Going to Sea in a Sieve: The Autobiography

Going to Sea in a Sieve: The Autobiography

Language: English

Pages: 272

ISBN: 0753828936

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Comedy writer, journalist, radio DJ and screenwriter Danny Baker charts his 30 years in showbiz Danny Baker was born in Deptford, South East London in June 1957, and from an early age was involved in magazine journalism, with the founding of fanzine 'Sniffin' Glue', alongside friend Mark Perry. From there he moved to documentary series for LWT and over the years worked on a variety of quiz shows (Win, Lose or Draw, Pets Win Prizes, TV Heroes), as well two television commercials which made him a household name - Daz and Mars Bars. This book charts Danny's showbiz career, the highs and lows, and everything in between, including the accusation that he killed Bob Marley...

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compared to our current keep-the-vacant-crap-coming-at-all-costs culture. The only alternative, ITV, operated a similarly select agenda, although they were later guilty of allowing the rot to set in when in the early seventies they chanced popping into life for an extra hour or so in the middle of the day with cheap, airless imports like Young Doctors, The Cedar Tree and Paint Along with Nancy, the latter being a curious show in which a matronly American woman stood in a poorly lit studio and

they’ve got – and for God’s sake keep this under your hat – Adam Faith.’ Now I ask you. How in the world could anybody know such insider gen if they weren’t the living blood relative of the film’s main star? How loyal a brother was I that I hadn’t mentioned anything about the project the previous twelve months while it was being made? And the whole ridiculous fantasy was about to get even more bizarre. I invited Lorraine to the film’s premiere. Now as you can imagine, I had no more hope of

play the tuning as much as I liked, there was no escaping that my wonder invention looked like it had caused our TV to have a stroke. ‘Yeah, lovely that,’ said my mum. ‘We’ll get two of those, eh, Fred?’ And everyone drifted out of the room, leaving me twisting, flipping banging and adjusting everything in sight. About twenty minutes later I found the little chrome tracking wheel on the player and managed, by degree, to stabilize the image. I called for everyone to come back. ‘There it is!

bite you on the arse. So that was why I was here. But who was still floating this moribund old legend about? I hadn’t used that line for ages. Well, about eight months, anyway. Apparently, somebody had told poor old Tom some time back that I was indeed fucking DEB, and he had figured the billing would be pretty hot poop to serve up to the star-starved frozen Scandies. Sadly, I had now revealed that, even with this association, I would stink up all the discos like a month-old barrel of herrings.

comedy. Lennon and McCartney, Milligan and Cook. Four names that form the DNA at the core of all greatness I have enjoyed seeing created in my lifetime. One Tuesday, loafing about the Carnaby Street office, I received another surprise call from Janet Street Porter to say they were going to make a second series of Twentieth Century Box and I was to front it again. ‘This time, though, I think you should go out and do the interviews and everything,’ she said. What was more, I was now going to get

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