The TV News, In One Sentence...

This TV News freelancing malarky is a tough one. One minute you have phone calls, the next you don't. Having been booked for the next few days my heart was lifted, knowing that for the next week or so, me and my family would not be short of a bowl of gruel. Possibly even, a loaf of bread.

But in my heart of hardened hearts, i knew that half way through the day, after covering one fact and figure story, i would call into the office and be told, "That's it today, there is nothing else. Go home."

Rest stop on the way home... Only half a day is done.

  It happened again today... You see, things ain't what they used to be. Time was i could have worked seven days a week for as many hours as i could handle, and i did just that for many years when i started out. Things have changed. Journalists have their own cameras... and edit software. Money for freelancers is tighter than a gnats chuff. Time and resources are not on our side, i confess that i got a bit down in the dumps.

However, i was reminded today by a Cameraman... Sorry... Photog, in the USA called Rick Portier about why i got into this silly game we call the news in the first place. The blog he wrote can be seen here.

Near the end, one sentence stuck out and slapped me around the face... It is possibly why TV News ratings are down, advertising revenue sucks and we find ourselves chasing our collective arses about the countryside in pursuit of stories that really don't matter to the news watching viewer...

"Producers and news directors may want facts, but viewers care about people."

Just there... in one sentence, lies the whole world of TV News gathering. People who watch our output are the people who drive us on. Yes, they want the facts, and they want to be informed of what's happening around them but mostly, facts and figures take control of any story in TV News. In reality, people want to see the human side of the story, the people just like them. Storytelling is what we should be doing, but facts and figures is what we normally get. Fact is what we do. But get the people bit wrong, over and over again, well...  Get that wrong and we might as well go home...

Oh, hang on... I have.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk

Sticking It To The Man... Or... Sniggering at Tony Blair's security.

Well the Leveson Enquiry into ethics in the media took a funny turn yesterday when a protester stormed into the courtroom as our former Prime Minister, Anthony Charles Lynton B.. liar... sorry Blair, or Tone, man of the people, took the oath not to lie (Sniggers) and gave his evidence, which he did so using an amazing amount of hand gestures, making him look like a crap magician using an invisible deck of cards.

Dunno about you, but i was transfixed, almost hypnotised by the waving of the hands to distract from the bullshit which flowed forth.

The international sign of indignation... recognised the world over by Tony Blair.

 I made the mistake of following the hands... i could feel myself starting to drift under ...

"Yes Tone, anything you say dear leader...zzz....Another war..? No problem.... zzzzz"

However, the spell was broken when we were rudely interrupted as the protester burst in and accused the Former Prime Minister of being a war criminal. Popcorn went everywhere and coke exited through my nostrils. I watched astounded as the intruder clung on to the desk for dear life as security (Sniggers again) and Tone's bodyguards (Guffaw) wrenched him from his soapbox and dragged him away.

So i guess it was lucky that the protester only entered the building and the courtroom armed only with a righteous sense of indignation and rage against our former war starting, peace loving, middle east roving and extremely highly paid former leader. The mind boggles at the thought of what he could have done with a Marmite sandwich and a mug of cup-a-soup. It could have been one hell of a mess.

I am led to believe that this morning, security at the enquiry have received a re-training module in Security 101 (Revised 28 May 2012) section 2... How to spot a man with no accreditation, as he walks towards the Ex Prime Minister, giving evidence in court. (Sub section 42(a)) as it has been reported that people are now being searched on the way into the building.

Now come on guys, lax security makes for brilliant TV news, we could have a weekly intruder into the enquiry. Don't go and spoil it all eh..? Oh, and look up Section 66 (Sub Section 13) in the Security handbook 101... Stable, Door, Horse and Bolted... When the shit hits the fan.

Here's the video...



Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter

www.media-attention.co.uk

Meeting The Future Prime Minister... Possibly.

As a news cameraman, i often find myself in places that ordinary folk don't get to see. Not because you can't go there, more a question of why you would want to. Take Eton, for example. Today, i filmed a story about a group of young gentlemen who are doing a sponsored bike ride in aid of charity on behalf of a house mate of theirs who was killed by a Polar Bear. Not at Eton, i hasten to add, no... whilst on a school trip to the icy wastes of Norway. I believe they call it character building.

You see, where i grew up, the only time i was taken to see a Polar Bear was at London zoo or some such place. At Eton, they actually take you to where the bear lives... in the wild. Eton, you see, is one of those architypal British institutions where the filthy rich send their male offspring to be very highly educated in the manner of all things. Usually producing heirs to Royal houses, senior figures in Banking, Law or Medical institutions, or if they are really unlucky, or particularly dim, Prime Ministers and members of Parliament.

I mean, take this juxtaposition. Many inner city schools, and local areas in the UK have a gun problem. At Eton, that problem manifests itself as to who is going to clean the fifty pound cannon, captured at Savastapol during the Crimean war, that sits in a courtyard just off the main road. A job i think for the young new boys of the first year, or the head boys Fag.

The Eton gun problem has now got out of control...

Also i found that stepping into Eton is like walking into a bridegrooms showroom. Each boy wearing the same uniform of pinstripe trousers, waistcoat and tailed jacket plus white bow tie. Everything it would seem, but the top hat. Longish floppy hair is also en vogue it would seem, or de riguer amongst the older boys. It truly is a wonder to behold when hundreds of them fill the streets at lunchtime. A bit like a Moonie wedding, with no brides.

Our possible future Prime Minister strides purposefully on... clutching his AS Level sexed up dossier.

I sat and watched for a while, as the future leading generation of this nation walked past. That spotty little kid with skinny arms, gangly walk and no chin, could very well be our future Prime Minister, off to his geography lessons to learn where all the oil will be when he is waging another war against the Arabs. Or take the oafish looking Rugger bugger, with red cheeks and foppish Hugh Grant hair... He's the one who's going to waste your grand kids pension in 40 years time during the next banking collapse.

I studied them at a distance, hoping to find the one that looked like a future heart surgeon, so when i'm older and lying on my sick bed, i can say to the young, scalpel wielding man...

"Remember me? I was the cameraman all those years back, you remember, at Eton, sniggering at the school uniform and floppy hair... You will be careful won't you... Hmmm? What's that? No i'm not private i'm afraid... freelance wages y'know... Excuse me... where are you going... come back...!"

I feel i may look back on this post and regret writing it... Especially when my future rugby playing bank manager calls me in to discuss my business plans, and he sits there with his red cheeks and foppish Hugh Grant hair, as he tells me that my old school tie just doesn't cut the mustard...

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter

www.media-attention.co.uk

Getting My Ducks In A Row...

I didn't film any news yesterday. Instead, i whored my ass for the corporate Dollar, and found myself in a world of corporate speak. Ladies and gentlemen, it is not very often your author finds himself at a loss for a wise ass comment or words that evoke mirth or sadness. Today however, i found myself bewildered at the nonsensical bullshittery that abounds within the corporate sphere.

The Ministry of Corporate Bullshittery. London. SW1. (It could actually be Basingstoke...)

So how do i explain my present predicament to you, dear reader...? Well, let me anunciate my findings starting in a ball bark type scenario. I must give a little bang for buck to my clientele, as they say. This being a banner year for ukcameraman with a high batting average in the news related acquisition of the moving image, i find myself base tending with a view to further expansion.

To prevent myself being behind the eight ball, and finding my inbox full of missives from the big enchilada, i must participate in a little blue sky thinking, creative, out of the box thinking to take me to a blue ocean opportunity. Bouncebackability is the watchword here, with an emphasis on avoiding the scenario of shooting the puppy.

Skip level meetings, with a preponderance toward raising my skills ecosystem, have resulted in a sharp rise in the upward trajectory in my given sphere, and a capitalistic approach to my fiscal remuneration. But i shall keep my powder dry on that particular kabuki dance.

So there you have it. Kudos all around. But head count freezes may result in more heavy lifting on my part to reach the necessary helicopter viewpoint.

I hope that helped.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk

A Boy's Own Adventure... At Work.

Very occasionally as a news cameraman i get to say i really love my job. How often does a news producer ring up the night before and ask if you fancy spending the next day hanging out the back of military helicopters as they fly in formation with around 12 or so other helicopters over your own patch. Not very often, i can assure you. I immediately set about trying to force grow a handlebar moustache, and thinking of an appropriate RAF nickname for myself, but all i could come up with was " Beardy."

"Ghost rider 995 this is Maverick... permission for flyby..."

So it was with great pleasure yesterday that i spent the day standing on the rear open ramp of an RAF Merlin helicopter, as it flew over the South of England, banking around the formation of helicopters from the Royal Navy, Army Air Corps and the RAF, that were to take part in the Queen's Jubilee celebrations the very next day. Today was practice for the pilots, keen not to cock it all up on the day in front of their Colonel in Chief. Her Maj can get mighty miffed about such things i am led to believe. Oh, and some people in the South really need to sort out their gardens... disgusting.

My mode of transport for the day...

 Anyway, i donned my leather flying cap and goggles, along with my white silk scarf, but instead had my head squeezed into a modern flying helmet that gave me all the qualities of a large green lollipop. But i soon got into the swing of things as i swaggered around the airfield with the deft aplomb of Tom Cruise as 'Maverick', only with a beard and bandy legs. We took off into the wide blue yonder, and as i looked out of the rear ramp, the space behind us filled with other helicopters and i swear i could hear the Ride of the Valkyries playing somewhere. Napalm be damned, i like the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning...

As news jollies go, this was a belter. A fine day of filming was to be had and my footage made it onto at least three BBC news programmes that i know of. Bonus.

Try sitting here when the crew master 'adjusts' the ramp... utter bastard.

 But let me tell you this, make sure you bring spare underwear. Why..? Because as you sit on the rear helicopter ramp filming at around 3 thousand feet and the crewmaster 'adjusts' the ramp angle... well, you just might need them. And if you have ever wondered how, amongst a large phallanx of pilots and aircrew, which one is the Apache pilot...? Well don't worry. He will tell you who he is.

If you would like to see more photos of the press in a helicopter you can see them HERE

If you want to see behind the scenes on Youtube, you can watch it HERE

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk

From The Horses Mouth: Raisa, The Chipping Norton Set, And Me..

In the bright lights of London, much has been said and written about the Leveson Enquiry. Phone hacking, illegal payments to the Police, borrowed horses and dodgy journalism.

But it's not often that a local, provincial TV News Cameraman gets the scoop instead of the reporter. Having been dispatched to the wilds of the Surrey countryside yesterday, i found myself in the company of a few old nags in an RSPCA horse rescue centre. Whilst covering an entirely unrelated story, i was approached by one particularly friendly horse i shall call 'Thunder', (Not her real name.) who told me a story about corruption, hacking, politicians and a global media empire.

PSST...! Are you from the news...? I've got a cracker of a story.

Now let's not think about the fact that i just met a talking horse, (*1) and the fact that it was up to date on the phone hacking story and the Leveson Enquiry. Those facts are mere sideshows. For it emerged in conversation that Thunder had in her possession a number of documents and diary entries from a close friend of hers called Raisa, a retired Metropolitan Police horse, whom she met and befriended at numerous grooming sessions on country estates.

Spilling the beans... An interview with 'Thunder'.

 The documents were entrusted to Thunder by Raisa, on the understanding that what they contained could be explosive if brought into the public eye, and could never be released, unless something dubious happened to her, or if she were to just... disappear. On hearing the sad news of Raisa's death, Thunder has decided to release the documents, and has entrusted them to me for safe keeping.(*2)

For the sake of public interest, i have decided to publish a narrow selection of Raisa's diary entries, in the hope of clearing up a little of the confusion surrounding the time she spent in Chipping Norton following her retirement from the Metropolitan Police Mounted Division. Here are my findings thus far...

7 Jan 2008 London.

Looking forward to my retirement party next week. Going to have balloons and everything. Must dash... Chelsea are at home, heads to crack... Busy busy busy..!! 

14 Jan 2008 London.

Woke with a thick head this morning. Party was ace. Pete, my Police stable boy, tells me i'm off to Oxfordshire. Apparently the Chief Super has done a deal with an old mate of his. He tells me there will be plenty of hacking... We shall see.

15 Jan 2008 Chipping Norton.

Wow..! Really landed on my feet here. Dead posh. Plenty of scope for a good hack with my new owner Rebekah and her chums. Her husband Charlie called me an old knacker. ( I don't like him. ) Saw some old bloke called Clarkson on a quad bike in the next field shooting foxes... a bit mad i think.

28 Feb 2008 Chipping Norton.

Some posh bloke called Dave arrived this morning. Him and Rebekah spoke all morning about hacking but they never took me out. He said he wanted none of it... Went to bed... No dinner.

(P.S. Rebekah was on the phone all night to a man called Rupert. She said Dave was impotent... I think she meant important. )


30 March 2008 Chipping Norton.


My coat is becoming matted. Don't get groomed often any more. Missing the thrill of London and shitting on the streets. The days of cracking heads with the boys are long gone.


20 April 2008 Chipping Norton.


Finally..! Dave visits again and Charlie takes us out for a hack. Dave climbs aboard and off we go. I think i shall call him BIG Dave from now on... if you know what i mean..! They chatted for hours about Eton and the old days. Much laughter and sniggering about poor people and a bloke called George.


( P.S. WENT TO BED AGAIN WITH NO DINNER...! )

They say that the truth is stranger than fiction... This is pure fiction.

Having read(*3) the rest of the diaries, i can indeed attest to the explosiveness of their contents. I may reveal more from time to time. Should the Leveson enquiry call me for evidence, i shall of course fail to remember any such meeting with 'Thunder' and the whereabouts of the Diary, and this blog post will be deleted, to be found again by the officers of Operation Weeting. I will probably end up in prison, and my press card revoked.
 
(*1) I am making this whole thing up.

(*2) For Sale to the highest bidder.

(*3) Wrote

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk
 

Waking Up To The Eighties.

Having slept the sleep of a news cameraman last night, i woke up this morning to a strange feeling that i had travelled back in time to another era. The 80's in fact. You see, the first thing i do after waking up (following a fart, cough and scratch) is switch on the tellybox and tune into the news to acquaint myself with the worlds machinations over the last 12 hours or so.

This morning, i woke to a BBC Breakfast News report about plastics recycling. Fair enough. They even managed to link said recycling with the upcoming Olympic Games... Genius. (This is going to happen a lot from now on)

Then... they linked straight into a story about the recycling of the favourite 80's stage show Starlight Express, which is being reanimated and thrust onto the west end stage to delight and enthrall those of us who couldn't be arsed to go and see it the first time around.

Following that trip down nostalgia avenue, they then linked to an upcoming piece with everyone's favourite 80's pop star, Morten Harket, the impossibly good looking chap from the popular beat combo, a-ha. Remember them..?

I could feel the mullet growing on the back of my head as memories of my youth flooded back to me in a haze of spots, alcoholic experimentation, and trying to get girls to like me. So i watched the news for 10 minutes or so and having been appraised of what was happening in the 1980's, i got dressed into my cameraman action slacks, pulled up my Fame style ankle warmers, poured a coffee, and went to kick the tyres on the news van to make sure it was still roadworthy.

The more dynamic ukcameraman in the 80's... Memories are hazy.

Now here is where it got weird. In the news van, Radio 2 were playing a medley of hits from the early 80's so i switched off. I then pulled into the petrol station, where, as i payed the exorbitant bill, the dulcet tones of Duran Duran's seminal hit Rio wafted into my ears and has, as yet, to clear from my head.

"Her name is Rio, and she dances on the sand..."

Go on, sing it... i dare you. I've been suffering it now for around four hours or so and it won't leave. I find myself humming it, even though i don't want to. It was like being in an episode of Ashes to Ashes, except without Keely Hawes.

I blame the media, and the very industry i work for. It seems that wherever i go i am watching, listening to or reading things that evoke memories of another time or bring be bang up to the present. There is no getting away from it. I suppose i am just going to have to roll with it today...

In my mind i am currently firing up the Quattro, as i wind down the window and start to sing...

"Oh Rio Rio dance across the Rio Grande..."

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk

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A Long Overdue Reign.

So the weather department of the BBC in Scotland decided recently to hand over the little clicky button thingy from a pert, youthful weather presenter to give a new boy a chance of broadcasting. HRH Prince Charles, having i assumed, just passed his media studies course at the Open University, took control of said clicky button and proceed to broadcast the awful Scottish weather to the BBC faithful.



His Royal education briefly eluded his highness when he was heard to say,  "Who the hell wrote this  script..?" Who indeed your Royalness... who indeed. But when Royalty speaks, people take you seriously and his question was possibly answered when it was rumoured that a young weather girl was last seen being dragged away by security never to be seen again. Poor girl... Just as you think you've made it to a glittering telly career, with boozy nights out with footballers and everlasting fake tan, your hopes and dreams are dashed by passing nobility with a clicky button fetish. Oh dear... How sad... Never mind.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk

Local Elections Reaches Fever Pitch...

Yesterday and through all of last night i was covering the local elections in Reading, Berkshire for the BBC. Yes, local election fever swept through our newsroom with excited political reporters bashing out the information via web, twitter and TV, so that Mr and Mrs Middle England at No 42 Acacia Avenue were kept informed and up to date the moment a council seat was won or lost. The fever grew to such an extent, that lunchbox wars broke out amongst the news gathering elite as to who had the best picknickery to last throughout the day and night.

Overcome with excitement, i had to rest... just for a few seconds.

 Personally, i find it hard to get excited about who wins the right to dig up our roads, fill them in, then dig them up again. Or how often our bins are emptied, who gets the title of leader of the council or cabinet member for paperclips. But as the ballot boxes rolled in, i rolled tape... no, hang on... i no longer roll tape, i sort of squish digital streams of 1's and 0's onto a memory card the size of a postage stamp... well that's spoiled the flow of a blogging cameraman hasn't it..?

Anyway, i... er... squished digits onto card as the usual stream of political hopefuls / dreamers / deadbeats, ( Delete as applicable ) passed by my lens, hoping to get seats on the local council for long enough to collect a big fat pension at the end of it, courtesy of the very people who put a cross in the box next to their name.

The black boxes of local democracy...

I filmed the tipping out of ballot papers, the dextrous fingering of the ballot counters ( Oo'er Missus! ) and the furrowed brows of the rosetted politicos of Reading. The tension was palpable. Much coffee was consumed, and debates over the poorly located dog poop bins of this fair parish were in full swing. Digging into my sandwiches, which failed miserably in the newsroom lunchbox war, i chewed lazily on a cheese bap, lovingly crafted by my wife, only to find that my reporter had had it away with half of my cheese and onion crisps and a chocolate bar... the utter bastard.

That's him Officer... Theft of Crisps and 1 chocolate bar.

 You know what? Trying to turn a few hundred badly dressed people of the political variety, rattling around in a local, oversized sports hall into good, watchable TeeVee is a challenge. Shoot up close... that's my tip. The crushed look of total disappointment on a face is priceless. Capturing the utter disbelief of a candidate as the slow realisation dawns on them that the local populace doesn't agree with their manifesto is a sight to behold for this sleepy eyed cameraman.

Hey... it's the only thing that keeps me awake, OK..? Around 2 or 3 AM and i'm starting to wilt under the intense political infighting of local candidates, trying to fight off the dirt that has been flung at them via the big boys and girls at Westminster, who cock things up just the same, only on a much grander scale. That and the top light on my camera is blisteringly hot.

So, as empty coffee cups spill the dregs onto the basketball court, and the chill early morning wind whipped up the rubbish in the car park outside, about which i will have a word with a local councillor, seats inside were won and lost. Councils changed hands from one self serving political party to another, and life goes on pretty much as normal. Except with less funding. I filmed it for posterity and the local news, whose political editor had by now overdosed on caffeine and was last seen spinning out into the night, screaming something about not being able to take it anymore...

Me...? I'm off to bed. Goodnight... sorry... Good Morning.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk

Jazzing Up The News... A load of old Bokeh..?

I wrote a small, slightly sweary post a few weeks ago about shooting the news on various types of camera. DSLR's, Smartphones, TV Cameras and all the new snazzy bits of kit that are now flooding the market on what seems like a weekly basis. You may think that i am an anti tech, stuck in the mud, old school cameraman, that deserves to wither away and be forgotten like an old Beta SP tape. That couldn't be further from the truth. What i want is a story.

I got quite a few replies via Twitter and the like about what it is we do... we tell stories. Good ones, bad ones, heartbreaking ones and uplifting ones. But they are stories all the same, filmed and edited to educate and inform our viewers whether on the TV, web or mobile.

Today i read this article by Paul Mason, the Economics Editor of Newsnight at the BBC. It's called "In praise of Bokeh: the dilemmas of TV filming" in which he describes the advantages and disadvantages of filming with a DSLR style Camera, over more traditional routes, and decided to film a series of stories in the USA using a NEXFS100 Camera and SLR lenses, to achieve a 'Bokeh' look and style to his films. ( Read the article if you don't know what Bokeh is..)

A load of old Bokeh...?

As a news cameraman myself, i like to experiment with new technology, i have started to use a multitude of different cameras, each of which have their own characteristics, good points and limitations. I generally use the camera that suits the situation i find myself in. I no longer take my main camera into a car, for example, when i can use a GoPro to get the shot i need. A cameraman friend of mine, Christian Parkinson, has written about the various cameras he has used in war zones throughout the African Continent. There are times when we as a tv news team don't want to be instantly recognised as a broadcast TV News crew, so now, a cameraman or reporter can be armed with as little as an iphone, that shoots 1080 HD footage, thereby blending in nicely with all the other smartphone wielding people at a protest, or during civil unrest such as last years London riots.

As i have said before, camera technology is changing in our news industry at breakneck speed, the latest 'in thing' changes to the next 'passing fad' and onwards to the 'next big thing' like shallow depth of field. I'm forever reading about the latest, newest camera that is being touted as the industry 'Game changer' The trick to all of this is blending the different formats together to make a coherent looking film.

Now i'm thinking here of style over substance. The only 'Game changer' in our news industry is the speed of which the news can be disseminated around the world at the touch of a button. Social networks, blogs and the internet in general have transformed the way news is distributed, and most importantly, consumed. Smartphones, ipads, and laptops are fast becoming the way many people watch or read the news, hell, they can now interact with it... instantly. But does that really matter when we get down to the nitty gritty of news story telling..?

It no longer matters to the vast majority of news consumers how a news piece was filmed or in what format or style, as long as it has that one thing that we all aspire to. Quality. Over the past few years i have repeatedly seen our industry navel gazing and endlessly discussing the 'future of news' or the 'future of journalism'. We seem to be endlessly fretting about how we do things, when in reality, there is only one thing we should be doing. Informing the public, telling the story, and breaking the news to those who wish to be informed. We should be doing so using the best quality images and journalistic practices that we have. Having a certain style to a news film is all well and good, you can make a name for yourself by having a certain style or artistry to your work. and i agree that dull, same old news reporting and imagery is sometimes our own worst enemy.

Stylistic news reporting is all well and good if you have the time to accomplish it, and you have the tech at hand to master it. Pre planned, produced news packages can easily be stylised and jazzed up when you have the time and the money to do so. I'm guessing here that Newsnight gave Paul Mason and his cameraman Peter Murtaugh, the time and the go ahead to experiment. Given the room to experiment and the time to achieve a style is a thing i have always been in favour of. And i applaud Newsnight for letting them be a little different.

As a cameraman, i would love to be given room to experiment, but sometimes shooting 2 or 3 news stories a day for regional news programmes makes it difficult to change the habits of the reporters, the cameraman and more importantly, the producers, as we crank out the evening bulletin. We generally don't have the time or the money. ( I'm a freelancer on an hourly rate, they want me off the clock as soon as they can.) 

But i have a feeling that the great British public don't give a stuff about the style, i expect to read a few articles, tweets and the like from industry insiders, commentators and the hard core DSLR converts about this style of filming being the news industry "Game changer'.

I don't think it will. And it won't be for the lack of vision. Films such as these, by independent film makers will be well placed on the internet, but at the moment, on TV News, we tend to crank out the normal day to day films with little of the style that can be achieved if we put our mind, and time to it. We tend to stick to the same format and style on all of our news bulletins. could this be our downfall? I don't think so. Quality, stylised stories removed from the day to day news items are thin on the ground and we need more of them if we are to keep our tech savvy viewers, who are quickly migrating to the internet to find the news that suits them.

But as i have said before, style, format and the technology used matters not a thing, if you have no story to tell, that will keep me watching.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

www.media-attention.co.uk