This week, Victoria has been watching The Morning Show
A couple of series ago, we had a really handsome cameraman on Only Connect. I mean, don’t get me wrong – they’re all gorgeous. They’re a grizzled Welsh and West Country crew, all skills and machismo packed into combat trousers, very much my cup of tea; for me, that studio floor is like Monet’s garden at Giverny. But this particular fellow was younger, trendier and boy-band pretty. I’d heard about him in the makeup room, where he was much discussed.
“Where is this hot cameraman everyone’s talking about?” I demanded as I clacked onto the set with my question pack, doughnut and carrier bag of shoes. “Ooh …yes I see what you mean! Quite an improvement to the view!”
Honestly, I sounded like Sid James. (Unfortunately, the resemblance didn’t end there.) Of course, it was just my way of saying hello: I meant it to be funny, and a bit self-mocking, and a compliment to the chap in question, whom I assumed was a strapping Welshman who could take care of himself. My Only Connect persona is always saying unsuitable things, moody and whimsical and rarely respectful of traditional quiz show decorum; it was much in that spirit. But, I realised, if I were male and he was female, it would be revolting. Just some old lech putting an ingenue on the spot.
Might the exchange have made him feel awkward? Only Connect is a top-rated show, I’ve always been the host and he was new: might this have been an abuse of power? The wheels of social convention would only have to turn by a couple of spokes, his professional life only veer off the rails a little, and he could be going to the BBC/newspapers/police in 10 years’ time to report that I had made him feel vulnerable, or unable to do his job properly – and there I’d be, like one of those ghastly bum-pinchers from 1970s telly, bleating: “Them was different times! Don’t judge it by today’s standards, it was all OK then!”