It's all a Fix penalty

Much coverage today in the media generally about the blatant extortion racket Councils run in the guise of parking enforcement. This very subject has been a keen area of focus for me recently. In fact, I even flexed my first Freedom of Information muscle last month by requesting the stats of my local council's windfall in this disgusting past time. (BTW, I wholly recommend the FOI service. Most efficient and, as it says on the tin, it's free) The figures were emailed to me earlier this week.

In the financial year 2006-2007, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea masterly carried out the following: Parking Tickets: 279,324; Clamps: 14,213; Tows: 8,752. Revenue generated: Parking Tickets: £13,208,694. Clamps/Tows: 2,383,754.

Obvious question: Where the hell did all that money go?

There is a car pound at the end of my street. I have been known to go down there and pay my local gangsters £260 for carrying my car 250 yards. Racketeering, it's a nasty business and our elected officials should be brought to account. Bring on the revolution. End this corruption.

Some plugs for A.I

Apologies for continuing to bang the AI drum, but here is a piece I wrote for the current edition of Press Gazette as a follow up to the sponsorship of Interviewer of the Year at the BPA by Access Interviews.

And here is a piece for The Independent last month about the continuing importance of the 'interview' to the promotion of all genres of modern media.

All this is part of my on-going mission to spread the good word about the website.

Prescott's money sewer

I note - with no real sense of sympathy - that John Prescott has revealed he was bulimic. This comes a few weeks after the release of details of MP's expenses showed that he munched through a gut-busting £4,000 of groceries in one year.

So, in summary, Prescott threw (up) tax payers' money quite literally down the toilet.

Hmmm, shame. If only the Government had known at the time, it could have cut out the bloated middle man altogether and simply thrown a pile of cash down a sewer.

Lineker is no Master

Daft really, to reach out like this, but I have just tuned into one of my favourite events on the sporting calendar - the Masters golf from Augusta - and I am irate enough to react with an angry blog. I had forgotten who is the host these days. Gary bloody Lineker.

Quite simply, he does NOT fit this event.

I felt it in my gut last year. I even reached for the blog back then. There has been much press about Midlands accents of late. Well, I for one don't want one talking me through this golf tournament. Every time he says "Masstas" I want to club him. I can't be alone.

Thankfully, I will be on holiday tomorrow and will miss the Masters this year. The only consolation is that I won't have to watch Lineker at the helm.

Steve Rider get yer bouffant back 'ere.

Tebbit, you're havin' a laugh

I nearly just choked on my morning pastry a moment ago after reading Norman Tebbit's intro' in his article for today's Daily Mail about Spitting Image. He says, most proudly - to no doubt show us that he has a sense of humour and is one of the lads who can take a wind up - that he liked his puppet. Yeah, rght.

Those of you with the girth and grey hairs of age will recall that he was portrayed most unfavourably as a dark-eyed, brutal henchman - Thatcher's heartless enforcer.

I appreciate that this is not a matter of State importance, but I am highly irritated by Tebbit's assertion and hereby accuse my Lord of telling a big fat porky. But how do I know?

My first celebrity interview was with Jeffrey Archer in 1986 when I was a reporter on the Wimbledon News. Our conversation turned to Spitting Image and he said firmly: "I can tell you - but this must be off the record - that one person who is most hurt by his puppet is Norman Tebbit. He doesn't like it at all."

Being a wide-eyed beginner I was quite emboldened by the fact that Archer had trusted me with something (at the time) so potentially newsworthy, albeit off the record. I faithfully guarded it for 20 odd years (as if it was worth it, eh).

Despite the fact that dear Jeffrey went on to become something of a world class fibber himself, I have no reason to doubt his account. Hence, this needs to be said: Norman Tebbit hated his puppet and it is no laughing matter that he should pretend otherwise in a family newspaper for filthy lucre.

These politicians, eh, they simply can't break a habit of a lifetime.

A.I sponsors top Press Award

Just a quick note to announce some developments with Access Interviews.com. I am delighted to announce that the website will be sponsoring the 'Interviewer of the Year' category at the prestigious 'British Press Awards'. The event takes place at the Grosvenor House Hotel on 8th April with Channel 4's Jon Snow presenting.


Also - we have just loaded up my interview with Jeffrey Archer to the site.

PM Questions - and Answers

The "world" exclusive interview with Piers Morgan.

Scene: An exhausted Piers Morgan calls from his suite at The London Hotel, New York. He sounds punchy with fatigue from the glory of his triumph as Donald Trump’s Celebrity Apprentice. Rob McGibbon, in his London office, listens intently as this stunning exclusive unfolds across the Atlantic…

(We exchange gushing showbizzy nothings of mutual appreciation and congratulations, then we begin...)

RM: Piers Morgan, welcome to the first telephone interview for AccessInterviews.com. How does it feel to be the U.S Celebrity Apprentice? Did you think you would win?

PM: Well, I have to admit, it feels pretty good. I actually feel very proud. To be honest, I thought I had blown it. Even though I had won in terms of money raised, there was a real ground swell in the room for this all-American heroic cowboy, while I was being billed as this evil, obnoxious arrogant Brit. I thought Trump would go for the American hero thing because this is what America needs right now - a good guy with great integrity to win, but at the very last moment he swivelled round and fired him. It was amazing.

RM: What was the freeze-frame moment of the night for you?

PM: Erm, the most powerful moment was when the injured American soldiers came into the studio in their wheelchairs. I had raised $750,000 for the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund and I had met them before. When the audience saw them they spontaneously jumped to their feet to give them a standing ovation. That sent a shiver up my spine. The atmosphere changed in that moment and it kind of brought home what the show was really about. This was not about who is the nicest bloke, but who in the end did the best job for their charity. And that was me. These soldiers were very grateful for what I had done and I think that actually carried a lot of weight with Trump.

I also remember the moment when things were going quite badly for me and I turned to see my mother and sister sitting in the front row looking like it was all over and trying to give me a thumbs up. It is a long way to come to watch your son and brother to lose to a cowboy. I said, quite loudly, It ain’t over ‘til the fat lady sings.

RM: How seriously did you take winning? Surely this is just a daft game show and just another vain step in your pursuit of fame?

PM: I have taken it very seriously. You know me, I don’t even play tiddlywinks to lose. I have spent my entire life trying to win every competitive thing I have ever taken part in. All the other celebrities who got fired along the way made pompous speeches about only entering it to raise money for charity. I don’t buy that argument. I think it is insincere and misleads the public. I am honest enough to admit that, Yes I wanted to raise money for charity, but I also entered the show to raise my profile and to win. At least I am not a hypocrite about it.

But the charitable aspect really did hit home to me when I went down to meet the wounded soldiers. That is when I realised that raising $750,000 for them is a big deal. Yes, in many ways, the show is a trivial and frivolous game that doesn’t matter, but when you see what a difference that money will make, it makes me feel very proud.

(We talk in length about the public reaction over there. “Streams of people” have been wishing him well. Simon Cowell has texted saying “Congratulations - from Dr Frankenstein”; Gordon Brown’s wife Sarah has been in touch (Gordon is, apparently, working out the appropriate Government response from the fountain nib of the Establishment - "My victory is being discussed at Cabinet level."), as has Alan Sugar and a soufflé of other lesser known names. It is luvviness in extremis. Then we talk about the reaction from back home…)

RM: Hmm, your old friends on certain newspapers have been quite unkind about your win. Does that make you happy or sad? Any old foes come to your mind at happy times like this?

PM: I am delighted they are enjoying my success so whole-heartedly. They are embracing my triumph with the warmth and admiration that I would expect. I hope they are all enjoying themselves in their rather meagre ivory towers in the east of London, as I sit here in my glorious space in New York.

There are a number of people who I think will be particularly irritated by what has happened. My message to Jeremy Clarkson is: if you keep working, there is a chance that one day you will crack America, you just have to keep at it...dreams do come true.

(The conversation drifts to fame and America’s Got Talent. Piers will celebrate his birthday in LA on Sunday over dinner with Simon and friends at Robert de Niro’s restaurant. I will have to save all the other fascinating outtakes of our chat for my book. It is time to close and go to the pub.)

RM: One of the more startling revelations of your time in the Apprentice was that you were outed as being gay...

PM: Ahem. Maybe I can take the opportunity of this interview to point out that I am in fact NOT a homosexual. I simply kissed a cowboy as a joke after various people decided to “out” me. I have nothing against homosexuals, but I just don’t happen to be one...

RM: But, surely, after such an amazing victory you are gay, in the 19th century translation of the word…

PM. Oh, yes, of course. I am extremely gay at this moment. In fact, I have never felt more gay than I do today.

(I always thought as much)

The Apprentice is on his way

Steady yourselves now, folks ... I have just had a call from Piers' people's people and I am reliably informed he will be patched through to me and Access Interviews just as soon as he has had some high-fat hash browns to soak up the acidity of all the Krug champagne...

Piers Morgan . . . World Exclusive Interview!

Er, please steady yourselves as I announce the following:

Media legend Piers Morgan has just called to say that he will give his first interview since winning The Celebrity Apprentice in America here, on this blog for AccessInterviews.com

This will happen, just as soon as he wakes up in New York, in his luxury suite, surrounded by nubile women, even richer and more famous than he was yesterday to begin what will probably be one of the maddest days of his mad life... so far...

Until then, see his big moment here:
I'll keep you posted...

m/f

Piers Morgan wins ...

FLASH: 5am. London. I finally decide to get up after a sleepless night. I have been restless, deeply troubled. It is as if I know all is not well with the world. I am right.

I go downstairs and see a blue light flashing. My mobile. A text. "I won...".

The "I" is Piers Morgan. The "won" is The Celebrity Apprentice in America.

Unbloodybelievable.

I text back and then the call comes . . .




m/f!

Anthony Minghella RIP

I do not often gasp out loud in horror when I read a story on a website, but I have done just that after reading about the sudden death of film director Anthony Minghella. I am totally shocked and feel deeply saddened.

I did not know Minghella at all and never interviewed him, but I attended a talk he gave about his work at the London Book Fair in March 2004. I met him fleetingly afterwards as he did a signing session for the screenplay of Cold Mountain. A rare "fan" moment for me, but I had a such respect for his craft and talent.

For fun, I also asked him to sign the synopsis of a book I was trying to get published at the time. He asked me about it and we spoke for a few moments. (Deep, deep down, in a fantastical way, I guess I wanted him to eventually make the film of the book). He chuckled warmly as he signed the synopsis and said, with a big, big smile: "Does this mean I have blessed it?" I wrote about this encounter later.

He struck me as a sincere, gentle, modest and supremely gifted man. What a loss.

Indy focus on A.I

Just a quick note to let you know about a piece in The Independent today about Access Interviews. Check it out!

When Felix Dennis met Linda Lovelace . . .

It has taken a while, due to the enormity of running my amazing life, but the re-jig of the Access Interviews.com homepage and, more importantly, the Felix Dennis filmed interview finally went live yesterday. Oh the toil of running a major website.

I had anticipated getting a long and detailed interview with Felix. He is fantastic company and our last interview, at his home in the Cotswolds in the summer of 2006, went on for over four hours. I couldn't shut him up, so I was expecting an all-embracing interview on camera this time.

Alas, no amount of preparation can account for the unexpected in this game. Felix was delayed by a long lunch - an hour and a chuffing half - and then needed to leave sharpish for a board meeting. To be honest, when showbiz flakes keep me waiting like that I throw an internal hissy fit. I sit on hands, bite my tongue, that sort of thing, while secretly wanting to tell them to stick it and naff off. But you have to bury a lot of impotent rage in this interviewing game. Well, if something has taken months to set up, you don't want to throw it away in a fit of pique and come away with nothing. Gulp and swallow that pride like it's a lump of MDF with nails in. I say, get your own back by sticking it to them with a few blunt questions instead.

Oddly enough, I didn't get irritated waiting for Felix. He doesn't really give a flying toss about anything, so I didn't take it personally. And I like him a lot. He is a totally fascinating maverick. Besides, I was quite happy thumbing through his wonderful - and highly valuable - collection of first editions. How much is an immaculate first/first of 'To Kill A Mocking Bird' these days?

Anyway, the Felix interview has already been watched by a few early adopters on the media blog circuit. First prize goes to the mischievous Madame Arcati for picking up on the irreverent insert in the Q&A section. Well, wouldn't you have Linda at your fantasy dinner party?

There are some good interviews for the 'Rob McGibbon Meets' section in the pipeline, so do stay tuned.

Best

Marion should regrette that Oscar speech

Merveilleux to see Marion Cotillard deservedly pick up the Oscar for her mesmerising, moving performance as Edith Piaf in La Vie En Rose. I watched this film on DVD a month ago and was so was blown away by her depiction that I watched the powerful ending several times.

Marion made a vaguely endearing acceptance speech at the Oscars, which follows her Bafta win. Last night, she even thanked the Angels of Los Angeles (she's cleary new to that souless, mendacious city) that have now made her a star.

It seems such a shame that Marion could not see fit to even mention in passing - in either speech - the one angel who made it all possible: the tragic, gifted Edith Piaf.

Marion should be ashamed of herself and regret this appalling oversight.

Access Interviews plugs into YouTube

Just in case this is of interest and easier for you, Access Interviews has gone all YouTube. I know, band wagons are a bore, especially if you are grabbing on well after the event, but such is life.

Britain's Got Talent has got talent

It is not often that I wake up chuckling into the pillow through a throat made sore by a night of intense, stomach crunching laughter. It is also not often that I burn the toast because my mind is happily distracted by turning over the events of the previous evening. But, then, I had never been to see the auditions for ITV's 'Britain's Got Talent'.

Last night, The Artist and I and a friend sat riveted and contorted through what was probably the funniest, most entertaining - and often excruciating - three hours I have had in, erm, a few decades. We ventured to the Hackney Empire under the invitation of Piers Morgan, an old friend who is now, bizzarely, a bona fide TV star on both sides of the Atlantic.

I must be one of the few people in the land not to have seen one minute of BGT. I was abroad throughout its UK arrival last summer, so I came to it cold last night. And what a delightful, emotionally oscillating shock.

Unfortunately, the poor acoustics meant we could hardly hear Morgan or Amanda Holden's comments (maybe was a blessing), but Cowell was just a few feet away and he delivered some gems.

We sat through talking and counting (and crapping) parrots, hopeless magicians, tragic clowns (Cowell: "I am allergic to clowns"), overweight teenage Irish dancers in plastic tiaras and frizz wigs, and a fat mum in a vest dancing like Britney Spears who pitched for the sympathy vote with, "I'm doing this for my kids... one of them is disabled".

Then there was the toe curling embarrassment of "Gunther the Geordie Porn Star" in leopard print briefs practising his pelvic action; Julie, a 41-year-old Southampton Council worker, singing Madonna's Holiday in overly tight glittered Lycra (Cowell: "You're like a drunk on a hen night"); and a Norwegian cleaner living in the UK "for time being" (he's been he eight YEARS) who mimed the effects of being in a storm with a red umbrella.

There were very few genuine acts of talent on what proved to be one of the most fruitless auditions in six weeks of trawling the UK. And Hackney provided the most hostile and cynical of audiences seen by the BGT crew to date. Much has been made in the news recently of the dangers of walking Hackney's streets at night. Well, I can assure you that its foul-mouthed youth are not to be recommended as companions in the theatre either.

A trainee lawyer dancing like Michael Jackson stole the show and easily made it through to the next round, but I won't give away the comic brilliance of his act.

I chatted to Cowell and Morgan backstage afterwards. Both looked a touch exhausted and exasperated with the draining demands of the BGT auditions juggernaut. Cowell said that he was running out of things to say to these people, but I beg to differ. The line of the night was all his and it was this one which had me chuckling again in today's reverie.

It came when a man of 84 called William humbly took to the stage to play Edelweiss on the harmonica. He quietly, but proudly, said he had been playing for 60 years. He then proceeded to silence the baying Empire mob with the dullest, most pedestrian performance in history. There was a very real stench of sympathy and awkwardness. 60 years, for that?

With profound and deadening understatement Cowell looked at him unsmilingly and said: "I think you could do with a little bit more practice."

Priceless.

Bye, bye, Beckham. For now . . .

You may dismiss this as sad Schadenfreude, but I admit to being more than a little pleased that David Beckham was not selected for the England friendly against Switzerland, thereby denying the golden one his 100th cap.

Now, I like Beckham, in that distant, respectful way. I admire his talent and he seems genuinely devoted to England (or more likely his own legacy.) I "met" him once after his first game for Real Madrid in Majorca in 2003. We chatted for a few micro super-celebrity moments in the players' area and I got his autograph (for some young relatives - HONEST!) He seems a decent bloke. He's always on the phone, seeing how I am. That brief meeting clearly had a big impact on him.

For the most part, Beckham carries his extraordinary fame admirably. However, all his hype and self-promotion makes me want to really bloody dislike him. Whether it is his balls all padded up by Armani, or him playing keepy-uppy in 'urban' shorts in the Brazilian surf, or schmoozing among other celebrities. This is when I see a narcissistic, avaricious, spoilt brat who gets everything single damn thing he wants. Which is why, when he doesn't get what he purports to be the most important thing to him, it seems only right. A little bit of 24 carat just desserts. A big bad brick dropped in his golden vanity pool.

When you look at Beckham's global itinerary in recent months and playing time, you also realise that Fabio Capello has made the right decision. Beckham's mind and body is elsewhere, so good riddance. Capello suddenly soared in my estimation for having the gumption to dismiss all the daft clamour to include Beckham for absurd sentimental reasons.

Beckham has several decades ahead of him to make billions, but he has only a brief window of time if he genuinely wants to achieve a worthwhile England playing legacy. What price would he put on that? If you ask me, I don't think, deep down, he is really that bothered, otherwise he would put the breaks on Brand Beckham immediately and dump it on the bench.

In a way - and it seems pathetically spiteful to say this out loud - but I hope he NEVER gets his 100th cap because it will always serve as a metaphor for the choices he made.

Some things never change . . .

I got quite shock this morning when the name came on the radio news: "David Martin" had been murdered. I had not heard that name for 21 years but it took me back in time in a micro second. The memory is amazing, isn't it? I often struggle to work out what I did last week, but I had no problem recalling the name of someone I never knew from July 1986.

David Martin was murdered by a baying mob in Mitcham, South London, last Sunday after a row with neighbours. The reason his name was stored in my mind is that I was a cub reporter on the Wimbledon News who was sent to the scene when David's father Raymond was murdered in almost identical circumstances all those years ago.

Back then, David - 18 - had been attacked by a gang of lads. He bumped into his dad on the way home who then confronted the gang after seeing his son's bloodied nose. David saw his dad clubbed to death in the street with metal poles and heavy sticks.

I have two scrap books of cuttings from my first year on the Wimbledon News. When I got into the office this morning, I easily found my front page report of that horrific killing. (No byline because the editor, Andrew Palmer, was mean like that). It was particularly strange reading the story again, knowing the ultimate tragic fate in store for the boy David who saw his father murdered.

The Sun newspaper feature today's story with a newly designed motif - "Broken Britain" - to reflect its coverage of the escalating violence on our streets. Maybe Britain has always been a bit broken ...

AccessInterviews.com has lift off

Well, today is AI-Day. My website Access Interviews officially launches.

I admit to feeling a little frantic and nervous now that it is out there. Insomnia has become a sudden feature in my previously tranquil life. There is just so much to think about.

And who knows how AI will do. Soar or sink. We will find out in the coming months. We have already had respectful traffic during the previous testing weeks. It is amazing how these things spread. I even have fans in France for my McNab interview. Mon dieu!

You know, it's a strange experience, launching what is essentially a global platform from my humble empire HQ and mind. Access Interviews is, in many ways, a world-wide magazine with many fantastic dimensions - even if I say so myself. A few years back, something like this would have cost millions and taken a huge team. But I have managed it with a handful of dedicated techies and a belly load of expensive belief.

So, yes, I am as apprehensive as any actor on a first night. But to get it all into proportion, I have done what every right thinking person should do in times of concern about your mortal position: I have put on Beethoven's 3rd at full blast.

That knocks any worries into perspective.

Wish me luck.

Attention all Bots and Spiders

Hello and Happy New Year to you all. May 2008 bring you everything you wish for.

With the niceties out the way, on with business. If you are not a computer, a search engine bot or a super tech spider from planet internet, then there is no need to continue reading. This post is purely for machines to digitally promote my new website - www.accessinterviews.com.

You see, my tech team tell me that if I blog about Access Interviews, then the spiders from Mars will get all excited and bump up my Google ranking. It is already incredibly high - No.3 - but we are reaching for the top spot, so here goes.

Access Interviews is a brilliant new website created by me with the young geniuses at Mettic Web Development. The site is dedicated to collating the world's interviews. On this site you will be able to load links to interviews you have written, or simply ones you like, or you can just search for interviews that grab your interest.

Also on Access Interviews (are you paying attention Mr Spider and Miss Bot?) you will also find superb interviews (even if I say so myself) conducted by me called 'Rob McGibbon Meets'. The first is: 'Rob McGibbon Meets Andy McNab'. He is the SAS hero who is met by me for Access Interviews.

Also on Access Interviews you will be able to read the brilliant new column called 'Full 'n' Frank', which is essentially the secret diary of an interviewer. Frank tells it how it really is in interview-land and looks like being very entertaining - unless you are a computer and can only read tech code.

I would now like to Thank all spiders and bots in advance for reading this post and crawling all over AccessInterviews.Com.

If you are a human and have read this far, Thanks. Maybe you can now search for my website - see name above - in Google and see if we are at the top.

My techie best to you all.

RM