This time it's not as much fun. But it's still funny: Tim delivers his spiel about how much we love a classic Australian summer with a classic Aussie barbie and a game of cricket, with our beloved lambassador, Sam Kekovich. "What's sizzling, Sammy?"
"Howdy, Tiny Tim!" is all Sam has time to say.
You can't help but know there's a batsman thinking, 'Damn, I missed Tim!' - unless it was Merrick Watts, clearing the way for his 'throw another steak on the barbie' beef campaign.
Or are they?
Why is the only change of shot the point at which the cricket ball hits him? Why not just one unbroken take?
Has this been staged?
Is it the best lamb barbecue attention-getter yet? Well, no it isn't. Actually, once you've watched it twice, you realise it's a bit sh*t, quite frankly. Interesting to see if it works.
Does it make you want to eat lamb more? Or does it make you want to punch Tim Bailey and Sam Kekovich in the head more?
There’s not much point in reporting old news, even less in recounting past weather reports, but this clip of Tim Bailey is so good, and I’m surprised that there are people who still haven’t seen it.
Here’s what happened: Ten evening news bulletin. Weather report. Anchor throws to weatherman:
“And now, over to Tim Bailey, who has some very musical friends joining him this evening…”
Tim starts doing his thing:
“Aw, isn’t it lovely to come back to work after a holiday, and work with some of your favourite guests on this weather segment.…”
I reckon he’s got the slightest look of nerves or fear at this point – he can see something’s about to happen – but he carries on regardless, trooper that he is.
“They’re about to take off not just through New South…”
But it’s a bit hard to carry on when someone’s invaded your stage. Still, Timba tries to persevere:
“… through New South Wales…”
He really is trying to carry on the segment despite the two boisterous bogans.
“And… Excuse me…”
The ‘and’ is an attempt to carry on the broadcast; the ‘excuse me’ is his admission that they’ve gotten the better of him. At least he doesn’t curse in front of the cute little girls in the choir who manage to maintain decorum. Some of them smile, but all resist the desire to squeal like the bogans, or join in, running amok.
“Excuse me… Can someone please…”
He’s repeated the polite ‘excuse me’ that once again is ignored. As is his request for “someone” to “please”. Instead he grabs hold of the toothy one in the crimson stripes. She doesn’t stop smiling or squealing, but tries to get free of his grasp by slapping Timba away. She only manages to brush his contact mic.
My favourite sequence takes place as toothy bogan tries to run away. Timba’s holding tight and she’s kind of ‘cornered’ by TV execs or whoever the off-camera folk are. I say ‘cornered’ – ToBo (toothy bogan) runs straight for them, Timba still attached. When she gets there, ToBo is face-to-face with a power-dressed… I dunno… station executive? Segment producer? Timba groupie? Whatever. ToBo facepalms her (could be a pretty ‘him’; hard to tell…) out of shot with Timba still attached.
At which point we cut back to the studio, so the anchor can say,
“Some problems obviously with Tim Bailey there with the weather. We’ll try and move forward…”
I can only assume they couldn’t cut back to her sooner because she was laughing too much. Well, I wanna assume that. By the look of her, she didn’t find it funny at all, either because ‘sense of humour’ was never in the contract (someone at Ten has to be serious about something!) or because she was the one who hired the girls.
The answer is, whatever’s going: ‘entertainment reporters’ (anyone can read a rumour on Twitter and repeat it on air); weather girls (anyone can entertain an audience for thirty seconds before reading a bunch of places and temperatures off an autocue – as demonstrated by the clip in contention); assistants to Clare Werbeloff, helping her ‘do’ whatever it is she actually ‘does’; the list is virtually endless.
And the beauty of being at Nine means one day, not next week, not the week after, but within the next couple of financial years, say, as long as they don’t get ‘boned’, one of them could actually end up running the joint.