One of my bestest(est) pals is an assistant producer who used to work for the BBC, and for a long time he was mad keen on the idea of making a documentary about people in love with watching birds. He wanted to push the idea to some independent production companies. We began to cobble together ideas and a rudimentary outline for the programme, and I insisted that it shouldn't just show birdy people as a load of eccentric twitcher weirdos, but instead try to convey why so many people choose to spend so much of their lives engrossed in birdy things, the full spectrum: from UK twitchers and world birders to musicians directly inspired by birdsong and even a few crazed 2-tons-a-week-of-niger-seed garden birders. Definitely the latter. We even agreed that some of the filming should be "quite beautiful".
It was also going to try and reflect the social diversity of birdy people, from corrupt high court judges soaked in brandy to homeless vermin soaked in Mad Dog 20:20, from religious leaders to large percentages of the sex offenders register. All bound together by a love of birds.
And so (helped by a whiteboard, the use of expressions such as blue sky thinking and a paper bag of boiled sweets) we thought up a few ideas - wowzer! - and what ideas they were! But unfortunately it was all just incredibly twee and p1ss boring. Ultimately, we reluctantly admitted that the programme would have to focus primarily on eccentrics and nut-jobs in order for it to make compelling entertainment for non-birdy folk, and unfortunately zooming off to see vagrants would have to make up a large part of it. I guess the thrill of seawatching out of your car window or the subtelties of Speyside crossbill vocalizations will perhaps never make it to mainstream TV.
And so that was the end of what would probably have been the greatest ever birdy documentary. A great loss to you all.
But life goes on. My pal went to work on a little known programme called Dragons Den and then moved on to some fancy job at ITV where he gets to wear a laminated badge with his name in capital letters. Apparently he has no regrets.
And as for me? Well I'm just a simple soul: the wind in my hair and the odd episode of Columbo is all I need in life.
But one day, one distant day, you never know, we might just get that whiteboard out again...