Emily Maitlis looks back on her worst moments in 2008, the anxiety she has caused her fans and her part in a ‘YouTube classic’
Looking back, I suppose you could say the low point of 2008 was when I accused the Chief Rabbi of leaving lewd and abusive messages on people’s answerphones. That’s the trouble with live TV. You think you’re saying one thing and you end up saying quite another. I was talking to the Conservative MP John Whittingdale on the BBC News Channel about the Jonathan Ross/Andrew Sachs affair, when all of a sudden I found — by way of the speed reader’s elision — I had put those now infamous remarks into the mouth of a certain (Sir) Jonathan Sacks. I haven’t heard from the Chief Rabbi. And Yom Kippur is a long way off, but I should probably put that fairly high on the atoning list just to be sure.
When it happened, I don’t think it even registered. My on-air ‘husband’ of the moment, Ben Brown, looked at me with a certain hesitation but, tactfully, said nothing. And as a result, I caught the stare but misread it as supportive encouragement or something equally and deeply misguided. I carried on smiling.
I say that’s the low point of the year, but clearly, there are some fine contenders. The moment in Minneapolis St Paul, for example, when I was attempting to explain the popularity with the Republican heartland of the newly unleashed Sarah Palin. ‘Staunch pro-life Evangelist,’ I said, ‘patriotic mother of five children, one of whom is currently serving in the Iraqi army.’ There are many qualities that would endear you to the Grand Old Party as their vice presidential candidate. But I’m not sure being Iraqi is one of them.
Earlier, in March, I had the kind of interview opportunity we dream of: a phone conversation with Zimbabwe opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai — offered up with about five seconds’ notice. It was just after Mugabe had unilaterally declared himself the winner of the elections, and we were desperate to gauge reaction from Tsvangirai’s MDC party. Alas, things did not go according to plan. The quality of the mobile phone was so bad it sounded like he — or I — or possibly both of us were deep in the bottom of a swimming pool. It would not be pushing it to say that I conducted a six-minute interview with the man who might decide Zimbabwe’s future without actually hearing a word he said. When I asked him his next political move it is entirely possible he may have told me he was going to woo the popular vote as a contestant on Strictly Come Dancing. I have no idea. I sat there with a rather pained expression on my face realising that of the many challenges I expected Newsnight to present, this could top them all.
In time for the mayoral elections in May, I learnt to twitter — which sounds indecent but really isn’t. I blogged my way through the BBC1 Dimbleby programme from City Hall and interviewed Luke, who was doing the same for the Labour party. ‘Luke,’ I asked him, live on air, ‘you’ve campaigned hard for Ken Livingstone — how well do you really know the man?’ At which point Luke bristled with pride and told me Ken actually stopped at his house to use his loo at one point on the campaign trail. It was, as Uma Thurman might say, slightly more detail than I needed. But then again, it was about 3 a.m. and it probably made the front page of both our blogs for a lot longer than we’d care to remember. That same night I interviewed Stanley Johnson, Boris’s dad. ‘Tell us about your son Boris,’ I prompted. ‘Well,’ said the ever equitable Stanley, ‘actually, I have six children.’ And then proceeded to tell me about the other five first.
Yes, the world of live news is a precarious one. It is actually a miracle that anyone stays in the job longer than an hour. But it is sometimes good to remember that these curious encounters we have with our audience are by no means one-way traffic. The other day I received a promising-looking letter at the BBC. It was succinct, and really, in no way rude. It just said: ‘Dear Emily Maitlis please can you give Anne Robinson a lift to work.’ Then a full stop and a squiggle of a signature I couldn’t read. It tickled me so much it has gained pride of place on the wall of our Newsnight office. I thought a frame might be going too far but if the fan mail doesn’t improve in 2009, I may have to rethink that one. My other correspondent is an elderly man from Newcastle called George. He asked for a signed photo and I duly sent the standard publicity shot with a few kind words. He now writes frequently to tell me how concerned he is about the ‘sad hurt’ expression on my card. I suspect that’s the last time I shall attempt to look fiery and cerebral.
Of course, if you had told me in January that by the end of the year I would have been talking about a certain part of my anatomy in a Newsnight interview with the BBC director general, I probably would have resigned. Of course, it wasn’t really my anatomy. It was the Queen’s. Actually, it was neither of ours — but the momentary rental of a line from the comedy show Mock the Week to prove a point. The moment, anyway, has now been lifted gloriously out of context and has become what they call a ‘YouTube classic’. Which is just another way of saying lots of people now laugh at my expense. Either way, it’s probably not the best way to seek a pay rise in these times. I may have to blame Jonathan Ross for that episode. In fact, looking back over 2008 perhaps it’s just easier to blame him for everything.