Russell Brand leaves 6 Music: hardly anybody notices
Much wringing of hands greeted the arrival of Mr Russell Brand at 6 Music in April, assisted for one week only by Karl Pilkington, and ever since, by Trevor Lock and Matt Morgan. The message boards have been alive with hyperventilating support and table-thumping dissent ever since. His style of broadcast - eloquent and yet barracking, self-aggrandising and yet 'umble, self-centred and yet sidekick-dominated - was not to the tastes of all, and the fact that he is a comedian appears to some to be a crime on a music station, even though 6 Music launched with a Sunday show hosted by Sean Hughes, has employed Dave Gorman and Bill Bailey as deps, still boasts Phill Jupitus at breakfast after four years and positively encourages Richard Herring to come in and be funny on it. What, I think, rubbed a certain section of the listenership up the wrong way were associations - the Big Brother connection, the tabloid currency - in other words, snobbery. His Sunday shows, which I always listened to, as I was upstairs preparing for my own, ranged from hilarious to a shouting mess, a by-product of freeform radio. I met Russell and he was both charming and quiet. What a surprise: a comedian whose public persona is just that.

Through little fault of his own (he was always a team player, trailing ahead to other shows and bigging up 6 Music on air), he also rubbed up some of the other presenters by being granted the sort of carte blanche to do whatever the hell he liked that many of us would like. But let's be fair, three hours of "anarchy" at the weekend is one thing, "anarchy" every day would soon get boring. I felt aggrieved that what was once a podcast comprising the best bits of 6 Music (including, yes, myself and Richard Herring) suddenly became the Russell Brand podcast. But its success speaks for itself. I concede that point.

I saw Russell onstage at the Albert Hall in March, before he started at 6, and he was a terrific turn. He pretty much repeated his routine at the Secret Policeman's Ball, and was grudgingly agreed (by some) to have been one of the highlights of an uneven night. Seeing him ply his craft makes all the difference. The biggest controversy, again not of his making, came last month when an upturn in 6 Music's fortunes were attributed to the Russell Brand Effect, a phrase used in the official press release in a quote by an "insider", whoever that may have been. It certainly gave the press their angle. You can see why anyone at 6 Music not connected with the Russell Brand show might feel that their hard work was being somewhat diminished at this point. The defence will be that you have to put a spin on the RAJAR figures, or else Media Guardian won't be interested. A 40% rise in listeners year-on-year isn't in itself a "story." Russell Brand is.

Here are the numbers. In September 2005, 6 Music's RAJAR figure was 285,000 listeners (a weekly average calculated using their rubbish "diary" system - but hey, it's the only system we've got and we must live and die by it). In December 2005, it was 354,000. In March 2006, it went up a little bit to 359,000. In June 2006, the first quarter to feel the impact of Russell Brand, it fell slightly to 354,000. However, in September 2006, our most recent audit, it shot back up to 400,000. This is a fine figure, one we're all proud of at 6 Music. Year on year, this does represent an increase of 40%, an increase that was attributed to "the Russell Brand effect." In cold hard facts, the "effect" was an increase of something like 12%, which is still worthy of note, just not quite as spectacular.

Nobody's disputing the seismic ripples Russell created while he was with us. It couldn't have been better timed. Pretty much the moment he arrived, his dalliances with, among others, Kate Moss, landed him in the tabloid spotlight, where he has remained ever since, to the point of his departure from 6 Music actually making the papers, initially and speculatively reported by the likes of the Daily Star as a sacking. Which it wasn't. He was merely moving onwards and upwards, with two shows on Radio 2 to get his teeth into. It's no secret that 6 Music and Radio 2 share a controller; such deals are bound to take place. His work at 6 Music is done. He's ruffled feathers. He's created a stir. He's brought new listeners to the network, some of whom might even stick around, and he's put a podcast with our name on it at the toppermost of the iTunes chart. Not bad for six months' work. Whatever you may think of him, and whatever you thought of his 6 Music show, he earned his money. The tabloids, though, have created a potential monster, and Russell will have to take extremely good advice to ride this tide of unwanted salacious interest into a long-term career in his chosen field, that of comedy.

As you can see from the webcam picture above, he was pre-recording the last hour of his last show while I was doing the Chart on Saturday. (He made no secret of this fact on Sunday.) I passed him and his gang coming out of the BBC as I went in on Sunday, and I wished him well. There was something exciting about having him in the building. I hope the Radio 2 message board people leave a few bones after they've done with him. I suspect he can handle it.

Night of a thousand stars
Well, one. But it was a fabulous night anyway. TCM Classic Shorts, now in its seventh year at the Times BFI London Film Festival, is a short film award that dishes out kudos, prize money and valuable exposure to makers of films that are not long. This is my second year hosting the bash from the stage of NFT1 at the National Film Theatre, and once again, it was a blast. I was actually worryingly calm before taking the stage at 6.30, having been incredibly nervous last year as it was my first time, and I was taking over the gig from Richard Jobson, who'd done a sterling and sincere job the year before and I couldn't hope to match his gravitas or his form (him being a proper filmmaker and all), so I tried a "lighthearted approach". I like the responsibility of hosting to a full auditorium of sympathetic people who are prepared to give my jokes the benefit of the doubt and, at one point in my five-minute introductory speech, a ripple of applause. I live for that ripple. It's quite flattering having a big slide of your name behind you too. But tonight wasn't about me, it was about the makers of the five shortlisted films, which can be seen over the weekend on TCM (check listings for details). I presented second and third prizes, but Imelda Stauton was secured to come up and present the big one, which was terrific. Last year, they got Helen Mirren, who I was able to socialise with in the green room beforehand and become her best mate. Unfortunately Imelda snuck in mid-ceremony so I only got to meet her onstage and briefly afterwards. She seemed very nice, and was, aptly, short. (Look at me turning into a luvvy.)

I liked the winning film, Silence Is Golden, written and directed by Chris Shepherd, whom I coincidentally met once at a wedding, although the most striking of all the five shortlisted films had to be Cubs, a poignant and grisly story about urban fox-hunting. Assuming, as it says, no foxes were harmed in the making of this film, I liked its message. If a single fox was even prodded or perturbed, I withdraw my patronage.

TCM are nice people to do business with and the event was once again a well-oiled machine. They throw a decent party too, at the Cafe Royal this year, although I was too sober to really throw myself into it, and because of where I was standing, in a doorway, the waiters with the nibbles kept sweeping past with the platters held high above their heads, so I couldn't reach them. There was a man in the toilets giving out hand towels and expecting a tip. I hate this. I gave him a pound, as I reasoned that any man willing to stand in the gents all night, Cafe Royal or not, deserves some money.

There was some nail polish in the goody bag which stank.

I don't have any photographs from last night yet, so here are some from last year, which I've only just seen myself:


Me, onstage.

Me, looking admiringly at Gurinder Chadha, director of Bend It Like Beckham.

Helen Mirren, onstage. She heckled me during my speech, so I told her to shut up, which was exciting.

Me, sharing a joke afterwards with Michael Caton-Jones, director of Shooting Dogs and Basic Instinct 2.

Perhaps I'll get my hands on the photos from last night in a year's time. For more details of the weekend and the winners, visit TCM.

STOP PRESS!
Here they are.


Me, beforehand, sitting between TCM boss Alan Musa and LFF Artistic Director Sandra Hebron

Me, onstage (note: exciting new transparent lecturn)

Me, laughing hard at something said by John Hayes, director of third prize winner Venom, even though he said that some ants were harmed in the making of his film

Me and Imelda Staunton (I hope that vein on my head is alright)

Me, Imelda and winners Chris Shepherd, producer Maria Manton and the boy who was in their film Silence Is Golden