Not a tech-ops story In the early nineties I was asked to be the BBC's maker of commercials. Somebody had decided that it was ok to sell books records and tapes on BBC1, provided the BBC had made them. I counselled against this, as a senior Pres producer - I thought it was bad politics. I said my piece and went on leave. When I came back, they had not only ignored me, but decided I was the person for the job. As it happened, it was something I loved doing. I had been told off for doing on Radio Times "trails" in the past - they were supposed to hint at the possibility of buying, rather than actually kicking the punters in the teeth, and I was always too gung ho. One day they wanted us to sell a diet book, and they asked for something simple and direct. I decided that a bikini-clad model in Pres A (the camera was operated by tech-ops) was just what was needed. She would have just one line to say. I had no idea where to get models from. It was the height of political correctness around our department, but I asked our lady booker of artistes. She didn't turn a hair, and gave me the numbers of several specialist agents. So I rang one. I explained to the rather camp voice that the model should look like the girl next door, rather than a sex siren, and that I would need to see the girl first before I put her on the air. He said no problem. Look in the catalogue he would send, pick some likely girls, as many as I wanted, and he would send them over so I could pick one. No charge, just pay the successful one the standard rate for the job. So I picked half a dozen, got them in to Pres A in their bikinis, asked them to read the line, looked them over and selected one. It all went very well, apart from the embarrassing experience in reception. The first girl arrived a bit early. I went down to collect her, and decided we should sit there and wait for the others. We made small talk in a crowded reception for a few minutes, and then she said "Would you like to look at my portfolio?" - a large folder she had brought with her. "Ok", I said, and she opened it up. The pictures were very tasteful, provided you don't mind full frontal nudity in 10x8 black and white with the world and Michael Palin sitting around you, whilst talking to the person featured in all her glory. "Very nice", and "That one's good" I said, flicking through. It turned out that she worked in Boots mostly, thought she had done page 3 and really wanted to be a model. And she got the job, because she could actually say the line and look like the girl next door in her bikini. The Monopolies and Merger Commission stopped the BBC making commercials a few months later. I told them so...