Ratty
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 Ratty apologises, he's too busy for boating today

I have just finished filming that heartwarming evergreen Victorian classic Three Men in a Boat. ("This programme features strong language and extreme violence from the beginning" - though things got calmer once we got the boat in the water.  Placidly gliding up the river on a September weekday after the beginning of the school term, through ruined Kingston and leafy Windsor, we started assuming that some germ bomb had exploded.  There was no one about at all.  Except at Hampton Court, where we bumped into (sorry about that girls) a team of attractive social workers from Teddington.  They were messing about on a ratepayer-subsidised team-building river-boat-exercise. 

I would have thought that wrestling with west London's youth offenders was bonding enough but clearly not.  Their council had decided that paddling a skiff and steering around slightly damp posts would harden up their team awareness.  It used to be white water rafting and SAS assault courses, of course, but the insurance risks are apparently bringing on prohibitive disability claims.  The path to true grit these days is a little gentle floating beneath Cleve lock.  Good luck.  A week in a small boat only served to utterly divide me and my old friend Rory McGrath.

Rebecca rang in great excitement. I was in Denmark trying to wrestle my own sailing boat from a Danish carpenter. She tells me that the Daily Telegraph has run a piece promising me plunging nude in the Thames.  Calm down girls.  Yes, I did jump in, risking not only Weil's disease but Weil's derision.  However, I was respectably clad and, bizarrely, well-shod. The only scandal will be the plaster white of my flabby body.  I have made a living exposing myself on stage (in the notorious "tie-quickie") so I never usually take my clothes off in public for fear of gales of public laughter.  But competitive reality television is quite another thing altogether and brought out the worst exhibitionist instincts.

The rank commercialisation of the Thames since 1889 (when he wrote the heart-warming, evergreen etc) is something that Jerome K Jerome would have difficulty recognising. Today, his cosy riverine inns buzz all morning with the hum of business meetings.  In the coffee room of the Compleat Angler I had to rustle my newspaper and snore loudly to avoid overhearing  "I'm majoring on..." "the focus of my presentation..." "let's take a rain check here. .."   We remain two nations, alas, but the industrious have an iron grip on the Home Counties now.  Today's Ratty would be too busy meeting his accountant in a hotel lounge to come out on the river.

Griff Rhys Jones.    Sunday Telegraph     25 Sep 2005

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Last modified: September 10, 2006