Ooh! What a Lovely Pair Our Story (30 page)

The auditions tour went all over the country, which was all you could ask of it really – it wouldn’t have been much of a tour if it had just stayed in one place – and a real team spirit developed between everyone who worked on the show. The whole crew wore
Pop Idol
T-shirts, (except us – that would have looked weird), and there were so many different things to enjoy about travelling around the country. It was full of variety and every day was different. For instance, sometimes we’d drink wine in the hotel bar, sometimes we’d drink beer, and when we were in Scotland, we drank whisky.
It was also great to work outside of London. Because the TV industry is based in London, a lot of TV professionals often lose touch with real people and real life. In fact, we were saying that to our chauffeurs and butlers only the other day.

Apart from a job on prime-time telly, one of the most important things
Pop Idol
gave us was something that we later developed on
I’m a Celebrity
… and
Britain’s Got Talent
, the idea that our role was to be the voice of the audience. What I mean by that is that it was our job to react to what was happening in the same way the audience would – so, if we felt sorry for an act, we’d commiserate with them and, if they’d had a great audition, we’d congratulate them. Similarly, on
I’m a Celebrity…
, when one of them does something stupid, we laugh at it, just the same way you all do when you’re sat on your sofa at home.

That’s as far as it goes, mind. We’re not copying other stuff you do at home. What you get up to behind closed doors is none of our business.

After seeing the auditions, which included the good, the bad and the truly appalling, we started to think that maybe, just maybe,
Pop Idol
would be a hit. Some of the contestants were so funny that, even if we didn’t find the next superstar, we were pretty sure
Pop Idol
would be entertaining telly. Even now, I can still remember some of the amazingly awful contestants. There was the ‘YMCA girl’, for example, who turned up without knowing it was a singing show, forgot the words to ‘YMCA’ halfway through and ended up being one of the cult hits of the series. She even got a part in panto but, as we’d proved at the Sunderland Empire, they really will let anyone perform in those things.

But there were great singers too – like the kid who could hardly say his own name because of his terrible stutter, and then, when he sang, had the voice of an angel. That was Gareth Gates.

The very last auditionee, who later ended up arguing with Simon Cowell, was Will Young, and Will eventually went on to become the Pop Idol we were looking for.

We also worked with some people, who – especially if they’re reading this – are extremely talented professionals. There was Clare Horton, the producer, Andrew Llinares, a producer/director who now runs
Britain’s Got Talent,
Richard Holloway, the executive producer, and Jo Brock, who was one of the associate producers and is still one of our best friends. Jo’s married to Alan Conley – our best mate who leaves his keys in the door and the hob on. She’s a very patient woman. We also did a lot of work with Charles Boyd, a writer/director/producer (he was quite greedy when it came to jobs), who went on to run
American Idol
in Los Angeles. We still see a lot of those people regularly. After all, that’s the easiest way to collect the cash-for-compliments fee we charge for favourable mentions in this book.

The
Pop Idol
audition tour had been a roaring success and, by the time it came to the autumn, when the first episode went out, we knew we had a hit show on our hands. We’d also realized two things: 1) we weren’t the worst singers in the world and 2) it was time to leave
sm:tv
. We’d spent more than three years on TV on Saturday mornings, and had real mixed feelings about leaving it behind, but we decided that our last show would be 1 December 2001. It was one of the hardest, most emotional things we’ve ever done on TV – and yes, that includes Ant being blinded by a paintball. After more than 150 episodes, and countless accolades, including by now several awards from the BAFTAs, the Royal Television Society, the Television and Radio Industries Club and even a British Comedy Award where we’d somehow beaten
The Royle Family
and
Da Ali G Show
, it was all coming to an end.

The biggest of dozens of highlights on that last show was
Chums,
when Dec married Cat. The guestlist included Mariah Carey as one of Cat’s bridesmaids. At the time, the press was full of stories about what an eccentric diva Mariah was and, although we were thrilled about having her on the show, we were also worried she might not play along. That worry disappeared when, in the middle of the week, the producer, David Staite, got a phone call:

‘Hi, David, it’s Mariah Carey.’

‘Er, um… hi, Mariah.’

‘I have a question for you – what colour is the wallpaper on the
Chums
set?’

‘Pardon?’

‘What colour is the wallpaper?’

‘Green, why?’

‘I’m in Virgin Brides in Manchester, and I want to make sure I rent a bridesmaid’s dress that clashes with the wallpaper – it’ll look funnier then, won’t it?’

‘Er, yeah, it will, yeah.’

‘Great – I’ll get a blue one – see you Saturday!’

On the day of the show, when Mariah turned up, some people were still worried that she’d be a total diva and expect to have rose petals sprinkled wherever she walked and freshly born puppies in her dressing room, but the moment she walked in, we knew that wouldn’t happen. There was a good reason for that – she was carrying a plastic bag from Virgin Brides. She’d got the dress and she was great on the show.

The other memorable thing about the wedding was that, finally, after three years of me and Cat trying to get it together in every episode of
Chums
, I got to kiss her. Before the show, I told the producer that we would lock lips for exactly ten seconds, to give the moment maximum drama and romance. As you’ll know, ever since I nicked Ant’s lass on
Byker Grove
, I’ve always been a very professional screen kisser. When it came to the big moment, we started the kiss, and all I could hear in my earpiece was the whole gallery counting down, ‘10–9–8–7–6–5–4–3–2–1!’ It all went in slow motion, and I never wanted that kiss to end – not just because it was Cat and she’s lush, although that was a small part of it, but primarily because I knew the moment it did, me and Ant were going to walk off the set and that would be the end of our last ever
Chums
.

There were all sorts of surprises on that last show. We had goodbye messages from everyone – Bono, the late great Sir Bobby Robson, Alan Shearer, Kylie Minogue, Paul McCartney, David Beckham and Sting, to name but seven – and even though I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to cry on telly, we were both filling up on the last link of the show. What made it harder was that, all around us, off camera – the people holding the cue cards, the researchers – the whole production team was in tears, which only made us two more emotional.

In a way, one of the only things I can liken that last Saturday morning to is my wedding day. Obviously, my wedding day was much more important, and had fewer members of Steps there, but what they both have in common is that, even though you’re right in the middle of it, it doesn’t feel real. It’s like you’re not really there. I
was
there, at both of them, by the way.

I don’t want to sound like I’ve just been kicked out of
The X-Factor,
but it was the end of something really special and one of the most emotional experiences of my life. It might sound silly to say that about a Saturday-morning kids’ show, but leaving a job you love, with people you love, on a show you love is a very, very difficult thing

I feel the same. I still miss it dearly. It was glorified messing about for three hours every week and it was a once-in-a-lifetime job.

When we left
sm:tv,
we also left behind something very special, and something that always made us both smile on a Saturday morning. That was Cat, and she stayed on while we flew the nest to spend more time with potential Pop Idols. For the whole time we’d done
sm:tv
and
cd:uk,
Cat had been there – as our co-pilot, friend and ‘that lass who wears the goofy teeth and the funny wigs’. We’ve never worked with anyone else so closely – before or since – and she was an absolute joy from start to finish. She also made me write all that. So, for the memories, the laughs and this whole paragraph – thanks, Cat.

No matter how much fun it was, though, and no matter how hard it was to leave, we knew the time had come to move on.
Pop Idol
had given us the chance to do that and, although we didn’t know it yet, 2002 would be a year unlike any other.

For a start, we had our first Saturday lie-in of the twentieth century.

Why do you always have to spoil my end-of-chapter statements? Keep it zipped when we get to the end of the next one.

Okay, I’m sorry.

Chapter 26

By the time Christmas came around, even though there were still eight contestants on
Pop Idol
, there was only one question on everyone’s lips: ‘Will or Gareth?’ It was great to be doing a show that had captured the public’s imagination, but it was such an intense experience that there was also a part of me that was relieved to be back home for Christmas, in the bosom of my family. Here was an opportunity to forget all about
Pop Idol
for a while. Or so I thought – the whole country was talking about it, and I was naïve to think my family would be any different. Round the Christmas dinner table, all I heard was
Pop Idol
this and
Pop Idol
that, and then, I got the update that really mattered – the votes were in from the Donnellys. ‘Four of us have voted for Will and four of us have voted for Gareth.’ I pointed out that those eight votes would cancel each other out, but no one cared. By the time we got to the Christmas pudding, I had to politely ask them all to change the subject and, when that didn’t work, I went with: ‘Can we have five minutes without talking about
Pop
bloody
Idol
?’

Despite the fact it almost ruined Dec’s Christmas, the show was great fun to work on. Charles Boyd and us two would come up with little sketches about the judges every week; Dec would play Simon and Nicki, and I’d play Pete and Foxy, and that was where the whole ‘Simon Cowell wears high trousers’ thing started. And, for the record, back then, those trousers were very, very high – he could touch his ears with his belt on a good day.

By the time it came to the last few weeks, the hype around the show was enormous, and Gareth had emerged as a clear favourite with the public. Privately, we always wanted Will to win – we’d loved his cover of The Doors’ ‘Light My Fire’, even if it wasn’t a patch on the version we’d done in the log cabin with Rory.

Obviously we had to keep our preference for Will a secret and remain impartial – it wouldn’t have been very professional if we’d gone, ‘Hi, welcome to
Pop Idol
– Vote Will!’ Despite our preferences, Gareth became the bookies’ favourite. He was very popular with teenage girls, which is obviously a vital section of the audience in any talent show: they do a lot of voting, they buy records and, most importantly, they scream at pop stars. I don’t know what the music industry would do without them. Gareth was also a good singer, and had a great story – he was the kid who was overcoming his stutter to win the nation’s hearts.

Understandably, Gareth had a lot of trouble with his stutter when we’d talk to him live in the studio – it was nerve-wracking for any contestant being on telly with millions of people watching, but for him it was even harder, and he often struggled in our interviews with him. To try and makes things easier, we would get him into my dressing room before the show and run through the questions with him; it meant he stuttered less, and it also meant we could get his autograph for our nieces and nephews, which made it a win-win situation.

In the week leading up to the final, the whole country went even more
Pop Idol
crazy. Will and Gareth both had election buses and toured the country, like politicians, drumming up votes. I’m telling you, Gordon Brown could take a few tips from those boys when it came to winning votes.

Finally, the big night arrived and, for the two of us, just knowing we’d be hosting it and announcing the result was such a mouth-watering prospect – we couldn’t wait to find out who the public would choose. We were later told that more than eight million votes were cast, which was more than the Liberal Democrats had received in the previous year’s general election. I’m no political expert, but it struck me that if the Lib Dems had stuck on some hair gel and banged out a version of ‘Light My Fire’, they could’ve won that election. The whole thing was an incredible phenomenon. When it came to actually announcing the big result, the moment of truth, the climax of months of hard work, the winner of
Pop Idol
…

I
did it! It was just one word – ‘Will’, and I got to say it.

I was fine with it.

That’s not what you said at the time.

Come on, there’s no need to rake up the past.

Pop Idol
really did change everything – the prime-time audience finally knew who we were, and it seemed like maybe, just maybe, we’d managed to successfully leap forward seven hours from Saturday mornings to Saturday evenings. It was now twelve years since we’d met at the Mitre and, in all of that time, no one had noticed we were pretty much making it all up as we went along.