Mitzi Szereto with Teddy Tedaloo enjoying a post-Mitzi TV pint in Kensington.
When you have your own Web TV channel, everyone wants to get into the act. Suddenly the entire world is getting in touch with a “brilliant” idea for a segment (which generally involves sticking their mug in front of the camera!). Now I’m very good at saying no, especially when said idea hasn’t the slightest connection to what Mitzi TV is about (or, for the matter, is even passingly “brilliant”). But there are times when an idea, not to mention the personality behind it, can be awfully persuasive.
Therefore how could I possibly refuse when the famous Teddy Tedaloo, Production Assistant Extraordinaire at Mitzi TV, suggested we cover a teddy bear festival?
The result is the new Mitzi TV video “Bear Necessities”!
The Mitzi TV crew head into the wilds of central London to seek out some furry characters at the Hugglets Teddy Bear Festival (http://www.hugglets.co.uk).
Well, I suppose it was inevitable: I’d have to screw up somewhere. And what better place to do so than right in front of a video camera for the entire world to see? Okay, I could have kept it hidden, saved my professional pride. But that would be cheating.
And you don’t want me to cheat, do you?
Because sometimes even Mitzi doesn’t get it right!
Mitzi Szereto at Mitzi TV "Born To Be Wild" video shoot
Mitzi TV head to the pastoral English countryside for some peace and relaxation, only to get a lot more than they bargained for when a hoard of Harley Davidson riders descends on their quiet country hotel.
Yours truly (that’s me!) recently took some time out to chat with journalist Michael Casey at a local Essex watering hole about my new entrepreneurial Internet television venture Mitzi TV – its origins, its direction, and its future, as well as the business of books, blogging, and social media.
In case you didn’t already know (like where you been, mate?), Mitzi TV is the new web TV channel to head to for all things quirky and eccentric in London. We’ve gone from crazy pub singalongs, eating jellied eel, and chatting about classic cars with such luminaries as Formula 1 racecar driver/BBC TV presenter Tiff Needell, couture shoe designer Jimmy Choo and Batman – to Morris dancing with software geeks. And no, this wasn’t in the same episode!
Of course, I couldn’t create all this madness and mayhem without the talents of cameraman extraordinaire/stand-up diamond geezah Steve Beer and cutie-pie theme musicman extraordinaire Andrew Shatnyy (Facebook/MySpace). And let’s not forget the talents of my handsome (albeit furry) production assistant extraordinaire Teddy Tedaloo, who also provides onscreen talent.
As for those buttocks I mentioned, how do you deal with a governmental body that has all the common sense of not even one buttock?
In my never-ending quest to bring you the ever-quirky and eccentric (while still managing to stay out of the loony bin), I recently found myself entering into a rather annoying fracas with a governmental body: the Royal Parks people. I knew I should’ve cut through all those buzzing drones and biscuit-eating/tea drinking middle men (and women) and gone straight to the top, specifically HRH. Now Lizzie’s a queen who gets things done!
I am referring to a recent attempt by yours truly to line up permission to shoot a Mitzi TV video at Speaker’s Corner in London’s Hyde Park. Because it’s a “Royal” park, I knew I’d need to obtain an official okay. I mean, it wasn’t like we’d be there with a little digital camera and could subtly blend into the crowd. We run a professional operation with professional equipment. (Plus people have commented on that big-ass mike I use, so “subtle” is not the word that springs to mind when we’re talking a Mitzi TV shoot.) Since Speaker’s Corner necessitates a substantial police presence (some of the speakers and audience members can get pretty wound up apparently), I didn’t fancy being led away by the Old Bill, therefore I decided to follow the proper channels to make the shoot happen. It’s a quirky kind of event, and Mitzi TV is nothing if not quirky, so it didn’t seem likely I’d be given an “on yer bike, missus!”.
When I received an email replying to my query, I thought, hey, this is great – sounds like we’re in! Here follows the exact text that refers directly to the issue about who and what controls the area in question:
Speaker’s Corner is an integral part of Hyde Park, which is one of London’s eight Royal Parks. The Royal Parks are owned by the Crown, but were passed to the Government under the Crown Lands Act 1851 to be managed as public open space. They are now the responsibility of the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, who delegates their day to day management to The Royal Parks. They are funded by the taxpayer.
Teddy Tedaloo in Mitzi TV video opener
“Public open space.” “Funded by the taxpayer.” Well, I’m no lawyer, but this sounds like the definition of a public place – and you do not need permission to film in a public place (not yet anyway). That is why it’s called “PUBLIC.” That statement about being funded by the taxpayer put a further stamp of approval on the process, because guess who’s a taxpayer? Yeah, moi. Just to make certain there was no misinterpretation on my part as to what clearly looked to be a clear description of who controls the park, I messaged once more to confirm that I’d be allowed to shoot some video of the speakers, and asked which specific days they were there spouting off.
The reply came back that these Soapbox Annies and Alis are there on Sundays only, and yes, I would need permission to film, but my message was being forwarded to the Appropriate Party. Not wanting to waste time, I shot off an email to this A.P., explaining what I wished to do and that I’d like to take care of the details as quickly as possible. A.P. messaged back, informing me that they do not permit filming at Speaker’s Corner on Sundays, but I could phone them to discuss the matter further.
Umm… did they not just tell me that I couldn’t film there on a Sunday? So what was there to discuss, the weather? Of course we all know how the Brits love to talk about the weather.
So did this mean they’d give me permission to film at Speaker’s Corner on a day that was not a Sunday? Now forgive me if I’m wrong (or extremely stupid), but what’s the point of filming speakers at Speaker’s Corner when there aren’t any speakers there to film? This is the very question I put forth to A.P. in my reply, also mentioning the fact that plenty of people have shot videos there – how could this be possible if they needed to obtain permission? Needless to say, my email did not receive a response.
Mitzi Szereto at Mitzi TV "Baby You Can Drive My Car" video shoot
Now I have nothing against doing a bit of guerrilla filming – I’ve got more cajones than any of the men I’ve known. However, what I do have something against is being harassed (and led away by handcuffs) by the police. There’s a time and place for handcuffs – and this isn’t one of them. Besides which, London coppers aren’t as cute as they used to be. They’re getting a bit wide, if you know what I mean, looking more and more like their doughnut-eating American counterparts. So we’d better forget the handcuffs for now.
As for Mitzi TV, keep an eye out for me at Speaker’s Corner, because I don’t like taking “no” for an answer.
Guess it’s a good thing they abolished beheading in this country…
So what does an Irishman who’d come by with his guitar to serenade me with weepy Irish songs (the Irish can compete with the Hungarians for misery, I’ll tell you that) have in common with a classic Iggy Pop song? Well, it’s the kind of thing that could only have happened to Yudge.
I’d been living in Leicester at the time, and one afternoon he’d taken the train down from Sheffield, armed with gee-tar and a bottle of red. We met up in town first, had a couple of pints at this dodgy pub full of arguing Scotsmen, then landed in a tapas place with a pitcher of sangria rapidly disappearing between us. After that it was back to mine, where Teddy and I were regaled with tragic musical tales of lovers lost at sea and potatoes that refused to grow – all this to the accompaniment of that very potent bottle of red. In between this melodic misery we had the comic relief of Iggy Pop – and I made my mate sing “The Passenger” at least three times, too. Damn, even now I still love that song!
When the bottle had run dry and we’d likewise run dry of songs (not even The Beatles were sacrosanct), I realised I either had to offer my sofa for the night or pack this Irish crooner into a taxi. The taxi won out, since there was plenty of time to catch an early evening train back up north to Sheffield. However, when the clock struck midnight (okay, the digital face on my bedside clock) and I hadn’t received so much as email or text, I became concerned; it was only an hour’s journey. I texted, I phoned, neither of which yielded a result. Where in hell had he vanished to? Had he run into a mate and gone down the pub? – or worse, run into his estranged wife and her gangster boyfriend? There was nothing I could do but go to bed and hope for the best. He was a grown man – surely he could look after himself. He may have had the heart and soul of a poet, but he’d grown up on a rough estate in Belfast.
The following afternoon the phone rang. No, it wasn’t Sheffield’s version of the Old Bill trying to touch me for bail money. It was the errant Yudge, telling me that never again would he go near red wine; from now on he’d stick to white. It seems he’d fallen asleep on the train and ended up in Leeds – and there were no more trains back down to Sheffield. Thus while I’d been frantically staring at my clock, he’d been wandering about Leeds city centre armed only with his guitar and a terrified expression, being eyed up by all sorts of shifty characters, until he finally ducked into a hotel that had a vacancy on offer at the extortionate rate of 160 quid. It ended up being the most expensive day out this “passenger” ever had. Clearly, this was no story that was destined to see print in a volume of my Erotic Travel Tales anthologies!
Now I’m not trying to upset anyone who might be from Leeds (heartfelt apologies to the Kaiser Chiefs!), but nearly everyone I know who’s been to Leeds has run into a spot of bad luck. One guy I know went there for a night out with his mates and ended up having the crap beaten out of him by some local lads just because he walked down the wrong street. Another guy I know had his wallet stolen from out of his jacket pocket while having dinner at a restaurant (along with his return train ticket home to the safety of rural Lincolnshire). Now I’ve been to Leeds, and I managed to get out unscathed. Mind you, I did leave before dark – and in the safety of a Peugeot that sped away on the M1 with pedal to the metal! So in my opinion, Yudge had a lucky escape.
Alas, he died three years ago this coming August Bank Holiday weekend.
On the day of his funeral, I had to fly to Greece to teach one of my erotic writing workshops on the island of Skiathos. He’d often spoken of moving back to Greece, where he’d spent the early days of his marriage. Since I couldn’t make the funeral (I don’t believe in funerals anyway), I thought it more significant to bury his photo in the sand at the beach. Afterward, I went to light a candle for him at a little church that I found open during siesta. It was empty, save for a handful of other candles that had been lit. Half an hour later I returned to look for the priest and hopefully communicate to him to say a prayer for Yudge (he was Irish Catholic, though I doubt he’d have minded being Greek Orthodox for a day). Unfortunately, there was no sign of the priest – or of anyone, for that matter. Nor was there any sign of the candle I’d lit. The other candles were still there, burning away – but mine had vanished. And yes, I’d put a euro into the box!
Was this my friend’s idea of a joke? Because there was no earthly explanation for that missing candle. It’s a shame Mitzi TV wasn’t around back then – we could’ve done a Greek Tales of the Unexpected!
It took a year before I stopped expecting my phone to ring at 1am in the morning. We thought nothing of calling each other at outrageous hours – we’d usually be up anyway. Perhaps we both suffered from the same malady: he always told me we were too delicate for this world.
He was right. And so was Iggy when he wrote that song.
My mate Yudge was, indeed, the passenger. And I’m willing to bet anything he still is!
Mitzi Szereto at Mitzi TV "Knees Up Mother Brown" video shoot
Mitzi TV go for a right old knees-up at a proper authentic English “local”, The Duke of Kendal pub in Central London, where all forms of madness ensue. From colourful characters to rude Cockney songs and operatic arias, this is English eccentricity at its very finest!
Mitzi Szereto at Mitzi TV Morris Dancing video shoot
Mitzi TV ventures into Central London to meet up with the Westminster Morris Men, a team of Morris dancers who do a lot more than shake their booty as they keep alive this wonderfully rhythmic English folk dance!
What does a bear do when he visits Switzerland for the first time? Why, pay a pilgrimage to Bern, of course!
Aside from being the country’s capital city, Bern is famous for being a longtime historical hangout for bears. In fact, bears have been kept as mascots since the 1500s (apparently in tribute to an ancestor who’d allegedly been killed by some hotshot royal). However, their digs, known as the Bärengraben, are not exactly the Bel Air Country Club. I guess they don’t call it a “pit” for nothing. Although there have been improvements over the years, it still wasn’t the kind of place I’d want my bear to live. (Plus I had my suspicions that the bears who resided there didn’t practice the same standards of hygiene as my dear Ted.)
So frankly, I was a bit concerned about taking him there, for fear he might get upset or depressed. It proved to be a moot issue, however.
Ted’s introduction to Bern consisted of my having to dash into one of those space-capsule public conveniences (it cost me a franc too!), where we were greeted by a bloodied hypodermic needle in the trash bin. I must say, this wasn’t exactly the kind of welcome I’d been expecting. And things got worse. Okay, so I found a post office (which I needed), but finding the bears was proving to be a more difficult task. I asked a nice Swiss lad if I was going in the right direction. Turned out it didn’t matter, as he informed me that the bears weren’t even at home. I was crushed. And I could tell from the muted snarls coming from inside Teddy’s backpack that he was none too chuffed about this piece of news either. Of course, it’s always best to corroborate information – especially information dispensed by strange young Swiss lads on the street, so we headed in what I assumed was the direction of the river, where I happened upon a gentleman in a business suit.
The news wasn’t good. Not only were the bears not there, but their haus was being transformed into a bear park, which wouldn’t be open until this autumn. Apparently the locals realised that chez bear wasn’t up to scratch and decided to do up their digs, kitting it out to be more homey and romantic (soft lighting, scented candles?) in order to inspire Herr and Frau Bear to make some little bears. Although excellent news for the furry residents (whose existence I began to doubt), Ted was inconsolable. We’d travelled by train from Zurich just so he could meet some distant Swiss relatives – and they weren’t even there!
What now?
Well, nothing’s worse than a bear with a sore paw, even if said sore paw is only figurative. I thought I’d cheer him up by taking him to the Parliament building. I’d heard it was worth a look, the interior in particular being of some merit. So we hiked on over, only to be stopped by the guard outside the main entrance, who informed us that the Parliamentary session was now over and no one was allowed inside for a look-see save for those on government business. We could, however, return the following Wednesday. Well, fat lot of good that did, as we’d be back home in Blighty by then.
Poor Teddy was really in a strop by this time. Bloodied syringes, a shut Parliament, and no bears; drastic measures were called for to jolly him out of his bearish mood. What’s a mother to do? Why, take a bear for a beer of course!
Off we went to the river, where I reckoned on finding a nice riverside cafe to chill out with a Swiss beer or two. Not wanting to miss a good photo op, we stopped off on a bridge to take a few piccies, only to be accosted by a curious fellow who started rambling on in German at Ted (Ted doesn’t speak German) and shaking his paw. Now I’m not quite certain who’s to blame here, me or Ted. Having spent an entire week in the land of holey cheese, I have to say that the local peculiar folk all seemed to take a shine to me, Ted or no Ted. I was beginning to worry. Why was I attracting every nutter in Switzerland – from Zurich to Luzern to Bern to Schaffhausen? I mean, what in hell was that about? Had word gone out that I liked the country so much that I was considering finding a Swiss husband just so I could stay there? I must admit, I saw a number of cute lads who appealed to me and I was sorely tempted to pack a few into my suitcase, had it been large enough to accommodate them!
Oh well, I guess I’ll have to go back with a bigger suitcase.
Odd characters and missing bears aside, luck was finally on our side. Not only did I find a nice shady table at a lovely little riverside cafe, but the beer I ordered was a bear beer (or “Bare” as it was spelled for some reason known only to the brewers) – in fact, it even had a picture of one of Ted’s relatives on the glass! Things were definitely on the up, and we spent more than an hour just chilling with our bear beers and watching the flow of the river’s pristine water on a perfect summer’s day in Switzerland.
Mitzi Szereto interviews an Austin Healey for Mitzi TV
Mitzi TV heads to the Connaught Village Spring Festival in London, encountering some cool cars and the likes of Batman, Fred Flintstone, Formula 1 racecar driver and BBC Television’s “Top Gear” and “Fifth Gear” presenter Tiff Needell, and Carrie Bradshaw’s favourite couture shoe designer Jimmy Choo!
Author, blogger, Mitzi TV creator/presenter and the "Queen of Facebook" writes and edits the genres. Published titles include IN SLEEPING BEAUTY'S BED; GETTING EVEN: REVENGE STORIES (crime); DYING FOR IT: TALES OF SEX & DEATH (multi-genre); WICKED: SEXY TALES OF LEGENDARY LOVERS; THE NEW BLACK LACE BOOK OF WOMEN'S SEXUAL FANTASIES (non-fiction/survey); EROTIC FAIRY TALES: A ROMP THROUGH THE CLASSICS; the EROTIC TRAVEL TALES anthology series (erotica/romance); THE WORLD’S BEST SEX WRITING 2005 (non-fiction/criticism); the M. S. VALENTINE erotic novels, and several titles published exclusively with Amazon Kindle.
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