Only Kidding

It takes a special something to be a children’s tv presenter. Something more than just an ability to juggle – although juggling certainly helps. Children’s tv presenters must be able to smile. Chris and Pui present Cbeebies, the BBC channel aimed at children six and under, and they smile a lot. In their West London studio they are talking – for exactly 30 seconds – about “things that begin with the letter t”. And even though they record over 100 links in a day, they smile like they mean it.

In the lingo of today’s reality tv generation, they are keeping it real. “A lot of people think that, as a children’s tv presenter, you just have to eat a bag of jelly beans and jump around” says Pui. “But the less you do that the better. When I first got the job at Cbeebies I went over the top. The editor said ‘Come and look at this’, and he played back the tape for me to watch. It’s painful when you’re ‘being a children’s tv presenter’. You’re as bad as those Hale and Pace characters – all eyes and teeth.”

Children’s programmes at the BBC haven’t really changed a great deal since the days of The Woodentops – scissors are still for grown-ups, and sticky back plastic is still, well, sticky back plastic. Admittedly, the language these days is ‘eh oh’ rather than ‘flob a lob’, but the principles are the same – children’s television is there to educate and entertain. And the people presenting it are there to be responsible and upright. If they’re not, heaven help them.

“We still expect high standards,” says Michael Carrington, the Creative Director of Cbeebies. “Cleaner than squeaky clean.” But apart from a police check, the criteria for children’s tv presenters are no tougher than – for instance – tv weathermen. “But they are signing up to a proper lifestyle” says Carrington. “After all, they are part of children’s lives. Children aspire to be them. So we expect them to have high moral values.” Whatever they might be.

Janet Ellis from Blue Peter created a stir when she announced, on-air, that she was having a child out of wedlock. Ellis insists it was her decision to leave, but reports say she was sacked. Anyway, to be honest, handling the tortoise in the advanced stages of pregnancy would have been a Health and Safety nightmare. Then Peter Duncan went and admitted he had once featured in a porn film, and Michael Sundin told the papers he had danced in his underpants with a male stripper. There was no going back.

Richard Bacon trumped them all with his 12-hour binge of drink and drugs. But the episode illustrated how children’s tv presenters are still differently – especially by the BBC. Radio 2 DJ Johnnie Walker kept his job after he was convicted of cocaine offences. But Bacon, who admitted taking cocaine but was never actually charged, got the sack. The difference, say the BBC, was that Walker was talking to adults – Bacon was talking to children. Bacon was a role model.

The wonderful Justin Fletcher (aka Mr Tumble and Jim Jam) really is a role model for millions. He’s the co-presenter of Tikkabilla and Higgledy House, and provides the voices for Jake and Doodles on the Tweenies, and Growling Tiger in Boo! So when a tabloid newspaper recently accused him of greeting the viewers of Something Special with ‘I’m f****** you’ in sign language, it turned children’s tv upside down. Especially because the show is for children with special needs.

It was a mean-spirited little lie. “And totally incorrect” says Justin. “The Royal National Institute for the Deaf viewed the footage – the signing they were talking about. And it was all fine. Something Special has been going for four-and-a-half years and we’ve had a makaton signer on the studio floor all that time. So mistakes like this just aren’t made.” But that’s the problem with setting yourself up as a role model. Even if you aren’t making the mistakes, the press will just make them for you.

The BBC began broadcasting its For The Children strand in 1946. Among the favourites were Annette Mills and Muffin the Mule. It wasn’t until 1953, with the expansion of programmes to three afternoons a week, that the BBC introduced Watch With Mother. The title was intended to deflect fears that television might encourage bad parenting by ever allowing Mother to leave the room. But television isn’t worried about that these days. Not with 23 channels competing for the children’s audience.

Earlier this month, Media regulator Ofcom called for a debate on the future of children’s TV in Britain, saying just 17% of output is now homegrown – investment by ITV1, GMTV, Channel 4 and Five has halved in real terms since 1998. Carrington thinks it’s a debate worth having, even though he buys in only an average of 8% of his output. “We’re always on the hunt for creative ideas” he says. “Wherever they come from. But we only buy to fill in the gaps.”

To keep viewers, programmes are getting shorter. And becoming ‘multi-platform’. Take Tommy Zoom. He started out as a funny little computer graphic on the CBeebies website. He was so popular that he got his own series. In a world where 80% of children live in digital homes with computers, they expect programmes to have a website. So channels have to consider if series will work on computers as well as tv screens. It’s a new phenomenon called “360 degree commissioning”.

Cbeebies is aware of its market place. Which is why it’s introducing the new Big Fun Time, next month, with more Dad-centric programmes on Saturday and Sunday. Presenters now present from different ‘zones’ at different times of the day, including the ‘garage’ zone with Sid Sloane. With echoes of Dr Who, it’s designed to appeal to four- and five-year-old boys. They are just starting to understand the remote control, and, let’s be honest, Nick Junior has got The Power Rangers.

Sid loves to be approached on the streets. “I love to see the kids’ faces” says Sloane. “When I was four, I thought children’s presenters lived in the tv. Once, when my Mum went to work, I got a knife and started unscrewing the set. We’d just seen Tom Thumb, and I remember thinking ‘We’re going to have tiny presenters in the palms of our hands.’ We didn’t find any, but I can only imagine what it must be like to meet someone from the telly. In the flesh. Wow.”

Sid really is friends with Chris and Pui, and is taking them out to tea at Fortnums for Chris’ birthday. Over finger sandwiches and sponge cake, they will probably talk about the badminton evenings round at Justin’s. Or the wonderful nights out at the theatre, including the West End musical Avenue Q. But they won’t be talking about the Cbeebies viewing figures. “Maybe further up in the BBC” says Sid. “But not at our level. We’re just doing it for the kids.”

Back in the Cbeebies studio, it’s time for Birthdays. William is three today, and Mummy has sent in a big card featuring Postman Pat carrying William in his sack! But the card doesn’t work quite as Mummy intended. “Oh no” says Chris, to camera one. “Arm malfunction.” Chris sees it all the time. “The cards are so complicated these days” he says. “‘Pull the lever to make Fireman Sam wave’. That sort of thing. Some of the parents must be graphic designers. You wouldn’t believe it.”

Chris, who is 37, is happy to be a role model. “I don’t do clubs any more – I do DIY and listen to Radio 4. It’s not difficult to stay squeaky clean. It might be more of an issue for the guys who present CBBC [which is the edgier BBC children’s channel aimed at the over 6s, with presenters who are a bit younger and groovier]. Pui agrees. She’s 34 and likes shopping in Asda. “To be honest, and it hurts me to say this, Chris and I are a little bit boring.”

They relish the fact they’re role models. Chris likes to make sure his grammar is correct, and resolutely refuses to split his infinitives. He strives to improve on his performance by reading the BBC online discussion forums, where parents post things like “don’t wear the t-shirt with the eyes, Chris – it’s frightening” and “don’t refer to the Cbeebies website when it’s nearly bedtime”. And he likes children to give him feedback – even if it’s on the bus home.

“I’ve spent my entire life spelling my name over the phone,” says Pui, “and pronouncing it for people. To hear it shouted out to me by kids all over the place is quite refreshing. But they genuinely believe I know them. They’re really sincere. They don’t want anything from you. Only a Mum would say ‘Can I have a photo?’. A kid demands nothing from you other than the chance to say ‘Hello’. And tell you that they’ve got a plaster on their knee because they fell off their bike.”

Justin hasn’t noticed the children are more reluctant to approach him since the Something Special incident. “And in the supermarket,” he says, “they still run up to me and grab my leg.” But, once they’ve got his leg, they can’t seem to work out what to do with it. “And a couple of weeks ago I was opening a fete,” says Justin. “A child came up to me and said ‘I never thought you were part of our world’. They make me laugh.”

Children’s tv is not an easy world to break into. Chris started out as a Butlin’s red coat, but Pui, Chris and Justin started out as actors. “I remember making a showreel” says Justin. “With a few of my funny characters. There was the reptile keeper Anna Conda, the antiques expert Anne Tique and the newsreader Arthur Sleep. It was like a mini Harry Enfield show for chlidren.” It was enough to get him his first presenting job, on Fun Song Factory.

Since then, Justin has gone on to become a children’s tv mogul. He has his own production company – Scrumptious House – and he’s about to pitch a new sketch show idea to Cbeebies’ Michael Carrington.“A pre-school Little Britain” says Justin. And he’s also hoping to do some straight acting in the future. He’s already been asked to appear as a Roman emperor in the Roman Mysteries on CBBC. Without a funny nose.

It’s a sensible move – you can’t be a children’s tv presenter forever. The presenters point to Brian Cant, who still does Dappledown Farm, and Derek Griffiths, who will be forever panto, but they’re fooling no-one. Getting old is a worry. And so is burning out. “I was singing Old McDonald,” says Justin, “and I did the cow, the duck and the pig. But, when I got to the sheep, I went completely blank. I forgot what noise a sheep makes. That was a little bit worrying. I thought ‘Maybe I’m getting too old for this’.”



		Only Kidding It takes a special something to be a children’s tv presenter. Something more than just an ability to juggle – although juggling certainly helps. Children’s tv presenters must be able to smile. Chris and Pui present Cbeebies, the BBC channel aimed at children six and under, and they smile a lot. In their West London studio they are talking – for exactly 30 seconds – about “things that begin with the letter t”. And even though they record over 100 links in a day, they smile like they mean it. In the lingo of today’s reality tv generation, they are keeping it real. “A lot of people think that, as a children’s tv presenter, you just have to eat a bag of jelly beans and jump around” says Pui. “But the less you do that the better. When I first got the job at Cbeebies I went over the top. The editor said ‘Come and look at this’, and he played back the tape for me to watch. It’s painful when you’re ‘being a children’s tv presenter’. You’re as bad as those Hale and Pace characters – all eyes and teeth.” Children’s programmes at the BBC haven’t really changed a great deal since the days of The Woodentops – scissors are still for grown-ups, and sticky back plastic is still, well, sticky back plastic. Admittedly, the language these days is ‘eh oh’ rather than ‘flob a lob’, but the principles are the same – children’s television is there to educate and entertain. And the people presenting it are there to be responsible and upright. If they’re not, heaven help them. “We still expect high standards,” says Michael Carrington, the Creative Director of Cbeebies. “Cleaner than squeaky clean.” But apart from a police check, the criteria for children’s tv presenters are no tougher than – for instance – tv weathermen. “But they are signing up to a proper lifestyle” says Carrington. “After all, they are part of children’s lives. Children aspire to be them. So we expect them to have high moral values.” Whatever they might be. Janet Ellis from Blue Peter created a stir when she announced, on-air, that she was having a child out of wedlock. Ellis insists it was her decision to leave, but reports say she was sacked. Anyway, to be honest, handling the tortoise in the advanced stages of pregnancy would have been a Health and Safety nightmare. Then Peter Duncan went and admitted he had once featured in a porn film, and Michael Sundin told the papers he had danced in his underpants with a male stripper. There was no going back. Richard Bacon trumped them all with his 12-hour binge of drink and drugs. But the episode illustrated how children’s tv presenters are still differently – especially by the BBC. Radio 2 DJ Johnnie Walker kept his job after he was convicted of cocaine offences. But Bacon, who admitted taking cocaine but was never actually charged, got the sack. The difference, say the BBC, was that Walker was talking to adults – Bacon was talking to children. Bacon was a role model. The wonderful Justin Fletcher (aka Mr Tumble and Jim Jam) really is a role model for millions. He’s the co-presenter of Tikkabilla and Higgledy House, and provides the voices for Jake and Doodles on the Tweenies, and Growling Tiger in Boo! So when a tabloid newspaper recently accused him of greeting the viewers of Something Special with ‘I’m f****** you’ in sign language, it turned children’s tv upside down. Especially because the show is for children with special needs. It was a mean-spirited little lie. “And totally incorrect” says Justin. “The Royal National Institute for the Deaf viewed the footage – the signing they were talking about. And it was all fine. Something Special has been going for four-and-a-half years and we’ve had a makaton signer on the studio floor all that time. So mistakes like this just aren’t made.” But that’s the problem with setting yourself up as a role model. Even if you aren’t making the mistakes, the press will just make them for you. The BBC began broadcasting its For The Children strand in 1946. Among the favourites were Annette Mills and Muffin the Mule. It wasn’t until 1953, with the expansion of programmes to three afternoons a week, that the BBC introduced Watch With Mother. The title was intended to deflect fears that television might encourage bad parenting by ever allowing Mother to leave the room. But television isn’t worried about that these days. Not with 23 channels competing for the children’s audience. Earlier this month, Media regulator Ofcom called for a debate on the future of children’s TV in Britain, saying just 17% of output is now homegrown – investment by ITV1, GMTV, Channel 4 and Five has halved in real terms since 1998. Carrington thinks it’s a debate worth having, even though he buys in only an average of 8% of his output. “We’re always on the hunt for creative ideas” he says. “Wherever they come from. But we only buy to fill in the gaps.” To keep viewers, programmes are getting shorter. And becoming ‘multi-platform’. Take Tommy Zoom. He started out as a funny little computer graphic on the CBeebies website. He was so popular that he got his own series. In a world where 80% of children live in digital homes with computers, they expect programmes to have a website. So channels have to consider if series will work on computers as well as tv screens. It’s a new phenomenon called “360 degree commissioning”. Cbeebies is aware of its market place. Which is why it’s introducing the new Big Fun Time, next month, with more Dad-centric programmes on Saturday and Sunday. Presenters now present from different ‘zones’ at different times of the day, including the ‘garage’ zone with Sid Sloane. With echoes of Dr Who, it’s designed to appeal to four- and five-year-old boys. They are just starting to understand the remote control, and, let’s be honest, Nick Junior has got The Power Rangers. Sid loves to be approached on the streets. “I love to see the kids’ faces” says Sloane. “When I was four, I thought children’s presenters lived in the tv. Once, when my Mum went to work, I got a knife and started unscrewing the set. We’d just seen Tom Thumb, and I remember thinking ‘We’re going to have tiny presenters in the palms of our hands.’ We didn’t find any, but I can only imagine what it must be like to meet someone from the telly. In the flesh. Wow.” Sid really is friends with Chris and Pui, and is taking them out to tea at Fortnums for Chris’ birthday. Over finger sandwiches and sponge cake, they will probably talk about the badminton evenings round at Justin’s. Or the wonderful nights out at the theatre, including the West End musical Avenue Q. But they won’t be talking about the Cbeebies viewing figures. “Maybe further up in the BBC” says Sid. “But not at our level. We’re just doing it for the kids.” Back in the Cbeebies studio, it’s time for Birthdays. William is three today, and Mummy has sent in a big card featuring Postman Pat carrying William in his sack! But the card doesn’t work quite as Mummy intended. “Oh no” says Chris, to camera one. “Arm malfunction.” Chris sees it all the time. “The cards are so complicated these days” he says. “‘Pull the lever to make Fireman Sam wave’. That sort of thing. Some of the parents must be graphic designers. You wouldn’t believe it.” Chris, who is 37, is happy to be a role model. “I don’t do clubs any more – I do DIY and listen to Radio 4. It’s not difficult to stay squeaky clean. It might be more of an issue for the guys who present CBBC [which is the edgier BBC children’s channel aimed at the over 6s, with presenters who are a bit younger and groovier]. Pui agrees. She’s 34 and likes shopping in Asda. “To be honest, and it hurts me to say this, Chris and I are a little bit boring.” They relish the fact they’re role models. Chris likes to make sure his grammar is correct, and resolutely refuses to split his infinitives. He strives to improve on his performance by reading the BBC online discussion forums, where parents post things like “don’t wear the t-shirt with the eyes, Chris – it’s frightening” and “don’t refer to the Cbeebies website when it’s nearly bedtime”. And he likes children to give him feedback – even if it’s on the bus home. “I’ve spent my entire life spelling my name over the phone,” says Pui, “and pronouncing it for people. To hear it shouted out to me by kids all over the place is quite refreshing. But they genuinely believe I know them. They’re really sincere. They don’t want anything from you. Only a Mum would say ‘Can I have a photo?’. A kid demands nothing from you other than the chance to say ‘Hello’. And tell you that they’ve got a plaster on their knee because they fell off their bike.” Justin hasn’t noticed the children are more reluctant to approach him since the Something Special incident. “And in the supermarket,” he says, “they still run up to me and grab my leg.” But, once they’ve got his leg, they can’t seem to work out what to do with it. “And a couple of weeks ago I was opening a fete,” says Justin. “A child came up to me and said ‘I never thought you were part of our world’. They make me laugh.” Children’s tv is not an easy world to break into. Chris started out as a Butlin’s red coat, but Pui, Chris and Justin started out as actors. “I remember making a showreel” says Justin. “With a few of my funny characters. There was the reptile keeper Anna Conda, the antiques expert Anne Tique and the newsreader Arthur Sleep. It was like a mini Harry Enfield show for chlidren.” It was enough to get him his first presenting job, on Fun Song Factory. Since then, Justin has gone on to become a children’s tv mogul. He has his own production company – Scrumptious House – and he’s about to pitch a new sketch show idea to Cbeebies’ Michael Carrington.“A pre-school Little Britain” says Justin. And he’s also hoping to do some straight acting in the future. He’s already been asked to appear as a Roman emperor in the Roman Mysteries on CBBC. Without a funny nose. It’s a sensible move – you can’t be a children’s tv presenter forever. The presenters point to Brian Cant, who still does Dappledown Farm, and Derek Griffiths, who will be forever panto, but they’re fooling no-one. Getting old is a worry. And so is burning out. “I was singing Old McDonald,” says Justin, “and I did the cow, the duck and the pig. But, when I got to the sheep, I went completely blank. I forgot what noise a sheep makes. That was a little bit worrying. I thought ‘Maybe I’m getting too old for this’.”

		© Richard Johnson 2000 - 2009