It’s a pantingly hot July afternoon, and I am watching The Terminator take a long, grateful slurp out of an Aperol in an Italian restaurant on his home turf. We’re sitting on one of the two tables outside at Rosella’s, a family-run trattoria on the Kentish Town end of the Highgate Road. In the space of a month, Britain has gone from a bleak, unending winter to the full promise of another blazing summer. In that same time, the Dyson Report has led to the latest crisis at the BBC, with Martin Bashir found to have obtained an infamous interview with Princess Diana through ‘deceitful behaviour’. The ruling that has encouraged the corporations’ many enemies in the tabloid press – and in government – to agitate for permanent reform of the national broadcaster.
The Terminator has worked at the BBC for the best part of 20 years, and tells me that he has a plan. But first, a waitress has to wipe up the diced tomatoes of the bruschetta al pomodoro that have unfortunately become dotted around the table. It is an uneasy antipasto for a microprocessor-controlled robot – albeit a robot of such strong opinions – to consume elegantly. There has been much to discuss.
‘I have made the point that smartphones really are the bane of civilisation, and while I still stand by that view, I have become something of a WhatsApp devotee of late. Extremely useful for bringing friends together with a view to some direct action,’ The Terminator tells me with his characteristic brio.
‘We have this group chat which has just been bursting with ideas. Victoria [Coren Mitchell] set it up. We have Robert [Webb] and Olivia [Colman] chipping in morning through till evening. Richard [Osman] knows how people are thinking on the higher floors. And a few other people too. Alan [Rusbridger] is very keen on emojis, which you wouldn’t expect from him.’
While I am fascinated to learn what covert action this guerrilla band of well-remunerated media stars are planning, I have a few questions of my own to pose to The Terminator. If he says the ‘news is a boring programme’, then why are so many comedians placing politics at the beating heart of their output?
‘So, if I understand you correctly, you are implying that all comedians should produce output that is totally and completely apolitical?’ The Terminator counters with something of his trademark world-weary irritation.
Some people, I venture, have pointed out an irony in that The Terminator’s defence of the BBC came on the programme Have I Got News For You, a satirical panel show that throughout the noughties provided our current Prime Minister with a platform to seduce the nation with his raffish wit.
‘I always found Boris perfectly amiable in a sort of shambolic way. I once stayed up until two in the morning with him. We were drinking white wine in my flat in Kilburn – after the Spectator summer party. I remember the evening well: we talked about General Flavius’ strategy at the Battle of the Catalaunian Plains. I have always been fascinated by the last days of Rome.’
