do not adjust your set.

In fact, my clothing became an issue on the day of filming. On the way home from the production company's offices that evening, I was approached by a charity collector in Angel:
GB: "Sorry, I'm in a rush."
Chugger: "Well at least I can colour-coordinate."
GB: "Actually, your employer makes you wear that silly yellow tunic."

Sadly, the truth is that I'm not that quick-witted most of the time. My rapier response was to say, "uhh, prick" or something equally hilarious. Oscar Wilde I'm not.