From the Cradle to the Grave; 2 examples from over 600 courts cases and 250 films.
1. Derrick James Davies:
Christmas time 1998, I take a telephone call from Leyton Police CID. They have information that a local warehouse is holding counterfeit products like videos. It was new ground to them and the DC wanted to know what I, as Team Leader in Trading Standards could do. The first thing I did was to discretely drive around the address a unit in a large industrial estate, and I did not wear a suit.
I then applied for a search warrant at the local magistrates court with reason to believe offences were being committed . In other instances further surveillance is possible, but there is always the danger of spooking the target or being spotted by friendly neighbours. So surveillance has to be timed for maximum impact minimal use. Even so with the best intelligence gathering, it is more or less impossible to know what is behind that door, if the public at large do not have access and one cannot pose as a mystery shopper agent provocateur to see the lay out.
Every raid is mounted at dawn or a time when the target will be busy. There can be no guarantees the target will be there. Vehicles can be identified parked outside , but if luck is not on the side of law enforcement, the target could be having a cup of tea round the corner or going to the dentist etc etc. The best laid plans………….
Also these raids are multi-agency. Police and Trading Standards combined. Police have the power to arrest, Trading Standards the expertise in this instance. So field teams have to be briefed as to the building, their stations, individual responsibilities and what we anticipate. Also there is a question of logistics and manpower.
At 11 am 8th December 1998, two teams approached the warehouse, one to the back door down an alleyway and one to the front entrance. I led the front door charge with a video camera recording and holding the warrant. I had 3 officers, the Police had 5 plain clothes detectives.
As I opened the front door there were the inevitable shouts from the occupants, as I announced our identities and our mission. The scene we met were we totally unprepared for. We had stumbled on the biggest production of counterfeit designer wear this country had known. There were computerised sewing machines embroidering 52 brands onto garments. Any name you could imagine, Addidas, Nike, Versace, Hugo Boss, the list was endless. So was the stock. Hundreds of thousands of garments in production and in store. Downstairs was the showroom, shelves bedecked with counterfeit goods, even perfume and champagne. Upstairs were the women at the machines and conveyor belts. Who was in charge, well no body of course. All the staff remained silent. All were arrested and taken to Leyton Police Station in a conveyor belt of white Transit vans. That occupied all the cells at that Police Station. Most importantly Derrick was arrested running out the back door as we came in the front. Derrick was the most aggressive swearing individual I have ever met. Subsequent enquiries revealed his family were connected to the Kray Twins. Derrick professed to being just the delivery driver he delivered boxes , just boxes. But in his haste Derrick left vital clues. An address book full of contacts for “badges”, “tshirts”, “booze”, “buttons”. He also left handwriting, notes, calculations, an iou book. This was to prove his downfall later in court as forensic hand writing analysis proved that his documents in his name, were written by the same person as these business documents.
Derrick when interviewed would have none of it. All the official records of renting the warehouse were in false names and addresses, as was the telephone. 150,000 garments and 10 machines were confiscated and vans had to be hired and another warehouse to store and sort this vast amount of stock for analysis by the true brand owners. Derrick was also a cash merchant, so he left no trace there either. Any credit cards he took out, he would use for short periods either to withdraw cash balances and then not repay , or on trips to Las Vegas or Harrods on Valentines Day.
The Crown Court Case lasted 2 weeks. Derrick was charged with the Common Law offence of conspiracy, to defraud brand owners. I spent 4 days in the witness box, 3 of them under cross examination. However that was not until Derrick had skipped bail from the first court date and took the first Easy Jet flight from Luton Airport to his Villa in Majorca. I then had to liaise with Interpol to ask the Spanish Police to extradite him. But Derrick was on the run and 2 years after his initial arrest he was arrested again by Regional Crime Squad in a sting operation for importation of drugs. So Derrick was now in custody. Interestingly enough he got off the drugs case, saying he was just the driver !
In 2003 he was given the longest sentence for any brand counterfeiter 5 years. Though Derrick spent his money on a champagne life style, he lost his Mansion in Essex, cars & vans and aVilla in Spain, as assets in proceeds of crime. They were sold for the benefit of the State. Derrick also got divorced to try to keep his bricks and mortar and put everything in the wife’s name, but that was not accepted by the court.
The happy ending to this story is that there are charities that take these seized garments and machinery after the court case. They de logo the offending marks and are able to clothe the needy.
2. Johnny Morris:
In 1991 Thermastor, was Britain’s’ 2nd largest double glazing company. Margaret Thatcher was on TV being shown the Peterborough factory by one of her captain’s of industry Johnny Morris. Then in the late spring at my BBCTV Watchdog desk I read a small paragraph in the financial pages stating they had gone bust for £21m. It smelt dodgy to me, and I started making telephone calls. I met the receivers, who chose to come clean and announce their concerns.
I also chatted to the 2 ex members of staff who were left manning the telephone at the old factory. They gave me the keys to Johnny Morris’s office. His filing cabinet was like an Aladdin’s cave full of incriminating evidence.
Morris had written to all his customers asking for the balances on installation to be paid up front even up to and including the day he went into liquidation. That’s is fraudulent trading. He also had no hope of making the windows as his suppliers had not been paid and had foreclosed on delivering materials. He had also used company funds to add to the splendour of his Oxshott mansion. He also had paperwork for a phoenix company to arise from the ashes of Thermastor to carry on, even a cold calling telephone script to contact potential customers in the new business name. .
It was easy to find and film interview countless customers who had lost their life savings, double glazing does not come cheap. There were also a queue of supplier creditors including the printing firm that had worked on the new phoenix company paperwork. These unpaid suppliers were now in danger of going to the wall too, after the collapse of Thermastor for £21m.
Morris was doorstepped by me and a film crew, with a group of his customers as he arrived for the creditor’s meeting. In the interests of balance, he was given ample opportunity to state his case, and he did try to bluff his way out of it on camera.
After the half hour expose, on peak time BBC1, the files were handed over to the Serious Fraud Office, for his conviction. However the money had all gone.
Monday, 27 April 2009
BBC1 but this is 2
This is the BBC.
the story continues.........still BBC1 not BBC2 although this is number 2 following number 1, confused you will be……..
I got into the BBC because I had contacts as a former Trading Standards Officer and Investigative techniques. BBC does not really employ investigators so I was a unique animal. The change from having a team of officers to being on my jack jones took some getting used to. Also I no longer had a warrant card or statutory powers. But I soon learned that people would tell me things anyway. Sometimes it was in a brown paper envelope, other times they would be interviewed, even on camera. Of course everything had to be substantiated, else on the balance of probabilities I and Aunty Beeb could get sued for libel. But we had to show balance and did not have to prove beyond all reasonable doubt. Some stories came direct from the victim, others through the authorities who had drawn a blank. When you are in law enforcement, some things are wrong but not illegal, but the public don’t understand. When you are in TV the wrong things that are not illegal should be and hence the story.
One story I did about BSM was put on hold for a week after the BBC lawyers said I had to talk to more than 25 ex instructors. The following week we met and they asked me how many, I said 600 is that enough. They grinned. Those were the days my friend, BSM were very hostile, refused an interview, and were taking full page ads in the Telegraph, Times and Guardian about me and the Beeb saying it was all lies lies and more damn lies. The Editor David Lloyd and I went to stage our own Press conferences to counter the BSM propaganda. Lloydy was very happy, he had never had such a high profile. The ex public school boy with the same haircut was full or pomp and circumstance.
I even made his cricket team, that was the Beeb in those days, cucumber sandwiches, Pimms and Cricket, though they could not get me out, and I had to retire to let someone else bat, that was not cricket old chap to stay in for hours !!! It’s not the winning it’s the taking part, sod that for a game of soldiers even cricketers. When we fielded once the Deputy Editor hit me for six once, so next ball I charged down and put every ounce of effort in the delivery, and caught and bowled him to me great obvious delight. Now now Allan.
I remember a summer party at Frank Bough's house, we had a proper cricket match on his garden, yes it was that big on the banks of the river Thames. And when the cricket was over Sue Nix and I sat by the river, I always called her Sue no Knicks, she was beautiful.
What had BSM done I here you bib and sound your horn. Well the law allows driving instructors to learn their trade while they teach their pupils to drive. But they have to be supervised by qualified tutors. BSM in the mid eighties were masters at deception. They fooled Dept of Transport Inspectors into thinking dead instructors were still alive and not only kicking but driving.... out on a lesson, also instructors who had emigrated to Canada were still on the books and conducting lessons in Chiswick London W4 according to BSM. Well I have heard of commuting and getting on yer bike for a job, but really transatlantic flights for a one hour lesson, I don’t think so, never mind the jet lag sitting behind the dashboard of a Metro.
So for the 3 days before transmission I worked 22 hours a day, then the 6th Floor came to view the film that was making all, the headlines before it had been seen. The 6th Floor were the big BBC bosses and we all had to stand to attention. So the programme went out, and so did Jacobs the Chairman , who was also treasurer of the Liberal Party, whose Peers had blocked new legislation that BSM did not like. So BSM now closed down branches and became a franchise, and, oh the laws they were blocking got passed.
Pooped , yes I was, but adrenaline keeps you going.
Too pooped to party though, but the BBC did have some wonderful memorable parties where we would all sing Hey Jude for the final 30 minutes at some exotic location. I normally did the music which helped, as far as I was concerned, but these events were tremendous for loyalty, morale and camaraderie.
A film was always made for the Christmas party. These days I spend Christmas parties on my own with left hand pulling the cracker with my right hand. But at the Beeb, one film I made was about the Editor Nick Hayes on Watchdog. He was still a hippy in the 80s, curly hair that had not seen a brush since he was born and he was now 30 something. Beard too, floppy jumper and corduroy trousers and trainers.
So for the film I donned a wig a floppy jumper trainers and corduroys. I became Nick Hayes his double.
Now Nick had justgot his driving licence, late in life and to everyone’s astonishment he bought his first car and what was it…………..
that’s right a Porsche !! We went to Scarborough once, not for a fair but a conference. I felt every cat’s eye on the Motorway as passenger in the Porsche on its maiden voyage, bought with the proceeds from the divorce settlement. Not as bad as Sarah Spiller driving though, the wipers would be on double speed, and the SUN WAS SHINING. Lovely Sarah she used to put the wipers on to demist the windscreen, she didn’t realise they WERE ON THE OUTSIDE !!! You can see why I normally drove now can’t you. Another Spiller story she parks the hire car overnight in an NCP car park in Birmingham. Next morning at the hotel, “where is the car Sarah”. “Oh it’s at the NCP car park”, “Which one”, the multi-story one”, “they are all multi-story”. So for the next hour we wander around Birmingham City centre looking for a car park with a “twirly bit to get in”, then “what floor” “errrrrrr”, so 6 floors later we find it. Now you know why I generally drove !!!
So back to the plot………..Christmas time filming for the party premiere , the Nick double at the bus stop hand request goes out bus zooms passed, as they do.
But the funniest thing was we took his keys one day, drove his light blue Porsche with 87 learners plates stuck all over it, and in one scene Nick is watching this film at the party completely oblivious to what the film was about, and he sees a car like his, going through frame backwards then forwards, then backwards again, then kangaroo style, hazard lights on then indicating right and turning left. It was sooooooooooooo funny seeing his face , smiling at first then he saw the number plate, and he realised IT WAS HIS CAR, he he ha ha.
2 years later I still had my job, and he made me Deputy Editor, he he ha ha………..party time.
To be continued stay tuned to this channel,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
the story continues.........still BBC1 not BBC2 although this is number 2 following number 1, confused you will be……..
I got into the BBC because I had contacts as a former Trading Standards Officer and Investigative techniques. BBC does not really employ investigators so I was a unique animal. The change from having a team of officers to being on my jack jones took some getting used to. Also I no longer had a warrant card or statutory powers. But I soon learned that people would tell me things anyway. Sometimes it was in a brown paper envelope, other times they would be interviewed, even on camera. Of course everything had to be substantiated, else on the balance of probabilities I and Aunty Beeb could get sued for libel. But we had to show balance and did not have to prove beyond all reasonable doubt. Some stories came direct from the victim, others through the authorities who had drawn a blank. When you are in law enforcement, some things are wrong but not illegal, but the public don’t understand. When you are in TV the wrong things that are not illegal should be and hence the story.
One story I did about BSM was put on hold for a week after the BBC lawyers said I had to talk to more than 25 ex instructors. The following week we met and they asked me how many, I said 600 is that enough. They grinned. Those were the days my friend, BSM were very hostile, refused an interview, and were taking full page ads in the Telegraph, Times and Guardian about me and the Beeb saying it was all lies lies and more damn lies. The Editor David Lloyd and I went to stage our own Press conferences to counter the BSM propaganda. Lloydy was very happy, he had never had such a high profile. The ex public school boy with the same haircut was full or pomp and circumstance.
I even made his cricket team, that was the Beeb in those days, cucumber sandwiches, Pimms and Cricket, though they could not get me out, and I had to retire to let someone else bat, that was not cricket old chap to stay in for hours !!! It’s not the winning it’s the taking part, sod that for a game of soldiers even cricketers. When we fielded once the Deputy Editor hit me for six once, so next ball I charged down and put every ounce of effort in the delivery, and caught and bowled him to me great obvious delight. Now now Allan.
I remember a summer party at Frank Bough's house, we had a proper cricket match on his garden, yes it was that big on the banks of the river Thames. And when the cricket was over Sue Nix and I sat by the river, I always called her Sue no Knicks, she was beautiful.
What had BSM done I here you bib and sound your horn. Well the law allows driving instructors to learn their trade while they teach their pupils to drive. But they have to be supervised by qualified tutors. BSM in the mid eighties were masters at deception. They fooled Dept of Transport Inspectors into thinking dead instructors were still alive and not only kicking but driving.... out on a lesson, also instructors who had emigrated to Canada were still on the books and conducting lessons in Chiswick London W4 according to BSM. Well I have heard of commuting and getting on yer bike for a job, but really transatlantic flights for a one hour lesson, I don’t think so, never mind the jet lag sitting behind the dashboard of a Metro.
So for the 3 days before transmission I worked 22 hours a day, then the 6th Floor came to view the film that was making all, the headlines before it had been seen. The 6th Floor were the big BBC bosses and we all had to stand to attention. So the programme went out, and so did Jacobs the Chairman , who was also treasurer of the Liberal Party, whose Peers had blocked new legislation that BSM did not like. So BSM now closed down branches and became a franchise, and, oh the laws they were blocking got passed.
Pooped , yes I was, but adrenaline keeps you going.
Too pooped to party though, but the BBC did have some wonderful memorable parties where we would all sing Hey Jude for the final 30 minutes at some exotic location. I normally did the music which helped, as far as I was concerned, but these events were tremendous for loyalty, morale and camaraderie.
A film was always made for the Christmas party. These days I spend Christmas parties on my own with left hand pulling the cracker with my right hand. But at the Beeb, one film I made was about the Editor Nick Hayes on Watchdog. He was still a hippy in the 80s, curly hair that had not seen a brush since he was born and he was now 30 something. Beard too, floppy jumper and corduroy trousers and trainers.
So for the film I donned a wig a floppy jumper trainers and corduroys. I became Nick Hayes his double.
Now Nick had justgot his driving licence, late in life and to everyone’s astonishment he bought his first car and what was it…………..
that’s right a Porsche !! We went to Scarborough once, not for a fair but a conference. I felt every cat’s eye on the Motorway as passenger in the Porsche on its maiden voyage, bought with the proceeds from the divorce settlement. Not as bad as Sarah Spiller driving though, the wipers would be on double speed, and the SUN WAS SHINING. Lovely Sarah she used to put the wipers on to demist the windscreen, she didn’t realise they WERE ON THE OUTSIDE !!! You can see why I normally drove now can’t you. Another Spiller story she parks the hire car overnight in an NCP car park in Birmingham. Next morning at the hotel, “where is the car Sarah”. “Oh it’s at the NCP car park”, “Which one”, the multi-story one”, “they are all multi-story”. So for the next hour we wander around Birmingham City centre looking for a car park with a “twirly bit to get in”, then “what floor” “errrrrrr”, so 6 floors later we find it. Now you know why I generally drove !!!
So back to the plot………..Christmas time filming for the party premiere , the Nick double at the bus stop hand request goes out bus zooms passed, as they do.
But the funniest thing was we took his keys one day, drove his light blue Porsche with 87 learners plates stuck all over it, and in one scene Nick is watching this film at the party completely oblivious to what the film was about, and he sees a car like his, going through frame backwards then forwards, then backwards again, then kangaroo style, hazard lights on then indicating right and turning left. It was sooooooooooooo funny seeing his face , smiling at first then he saw the number plate, and he realised IT WAS HIS CAR, he he ha ha.
2 years later I still had my job, and he made me Deputy Editor, he he ha ha………..party time.
To be continued stay tuned to this channel,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
Thursday, 23 April 2009
This is the BBC
I said before my happiest days were at the BBC. I felt I could influence things. In Trading Standards as an officer you dealt with local and national issues. Sometimes they made the newspapers, but often no one else knew what was going on and court cases took ages. True I gave the press a lot of stories, I appeared on TV as a Trading Standards Officer in the middle of things, even filmed during a "discussion" with a "don't point that camera at me sonny, I'll shove it down your throat" video pirate in Harrow Road Paddington. Yes nice chap not exactly membership potential for the round table. It was stories I could tell to journalist that helped sell their papers, and in the end I jumped the Trading Standards ship for investigative journalism.
Why, because it was obvious to me that naming and shaming had more impact than the courts of the land. I sad indictment, but true,
So life at Lime Grove Shepherds Bush in the mid 80's in the days of Breakfast TV and Thats Life. Room 601 right at the top, overcrowded but what harmony amongst a team all wanting to do well, all wanting Watchdog to be a success. A fantastic camaraderie, Watchdog had been a slot in Nationwide and when I joined it was beginning a life on its own, a programme in it's own right against the wishes of Esther Ranzen on That's Life, consumer competition.
I remember Kevin Sutcliffe joining. Nick Hayes. the editor, used to ask me to look after the new recruits. So Kevein was under my wing for a while. Lovely lad, from Blackpool so he spoke funny, and always dressed as a rocker, but had no motorbike and no crash helmet, so was past the sell by date by 20 years for no real reason of transport, he used the bus and the tube.
Kevin walked with me to a bakers in Goldhawk Road Shepherds Bush one lunch time, and asked the lady behind the counter for barn cakes, do what she said, I was in hysterics as Kevin tried to explain, so I acted as translator for my colleague, excuse him luv I said, he's from Blackpool. On the way back munching his jam doughnut I explained to Kevin that barn cakes in London meant you were mad. loopy, as opposed to a kind of oat biscuit. A nation divided by a common language. But Kev took it well. We were soon driving up to Manchester to make some enquiries about a story and as we passed Watford Gap Services on the M1 Kev said to me "Right from now on I do the talking, 'cos they won't bloody understand you".
Which is not untrue. I remember Steve Rose coming up to a Birmingham Pub once where I had tracked down some roofers who preyed on the elderly. You know the sort that drive round, look for a house that has all the signs of an old person living in. Then knocking on the door and frightening the old folk into parting with £150 to fix a loose roof tile which was not loose in the first place. Of course the old trusted the con artist and had to take his word for it, and could not see for themselves. "Better get it fixed luv quick , if it falls and hits someone you will be liable, and it is leaking now, haven't you noticed it". Some of these cowboy builders would even rin the old dear down to the Post Office to cash the giro.
Anyway on the basis of 3 letters of a number plate I found a roofers van matching a description parked in a Pub Car Park. So I then traced where the driver lived and the film crew would turn up the next morning to doorstep the Roofer and his boss. But during our observations in the pub, surveillance and blending in with the customers, some young girl came up to Steve and said "I know you , you're from the Cup Shop", Steve's face contorted as he could not understand a word she was saying, and again I was in hysterics, knowing that the girl thought the pub was going to be raided for under age drinking by the force from the cop shop.
The doorstep, well after a night in the Holiday Inn, no expense spared on these productions, it was snowing. So I said to Lynn Faulds Wood, put a scarf on to hide her hair knock on the roofer's front door and pretend she was new in the neighbourhood, but the snow has caused a collapse of a section of her roof. Meanwhile the film crew and I hid behind a hedge in some one's front garden. Why people don't come out and say oi amazes me, must be everyday they have a film crew squatting in their front garden. So matey buys hook line and sinker the damsel in distress story and as he and Lynn walk past the garden, up pops a cameraman and a sound man like a jack in a box and Lynn whips off her scarf to confront the rogue.
Wow, we used to laugh. We were the good guys and when you saw the eyes of the bad guys and their jaw hit the deck, well that was justice and comeback for their misdeeds. It gave me a real buzz. I had 3 priorities, we had to capture on camera the villains face, if he spoke that was better, if he engaged in an interview even better. But numero uno was his face on camera. The tricks we used to get up to to get them out of their houses or lay in wait at their offices. Of course the viewer never saw what the camera crew were up to laying in wait to turn the tables on the villain. All they saw was a street interview confrontation and the villain legging it slip sliding in the snow. Nor could we laugh until it was all over, so it was bite the lip, but it still makes me burst out laughing today when I think of what we did. The film crews loved it, they knew all the background work had been done, that a plan had been made and that justice was on their side. Those were the days my friend we thought they'd never end, we did sing and dance for ever and a day.
John form Kingston was a freelance stills cameraman that I often employed, for these tricky confrontations, he could take stills as back up for the moving camera. We did a lot together, even a couple of car chases in East London and up the M11. He was there when the customers of a cheap furniture retailer went bust, a group of them came up to me and said get your cameras rolling and watch this..... and they stormed the stage at the creditors meeting and beat up the delinquent directors.
But the best one was when we asked a road sweeper to borrow his donkey jacket and his road sweeping lorry in exchange for a cup of tea and egg on toast in the corner cafe. The plan then was for John with LB of Hounslow Donkey Jacket to knock on the door and say "Is that your car mate, we are doing road sweeping, with a mechanical road sweeper, can you move your car for a minute. Of course the crook comes out to move the brand new black Mercedes and hey presto guess whose on the road sweeping machine, its the BBC film crew, by jove, and you sir are a crook and a swindler.
Scuffles there were, mainly the cameraman got the attention 1st. Part of my Producer Director job was to protect him and the rest of the crew. hence I got the nick name Big Al. There was one job, a Mock Auction, where I asked for volunteers to film the event. I took a late call that this auction was happening that evening. It's illegal, but it's the sort of sale where the auctioneer shows something really good, they have stooges in the audience who pretend to but it. Everyone else ums and ars and wants a slice of the action and of course they get boxed and wrapped up tatty junk for their money. I was in the auction using a hidden camera and sound equipment and on my cue the film crew and Sarah the reporter were to come into the hall to confront the gang. So at the end of the sale I spoke into my microphone and in came the crew and suddenly their was a pitched battle. I had bullet proof Stevens as the cameraman, he had filmed in Vietnam hence the nickname and he was a big lad. 26 seconds he had hold of his camera, before it went airborne all filmed on my hidden camera in a bag, which I had to hand over to another crew member, so as I could wade into the gang attacking my crew, meanwhile Sarah who for vanity reasons never wore her glasses when filming, walked up to the auctioneer in bliss full ignorance of all hell letting loose in her wake. So the commentary went as such "The man in the black leather jacket squaring up and engaging in fisty cuffs with the gang is in fact our producer protecting the crew, and he uses himself as a barrier to stop the gang from shutting the doors as he shouts out and calls to me, so I can run and make my escape before the doors slam shut...bang".
It does bring a whole new meaning to "as seen on television". Those were the days and nights my friend, we thought they would never end.
Most of the time the crooks who were caught out let off steam, rant and swear, just occasionally it got really nasty. Lynn got 5 yards away from me once. We were at Ron Aylwards Cheshire mansion. He was the home improvement entrepreneur, whose Sunday Times Magazine glossy advertisements offered much, solar panels, the answer to flat roof leaks, a new prestigious driveway, luxurious central heating. Trouble was with Ron Aylward the only home he improved was his own. Every time the game was up, he would fold the latest venture and a phoenix operation would rise from the ashes fo the last. For instance his central heating was a series of electric fires plugged into a hole made in partition walls. Anyway Lynn got 5 yards away from me and Mrs Aylward lashed out with a dog chain right round Lynn's face as the camera rolled.
Another time 28 stone Mick was a transport manager of dangerous muck away lorries near the Blackwall Tunnel. I drove the Transit up to his portacabin door and from the van's side door the crew and Lynn could walk straight into his office. By the time I got in, the sound man was flying round the room as Mick grabbed the camera after throwing a pint of milk then a cup of tea at the cameraman, who now looked like the android in Aliens, covered in white milk. The sound man was still connected to the camera by the umbilical cord hence revolving around the room like a scene from the Exorcist. So I extracted the £25,000 camera from the guiness enhanced gut of the transport manager and gave it back to the besodden cameraman with the red recording light still illuminated. Mick then locked us IN his office as he waddled down the yard to get his drivers. Discretion now being the better part of valour, I kicked the door out and we all jumped into the Transit only for 2 lorries to bear down on us. Fortunately I can drive, fast and nippy. In fact I drove all the time because we always had to get somewhere in no time at all. Like Inverness airport 40 miles away in 40 minutes to catch the plane... and we did. So foot down I headed straight for the oncoming truck just as the one from the side missed us by inches in my acceleration, then at the last second I swung the transit hard left and then hard right and swerved round the oncoming truck, like a warship evades an Exocet missile, phew. So while the others stayed in a corner cafe, the cameraman came in my car and stood through the sunshine roof as we returned to the yard in a hired XR3i, a bit nippier to deal with any nasty lorry drivers, just to get some more footage and Mick shaking his fist through his office window. Those were the days my friend, they don't make them like they used to you know, when it was trouble up mill and tough at the bottom.
Last but not least for this chapter, I must narrate something slightly different but its not time for something completely different you will be glad to know.
Mike Embley was the reporter, the vegetarian that kept 450 passengers including me waiting on a Boston Runway in a 747 because he could not find any plums to eat for the flight. On the Wednesday I took a call in the Watchdog Office from an elderly man on holiday in Spain. He was complaining of the dreadful accommodation Airtours had put him and a lot of other old age pensioners during a winter break. That Friday we were on the way to the Costa Almeria and started filming that night. The pensioners had been put into a dump of an accommodation self catering block of apartments, next to a building site. So their walls were covered in mould, the swimming pool was green and dirty. The restaurant and dance hall had been demolished. All this we filmed, but we also decided to film a send up of the Airtours glossy brochure, including the facilities, with Mike reading from the brochure like a kitchen space for entertaining which in fact was not a kitchen but a cupboard with a fridge that did not work. Then Mike danced amongst the rubble of the former restaurant and dance hall, it was a real hoot. The next morning we doorstepped the local Airtours Office that had ignored the complaints for the last 3 weeks. The poor girl in charge telephoned Lancashire Head Quarters to tell them there was a BBC Watchdog film crew in their office and some disgruntled holiday makers and what should she do. You should have heard the gasp from the other end of the telephone line, I thought they guy had taken his last breath..."you got Watchdog, there, in your office, expletive deletive !!!!" "Get those people out of those apartments, just do it now whatever it takes do it now". And that is what happened,a happy ending. I got the Power, those poor people ignored for all that time, suddenly they have to pack their suit cases and board the coach to take them to the best 5* hotel in town at No extra charge. Next morning as we say our farewells we film their champagne breakfast, my hand nearly fell off it was shaken in gratitude by so many. I got the Power.....
I've got the power
He could break my heart
He could break my heaa-aa--art
He could break my heart
He could break my heaa-aa--art
He's got the power oh-oh-oh-oh
Why, because it was obvious to me that naming and shaming had more impact than the courts of the land. I sad indictment, but true,
So life at Lime Grove Shepherds Bush in the mid 80's in the days of Breakfast TV and Thats Life. Room 601 right at the top, overcrowded but what harmony amongst a team all wanting to do well, all wanting Watchdog to be a success. A fantastic camaraderie, Watchdog had been a slot in Nationwide and when I joined it was beginning a life on its own, a programme in it's own right against the wishes of Esther Ranzen on That's Life, consumer competition.
I remember Kevin Sutcliffe joining. Nick Hayes. the editor, used to ask me to look after the new recruits. So Kevein was under my wing for a while. Lovely lad, from Blackpool so he spoke funny, and always dressed as a rocker, but had no motorbike and no crash helmet, so was past the sell by date by 20 years for no real reason of transport, he used the bus and the tube.
Kevin walked with me to a bakers in Goldhawk Road Shepherds Bush one lunch time, and asked the lady behind the counter for barn cakes, do what she said, I was in hysterics as Kevin tried to explain, so I acted as translator for my colleague, excuse him luv I said, he's from Blackpool. On the way back munching his jam doughnut I explained to Kevin that barn cakes in London meant you were mad. loopy, as opposed to a kind of oat biscuit. A nation divided by a common language. But Kev took it well. We were soon driving up to Manchester to make some enquiries about a story and as we passed Watford Gap Services on the M1 Kev said to me "Right from now on I do the talking, 'cos they won't bloody understand you".
Which is not untrue. I remember Steve Rose coming up to a Birmingham Pub once where I had tracked down some roofers who preyed on the elderly. You know the sort that drive round, look for a house that has all the signs of an old person living in. Then knocking on the door and frightening the old folk into parting with £150 to fix a loose roof tile which was not loose in the first place. Of course the old trusted the con artist and had to take his word for it, and could not see for themselves. "Better get it fixed luv quick , if it falls and hits someone you will be liable, and it is leaking now, haven't you noticed it". Some of these cowboy builders would even rin the old dear down to the Post Office to cash the giro.
Anyway on the basis of 3 letters of a number plate I found a roofers van matching a description parked in a Pub Car Park. So I then traced where the driver lived and the film crew would turn up the next morning to doorstep the Roofer and his boss. But during our observations in the pub, surveillance and blending in with the customers, some young girl came up to Steve and said "I know you , you're from the Cup Shop", Steve's face contorted as he could not understand a word she was saying, and again I was in hysterics, knowing that the girl thought the pub was going to be raided for under age drinking by the force from the cop shop.
The doorstep, well after a night in the Holiday Inn, no expense spared on these productions, it was snowing. So I said to Lynn Faulds Wood, put a scarf on to hide her hair knock on the roofer's front door and pretend she was new in the neighbourhood, but the snow has caused a collapse of a section of her roof. Meanwhile the film crew and I hid behind a hedge in some one's front garden. Why people don't come out and say oi amazes me, must be everyday they have a film crew squatting in their front garden. So matey buys hook line and sinker the damsel in distress story and as he and Lynn walk past the garden, up pops a cameraman and a sound man like a jack in a box and Lynn whips off her scarf to confront the rogue.
Wow, we used to laugh. We were the good guys and when you saw the eyes of the bad guys and their jaw hit the deck, well that was justice and comeback for their misdeeds. It gave me a real buzz. I had 3 priorities, we had to capture on camera the villains face, if he spoke that was better, if he engaged in an interview even better. But numero uno was his face on camera. The tricks we used to get up to to get them out of their houses or lay in wait at their offices. Of course the viewer never saw what the camera crew were up to laying in wait to turn the tables on the villain. All they saw was a street interview confrontation and the villain legging it slip sliding in the snow. Nor could we laugh until it was all over, so it was bite the lip, but it still makes me burst out laughing today when I think of what we did. The film crews loved it, they knew all the background work had been done, that a plan had been made and that justice was on their side. Those were the days my friend we thought they'd never end, we did sing and dance for ever and a day.
John form Kingston was a freelance stills cameraman that I often employed, for these tricky confrontations, he could take stills as back up for the moving camera. We did a lot together, even a couple of car chases in East London and up the M11. He was there when the customers of a cheap furniture retailer went bust, a group of them came up to me and said get your cameras rolling and watch this..... and they stormed the stage at the creditors meeting and beat up the delinquent directors.
But the best one was when we asked a road sweeper to borrow his donkey jacket and his road sweeping lorry in exchange for a cup of tea and egg on toast in the corner cafe. The plan then was for John with LB of Hounslow Donkey Jacket to knock on the door and say "Is that your car mate, we are doing road sweeping, with a mechanical road sweeper, can you move your car for a minute. Of course the crook comes out to move the brand new black Mercedes and hey presto guess whose on the road sweeping machine, its the BBC film crew, by jove, and you sir are a crook and a swindler.
Scuffles there were, mainly the cameraman got the attention 1st. Part of my Producer Director job was to protect him and the rest of the crew. hence I got the nick name Big Al. There was one job, a Mock Auction, where I asked for volunteers to film the event. I took a late call that this auction was happening that evening. It's illegal, but it's the sort of sale where the auctioneer shows something really good, they have stooges in the audience who pretend to but it. Everyone else ums and ars and wants a slice of the action and of course they get boxed and wrapped up tatty junk for their money. I was in the auction using a hidden camera and sound equipment and on my cue the film crew and Sarah the reporter were to come into the hall to confront the gang. So at the end of the sale I spoke into my microphone and in came the crew and suddenly their was a pitched battle. I had bullet proof Stevens as the cameraman, he had filmed in Vietnam hence the nickname and he was a big lad. 26 seconds he had hold of his camera, before it went airborne all filmed on my hidden camera in a bag, which I had to hand over to another crew member, so as I could wade into the gang attacking my crew, meanwhile Sarah who for vanity reasons never wore her glasses when filming, walked up to the auctioneer in bliss full ignorance of all hell letting loose in her wake. So the commentary went as such "The man in the black leather jacket squaring up and engaging in fisty cuffs with the gang is in fact our producer protecting the crew, and he uses himself as a barrier to stop the gang from shutting the doors as he shouts out and calls to me, so I can run and make my escape before the doors slam shut...bang".
It does bring a whole new meaning to "as seen on television". Those were the days and nights my friend, we thought they would never end.
Most of the time the crooks who were caught out let off steam, rant and swear, just occasionally it got really nasty. Lynn got 5 yards away from me once. We were at Ron Aylwards Cheshire mansion. He was the home improvement entrepreneur, whose Sunday Times Magazine glossy advertisements offered much, solar panels, the answer to flat roof leaks, a new prestigious driveway, luxurious central heating. Trouble was with Ron Aylward the only home he improved was his own. Every time the game was up, he would fold the latest venture and a phoenix operation would rise from the ashes fo the last. For instance his central heating was a series of electric fires plugged into a hole made in partition walls. Anyway Lynn got 5 yards away from me and Mrs Aylward lashed out with a dog chain right round Lynn's face as the camera rolled.
Another time 28 stone Mick was a transport manager of dangerous muck away lorries near the Blackwall Tunnel. I drove the Transit up to his portacabin door and from the van's side door the crew and Lynn could walk straight into his office. By the time I got in, the sound man was flying round the room as Mick grabbed the camera after throwing a pint of milk then a cup of tea at the cameraman, who now looked like the android in Aliens, covered in white milk. The sound man was still connected to the camera by the umbilical cord hence revolving around the room like a scene from the Exorcist. So I extracted the £25,000 camera from the guiness enhanced gut of the transport manager and gave it back to the besodden cameraman with the red recording light still illuminated. Mick then locked us IN his office as he waddled down the yard to get his drivers. Discretion now being the better part of valour, I kicked the door out and we all jumped into the Transit only for 2 lorries to bear down on us. Fortunately I can drive, fast and nippy. In fact I drove all the time because we always had to get somewhere in no time at all. Like Inverness airport 40 miles away in 40 minutes to catch the plane... and we did. So foot down I headed straight for the oncoming truck just as the one from the side missed us by inches in my acceleration, then at the last second I swung the transit hard left and then hard right and swerved round the oncoming truck, like a warship evades an Exocet missile, phew. So while the others stayed in a corner cafe, the cameraman came in my car and stood through the sunshine roof as we returned to the yard in a hired XR3i, a bit nippier to deal with any nasty lorry drivers, just to get some more footage and Mick shaking his fist through his office window. Those were the days my friend, they don't make them like they used to you know, when it was trouble up mill and tough at the bottom.
Last but not least for this chapter, I must narrate something slightly different but its not time for something completely different you will be glad to know.
Mike Embley was the reporter, the vegetarian that kept 450 passengers including me waiting on a Boston Runway in a 747 because he could not find any plums to eat for the flight. On the Wednesday I took a call in the Watchdog Office from an elderly man on holiday in Spain. He was complaining of the dreadful accommodation Airtours had put him and a lot of other old age pensioners during a winter break. That Friday we were on the way to the Costa Almeria and started filming that night. The pensioners had been put into a dump of an accommodation self catering block of apartments, next to a building site. So their walls were covered in mould, the swimming pool was green and dirty. The restaurant and dance hall had been demolished. All this we filmed, but we also decided to film a send up of the Airtours glossy brochure, including the facilities, with Mike reading from the brochure like a kitchen space for entertaining which in fact was not a kitchen but a cupboard with a fridge that did not work. Then Mike danced amongst the rubble of the former restaurant and dance hall, it was a real hoot. The next morning we doorstepped the local Airtours Office that had ignored the complaints for the last 3 weeks. The poor girl in charge telephoned Lancashire Head Quarters to tell them there was a BBC Watchdog film crew in their office and some disgruntled holiday makers and what should she do. You should have heard the gasp from the other end of the telephone line, I thought they guy had taken his last breath..."you got Watchdog, there, in your office, expletive deletive !!!!" "Get those people out of those apartments, just do it now whatever it takes do it now". And that is what happened,a happy ending. I got the Power, those poor people ignored for all that time, suddenly they have to pack their suit cases and board the coach to take them to the best 5* hotel in town at No extra charge. Next morning as we say our farewells we film their champagne breakfast, my hand nearly fell off it was shaken in gratitude by so many. I got the Power.....
I've got the power
He could break my heart
He could break my heaa-aa--art
He could break my heart
He could break my heaa-aa--art
He's got the power oh-oh-oh-oh
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