I wish I could say I am a good loser. But I’m not. “Oh you’ve done so well to be nominated,” they kept saying. “You’ve only been doing radio for two years, it’s great to be shortlisted.” Well, yes. Up to a point, Lord Copper. It really was both a surprise and an honour to be shortlisted, to be in the top 5 of what I am told were more than 50 entries for Best SPeech Radio Programme at the Sonys.
But anyone who sits at an awards dinner and doesn’t want to win is lying. And I am no different. And I was gutted not to be in the top three, even if the glass awards were particularly hideous! I’m really not being a sore loser. At all. But I knew what I wanted to say if I had had the opportunity to get up on that platform and I was hugely disappointed not to have had the opportunity. I wrote it down last night just on the offchance I might get a chance to say it. I wasn’t going to read it out, but I wanted to write it down so it was clear in mind. You might think this a rather crass thing to do, seeing as I didn’t win. But here’s what I wanted to say.
I’d like to thank my fabulous producers, Laura Marshall, Carl McQueen and Matt Harris (all pictured) for their patience, guidance and inspiration. And to Joe Pike, Caroline Allen, Christian Mitchell, Rebekah Walker, Hollie Atherton, Tom Cheal, Tom Swarbrick, Dan Freedman and Raj Pattni, who have all, over the last year, showed what a brilliant, young team we have at LBC. Thanks to Richard Park, Ashley Tabor and Stephen Miron for giving me the chance to do what I do. I just wish I had been able to do it 10 years ago. It’s so much more fun than trying to become an MP. And failing.
I want to pay tribute to a man many of you in this room, who have worked at LBC over the last quarter of a century, will know and love. A month ago he celebrated 25 years with us. His name is Chris Lowrie. He lives and breathes LBC and has made me a better broadcaster than I ever thought I could be.
I’m indebted to James Rea for believing in me and encouraging me to be the best I can be. James has this rather David Brent-esque saying that our callers are our hit records. But it’s true. They are what speech radio is all about.
So to Bill on the M25 who I spent twenty minutes talking to, he having told me he was about to commit suicide live on air, I hope I said the right thing. To Anne in Enfield, who told me about her rape eleven years ago and that she hadn’t told her husband – who then phoned back the next night and told me she had now told her husband and she felt as if she could see the blue sky again, I’ll remember your call until the day I die.
And to all those callers who start their calls by saying ‘you don’t half sound like Rick Stein’, thanks for making me smile.
My mother died nearly a year ago. Mum, I hope I’ve made you proud.
And that’s what it was all about. Making my Mum proud of me. Silly old Hector.
Awards evenings are funny things. Tonight there were 31 awards doled out. Far too many. It was a conveyor belt. They could easily delete ten of them and no one would notice. The highlight of the evening was meeting Billy Ocean. I’ve got all his records – Red Light Spells Danger, When the Going Gets Tough, Love on Delivery. The whole lot. And what a lovely man.
I heard last week I had been nominated for Radio Presenter of the Year at the Arqiva Awards in July. I’m up against Frank Skinner and a double act from Real Radio, Dixie & Gayle. These awards are for commercial radio only, which is probably just as well, because at the Sonys the more the evening went on, the more it seemed you had to be a BBC programme to win!
