My absolute favourite clip in the whole of You Tube.

 I think this is my favourite clip in the whole of You Tube.

 It's George Harrison watching a clip of the Beatles doing "This Boy", the B-side of "I Want To Hold Your Hand", on a regional TV show in 1963.

He's watching it in the year 1976. He's thirty-three. He's gone up to Granada in Manchester to plug his new album "Thirty Three and A Third".

Tony Wilson, who can be seen in the background, brings him into the edit suite and gets the editor to load the old reels into the Steenbeck editing machine so that George can look at this clip, which he has never seen. It's like he's looking back into the far-distant past. Thirteen years earlier.

Mark Cooper and I had lunch today. We were talking about the mid-70s, when the Beatles were all still around and only in their thirties. At the time nobody realised their reputation was only at the beginning of its ascent. That's when this clip was shot.

Think about the things that would have been inconceivable to the people in that clip. The internet, You Tube and John Lennon's murder for a start.

Which bands will be in the V&A in 2026?

The V&A have announced their Pink Floyd exhibition.

There are just four British acts who could justify this kind of treatment: The Beatles, Rolling Stones, David Bowie and Pink Floyd.

Queen and Elton John would probably attract the public but places like the V&A are first and foremost snobs and they'd be too snooty to have them.

So that's just four, all of whom made their names in the first twenty years after Elvis.

And they've all kept on adding fans with each successive generation so that they're all more popular now than when they were doing their most popular stuff.

Who's making music nowadays that you'll be able to say the same about?

Who's come along since 1975 who might get the V&A treatment in 2026?

All TV Should Be Like Carpool Karaoke

One of the reasons Carpool Karaoke has taken the world by storm is it finally solves the problem which has been apparent to the people in front of the camera for years but never seemed to get through to the people behind the camera - what makes performers nervous is not the thought of the millions of people at home; it's the thought of the half-dozen camera operators and production personnel who are standing just a few feet away.

Carpool Karaoke is shot the same way that Top Gear is, in cars kitted out with invisible cameras and microphones, with all the production staff relegated to vehicles either preceding or following. Corden's completely in charge and all the star's fluffers, minders and supernumaries are too far away to get in the way.

I once did a couple of things like this for a cable channel. I drove around Manchester interviewing Tony Wilson and drove around London interviewing Bryan Ferry. I can't tell you how liberating this was compared to the standard TV interview experience.

In fact, all telly should be done like this.

I've read the Ring Cycle of political biographies. Do I get a badge?

Robert Caro started writing 'The Years Of Lyndon Johnson" in the early 80s. His plan was to be able to cover the President's whole life and times in three volumes. Then he decided that wasn't enough. He's now published four volumes and is working on a fifth. I first tried reading it in the early 90s and gave up. In fact I even took one volume to the charity shop in one of my periodic attempts to thin out my books.

Earlier this year, encouraged by having read a few other presidential biographies, I bought the volumes I didn't have and on holiday I just finished reading the fourth, "The Passage Of Power". The third volume, "Master of The Senate", was so heavy that I bought a book stand to hold it as I read it. And guess what? It's an extraordinary piece of work. I can't wait for volume five, but I'm clearly going to have to.

I'm not going to recommend you should read it because I wouldn't want anyone to make that kind of commitment on my recommendation. I was discussing this with a friend while on holiday. My spirit increasingly rebels when people say "you must read this" or "you have to watch that." You should read or listen to or watch whatever gives you most pleasure. However, if you are in the market for 3,000 plus pages about the life and times of a man who was not all that pleasant but achieved a lot more than most of his better-known peers, here it is.

Think about it. If Francois Hollande has a round- the-clock hairdresser, so does your rock hero

Mark Ellen, Paul Du Noyer, Zoe Howe and I were in Harrogate last week, plugging our books at the local literary festival (and, as you can see, admiring the display in the local Waterstone’s).

Over dinner the evening before we debated that greatest of all rock & roll mysteries, greater even than the unanswered question of who wrote the Book Of Love; how come all the senior superstars of rock still have hair?

There are exceptions. Pete Townshend. James Taylor. A few others. But they are exceptions.

The Rolling Stones, McCartney, Roger Waters, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan and Rod Stewart all appear to still have tons of the stuff and some of them won’t see seventy again.

It only makes sense if you recognise the fact that hanging on to their hair is not a question of preference; it's a professional imperative. Mark remembered asking Rod Stewart how long he would keep on doing it and he said “as long as I have the barnet”.

This wasn't just a flip comment. This was Rod speaking from the heart. You cannot sing “Maggie May” with a receding hairline. It simply can’t be done. The audience will take one look at you and know that both you and they are fooling themselves.

We were thinking about our experience backstage at big shows, how every last detail of the performance is the responsibility of somebody, how it’s planned better than a military operation (whereas no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy, a rock show is a nightly battle where the outcome is guaranteed); is it possible, we thought, that there aren’t people back there whose job it is to make sure that the hair of the stars is not seen to its very best advantage, even if that means outright fakery?

We decided that was unlikely, particularly since we’ve been watching the hairlines of the stars of the sixties and seventies recede, halt and then mysteriously advance again.

And now that I’ve just read that Francois Hollande, the French President, put his ownhairdresser on staff, at a cost to the taxpayer of ten thousand Euros a month, I’m even more convinced that there has to be an entire army of colorists, camouflage experts, blow driers and titivators employed to keep us from seeing the uncovered domes of those we are pleased to call rock heroes.

After all rock, like football management, is a business that’s about one thing above all. Hair.

There is no such thing as a piece of entertainment that's too short

Good line from Alec Baldwin's "Here's The Thing" interview with former Disney boss Michael Eisner. Now that Eisner doesn't run a studio any more he can be a lot franker than he would have been back in the day. Talking about one former boss, he recalls hearing that he'd died and his partner saying "I hope it was painful". Pressed to name one of the movies he produced that he's particularly proud of, he can't get past the feelings he had at the time. "The first time you see a movie and it starts well, all you're hoping is it's going to end quickly."

Boy, I sympathise with that point of view. If something's going well, my instinct is to wrap it up as soon as possible, before it overstays its welcome. The minute you think, this is going OK, it's about to be not OK. If only rock stars and film directors were capable of recognising this feeling.

The recent death of Michael Cimino reminded me that his original cut of "Heaven't Gate" was five and a half hours long. He apologised, saying he could take fifteen minutes out of it. What was he thinking?

I was talking to an old friend last week and we agreed that as you get older you're more inclined to find that everything goes on too long and we decided there is literally no piece of entertainment about which you would say, "I could have done with another half an hour of that."

This is why Jeremy Deller's We Are Here project was so powerful

Remembrance isn't a competitive sport, obviously, but yesterday the news media gave too much play to the Thiepval ceremony to mark 100 years since the first day of the Somme and not enough to the astounding Jeremy Deller initiative We are here in which thousands of volunteers, dressed as members of Kitchener's Army, stood around in stations and public places up and down the country as though it were a hundred years earlier and they were waiting to embark.

If anyone asked what they were doing there they silently handed out a card bearing the name of the soldier they were, as the kids would say, "representing", all of whom died on July 1st 1916.

It wasn't just a dazzling piece of theatre and a great logistical feat. It was also a powerful reminder of the thing that strikes me every time I go to one of those cemeteries in northern France and Belgium and read the little books of remembrance in which are listed the home addresses of the dead.

The Vicarage.

Gasworks Street.

Glebe Cottage.

The Old Kent Road.

They were us.

The reporter on the spot seems to know slightly less than we do

I have the 24 hour news channels on in the background at the moment. I have Twitter on in the foreground.

It feels to me as if the old news standby, the man on the spot, knows less and less. That's mainly because he's the man on the spot.

If he's the man on the spot, struggling for a place to set up his cameras, putting all his effort into getting people to agree to being interviewed, haggling with his masters back in the studio about when they're going to come to him, fiddling with his earpiece and straightening his tie, he misses the story, which is off and running on social media like a glinting fish and will have scarpered by the time he's found the next place to park his van and unpack his equipment.

Yesterday morning I felt more informed than the man on the spot. Robert Peston had tweeted mid-morning that Boris Johnson may have been putting back his press conference, which suggested something was up. Then Matthew Parris was on Five Live. When asked what he thought Boris was going to announce he said, with the assurance of an old pol, "oh, this Gove announcement has finished him."

 As soon as he'd said that the press conference started. Ten minutes later we found out how right he had been. The man on the spot looked shocked. I felt quite smug.

Seven thoughts on the morning of yet another England football failure

1. All this talk about "humiliation" is no help to anyone. England lost a football match. As the young Boris Becker pointed out all those years ago, "nobody died."
2. I don't buy the idea that England footballers don't try. Very often they try too hard. What matters is trying effectively
3. And it's nothing to do with how much they're paid either.
4. Our best players play at a the top level, but generally alongside players from overseas who are technically better and can deal with pressure for them. As soon as things go wrong for an England team you can see the fear in their eyes.
5. When the England rugby team won the World Cup in 2003 Martin Johnson was the captain but they had another four "officers" on the field who could have done his job. That's what you need to win in any team sport.
6. Iceland are a good team unencumbered by expectation whereas England are a fragile team saddled with mad levels of expectation.
7. The next England manager should do just one press conference a year. 

Big stars no longer need media because they *are* media

Talking to Sylvia Patterson last night at Word In Your Ear about her book "I'm Not With The Band", which traces her experience in the music press from the halcyon days of Smash Hits through NME and The Face to the dog days of today.

Sylvia thought it was a shame that the likes of Beyonce and the Beckhams no longer feel the need to meet journalists except in circumstances where they have complete control.

This made me think that the really big names of today - the likes of Beyonce, Taylor Swift, Jay Z, the Kardashians and the Beckhams - don't need media any longer for the simple reason that they are media.

If you've got more Twitter followers than a newspaper then it's easy to see who's the needy one in that relationship.

Ties in with this piece "How Is Donald Trump Going To Quit?", which says that Trump doesn't seriously want to get bogged down in power with responsibility, which is the lot of the President, when he can start his own TV station and have power without responsibility, which is of course the prerogative of the harlot.

I agree.

Never mind Top Gear - here's the Earl Grey Whistle Test

The other day Mark Ellen and I returned to the bench in Golden Square where BBC publicity took our picture in 1982 for Old Grey Whistle Test. We've put the two pictures together to mark the fact that we've taken over next week's essay slot on Radio Three (10:45 every evening from Monday) for  something called The Earl Grey Whistle Test.

Back in the eighties Mark would joke that we would end up as two old dodderers presenting a programme under that title so we wanted to make good on the gag. Our essays, one joint and four solo, cover such topics as drummers in rock, why rock stars never give up and the unusual sensation of being part of a duo most people can't tell apart.

While we're plugging things, Mark and I are appearing at the Harrogate Literary Festival on July 9th with Zoe Howe and Paul Du Noyer. Details here. We're also hosting Word In Your Ear tomorrow night in Islington with Sylvia Patterson and Derek Ridgers. Details here.

When shopping goes semi-automatic

I asked about a book in The Strand in New York. I didn't know the author but I had the title. The assistant was very helpful and found a number of titles with the same name. We agreed which one it was. "We have one copy," he said and, without my asking, handed me a small ticket with the details of the book. "Hand it to anybody downstairs and they'll find it." I took it downstairs, handed it to an assistant and she set off down the stacks at such a pace I almost had to break into a trot to keep up. She went straight to a shelf, handed me the copy, I took it to the desk and paid for it.

The following day we decided to see a Broadway show. The New Yorkers we'd had dinner with the night before had advised us to use TodayTix. This turned out to be an app through which you can book and buy tickets for shows that day. You get the tickets by turning up at the theatre half an hour before curtain up where you rendezvous with a rep wearing the TodayTix uniform who hands you your tickets.

I was impressed with both these experiences because they combined technology with the personal touch. Neither of them could have happened satisfactorily without the human element, neither of them would have been possible without the mechanical element. It made me wonder whether this might be the next stage of the retail revolution.

An Englishmen in New York goes to see An American In Paris and finds not all is as it seems

Went to see An American In Paris on Broadway last night.

It was one of the greatest things I've ever seen.

I've seen good productions of American musicals in London but you always feel the cast are putting so much effort into the business of being American that it can never look or sound quite as effortless as you'd like it to be.

Not so this, which just glided by. When the dancers did flying leaps here you never heard them land on the stage. The transitions occurred so seamlessly that you didn't even notice they were happening.

Obviously the cast could all dance, sing and act but they also did the million and one tiny things that don't really fit into one of those categories. There seemed to be an ease about them which you don't find on the London stage.

We went out enthusing about how wonderful it was to see such an American form being done by the Americans.

Only this morning did we find out that the star, Leanne Cope, comes from Bath.

Furthermore, it was directed and choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon, who's from Yeovil.

"1971: Never A Dull Moment" published in the USA.

Here's the cover of the American edition of 1971: Never A Dull Moment, which comes out in the U.S. next week.

I'm delighted to say it's been chosen as one of Amazon.com's best books for June.

Pass it on.

Allow me to introduce you to one of the greatest records ever made

Guy Clark died  today.

He wrote some great songs and made two strong albums in the seventies.

You can get both of them for £2.99, which is plain ridiculous.

My favourite song of his was "Desperados Waiting For A Train".

 My favourite version of that was by Mallard, the group formed by former members of Captain Beefheart's Magic Band.


Here it is.

The year is 2016 and Jimmy Webb's at number one in the States.

Jimmy Webb played a showcase at his publishers tonight. A few score people gathered around his piano as he did half a dozen songs, which included obscure requests as well as the ones that made him famous.

I liked his patter. "People associate me with the 60s or the 70s if I'm lucky. But what you people don't know is I'm still relevant because one of my songs is at number one in the USA this week."

He was talking about the use of his song "Do What You Gotta Do" in Kanye's hit "Famous".

"It seems this record's about some beef that Kanye has against Taylor Swift. I didn't think that was very gentlemanly so I wanted to have it out with him, Okie to Okie. Then somebody said 'you know you're getting 35% of this record?' and I thought 'Taylor's a big girl - she can look after herself.'"

Two thoughts about Colin Hanks' Tower Records documentary

Two things struck me after last night's screening of the Tower Records documentary All Things Must Pass and the Q&A with its director Colin Hanks.

The first was just how sentimental the younger people in the audience were about the idea of record shop culture and how desperately some of them persuade themselves that the current fashion for pristine, newly-pressed Stooges albums at twenty quid a pop indicates anything more than the desire of a tiny handful of people to have something that makes them look both soulful and affluent. 

Hanks asserted that record shops would continue to hang on but was forced to admit that only this week Other Music, the New York store which was the hold-outs' last best hope, announced it was closing in June.

The second thing that struck me was how amazing it was that Tower Records hadn't closed years earlier than it did. I hadn't realised it had expanded in such an uncontrolled, haphazard way. The stores in Japan were opened before the one in New York, for instance. All this worldwide expansion was reliant on borrowed money, which meant that the company couldn't withstand the slightest downturn, let alone the one that arrived.

When the banks finally put their people in one of the first things they did was close down the Tower magazine Pulse! This was very upsetting for the people in the company. I  couldn't help being amazed that they had employed more people to do their free magazine than most British publishers would hire to do a paid one.

P.S. A third thing struck me. People say Hanks looks like his father. I think he looks more like Woody.

If only you could put tweets on the covers of books

Lots of people have tweeted about my book. I couldn't bear to let them all go by.

As Father's Day approaches and the weather starts to suit reading in the great outdoors I look forward to seeing interesting pictures of people enjoying it.

The first email I got from somebody who'd read it was from a blind man whose Kindle had read it to him. "I listened when I was supposed to be working," he confessed. That aside, this one gets an award for speed reading.

Finished @davidhepworth 1971: his brilliant new book in one sitting. Best book on music so far this year. pic.twitter.com/WaZIwhYxil

— John Gray (@JohnJosephGray) April 9, 2016

Then there was this...

Well, that's just made my day. Total stranger just came up and said "I bought your book today."

— David Hepworth (@davidhepworth) April 27, 2016

...and this...

@davidhepworth bedreading in Sweden! pic.twitter.com/j4tc3IpaYv

— Dag Ståhl (@DSthl) April 20, 2016

...and then you see inside people's lives...

Weekend away - GLW is shopping so I can catch up on my reading. Thanks @davidhepworth for such a rollicking read. pic.twitter.com/IIOFyL49UO

— Alan.Wallis (@AlWallis) April 10, 2016

...and meet their loved ones.

Bedtime reading courtesy of the postman. And @davidhepworth. pic.twitter.com/7tRyOIbGob

— mj (@melanie_jane) April 7, 2016

Some of them are well-known.

@davidhepworth Can't wait to read this!!!! pic.twitter.com/gOYSMuPWGg

— David Morrissey (@davemorrissey64) April 9, 2016

Some are miffed.

'1971 never a dull moment' brilliant book.Thanks @davidhepworth for writing it,ruining my sightseeing in Skye though pic.twitter.com/KVaJegbal7

— Ray Dexter (@Ray_Dexter) April 13, 2016

Some are in a hurry.

Powered through this in 2 days and probably broke Spotify in the process. Bravo @davidhepworth pic.twitter.com/6ANbedyRky

— An Absolute Shower (@Jolly_Good_Show) May 4, 2016

I like this one.

When you finish a book do you kiss the cover? I do. The looks I've just got on the Northern Line after finishing 1971 by @davidhepworth

— Simon Love MBE (@simonloverules) May 6, 2016

It doesn't matter whether or not you were there in 1971.

@davidhepworth what a great book. A must read for any popular music fan even if they were born after 1971. pic.twitter.com/VBSjY2ozjO

— Matt Selby (@mallie1972) May 4, 2016

As we were reminded only this morning.

Pleased to see @IvoGraham took some reading matter with him on @bbc5live #fightingtalk. pic.twitter.com/dMSErmqfEg

— David Hepworth (@davidhepworth) May 7, 2016

And did I mention this?

How about a little fanfare? My 1971 book's in the Sunday Times bestsellers. pic.twitter.com/QSSgPyr9xV

— David Hepworth (@davidhepworth) April 17, 2016

New Day failed because people don't try things any more

Trinity Mirror is canning its cheap newspaper New Day just two months after it launched. This is probably the right thing to do. You can lose fortunes and spend years of people's lives trying to prove that a hunch was right. Believe me. I know.

You can say it didn't live up to expectations, but that rather assumes that people are bothered enough to have expectations. You only have to see how the newspaper kiosks that used to be a feature of all London tube stations are now either closing or turning themselves over to selling confectionery to note that most people are not in a position to turn to a new newspaper because they long ago stopped buying an old one.

I noticed this in the world of magazines more than ten years ago. People stopped trying new things and they certainly stopped paying for new things. I bet New Day didn't fail because the publishers were disappointed how few people stuck with it. I bet it failed because not enough people tried it in the first place.

I used to work for British Home Stores

In the early 70s I had a job as a courier at British Home Stores' head office. My job was to accompany Jim, who drove a van that ferried material between their main office on Marleybone Road and their smaller office in Dorset Square. In the afternoons, when Jim had been to the pub for his standard three pints, I took over the driving.

BHS were a slightly sleepy, old-fashioned company even then. My family had never shopped there and I couldn't really work out why people did. And now they seem to be joining HMV, C&A, Woolworths, Borders, Comet and many others that were formerly a part of somebody's regular routine and now aren't anymore. The papers are full of Monday Morning Quarterbacks talking about what they should have done to save it. I don't pretend to have a plan. I know how little I miss the ones that have already gone.

Who's next? Marks & Spencer?

Victoria Wood

Ken Sharp took this picture of me and Victoria Wood. It was in the late 80s and we were talking in the garden of a pub in Salisbury after she'd played a show at the City Hall.

I often mess up the "having a picture taken with the star" moment. It's not altogether surprising. You have one person who's utterly at home with having their picture taken. Then there's you, flushed and over-excited, your professional facade entirely lost.

It wasn't a bit like that with Victoria Wood. She was happy to share whatever limelight was going. Lovely person.

Whatever Emitt Rhodes's been doing for the last forty-three years, it clearly hasn't all been fun

I didn’t mention Emitt Rhodes in my book, though he’s on my extended 1971 playlist.

 Rhodes was one of those people who was being lined up as a Beatles substitute in 1971. He could write good tunes, he played all the instruments on his albums himself and - bonus ball - he was pretty.

His albums attracted support from everybody except the record-buying public and he was locked into a contract that required him to deliver two albums a year, which was hard enough for your standard road-hardened band but was nigh on impossible for an artist who had to over-dub every part himself.

He withdrew from making his own albums in the early seventies. Now he’s back, with a rather good record called Rainbow Ends. Whereas the early records glistened with the optimism of youth, his new one starts with a song about a woman who takes the car, the house and the kids. It’s called “Dog On A Chain”.

He looks different too.

Nobody knows anything. Didn't then. Still don't.

Finishing Doris Kearns Goodwin's "No Ordinary Time" I was interested to see that at the end of the war the American proposal to turn Germany into an agrarian economy that could no longer threaten Europe and the Russian proposal to exclude the French from the post-war settlement on the grounds that they didn't have an army were both resisted and pushed back by Churchill.

On mornings like this, when the airwaves are alive with politicians talking about what will or will not happen in Europe in some unspecified future it's a good idea to ponder close run things like the above and remember the wise words of William Goldman.

Nobody knows anything.

Links to the 1971: Never A Dull Moment playlists in one place

Here they are:

A link to the full 1971: Never A Dull Moment playlist, which is made up of 265 songs, one from every significant album that came out that year.

Then links to a Spotify version of each of the monthly playlists that come at the end of each chapter. If the odd track's missing that's because it wasn't on Spotify when I looked.

January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December

The cheap and cheerful charm of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

We were watching "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" on Netflix the other day.

In the 70s this was the acme of high end film making. The whole nation stopped and watched when it was finally shown on BBC TV.

You watch it now and the first thing that strikes you is how cheap it was. The modesty of the whole enterprise makes it seem as far distant as the silent era. There are no big set pieces or special effects. All the money must have gone to Newman and Redford, who are, it's fair to say, almost hurtfully beautiful.

When the action moves from the West to South America it's done via a montage of stills. And we don't see the big ending. They come out shooting and the frame freezes. They would never do that now, I said to a young person. No, he said, because for a start they would already be shooting a sequel.

I went to see Batman v Superman. Here's my one-sentence review

I know nothing about comics but I've seen enough action films to know that two and a half hours in which you have not been made to feel: a few moments of genuine curiosity about what's going to happen; that familiar tightening in the pit of the stomach when the hero is about to encounter a danger we can see but he can't; the satisfying feeling when a puzzle planted early in the film is solved; the welcome expulsion of nervous laughter when the jeopardy turns out to be harmless and the growl of assent in the back of the throat when the baddie gets his just desserts, then it either means that the film maker has stumbled on a new way of doing things or he simply doesn't realise just how much he has failed to do.

Would any radio station in Britain allow me to play these ten records?

Music Selection (These can be of any genre as long as they mean something to you).
1. High Wide And Handsome by Loudon Wainwright III
2. Slow Train by Flanders and Swann 

3. If I Fell by The Beatles
4. Family Affair by Sly and the Family Stone
5. Vine Street by Harry Nilsson
6. Trenchtown Rock by Bob Marley (must be from Bob Marley live at the Lyceum)
7. You Never Can Tell by Chuck Berry
8. My Foolish Heart by Bill Evans
9. Will You Love Me Tomorrow by Carole King (from Tapestry)
10. Hills Of The North Rejoice by the Huddersfield Choral Society

The above questionnaire I completed for Martin Kelner's "One On One" feature on BBC Radio Leeds asked me to come up with ten records. Those are the ones I named. 

I was due to do Martin's show in a couple of weeks. Then BBC Radio Leeds decided they could do without him. They asked me if I still wanted to go ahead. I said no. These down-the-line interviews are OK if you've got some rapport with the person you're talking to. They're difficult if you don't.

In his explanation of how he came to leave his job Martin mentioned that an affinity with popular music is dangerous in local radio. I know what he meant.  BBC Local Radio managers are easily frightened by any selection that isn't thuddingly obvious. 

So now Martin's got no programme, which is very bad for him, and I'm left to put one question - is there any radio station in Britain that is not yet so heavily formatted or ham-strung by the need to be seen as hip and edgy that it would a actually allow those records to go out on its airwaves?  I know Desert Island Discs, but apart from that where?

Another thing about George Martin that's often, er, overlooked

He was a tall man in an era where it was quite unusual. Furthermore he worked in a business where it was even more unusual. It went with the accent he'd taught himself during the war and the upper middle class manners. His height helped him pull rank without seeming to.

Think about all the great groups of the sixties. Beatles, Stones, the Who and obviously the Small Faces. Most would be considered almost diminutive by modern standards.

Go to a standing gig nowadays and you'll have trouble seeing the stage though the forest of young men and women in their twenties. Compared to the beat generation they're like giant redwoods.

Calm down, Leo, you're only running the jokes

On the day when we're supposed to take actors and film directors as seriously as some of them take themselves it's good to be reminded of how Alfred Hitchcock looked at his trade.

I was watching a doc about the making of "Frenzy" in 1971. Jon Finch remembers that Hitchcock had an old-fashioned way of asking if he wanted to rehearse.

"Do you want to run the jokes?"

What if free media isn't the future? What if it's a dead end?

Two interesting pieces of media futurology. The fact that they're both written by people who used to be in senior positions at the Guardian makes them even more interesting.

Emily Bell, who used to be in charge of the Guardian's digital assets, wonders if the days of newspaper websites might be numbered.  As she says, there may not be much room for them in a media market that increasingly "tolerates the micro, favours the mega and rolls over most entities inbetween."

At the same time Peter Preston, who used to be the Guardian's editor, is sceptical of The Independent's claim that their move to digital-only means they'll be "as focussed and uncompromised as any start-up but with all the authority and trust of an established news brand." As he points out, the start-ups don't try to do all the stuff that the newspapers have traditionally had to do to justify the costs of the package.

When those papers moved online they brought the elements of the package with them. Sections devoted to opinion, sport, music, films and think pieces about Breaking Bad expanded to fill the space available to them, which was suddenly limitless. The BBC did something similar, albeit their commitment to even-handedness meant they weren't much good at the comment. At the same time the borderless world of the internet meant that the fluff being done by the U.S. papers and websites was suddenly just as accessible as the home-grown fluff. We now live in a world where if you want to know what columnists thinks about what Lena Dunham said about what Kesha said about Dr Luke then you could spend your every waking hour reading that and nothing but that.

This century's fluff explosion was bankrolled by newspapers in the belief that it would be followed by advertising. Now they've realised it won't be. Paywalls are going up everywhere. Newspapers are closing. At the same time even the BBC is having to cut back on some of its fluffier website content.

I wonder if in a few years time this Niagara of free stuff will have been turned off and we'll realise that it only came to pass during a brief window when the people who produced it thought there was some benefit in giving it away. Free wasn't the inevitable way of the future. It was a dead end.

This is what you could shop for in Green Lanes in 1948

This is an extract from a 1948 directory of businesses on Green Lanes in Haringey, north London.

It's a reminder of a world that was starting to slip away when I was a kid, a world where most people worked for small firms and most of those small firms were specialists in one very particular area. They sold yeast or knitting wool. They loaned money or fried fish. They manufactured shoe trimmings or fireplaces. They advertised trades like mantle maker-up and hem stitcher that are entirely mysterious to us now.

If you drive down Green Lanes now the shops are overwhelmingly owned by members of immigrant groups who arrived after 1948 and seem to offer food, phone cards or hairdressing. Presumably in another twenty years it will have changed out of recognition all over again. Makes you wonder why anybody talks about "planning".

The political magazines are benefiting from the misfortunes of the newspapers

Another strong set of circulation figures for the political and current affairs magazines like The Spectator, Private Eye, Economist and the New Statesman in the year just gone. People say it was because there was an election. People say it's because there's a European referendum coming up.

I'm not convinced. Seems to me they've been the direct beneficiaries of the decline of the daily papers. People stop buying the papers but still feel a need to read something on paper they can hold in their hands.

Daily is too frequent. Monthly is not frequent enough. Once a week is just perfect. I think this market will grow.

"Disappointed" is the weasel's weasel word

When FT columnist Lucy Kellaway was less than respectful about some airy fairy remarks made by Hewlett Packard boss Meg Whitman at Davos, a wise head of marketing and communications would have told his boss to just suck it up as the price you pay for speaking in public.

Instead he did the single most disastrous thing you can do, which is pen a formal letter saying how "disappointed" the company was with Kellaway's column. Of all the weasel words in the contemporary lexicon of passive-aggressiveness, where the objective is always to cast yourself in the role of the victim, "disappointed" is the one I loathe the most.

And now the story is about him, which is never a good look. He's now made his boss look like somebody who can't fight her own battles. He looks like somebody who runs round trying to anticipate her wishes by kicking the nearest arse available. And he's made this publicly-quoted company look as if they make marketing and advertising decisions based on what side of bed they happen to have got out in the morning.

Nice "communications" work.

If footballers won't leave London the clubs might have to move south

You don't often get lateral thinking from footballers but Stan Collymore made an interesting suggestion on Talk Sport last night. Talking about the fact that northern clubs find it difficult to recruit overseas players because they all want to be based in London, he wondered why Liverpool, for instance, didn't invest in a training ground near the M-25. That way their players could live in London and just travel to Liverpool once a fortnight to play a home game.

It's not without precedent. FC Anzhi Makhachkala are based in Dagestan on the Caspian Sea. Because Dagestan is an unlovely spot with a terrible reputation for violence the players live in Moscow, which is almost two thousand kilometres away. The club's owner has suffered some financial reverses of late so Anzhi is running on a smaller budget right now but only a few years ago they could afford to make Samuel Eto'o the highest paid player in the world.

Every couple of weeks the players would board a chartered jet in Moscow, take the long flight down to Makhachkala, be conveyed to the stadium under armed guard, play the match and then be on the plane back to their Moscow penthouses before their fans had got home. And did those fans complain that the men wearing their shirt weren't rooted to the local area - or at least in some luxurious gated community an hour away - or did they just figure that as long as they were winning it was fine?  What do you think?