Here is an intriguing scenario for you. A small independent production company has approached me and told me that they have been commissioned to make a documentary for Channel 4 called ‘The Everyday Life of a Crime Writer’. They want to send a film crew to my house to film me, follow me and record everything I do on a daily basis. Well, I have warned you that it could be a bit boring. I mean, I write every day, so you can find me sitting at my kitchen table, rummaging through scraps and bits of paper as I start writing my latest novel. Or you can see me rattling away on my keyboard as I work my way through a new chapter. Or they might watch me stare out the window, daydreaming and trying to invent new characters or scene stealers or cliffhanger endings. So where’s the excitement in that? ‘Ah, but Mike,’ they say, ‘we could film you at the table, or at the keyboard, or at the window, but the interesting thing for Channel 4 viewers is that you would be naked.’
According to them, I am a naturist. People have told them that I like to walk around the house naked, and when I go on vacation, I prefer to frequent the resorts that have ‘clothing optional’ beaches. And that I belong to a club in the North West of England where I can sunbathe without clothes, even in the dead of winter, among like-minded friends and families, and that I spend my holidays abroad in hotels and farms that have an understanding of the ‘No Clothes’ preference.
My first question is: how do they know that?
More importantly, is this the only reason Channel 4 exists? Well, apparently, arousal and temptation seem to be the only justification for her existence. They had a show recently that was about ‘body image’, and they put together a collection of tall, short, fat and thin people who were not happy with their appearance. The result of several weeks of discussion was that all the participants stripped down and ran naked down the beach into a frozen ocean. A little entertainment! What a triumph for psychological therapy. What a delight for viewers.
I think that’s horrible, but lately there have been worse things. There’s a dating show on Channel 4 where a single person picks a date out of half a dozen competitors. The problem is that the chooser cannot see the whole person, to the end. No, they must make their choice by looking at various parts of the other person’s body, which are revealed section by section naked, until they are completely, completely naked.
Is that free or not? The Dating Debacle is hosted by Anna Richardson. Several years ago she presented another program for Channel 4. It was called ‘The Sex Education Show’. That always seemed strange to me. He toured various high schools and gathered students in the hallway and talked to them about sexual matters. Strange? Why, according to the national newspaper ‘The Daily Mail’, teenagers these days know everything there is to know about such things, thanks to many years of Sex Education classes in school. If they’ve had that education, I was wondering, why did they need Channel 4? As was immediately obvious, they were badly needed. The children were invited to ask questions and they sure did: the most basic and simple matters. Obviously, it was clear that they did not know much. Didn’t they receive Sex Education at their school? No, it is no longer part of the national curriculum and when funding for schools is cut, year after year, those fripperies are the first to go.
Shamefully, Anna Richardson scoffed at his ignorance. I remember a poor kid asking a question, writhing in embarrassment. Her classmates around her laughed that she was using ‘rude’ words. Anna looked down from the platform and laughed at him. It was horrible. So, given that awful story, it wasn’t so unbelievable that Channel 4 could decide it was my turn to make fun of me and send the film crew out to embarrass me. Why not? It could tickle viewers.
There’s just one problem with his latest understanding of humiliation. How do you know I’m a nudist? I didn’t tell them. Did one of my friends get away? Did I tell you first? Well, dear reader, how reliable is that? You see, I’m a crime writer, and that process continues for me twenty-four seven. I am a storyteller. If you ask me a question, I’d probably assume that I can turn off ‘History’ mode and immediately switch to ‘Factual’ mode. Maybe, maybe not. As if you were to ask me, ‘Mike, tell us about your early years,’ and I’d say, ‘Well, I was born in County Cork, Southern Ireland, in 1974, one of nine children, and my father was a fisherman?’ How do you know any of that is true?
Dear readers, how can you expect me to turn off my storytelling gene?