Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

Hm. - Part I

H.G
London.
April 4th, 1986

Like It or Lump It had gone out live on BBC Two, every Friday evening, every week, for the past two years.

It was imperative that the show was broadcast live, so that the audience at home was not duped. One expressed the view they held on the air, in the moment, and stood by it. Musicians had to actually perform (if capable). That was the entire architecture of the thing. If one had been cruel, or soft, or flat on Friday, one couldn't simply search back on the tape come Saturday and change things. The discipline of the format, was the format. Remove it, and what would you be left with? A man simply reading an opinion column aloud to an audience held hostage for takes one through ten, joined by a band who were no better than a travelling mime troupe?

Hayes had explained this, at great length, to his producer Niall Healy, when he had dropped into Garden Lodge at the weekend. But his complaints had fallen on deaf ears. Comic Relief was taking over the entire BBC, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Admittedly, Hayes knew very little about comedians but he was quite certain there were not three days worth of entertaining people in Britain. They'd barely managed a day with Live Aid.

Regardless of what Hayes thought, his programme's slot had been usurped for a night. Which meant he had to tape his show during the day on Thursday, for a Sunday night transmission. Eleven post meridiem to be exact. What bloody good was that to him?

"Post-watershed slot! A better slot if anything!" Niall had exclaimed, "You'll have an inherited audience from the football!"

"Ah yes, because when I think of people who'll tune into my show, I picture football hooligans."

Despite of Hayes' protestations, there he was, taping a show on a dreary Thursday afternoon. It would be three days stale by the time it aired, so Hayes wasn't exactly "feeling" it. To make matters worse he had only just arrived in Heathrow an hour or two ago, after his latest trip to New York. He was in a little mood, to put it lightly. The audience didn't seem to mind, even if the host wanted to tear his hair out every time production was paused. They all thought it was part of an "act".

Usually Hayes only had to sit through one performance and one interview. This evening he had been put through two live renditions of 'Hyperactive', because Robert Palmer had not thought he sounded great on the first run through.

Hayes had flashed a smile, and assured him a second go at it wouldn't remedy that issue.

Niall sent Hayes for a cigarette break immediately after that comment.

Hayes didn't mind Palmer that much, at least the man was well-dressed, but things had been tense since the get-go. Perhaps it was because Hayes had written a review for Rolling Stone a few months ago titled 'I Truly Meant to Turn You Off'-- a play of words, of course, on his single 'I Didn't Mean To Turn You On'. He thought he had been tame in his critique of the album, even stating that Palmer's vocals were good when not slammed beneath a synth machine. And if forced to choose between listening to a man from Yorkshire try his hand at Caribbean-rock, like he had in the past, or listening to the "funk"-rock of Riptide, he would choose Riptide every time. If held at gun-point of course.

Palmer had refused to be interviewed by Hayes when he returned from his cigarette break, on account of being insulted. Well, Hayes was rather insulted when Palmer covered 'You Really Got Me' by the Kinks, several years ago, but you didn't see him backing out of an agreement.

If only Hayes had gotten his Friday slot-- where he had his darling Sade set to perform, and an interview lined up with music journalist turned musician, Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys. Now they were to be rescheduled and he was stuck with Robert Palmer who he had been slating for years.