BBC New Broadcasting House and the riddle of the 8th floor.

Yesterday found me traversing our capital city on my way to collect my network news ID card that allows unfettered access to the largest newsroom in Europe. Having been offered the chance of freelance shifts, i had to go to BBC New Broadcasting House in London...

BBC New Broadcasting House...

 I could now walk the corridors and meeting rooms of the BBC. I could watch John Humphrys eat a doughnut, see Huw Edwards on his cigarette break behind the bike shed, or look longingly into the eyes of Sophie Raworth over a hot frothy latte in the canteen as she flicks her golden locks over her shoulder, coyly smiles at me and pats the seat next to her with her ruby red polished fingernails glinting under the lights, before she... ahem...

Sorry, i was typing out loud again...

Anyway, having picked up my sparkly new ID, showing your author in a smart pose with a coquettish smile and chiselled, lantern jawed features, i followed on to the BBC New Broadcasting House induction lecture. The induction lecture, i was told, would teach us where all the good parties are, followed by a free champagne lunch, a chat with the Director General and AAA passes to the next Glastonbury festival.

Someone obviously had a sense of humour...

I did in fact, learn what to do in the event of fire or other unforseen disasters, where the toilets were, how to open and close the doors without giving yourself a severe injury and basically not to act like a dick in front of the studios where you could be captured on camera behind the newsreaders.

They also told us what departments were on which floor. Reception and production areas on the ground floor, newsroom and studios on -1 and -2 and the cameramen on -3 next to the bins. Floors 1 to 7 contained various news departments and show production areas for TV, Radio and online and on floor 8, the cool and hip Radio 1.

We had access to anywhere... Except floor 8, where a 'special' pass is required. I have no idea why, but my imagination was piqued and started to wander from the explanation of how to use the spiral staircase without going dizzy and killing yourself.

My guess is that it's because Radio 1 plays host to super hot rock and pop stars who don't want to be bothered by the ungodly proles that inhabit the lesser levels. That and the free flow of champagne and expensive brandy, along with a phallanx of lovely looking rock chicks and hipsters, a jar of nutella and a warm spoon. But that's just a guess mind you... Or 'speculation' as we in the news industry call it. So i decided to try and find out, there and then...

8th Floor reception, BBC NBH, Thursday, about tea time:

Me: "Hello, i'm new here... Is this where i can find the BBC Sartorial Elegance Department..?"

Receptionist: "Maybe... Did Robert Peston send you..?"

Me: "Err... No. It's just that i would..."

Receptionist: "Have you got your 'special' pass..?"

Me: (Reveals jar of Nutella and a spoon) "I was given these, and..."

Receptionist: "Get out... Or i'll call security."

Well i tried... So in the interests of you, my faithful readers, i shall over the coming months endeavor to find out the truth of the 8th floor and the goings on that necessitate the requirement of a 'special' pass. As you know, here at the ukcameraman Institute of TV News Studies i never give up on rooting out the truth wherever it hides, and if the truth eludes me then i could always speculate further.

So if you should see me hovering around the lifts on Floor 7 with a jar of Nutella and a large serving spoon, keep schtum... I'll get back to you.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

Charles: A Prince among TV news cameramen.

OK, I now believe things are getting wildly out of control on the TV news cameraman front.

Not only do we have to deal with the up and coming boy band haired, spotty youth of today with their lightweight, nimble and agile cameras that can shoot in 4K and are the size of a particularly small chihuahua, but we now have Royalty trying to muscle in on our turf...

"£2000 per hour you say..? Is that with the lens cap on or off..?"

HRH Prince Charles was seen today at a Sony centre, trying out the latest model of TV news camera, and is apparently intent on setting up his own news crews business. ( Pic courtesy of @loic415 ) Oh Charles... What have you gone and done...

Well, at least I know what a TV camera is supposed to have attached to it in order to make it work and that you can actually see what it is that you are filming.

Look, I know that this is a set up shot of the Prince getting down and giggly with the press pack that he (Ahem) gets along well with, but at the very least someone should have attached a viewfinder, camera mic, top light etc, and for the love of all that is holy will his footman please, PLEASE remove the lens cap.

I also got to wondering... I bet he never gets startled out of bed on a wintry morning with a news desk call at 4am to go and film a crack house fire. You can imagine it can't you... I know I can...

4am: Clarence House, South Wing above the orangery...

Ring Ring... Ring Ring...

Charles: "Can one wait a sec..? (Cough, splutter... Scratch.) Charlie's News Crews, Can one help one..?"

Newsdesk: "Yeah... BBC 'ere... Get yer arse down to Brighton. Crack house fire. Two dead. Call me when you get there..." Click...brrrrr...

Charles: (Sniff... Scratch.) "Camilla..? One has to...."

Camilla: "zzzzz... (Adjusts hair rollers.) Eh..? Wha..? Wake one up and one will die... Zzzzzz"

Charles: (Lights a cigarette.) "Footman..! Footman..! One has to earn one's crust, get one's camera kit ready would one..?"

Footman: "Yes Your Royal Majestyness, right away Sir..."

Charles: "And get one's Royal carriage warmed up... The one with the four horses and two footmen attached should do it... Pronto..."

Charles fumbles in the dark to find his cargo shorts, flip flops and Hawaian shirt. Whilst in the hallway he trips over Prince George's sticklebricks and Lego set.

Charles: "Yeaaargh..! YahamuthaFuckinBastard..! Ow..! Ow..! Ow..!"

Camilla: "CHARLES..! Will one kindly shut one's big flappy cake hole... You'll wake William and Kate... They are asleep in the front room on the pull out spare air bed... So BE QUIET..!"

Charles quietly slips down the stairs and into the kitchen. A rumble of horses hooves breaks the night air and the sound of baby Prince George's cries fill the dark void. The lights come on, blinding Charles...

Kate: "Well, thank one so much... One is up now isn't one... Might as well make a brew. Darjeeling or builders tea..? Oh, and i've put some biscuits in your run bag... Duchy Originals..."

Charles: "WHAT..? Christ on a bike woman, we can't afford those..! I'm on a freelancer's wages now y'know. Anyway, one knows one only drinks Earl Grey... One will take it in one's thermos."

Kate: "Well, one can't be too choosy this time of the effin' morning can one..? And don't be late home for ones state banquet this evening... The Prime Minister's coming round..."

Charles: (picks up camera and run bag.) "Oh for the love of... (Sigh) One will try my dear... One will try..."

Charles steps out into the cold wet air, the crunch of snow beneath his feet echoing around the South Wing of Clarence House. As he settles into the state coach, his driver whips the horses and they make off into the early morning darkness at a steady lick towards Brighton.

Charles: "Footman..? Can one hurry, one has to be back early, the last state banquet ended up in the dogs and Camilla's only just started talking to me again."

Footman: "Yes Sir... Oh, and Sir..? Should I call the BBC to see what happened to your last invoice for work last week..? Remember Sir..? The court story when you were threatened by a particularly large gentleman from the travelling community..? The one your bodyguard killed... I do believe Sir... That you are owed Royalties"

Charles: "Cushty..."

And with that dear readers, I shall leave you. Please try the chicken in a basket... I'm here all week.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

TV news cameraman tries wildlife filming... Or... New shorts please.

Ordinarily, as a TV news cameraman, there are not many chances to use the Macro ring on the lens. Most days find you performing the back step shuffle on a public road, mid shots and close ups on interviewees, or expansive wide shots of a business park in Basingstoke.

Your TV news cameraman bravely fights off the wildlife and rescues his journalist at the same time.

If you're lucky, a pull focus whilst panning to the journo is enough to excite the news producer out of a caffeine induced haze back at base, a reminder of what a cameraman is for, and a timely reminder that sometimes it takes two to film the news.

What I mean is, nobody wants to see the nose hairs of your local politician, the sweat stains on the running criminals shirt or the screw holding in a window frame. Wide shots, mid shots and close ups are the staple diet of your average news cameraman.

Today however, I was in the wilds of the Hampshire and Surrey borders filming a piece on the ever diminishing pockets of Heathland, and the wildlife that lives there.

Smooth snakes, sand lizards and the rare natterjack toad are in as much danger as the heathland itself, but were easy enough to film in the hands of a registered wildlife ranger using normal zoom and focus tactics.

Heathland also supports a wide variety of insect life, and so it was that I found myself filming a small ball of spiderlings neatly wrapped up in a silk web the size of a golf ball. The parent spider sat atop the ball no more than 1cm long so remembering that I actually have a macro ring, I sidled gently up to the ball and focussed in tight... Really tight.

I could actually see the joints on the legs, the hairs on the body and the sparkle in its eye. In the HD colour viewfinder, it filled the screen in terrifying glory. For 20 seconds or so I lost myself and was in its world. Tiny spiderlings played youthfully within the silk ball beneath, the parent sat there for a long time, quietly, unmoving, and very still...

Then it jumped...

So did your brave news cameraman...

In fact, it's fair to say that I almost shat myself there and then. So engrossed was your author in the viewfinder, displaying what to me looked like a 20 foot tall beast, that when it jumped towards the lens, I reacted like a small girly girl with big arachnophobic tendencies. So much so, that you could hear the squeal of yours truly when we played it back in the edit van. It was all a tad embarrassing if i'm honest.

You see, the threat of violence towards a TV news cameraman is never far from the surface in many jobs that we film but usually you can see it coming and prepare for it. But just for a moment, a small tiny spider no bigger than a penny, made my heart leap more than any confrontation on the court steps ever has.

From now on, I'm sticking to the news and leaving the Macro ring to the wildlife cameramen... They must be bloody nutters. Oh, and the footage will be safely buried... I have a reputation to uphold y'know.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter, and is off to change his shorts.

Book review: The News, a user's manual. By Alain De Botton.

It's not often that during the whirlwind that is our news gathering lives, involving the day to day dissemination of death, destruction, politicking, unfaithfulness, health and invention of our fellow man, do we think about what it is that we, as news organisations, are actually peddling to the news watching public as they push fish fingers into their offsprings little faces during the tea time bulletin.

The News. A user's manual.

We should be thinking about this a little more.

I came accross Alain De Botton's book online whilst searching for comic references to the news, for as regular readers of this blog will attest, my mind works in mysterious ways when it comes to telling you how i go about my day as a tv news cameraman. A work more about the philosophy of our industry, it delves deep into the psyche of those that gather, report and consume the news.

( You see, even though most of this blog has the gravitas of Spongebob Squarepants, i can sometimes deliver serious material. This post is one. )

I'm glad i found the book. Having read it within 24 hours, i recognised nearly every single sentence it contained. A philosophical book containing references to Greek culture, Shakespeare and Catholic religion is not a book i would ordinarily read, but tie them up with the modern language of the news industry of today and you have a book that will make you think a little differently about how to go about your daily news producing life.

It isn't light reading. I had to stop and think on a page by page basis about what it is that the news industry is about and why we do what it is that we do. Is the news a constant stream of failure, death and destruction? Are we obsessed by health, disaster and celebrity titillation?

Yes, yes it is and yes, yes we are. It's the modern world of news overload.

Why is this and what can we, as news people do about it? This book will make you think about it. Not just as a news professional, but as a person in a wider world where differing culture, expectations and meaning are almost limitless.

The book has resonance for me. Alain writes of an incident in Hampshire where a Father killed his two children and then himself. I was one of the tv news crews that filmed the scene. The deeper meaning and consequences of such an act and the subsequent news coverage is explained by Alain in the book.

I on the other hand, had a different outlook on the scene before me. Desperate not to think too much about what had occurred on the very ground beneath my feet, i turned my attention inward, to something much more mundane.



If reading a book doesn't do it for you in the modern digital world, you can at least watch the video above, a kind of condensed version. Whatever your interest in the news though, be it a reporter, editor, photographer or news junkie, find a way to read the book. I recommend it.

You can get the book HERE.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.

TV News Cameraman And The Diminishing Of The Tangibles.

Many of you older TV news cameramen and women out there will remember such phrases as, "Can you hear the whir of the camera on audio track 2...?" Or, "Bugger, the tape door mechanism's jammed..." And my all time favourite, "Touch my camera again and I will kill you... To death."

As he pulled out the Pulitzer Prize winning footage from the camera, he dropped it down a drain cover...

The most oft spoken phrase in TV news gathering however, used to be, "Pass me the tape will you...?" and upon hearing said phrase, your journalist would pass you a Beta Sp tape which would make a satisfying, tangible 'whump' when placed in your sweaty grasp.

Those of you who remember film and film canisters can shut up now, I can hear you muttering from here. This post does not delve that far into the past, but even so, you will remember the feel of something solid and dependable in the palm of your hand. (Don't even think about going there...)

To those with boy band hair, spots and a penchant for all things Blackmagic Design, yes you... You, typing 'Tape' and 'Film' into Google on your iPhone in between filming with it and scratching your head, may not know of such pre-historic artifacts from a bygone generation, but they existed... And not that long ago.

I still find myself asking my Journo, "Have you got any tapes...?" Only for them to fish around in their pockets, check handbags, jackets and small dark holes to produce a tiny, thin piece of plastic with a metallic strip. Carefully, and making sure we are not standing over a storm drain or crack in the ground into which the card can disappear, we pass the precious object between hands as steady as any brain surgeon.

I slide the card into its tiny slot on the camera.

There is no push of a button followed by a 'Whirr, click, thud as the tape goes in, click and whirr' Nothing is opened and it's insides extracted by mechanical wizardry and stretched across drums with optical thingamibobs.

Nothing happens any more.

Once the filming of the days news is done, then the preciousness of that small, thin piece of plastic with metallic strip must become an even more dangerous and fear provoking work of calm. Imagine, if you will, handling a vial of Ebola virus in a maternity ward.

Dropping a tape was no bother, as long as you didn't drop it into the sea or out of a helicopter door. Things are now a little different. Drop a card from any higher that 2mm and it will ping off into the middle distance of the nearby road and blend in with the surrounding asphalt, from where it will taunt and laugh at your butter fingered buffoonery.

Passers by will look at you in a strange manner as you crawl around on all fours in search of your afternoons work. Office workers will gawp at you as you forensically examine the flower bed under their window like a scene from CSI, (Vegas... Not Miami, which was shit.)

Your Journo will be laughing at you, but secretly aghast at the notion that the work may be lost, and they begin to get nervous. Producers back at the ranch will spit blue murder if they find out their plans for tonight's bulletin are lying on the A325, just South of Aldershot, a mere foot away from his Cameraman's desperate fingers.

All the while, the small thin piece of plastic with the metallic strip, containing the wise words of vox popped citizenry will be lying there, just next to your left foot where you see it as you crouch into a ball whilst holding your head and pulling at what's left of your hair.

The ball of fear knotted in your stomach dissipates, not just because of a 'mislaid' SD card, but because of those vox-pops, the sage like knowledge, and their importance in the well being of the very nation known only to news producers. (And the fact that the producer would make you do them all again.) Cue a huge sigh of relief.

So let this be a lesson to us all because apparently, this is what happened to a friend of mine and in no way whatsoever involves the author of this blog post. Just to make that perfectly clear. Here at the ukcameraman institute of TV news studies, we are a bit more careful.

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter, and is hugely relieved for his 'Friend.'