Showing posts with label RAF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RAF. Show all posts

Saturday, 27 September 2014

TV news cameraman and an offer to be refused.

It only seemed like five minutes ago that i was stood outside Parliament as our leaders voted for the last war in our continuing 'War on terror.' (Syria Edition.) Yet here i am again... only this time it's for 'The war on terror... The revenge, Part 3. The Jihadists strike back.' (Iraq Edition.)

This time, we send everything we have... They don't like it up 'em...

 Yesterday, i spent my considerable TV news cameraman talents on wandering the streets asking various people's opinion on the chances of the UK re-engaging in the Middle East. By re-engaging, i mean in the form of dropping a metric shit load of bombs onto Jihadists of various hues, captured American hardware from the previous visit that were left lying around the desert and wedding parties.

It would seem that we are to spend lavishly on sending some highly expensive flying machinery to drop some eye-wateringly expensive bombs on a rag tag bunch of Jihadis driving left behind moderately expensive U.S. Humvees and artillery pieces that we left behind for them to use against us. What are we like eh..?

Anyway, i digress... Our esteemed leaders were recalled from their holiday board meetings at 'BombsULike Ltd' and 'ThinkOfTheChildren Inc,' to vote in Parliament on whether to send our entire Royal Air Force of 6 fighter jets and a mechanic back to Iraq, and to light up our entire stockpile of Tomahawk cruise missiles which are kept in a shed somewhere in Milton Keynes.

The Royal Navy declined the offer, citing a lack of aircraft carriers for their aircraft.

Somewhere in the Ministry of Defence, the stockroom boy had found the 'Fire Before' date stamped on the missiles, causing panic amongst the General Staff who ordered some extra large tupperware and informed the Prime Minister at No 10 Downing Street, who wanted to avoid a repeat of the 'soggy bottomed' Trident missile mishap of some years previous, when they were left unused during the Summer months, costing an overspend on the yearly household nuclear budget.

So here we are again... Voting for war.

Many Voxes were popped. A brand new, not yet in place Bishop was questioned on the moral validity of our intent, and yet more popping of voxes in a different town. Impromptu, well meaning peace rallies sprung up around the area like Autumn mushroom clouds.

"We should have done it properly in the first place.." Said an ex soldier from our previous two excursions to the region.

"Leave 'em to it... Let their God sort 'em out" Said Mrs Housewife.

"Haven't we finished Afghanistan yet..?" Said Mr well intentioned.

News was happening fast. Top of the bulletin lives were planned. We planned ours outside two pubs on a Friday evening in the town centre with some hippies, and hoped for the best. As my Journo and i practiced our moves before going live, a quick witted jester of the local Al-Fresco drinking community breezed past, and loudly intoned some insightful reasoning for our country going to war...

"F**k her in the p**sy..!"

Oh dear... my first one, but at least we were not live, he missed out by a mere three minutes, the twat.

I fear this new jolly jape may become a 'thing' for us TV newsies, following widespread videos of similar happenings from the USA which have pervaded the internet in recent months. Not content with gurning in general at the back of a live shot, these talented, funny and socially aware fuckwits have taken to shouting this... I fear for the future of live TV news links.

Such as everything in life, whatever happens in the States will eventually happen here. You only have to look to the past... Chewing gum, pop socks, Rock 'n' Roll and the sport of precision bombing unlikeable people who are far, far away, whilst our own population still struggle as local facilities are closed down for the lack of cash and investment.

I heft my TV camera back onto my aching shoulder... Bombs away..!

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

Saturday, 19 May 2012

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