Champagne moments

AWARD winner: Matthew shows off his BAFTA gong

MARTYN MEETS... Matthew Napier, BAFTA award-winning BBC producer
AS I rode the modern miracle that is a Metrolink tram from the magnificent MediaCity UK in Salford Quays on my way back to Mumps, I tried to sort in mind the chaos of the previous 90 minutes.

I had been in the company of Matthew Napier. And I can state without fear of contradiction that he is a seismic eruption of creative, combustible energy.

He is a staffer at the BBC, the Beeb, Auntie, the British Broadcasting Corporation, known throughout the free world and beyond — probably even to the Curiosity vehicle currently touring Mars — as the bastion of public service broadcasting.

Except these days, of course, the veritable Beeb is much more than the sum of its parts with its online, tablet, satellite and digital platforms supplementing the traditional radio and television output.

And to fill all this vast, bottomless pit of content they need people like Matthew, 50 going on 20, a man with boundless, seemingly limitless reserves of energy.

People who can run on adrenaline and when that gives out they carry on anyway. People whose enthusiasm cannot be sated.

And here he is, living among us in deepest Dobcross. The journey to the independent republic of Saddleworth has been long and tortuous via Nottingham, London, Lincoln, Birmingham and the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

But I get the distinct impression he likes it here, as does his family, and me thinks he might set down roots.

His wife Sue has already featured in the columns of this newspaper — she is the Sue Napier who is setting up Body Control Pilates sessions in the the civic hall at Uppermill for those of you who read the business section — and it was over coffee with Matthew’s missus in Uppermill’s Java bar that I discovered we had a celebrity in our midst.

Oh yes . . . for Mr Napier is a BAFTA winner, no less.

During our chat in the coffee shop in one of the many mightily impressive buildings that comprise the futuristic MediaCity UK, now home to CBeebies, BBC Sport and Matthew’s department, more of which later, he furtively dipped into his carrier bag and retrieved the figure.

It was wrapped in a tea towel — “Well, I don’t want people seeing me showing it to you and having them think I’m showing off,” — but the sense of pride as he handed it over the table (it was monstrously heavy, by the way) was palpable.

And why not. The British Academy of Film and Television Arts do not hand out these things unless you are exceptionally talented at what you do.

It’s a mantle Matthew wears with charm and a candour that is refreshing for a man from the broadcast media for, if I am to be frank, I have not always, in my own media career, seen eye to eye with “colleagues” in television and indeed have had the odd run in.

But let’s not dwell on that now. Matthew is clearly the exception that proves the rule and the hour-and-a-half we spent together sped by in a jiffy.

As we settled at our table, with our frothy lattes, he casually informed me that the man stood next to me in the queue was Peter Salmon — the head honcho of the whole BBC operation in the North, but I suppose given the amount of BBC people now domiciled in these regions, there will always be someone in the queue who is either on the telly or the radio.

Matthew was clearly at ease in these surroundings, as befits a man of his stature, confident of in his place in the organisation but, in truth, his current situation is far removed from the humble beginnings of his career when he tried to enrol at drama school but ended up on the other side of the all-seeing lens.

His early ambitions were in acting, an idea that grew from his success with an A-level in drama studies at Clarendon College in Nottingham which, as luck would have it, was to prove somewhat fortuitous in later life. His seat of secondary learning — Southwell Minster Grammar School — had an affiliation with the adjacent Minster where school assemblies and major occasions were hosted.

Little did Matthew know at the time, but this was an early grounding in what has become a stellar career.

On the day we met he had broken off from planning his next big television project, a programme entitled “Hope”, a one-hour special to be broadcast on January 6, 2013. Filmed in and around Lutyen’s Crypt, in Hope Street, Liverpool, the programme explores faith and how people cope when perhaps they are without, well, hope.

“If you have no family, or relatives, or friends, then how do you cope when approaching the end of your life? Many people have faith and others don’t.”

Lutyen’s Crypt was a grand affair in its time, and had the entire cathedral project been completed the building would have rivalled the grandest edifices in the Vatican City. “Which is why the catholic church called a halt. Today’s Roman Catholic cathedral in Liverpool is built over Lutyen’s Crypt, in Hope Street, and is an amazing setting for this story of exploration.”

If you have not guessed by now, Matthew works in the BBC’s Religion and Ethics department, now based at Dock House in Media City, and produces programmes for what I irreverently labelled the “God slot”.

He smiled benignly at this, rather like a patient priest or vicar talking to a recalcitrant parishioner, for he has probably heard it all since his switch from the children’s department where he won the coveted BAFTA award for his contribution to the hugely successful “Raven” series.

This was a fantasy adventure gameshow for children which was incredibly successful and ran to several series but everything, especially in the creative field, runs its course and Matthew knew it was time to move on in his career.

He had produced six series and enjoyed every minute but having worked on drama — “Hollyoaks”, “Grange Hill” and “Brookside” to name but three iconic series — he was anxious to test his skills in other areas.

Here was a man confident in his own abilities, secure in the knowledge he was in demand.

After all, he had worked with Dave Allen on those fabulously funny and successful television shows and was assistant floor manager for the very first television series of “Little and Large” programmes. Great days and they produced great memories.

As a devotee of the Dave Allen series — when the Irish comedian would sit on his stool, cross his legs, light a ciggy (remember those days) and tell stories — I just had to ask what was in the glass he always kept at his side? Was it really neat vodka, as we were all led to believe?

“Actually, it was champagne. It was my job as assistant floor manager to make sure that, prior to every recording session in front of a live studio audience, that there was a six-bottle case of Moet Chandon close by and it was my job to keep his glass topped up.

“I used to tip-toe on to the set each time they cut to one of the sketches and Dave would look at me and raise his eyebrows and the audience would laugh out loud every time. They were great days — great, memorable times.

“I was never seen on television but if anyone reading this was ever in the audience then they would have seen me for sure.”

Oh happy days . . . spent reading scripts with Syd and Eddie, accepting some and putting others on the increasingly bulky rejection pile.

“Once the sketches had been decided upon for the following week’s recording, it was my job to source and provide all the props.”

His place in the great pantheon on the BBC was seemingly secure but darker days were ahead and Matthew has vivid memories of earning his stripes to direct two episodes of “Grange Hill” and then being told he would have to go back to being an assistant floor manager because, essentially, that was what he was.

So he quit, and took voluntary redundancy. And for three months he didn’t work.

What he did next will be revealed, like all good soaps, next week . . .


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