by Paul Torday
I thought, why are those children coming onto the streets more and more often? It’s not anything we have done, is it? It’s not any speeches we have made, or countries we have invaded, or new constitutions we have written, or sweets we have handed out to children, or football matches between soldiers and the locals. It’s because they, too, watch TV.
They watch TV and see how we live here in the West.
They see children their own age driving sports cars. They see teenagers like them, instead of living in monastic frustration until someone arranges their marriages, going out with lots of different girls, or boys. They see them in bed with lots of different girls and boys. They watch them in noisy bars, bottles of lager upended over their mouths, getting happy, enjoying the privilege of getting drunk. They watch them roaring out support or abuse at football matches. They see them getting on and off planes, flying from here to there without restriction and without fear, going on endless holidays, shopping, lying in the sun. Especially, they see them shopping: buying clothes and PlayStations, buying iPods, video phones, laptops, watches, digital cameras, shoes, trainers, baseball caps. Spending money, of which there is always an unlimited supply, in bars and restaurants, hotels and cinemas. These children of the West are always spending. They are always restless, happy and with unlimited access to cash.
I realised, with a flash of insight, that this was what was bringing these Middle Eastern children out on the streets. I realised that they just wanted to be like us. Those children don’t want to have to go to the mosque five times a day when they could be hanging out with their friends by a bus shelter, by a phone booth or in a bar. They don’t want their families to tell them who they can and can’t marry. They might very well not want to marry at all and just have a series of partners. I mean, that’s what a lot of people do. It is no secret, after that serial in the Daily Mail, that that is what I do. I don’t necessarily need the commitment. Why should they not have the same choices as me? They want the freedom to fly off for their holidays on easy Jet. I know some will say that what a lot of them want is just one square meal a day or the chance of a drink of clean water, but on the whole the poor aren’t the ones on the street and would not be my target audience. They aren’t going to change anything, otherwise why are they so poor? The ones who come out on the streets are the ones who have TVs. They’ve seen how we live, and they want to spend.
And so I had my inspiration.
All of a sudden I knew there was a better way to spend the taxpayer’s money. I didn’t know the latest Treasury estimates of our various military operations but they were enormous and growing all the time. At the time of writing we were operating in fifteen different countries, five of them officially. Because the reasons for our overseas interventions are sometimes complex and politically quite sophisticated, the sad fact is that sometimes the general public does not always appreciate the value of these operations. Who can blame them? Some of our involvements overseas have been going on an awfully long time.
But, I reflected, there are other institutions which we also traditionally spend money on without making much effort to understand the value of the investment. For example, there is the BBC World Service. What’s that for? It’s protected by charter and much as I would like to have taken an axe to it during the earlier years of our government, I knew I could not touch it. I also had to admit that a lot of people listened to it and, I speculated, does that not demonstrate an enormous thirst for information about the European and in particular the British way of life? I have never listened to the World Service myself. I imagined from looking at some of the programme lists that it was mostly repeats of Farming Today or recent speeches in the European Parliament or magazine programmes about tribal rituals in the Congo, and this made me realise that there were audiences in the Arab world and beyond who really must be desperate for a glimpse of a world beyond their own. So, what would they do if they had access to a really zippy British-owned and—controlled TV channel? The idea I developed that winter was to set up a TV station called, let’s say for argument’s sake, Voice of Britain. From the outset I was enthralled by the possibilities and I determined to produce a pilot of a show, in order to take it to the boss. We scripted the show with Noel Edmonds in mind as presenter, but his agent wasn’t keen on the idea. In the end we used a lookalike presenter from al-Jazeera for the pilot. The other problem was that the contestants spoke either Farsi, Pashto, Arabic or Urdu and we needed to put the show out in English, so simultaneous translators were needed. But on the whole I think it worked extremely well.
26
Script of TV pilot for Prizes for the People
Episode One (Duration 30 minutes), Prizes for the People
[Title sequence]
[00.30 ]
[Theme music ]
[Presenter welcome and introduction ]
[00.30 ]
[Presenter is standing in the ruins of a village.]
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘Good evening. I’m Muhammad Jaballah, and I’m standing here in the middle of the village of Dugan in the Northern Frontier District of Pakistan. The villagers of Dugan have been going through a tough time recently, as their government battles for the control of the area with the Taliban and al-Qaeda. But now things are about to change for them. They are going to join me in my new show, a show that will test the wits of contestants from all over the Middle East and Asia. And, if they get the right answers, their lives will undergo the most incredible transformation. They will win prizes beyond their wildest dreams. Welcome to our great new show, [Theme music ] Prizes for the People.’
’
[Still photograph of a Pakistani male in his early twenties.]
Male voice⁄over:
‘Farrukh from Dugan will be our first contestant. But for now let’s learn more about Dugan, the wonderful village which Farrukh comes from.’
[Presenter location link]
[00.60 ]
Dugan, Northern Frontier District, Pakistan
Presenter walks through the ruins of drystone-walled houses, surrounded by the remains of an almond grove in blossom. Blackened stumps indicate a recent fire. Presenter stops in front of the remains of one house distinguished by a bomb crater in front of it.
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘This is Dugan, once a thriving village in the north of Pakistan, set amidst beautiful almond groves with snowcapped mountains behind. A lovely place, and in a moment we’ll meet the lovely people who live here. Sadly, as you can see, a Tomahawk cruise missile landed here a few months ago and did some damage. The house behind me was Farrukh’s and unfortunately the explosion knocked down most of the building, and some of Farrukh’s family were fatalities. But, hey, that’s why we’re here—to try and bring a smile back onto the faces of Farrukh and his friends.’
[Presenter studio]
[00.40 ]
Muhammad Jaballah is now seen on set, in the studio. He is wearing black robes edged with gold. In the background are cutout images of sand dunes. An inflated plastic camel pokes its head up above the dunes while Muhammad speaks.
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘Tonight Farrukh and his friends from his village, Imran and Hassan, will compete in the very first show of Prizes for the People. I am thrilled to have this opportunity to change their lives. This is more than just a quiz show we’re going to do good.’
The camera pans across to two chairs facing each other centre stage at the front of the set.
[Theme music ]
The first contestant, Farrukh, enters from stage left and walks across to sit opposite Muhammad.
[Applause ]
Male v⁄o:
‘And now, a big welcome for…Farrukh from Dugan!’
[Presenter studio]
[1.00 ]
Muhammad Jaballah:
‘Tell us about yourself, Farrukh. Where do you come from?’
Contestant (camera pans across):
‘I come from Dugan, in
the Tribal Areas.’
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘Farrukh, in a few moments we are going to ask you a question. Not very hard, but you have to get it right. But first tell us about Dugan.’
Contestant (in shot with presenter):
‘Dugan is a very beautiful village but it has been a little bit exploded. The generator is blown up and the well is filled with sand and stone, and some of the houses have fallen down.’
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘Farrukh, that’s very sad, and I hope that today you will be able to win some prizes. So now let’s see if you can answer the first question?’
[Theme music ]
[Fade to black, then back in vision]
[Presenter studio]
[1.20 ]
[Dramatic background music ]
Muhammad Jaballah (in shot with contestant):
‘Okay, Farrukh, here’s the first question: what animal can cross the desert for ten days without any food or water?’
Contestant (close up):
‘It sounds like a…’
Muhammad Jaballah (close up):
‘Don’t guess now, Farrukh. Don’t say the first thing that conies into your head, otherwise you’ll be on your way back to Dugan with nothing, and we wouldn’t like that now, would we?’
[Audience shots of ‘No!’ and ‘Way to go, Farrukh!’]
Contestant (in shot with presenter):
‘It is a…’
Muhammad Jaballah (close up):
‘Before you answer, Farrukh, have a look at these choices and tell me which of these three possible answers is the correct one.’
[Multiple-choice question]
[00.30 ]
Male v⁄o:
‘Okay, Farrukh, if you can answer correctly which of these three animals can cross the desert for ten days without food or water, then you will win the first of tonight’s major prizes:
[Graphics]
A. Elephant
B. Ox
C. Camel
Find out what Farrukh thinks the right answer is after the break.’
[COMMERCIAL BREAK]
[Presenter studio]
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘Farrukh, is the answer A, B, or C? Take your time now.’
[Dramatic music]
Contestant (in close up):
‘Is a…’
Muhammad Jaballah (in close up):
‘Take your time, Farrukh—you don’t want to get this first question wrong. But, give me the right answer and the first of tonight’s fabulous prizes will be yours.’
[Audience applause ]
Contestant (close up):
‘…is a camel, no?’
[Audience laughter ]
Muhammad Jaballah (in close up):
‘Well done, Farrukh. It’s the right answer! It is a camel!’
[Inflatable camel jogs up and down the dunes ]
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘And here’s the first big prize tonight, Farrukh, and it’s yours to take home with you to Dugan after the show tonight!’
[Audience applause ]
[Onscreen picture of a dishwasher]
Contestant (in shot with presenter, shaking hands):
‘Thank you very much, Mr Muhammad, what is this machine?’
Male v⁄o:
‘Farrukh, tonight you have won a dishwasher with fourteen place settings, a six-wash programme, three wash temperatures, a high-grade stainless steel interior, a double waterproof system and a child safety lock. You can load it with porcelain, crystal glasses, bone-handled cutlery and it won’t do the slightest damage. And—there’s a three-year parts and labour warranty.’
[Studio applause ]
Muhammad Jaballah (in vision):
‘A big hand for Farrukh. And now let’s welcome our next contestant!’
27
Extract from Peter Maxwell’s unpublished autobiography
After I had come up with that idea for the TV quiz show, I knew I had been granted an absolutely brilliant insight into how to win the war of hearts and minds in the Middle East. So I took it to the Cabinet. When I say the Cabinet, I mean the three or four of them who would come over and sit in the Terracotta Room at Number 10 on Friday nights unless they got stuck for some reason in the House.
They would sit around with Jay, crack a few bottles of Chardonnay and decide how to run the country. The usual ones were there: Reginald Brown, who was home secretary; Davidson, who ran defence at that time; and the foreign secretary, as he was then, before he became prime minister. Usually James Burden, the chancellor of the exchequer, would also be there.
I had told Jay earlier that I was developing quite an exciting idea which could get us back on the front foot. I wanted to run it past him, and them, and get some feedback before I worked it up into a detailed plan. Jay asked me to join the next Friday evening session. At eight o’clock I knew they would all have arrived and would have had at least one drink, but would still be capable of addressing any subject I brought to them, as I sometimes did. It was the best moment to capture their attention. I went upstairs and knocked on the door, and Jay called to come through.
The five of them were sprawled in armchairs and on sofas, a couple of bottles of white wine half empty on a low table between them. Jay offered me a glass, which I accepted but did not touch. I would have a drink afterwards, when they were patting me on the shoulder and congratulating me on my idea.
‘Gentlemen,’ I said, ‘I’m going to tell you how to win the hearts and minds of the everyday working people of the Middle East without firing another shot.’
I had not given Jay any advance warning of what I was going to say. He trusted me. He knew if I had something to tell them, it would be worth listening to. I often sat in on those sessions anyway, but Jay liked to make it clear I was there by his invitation. Anyway, there they sat around the table, coats off, ties loosened, faces a little flushed from the wine. As I came in they were talking about the Middle East anyway, so it seemed my timing was just about right.
Tell them what you’re going to tell them, tell them, and then tell them what you’ve told them. That’s what my system has always been, and it never fails. So I told them in outline what I was going to tell them, then I gave them a summary of my proposal for a new Voice of Britain channel and went into some of the ideas I had started to develop on programme content. I also told them about an idea for a new easy-to-use credit card for general issue in the Middle East—instant credit approval for anyone who could actually sign their name on a form, backed by all the major British clearing banks and underwritten by the Treasury using money no longer needed for defence. I saw the chancellor and the secretary of state for defence both look up at this, and I knew my message was getting through.
I told them about the low-cost TV sets that would be distributed in the countries we most wanted to extend our influence in, TV sets that would only tune into one channel, Voice of Britain, and the network of transmitters that would beam in the new programmes twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, not forgetting the sabbath. Then I told them about my quiz show, the flagship programme for the channel.
I did my presentation without a laptop or digital projector, without PowerPoint, without charts or notes. People have often said to me that I am at my very best when I speak unaided, straight from the heart. It was one of my better efforts. At the end I said, ‘The total funding requirement for a campaign of this type needs to be properly costed, and of course that has not been done yet. But I am convinced that it would cost just a fraction of what we are spending right now on military operations. And it would deliver ten times, a hundred times, more in terms of getting our messages and values across.’
There was quite a long silence when I had finished. Jay picked up a pencil and looked at its point, then put it down again. The foreign secretary stretched back in his chair and studied the ceiling. The chancellor fiddled with his Blackberry. Then Davids
on said, ‘Peter, you need to get out more.’
I stared at him. I couldn’t believe anyone in his position could make such an infantile remark, although my knowledge of Davidson should perhaps have prepared me for such a possibility. It was as if the last fifteen minutes had counted for nothing all.
I was about to say something I might have regretted when Jay looked up and said kindly, ‘Peter, this is visionary stuff.
Just like you. But it needs thinking through a bit more carefully. There are some religious and political issues here that need sensitive handling. And you’ve got a lot on your plate just now. You’ve been working very hard. You need to ease up a bit. Maybe take a short break. And then we’ll come back to this, perhaps. Maybe kick it around a bit more. The secretary of state for culture, media and sport ought to be involved in the debate. Maybe education as well. I’ll ask them both to give it some thought. But for now, great as it is, I think we have to park your idea. We’re pretty much committed to going down a particular road in the Middle East and it would be difficult to change that very much without people beginning to ask why we’d started down it in the first place.’
For some reason, as Jay finished speaking my eyes filled with tears. I stood up and went to the alcove where the bottles were kept and poured myself a glass of water with my back to the table, then wiped my eyes with the back of my hand while nobody could see my face. I felt rejected. I felt my vision had been so clear, so perfect, so lateral. Why could nobody else see that this was the way to go? The foreign secretary was speaking.
‘Nevertheless, boss,’ he said, ‘Peter’s got a point. We may have an excellent set of policies in the Middle East, and as you well know I have always endorsed and supported them to the hilt. Moreover, we know that in the long run we will succeed. We know militant Islam is being rolled back and that democratic consumer societies are springing up to replace the old theocracies. House prices are rising again in Fallujah. And in Gaza. That is tremendously exciting stuff and endorses some of what Peter has been saying.’
