Life's What You Make It

by Phillip Schofield

  We came out of the commercial break and explained what was about to happen. A record would be broken for the most knives thrown in a minute.

  ‘Everyone, take your positions.’

  Fern and I stood to the side. The minute began.

  The knives were thrown at lightning speed, all accurate … until.

  One of the knives glanced off the woman’s head. She winced and immediately a trickle of blood ran from her hairline. Fern and I took different approaches. I ran and stood in front of the camera to hide the woman from shot and then, ludicrously, asked if the record had been broken. Fern, on the other hand, cried out, ‘Oh, there’s blood! There’s blood!’ thereby somewhat giving the game away. The couple seemed fairly non-plussed. A few moments later, sitting on the sofa and a bit shaken, Fern and I looked across the studio. One of the crew was mopping up the blood so they could set the fashion item. The show always goes on.

  The fun wasn’t confined to the studio. Getting ready in the mornings was also great fun (it still is). Fern and I would sit in the make-up room with David and Lyn as we got ready. We gossiped, told stories and laughed. I can remember saying, if laughter makes you live longer, we would all make it to a hundred and fifty.

  It was in that make-up room that Fern persuaded me to stop colouring my hair. As you know, I had already, teasingly, showed my true colours when I first moved to ITV, but they didn’t like it at all.

  ‘Just let it grow out,’ said Fern. ‘The great thing about being on TV every day is that it will happen gradually.’

  She was right, and it was such a pain in the arse to keep colouring it. Every five weeks from the age of nineteen I had sat in the hairdresser’s chair as they hid the grey. Not only was it unbelievably boring, it was also bloody expensive. ‘Right, then,’ I said. ‘That’s it. I’m not colouring it again.’

  So that I didn’t have a hard root line, my very talented long-standing hair stylist and friend, Lino Carbosiero, used a skilful camouflage of highlights and lowlights to ease the transition. Bit by bit, it was revealed. I, like everyone else, had no idea what it was going to look like or what colour it would be. I actually love my hair colour, I love that it’s so distinctive. I’m happy with the ‘silver fox’ label. I’m less happy that it’s such a beacon! It’s useful for Steph to find me in a supermarket, but anywhere else it just screams, ‘I’m over here!’ People constantly say that they recognize me because of my hair. If I put a baseball cap on, the noise from my hair is instantly quietened, sadly at the expense of looking like a dick, because I don’t suit hats of any kind.

  Fern decided that she, David, Lyn and I should go on outings. We went to the War Rooms and to Westminster Abbey but our most successful visit was to Kensington Palace. We had principally gone to look at a collection of Princess Diana’s dresses and gowns – not really my thing, but I love a good palace. When we arrived, we discovered that the exhibition had, unfortunately, been delayed. Fern’s disappointment must have been obvious because one of the senior staff came over to apologize. We all said it was perfectly okay and that we would come back another time. The palace official said he would make it up to us and show us a part of the palace that was usually closed to visitors.

  Now this kind of thing is right up my street. If there is a door marked ‘No Entry’ or ‘Private’, that is the door I want to go through. If there is a roped-off area, I want to step over the rope. I actually came up with a TV format years ago called Behind the Rope, which took me to ‘forbidden’ places. Sadly, I still couldn’t get behind the particular ropes that I had my eye on. If you’re a TV exec reading this, I’m only interested if you start at that windowless ivy-covered building by Horseguards. Oh, and what’s behind that metal door at the bottom of the steps that we were warned away from on Schofield’s Quest?

  We were led through a door or two and were shown into Apartment 1A, the spacious and empty rooms where Princess Margaret used to live. It was an extraordinary step back in time. The kitchen is said to have been designed by Antony Armstrong-Jones, and there was a jacuzzi bath that still had the instructions beside it. We all agreed that it was a home that had seen a lot of parties. It would later become the home to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.

  Dressing-room space was limited in the old This Morning studios on the Southbank. We only had two guest dressing rooms and, tucked around the corner, hidden away near make-up and wardrobe, were the two ‘presenter dressing rooms’ that were used by Fern and me. Fern had had other signs made up for our doors: on hers was ‘The Spa’; on mine ‘The Club.’ Occasionally, if a big star came on the show, we would be asked if they could use our dressing rooms because they were nicer and had their own bathroom. We would pack our stuff into a bag and stick it in the wardrobe. I let Robert Downey Jr use mine and, allegedly, when a producer went to brief him, only his manager could be seen. Where was Mr Downey Jr? ‘He’s hiding,’ said the manager. The producer was a little unnerved. Hiding? Was she supposed to look for him? She found him fully clothed, standing in a dry shower. Apparently, he thought it was hilarious.

  Michael Winner also used my dressing room. I had read before he arrived that he had enjoyed a spectacular lunch and had drunk some very good wine. I was fascinated so I knocked on my door. I said we were looking forward to having him on the show, but I was interested in the wines he had drunk at that lunch. Bearing in mind the wine company I was now keeping, the places I had visited, the stellar wines I had tasted and the fact that I now owned five thousand bottles, his answer was dismissive in the extreme. He simply said, ‘You wouldn’t understand.’ I told Fern, and the seven-minute interview he was due to have inexplicably finished three minutes early.

  Fern was asked if Lauren Bacall could use her dressing room. ‘Of course,’ came the answer.

  She had just been given a very expensive candle and decided to light it for Mis Bacall to add a touch of atmosphere. The Hollywood legend was everything we hoped she would be, charismatic, fascinating and elegant. Fern and I went to the corridor after the interview to bid her farewell. Ms Bacall walked out of Fern’s dressing room, gave us a sultry smile and huskily thanked us for a lovely chat. As she walked past we noticed something smoking in her hand.

  ‘Fuck me,’ said Fern. ‘She’s lifted my candle.’

  We were an amazing on-screen team, and others liked the dynamic, too. Paul Smith’s Celador had once again had a great idea for Fern and me: would we like to resurrect Mr & Mrs for ITV prime time? It was such a fun show to do. The intimacies the couples admitted to on that show were things they would never have discussed on the This Morning sofa.

  Presenting the Soap Awards with Fern.

  It was going well. David O’Brien and Lyn Evans made up our usual foursome, and we were a happy team.

  I honestly have literally no idea why it went so badly wrong.

  In the copy of Fern’s autobiography that she gave me is the handwritten note:

  To Dearest Phillip

  What fun we’ve had for a couple of twats.

  Love you

  Fern

  I know that the publication of the fact that she had had a gastric-band operation hurt her deeply. Fern was always extremely private about those kinds of personal details, as most people would be. In her mind, it was no one’s business. She had also been involved with Ryvita but had been very careful never to connect her weight loss with the brand. I watched the crash happening beside me, knowing that my friend was being deeply wounded. It was the first time I realized and witnessed the fact that, when it comes to criticizing women, the worst and cruellest culprits are other women. She was relentlessly followed; she believed she was spied on, bugged and tapped. Long lenses intruded upon her and her family and it was causing immense heartache.

  I always believed I was being a true friend. I always believed that I had properly got her back. If I made an error, to this day, I don’t know what it was. There was intense speculation that the difference in our pay was a male/female imbalance and a source of friction. W
e both knew that wasn’t the case. We never discussed money. I was on an exclusive contract with ITV and wasn’t allowed to work for anyone else, so my salary was higher. Fern was offered something similar, but didn’t accept. She didn’t want the restriction and wanted to be free to work wherever she pleased.

  No matter what I did, I couldn’t seem to make it right. I have mentioned before that I want to be involved in all aspects of a show, not in an interfering way, it’s just that I have many years’ of experience and I’ve presented through problems that could’ve been avoided. Sometimes a team can work on a show late into the night, and in the light of morning a fresh set of eyes can spot something that has been missed. This Morning is not the kind of programme that benefits from presenters without opinions or input. We are all deeply proud of what we do and the environment is one of friendly discussion, consensus and ideas.

  By the start of 2009, the atmosphere in our make-up room was not as happy as it had been. We were all concerned about our friend. A producer walked in to run through that morning’s show and as we got to the end of the meeting I looked at the timings for a fashion item. I noticed there were six minutes before a break and seven minutes after. I looked at the daily briefs to see how much fashion content there was to fill the time: to my mind, not enough by far. I asked the producer if he was sure he had enough content to fill thirteen minutes.

  As he looked back at the script, Fern said to me, ‘Why don’t you just stop meddling and let him do the show?’

  I replied, ‘Because if we don’t have enough content, it’ll be us that has to fill the time.’

  ‘Just leave it alone!’ Fern answered.

  ‘You’re right,’ said the producer to me. ‘There’s too much time. I’ll change things around.’

  I left the room and stood in my dressing room, staring out of the window. I knew the intense pressure she was under but I was stunned that she would lash out at me. I walked back into the make-up room and calmly said, ‘Please don’t do that to me again.’

  I think, for whatever reason, that was the point Fern decided she didn’t want to do This Morning any more. She had been gradually reducing her days, but I think, at that moment, she’d had enough. When she announced that she was leaving I was heartbroken. Heartbroken that our friendship had inexplicably gone so sour, and heartbroken because I’d never had a presenting partnership like that before.

  I have tried over the years to make it right, but Fern has moved on, and I understand that. I still miss her deeply though, and in recent times would have valued her counsel. When I came out, she didn’t text me. She did text Steph though, which was really kind.

  11

  When Fern left, there was only one person I wanted to present This Morning with. I’d been co-hosting Dancing on Ice with Holly Willoughby for three years and she was perfect for the job. Looking at where we are now, it was a surprisingly difficult idea to sell.

  The first time I met Holly was at a production meeting for Dancing on Ice (DOI from now on, because it’s quite long to type!). Holly was another graduate from the school of Saturday-morning TV. It’s really quite incredible how many of us started in children’s telly. Holly had a brilliant onscreen chemistry with Stephen Mulhern. Very early in his career, Stephen, who is also a talented magician, had come to our house to perform at Molly’s birthday party. I love how all our paths have criss-crossed over the years.

  DOI was a risk – in fact, there was no real belief that it would be a hit. Could ice skating be made sexy? Would it interest an evening audience? Even with ice-skating legends Torvill and Dean on board, expectations were not high. As we got closer to transmission Holly and I shared our nerves together. I’m always the same: usually very nervous for show one, and then fine afterwards. For Holly, this was her first big prime-time show and she was terrified. Our opening-night cards to each other both featured similar ‘shitting ourselves’ messages. The show was looking incredible, but there was still no great excitement from anyone at ITV. It was, however, a surprise hit and went on to be the third-highest-rated show in 2006: the final got 13 million viewers. When the figures came in the next morning, we were all stunned. ITV were ecstatic, and Holly and I were deeply relieved. I was also pleased because I’d been in to Mappin and Webb on Regent Street and had bought the principals of the team a diamond that they could have mounted however they liked. Maybe that ‘ice’ was lucky for us.

  The reaction from the public was huge! They loved the show. That was principally proved by the huge uptake of excited families rushing out to their local rink. We constantly heard stories of skate shops running out of supplies because of the influx of new skaters. I still had the occasional cigarette, and the DOI smoking club was one of the best. If you stood outside in the cold with everyone, there was a unique camaraderie. It was outside in those five minutes that we got the best gossip. ‘She hates him.’ ‘He’s a total arsehole.’ ‘What a bitch.’ It was never quite the same when I moved on to vapes.

  Over the years, it has been such a happy ship. While the scandals, affairs and meltdowns have happened on the ice, the production team, led in the early days by Katie Rawcliffe, loved every trauma. The gossip at the Sunday-morning script read through is always sensational.

  ‘She did what?’

  ‘You’ll never believe who shagged who last night.’

  Our end-of-series ‘blooper reels’ are legendary.

  Holly left the show for a couple of years to present The Voice UK and Christine Bleakley stepped in. At the time, Christine was getting a battering by the press, mostly the same kind of female columnists who had been so cruel to Fern. It was horrid to see her go through it, especially because Christine is one of the most thoughtful, kind and genuine people in the entire business. It was during Christine’s tenure that I was finally persuaded to learn a routine on ice.

  Even to be asked was a turn-up because on my first-ever day at the DOI rink, on the morning before the show, I had asked if I could have a skate. Boots were found and I was taken around the ice by Chris Dean and, I think, Matt Evers. I was loving it. When I looked over to the stage area there were four ‘suits’ with stern faces and folded arms. I was told I wasn’t insured. During the following week, I figured that as long as I accepted full responsibility they’d be happy.

  The next Sunday, I was back on the ice. No one said anything: It must be okay. On the Monday morning I got a call from Paul in the office. Even though he’s one of my best friends, if Paul calls unannounced my heart usually sinks. It means there’s some kind of trouble.

  ‘Hi, mate, it’s Paul. We’ve got a bit of a problem.’

  ‘Oh God. Okay. What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s about your skating.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Apparently, last week you were told you weren’t allowed to skate and this week you went on the ice again. The shit has hit the fan.’

  ‘But … but I said I’d take full responsibility, I’d sign something to accept liability.’

  ‘Nope, you’re forbidden.’

  ‘Forbidden?! What will they do to me if I ignore it and go on?’

  ‘They’ve said that YOU won’t get into trouble but everyone else who’s involved in allowing you on to the ice WILL be in trouble.’

  That was the end of that. There was no way I’d get anyone into trouble, so my dream of weekly skating lessons with Torvill and Dean had quickly melted. They did give me an amazing pair of signed skates, though. Unfortunately, I’m too scared to put them on in case the wet ice rubs off the signatures.

  So, after all that, six years later, I was now being asked to skate on the ice. After agreeing, I grumbled, ‘Think how bloody good I would have been if you’d let me have six years of lessons.’

  Christine and I had lessons for three weeks with Karen Barber and the team and I was happy with how I was getting on. On show day, I was nervous, but pleased with the way our little routine was going. It felt fast! When I watched it back, I was horrified, I was like a tortoise on ice. It
may have felt fast, but it certainly was not fast. I would definitely have been faster if I’d had all those lost lessons.

  Dancing on Ice has always been a firm favourite of all our family and friends. One of Steph’s most tiresome jobs of the year is sorting out the tickets for those who want to come. There’s a waiting list! I get a small allocation for each show and, even though the show doesn’t start until January, they’ve usually all gone by the end of October. There’s no question that it is a great show to watch. My mum and dad loved being in the audience, but my dad was getting poorly.

  I’ve been dreading getting to this part of my life. It’s one of the reasons I won’t do Piers Morgan’s Life Stories. I can’t tell this story out loud, and I know he’d make me. Oh! I’ve just realized, I’m going to have to for the audio book! That won’t be easy.

  My dad was my hero – I hope you’ve got a sense of that by now. Having devoted parents has meant I’ve been truly blessed. When you’re young, you always think they’re invincible. New Zealand had proven that Brian Schofield wasn’t. I mentioned that the events of that horrific night in New Zealand had given him another twenty-five years. Those twenty-five years were nearly up.

  Though my mum never fell out of love with Cornwall (she’s in lockdown there now), my dad did. Our girls have been lucky to have four incredible grandparents. Steph’s mum and dad, John and Gill, live closer to us. My folks always had to either come up to see us from Newquay or wait for us to drive down to them. My dad always cried when he had to say goodbye to the girls. On one of their visits up to us he floated an idea. We had an old stable block in the garden. What would we think if they sold up in Cornwall, converted the stable and he made it into a cottage? His health was beginning to falter. I had no problem having them closer.

  Dad with Molly. I love this picture, I’ve always thought Molly looks like a baby seal.