Waterloo Sunset
Tucked away down what has on occasion been an all-too gloomy back street somewhere in the vicinity of the South Bank of the River Thames in London sits an otherwise nondescript four-storey brick building.
Since January 2000, 18 Hatfields has been the home of a pioneering, entertaining, sometimes controversial, but crucially never dull national radio station. The building has seen talkSPORT grow from the germ of an idea, a last-ditch attempt to make a national commercial speech radio station work financially, into one of the country’s most-respected radio brands. And it is a journey I’ve been privileged to be a part of for a startlingly large part of that time.
This week the radio station finally moves. Exiting its old home for some exciting new premises at the top of a gleaming glass edifice near London Bridge and for the first time becoming a full part of the vast corporate behemoth which now owns it. As excited as everyone there is for the future, there’s a sense of melancholy about no longer climbing the steps from the street and hoping that the lifts haven’t broken again. It is hard not to feel that as you wander around the already-vacated sales offices. It truly is the end of a very memorable era.
I’ve spent a measurable portion of my life and indeed professional career sat in the studios on the second floor, home of the radio station ever since it launched. Man and boy you might say.
The building has played host to many extraordinary spectacles, not all of which anyone listening would have known about. Some tales are legendary: Ron Jeremy vanishing into the gents toilets with the two ladies accompanying him, the junior producer tasked with minding him having declined the invitation to join them; Alan Sugar declining a cup of tea from the kitchen being cleansed of dog sick; the two members of parliament wrestling in the control room over a copy of an incriminating email.
There have been births, at least two babies (that I know of) born to parents who met whilst working in the office. Colleagues, be they producers or presenters, have also passed away. The office to this day still echoes to sounds of Mike Dickin stating “my health is not in question”, Ray Wilkins telling everyone he’s “dangerously well”, and cricket commentator Jack Bannister inviting producers to “fuck the schedule” when told he’s not due to be on for 15 minutes.
Activities have even spread out the door and across the road, most notably thanks to the brief period ten years ago when an annual Breakfast v Drive football match was staged on the five-a-side pitches outside our front door.
Prime Ministers have graced the office too. Almost exactly ten years ago this week Gordon Brown strode into the studio for the bold step of taking calls live on air. The main reason this event sticks in the mind is due to the physical evidence of it remaining visible every time you step outside the door onto the second-floor landing. One of the toilet cubicles had been designated the VIP khazi just in case the First Lord needed to relieve himself. To this day the marks from the glue holding up the sign can still be seen.
Then there was the time our front door appeared on the ITV news. The radio station had made a shocking move to sign Richard Keys and Andy Gray, and the whole of the rest of the media suddenly found us newsworthy.
Last weekend was our final one in the old offices, meaning the final Saturday afternoon Match Day Live show to originate from that building. It seemed only appropriate that I should make a photo document of that afternoon. The biggest, busiest show on the station being created by a dedicated team just as it has been week in, week out, for almost 20 years. And will proudly continue high above the London skyline from next week.
What do the new ones look like? Well, the social media team have knocked up a preview:
