Thursday 6th May 2004

It wasn't until I was asked if I wanted to attend the recording of the commentary for the DVD release of Ripping Yarns (hello?!) that I realised I had absolutely no idea how the process worked. I'd literally never given it a thought. I guess like so many people I took it for granted that it was "cine-pixies" or the like, so it was with an open mind that I made my way through the sunny streets of Soho, everso slightly high on Strepsils and Paracetamol in a desperate attempt to cure the World's worst timed cold. I may not know what a commentary recording involves but I'm pretty sure it's not me coughing and snotting along in the background.

At the recording studio reception I'm greeted by the producer of the DVD, and the man responsible for the artwork (who shall hitherto be known as Tim and Artboy - y'know, like Superheroes or something) and we sit chatting about terry-jones.net until a familiar face appears.

I would've thought I'd be far more nervous about meeting Michael Palin, but maybe it was the kindly words of Tim and Artboy, making me feel more of an equal, or a colleague, than the fangirl that deep down I suspect I am. We shake hands and I croak something about it being nice to meet him. He seems taller than I imagined, and more tanned, but the sparkly puppy dog eyes and almost self-depreciative smile are just as prominent in person. Sorry, I'll stop gushing now!

Terry Jones is not far behind. He strolls into the venue, strangely enough commanding more of a presence than the more instantly recognisable Palin, shaking hands here and there and greeting Michael with a hug and a manly kiss.

And so, our small group is led down into the depths through labyrinthine corridors, past tiny rooms with men in headphones sitting in front of mixing desks, and into a dark plush room. The leather chairs are dimly lit by stylish spotlights, and two imposing silver microphones floating on the end of giant tripods tower over the seating area. At opposite ends of the room stand a large mixing desk covered in buttons and faders, operated by the Knob Twiddler and the Knob Twiddler's Assistant (I'm sure that's the technical term for them..) and an oversized TV somewhat confusingly placed in front of a large projector screen, and both showing the same image.

I'm bustled in by Terry and sat slightly out of the way - I assume because of germs and make a passing comment about being given a leper bell too, but he argues it's simply so I can "see" everything. I smile gratefully and drop back into a comfy leather chair, something for which my sore, flued up, neck is highly grateful. Tim and Artboy sit opposite on similarly deluxe chairs whilst the stars of the afternoon, Messrs. Jones and Palin are directed to two uncomfortable looking office seats. That's the price of stardom, folks.

Chit-chat is exchanged concerning the extras for the DVD needing clearance (including a missing scene from Murder At Moorstones Manor featuring Jehovah's Witnesses) and the near impossible act of organizing the date for the third and final commentary recording is begun. Terry pulls out a diary, whilst Michael stares contemplatively into the middle distance, reeling off dates that he can or can't do. After settling on some time in the afternoon at some point in the latter half of June (and the award for vagueness goes to…)

The microphones are angled forwards and each ex-Python takes a small brown speaker which can only be described as half of an old-fashioned 1970's phone handset, and place it to their ear. There will be many apologies after the recording when the two realise that Tim, Artboy and myself weren't provided with said speaker, and much bemusement at how we sat watching an hour and a half's worth of silent Ripping Yarns.

First up is the slightly disjointed "WWI James Bond" Whinfrey's Last Case. Both Jones and Palin seemed highly entertained by the opening sequence, though Terry laughs slightly more as Michael endeavours to fill silences with interesting anecdotes about supporting actors. A few minutes into the episode and it becomes apparent that the sound has failed in the little 'telephone' speakers, and as the tape is being rewound, Terry and Michael are gently reminded of things they might like to mention when the recording resumes - just things like, well, introducing themselves might be a start.

As things tick along, the constant mention of actors or crew members that neither can remember the names of prompts Michael to reach into his little leather satchel and produce the Ripping Yarns scriptbook (Methuen, 10.99!) which will be referred to by most people in the room, throughout the rest of the recording. A fine example of Mr. Palin's foresight and knowledge of what to pack (obviously stemming from his years as a traveler. Ahem.)

Whilst scribbling down notes, my ears prick up at the mentions of Edward Hardwicke and Richard Hurndall, who both appeared in two of my favourite TV shows (Hardwicke as the second Watson to Jeremy Brett's Holmes, and Hurndall reprising the role originally played by William Hartnell in the Doctor Who story "The Five Doctors") The fact I had completely forgotten these two actors were in Ripping Yarns reminds me how long it's been since I've seen the stories, and how long overdue a decent DVD release is!

As I watch the screen, a certain bizarre awe creeps over me that I'm watching the young Michael Palin on a TV, whilst sitting next to the same man 25 years later, listening to him describing the experience. It's times like this you wonder how you end up in certain situations…

Terry Jones remains reasonably quiet, occasionally interjecting to say that he didn't really write a lot of the episode except for the scene where all the trapdoors open in the bedroom. Tim (The Producer, not The Enchanter) will later reveal that he was on a school trip in the studio whilst that scene was being filmed, never for one moment thinking that, as a grown up, he'd be working with the people involved. I feel quite relieved that it's not just me who isn't sure how I ended up here!

As Whinfrey's Last Case draws to an end, toilet breaks are had by all, and I enjoy a good old fashioned coughing fit without the fear of being recorded.

Then we settle down for the next episode The Curse Of The Claw, my occasional favourite episode (I mean, how can I choose between that and Eric Olthwaite?!) and our commentators seem to be getting into the swing of it. The chatter is flowing although it seems to be with regard to what they like or dislike about a scene, rather than how it was filmed or behind the scenes gossip. But then, it's 25 years ago. Why should they remember anything about the process?

It's whilst I'm pondering this that my stomach rumbles. No, it doesn't "rumble", it gives out an almighty thunderous roar. My instinct is to jolt forwards and clutch at the offending gut whilst hoping that a miraculous fault line in Central London will shift, letting the ground swallow me whole. It doesn't though, and I peer up, from under my fringe. Everyone is still chatting away or staring at the screen, and I can't believe it. No one heard. I sit back looking forward to hearing the recording on the DVD, just to check that my hunger hasn't been written into screen history.

So after enjoying 30 minutes of repressed sexuality (a strong theme in Curse Of The Claw, we're told) and Don't Look Now's Hilary Mason (not, in fact, blind) it's time for another short toilet, and coughing break, followed by our third and final episode, Escape From Stalag Luft 112B.

Terry seems to say a lot more during this episode. Maybe I just notice it because it was discussed during the interview I conducted last month, where his regret that Michael only got to play the "straight man" was evident.

I have to admit that during this time, I just sit back and enjoy the show, planning my "How a DVD Commentary is recorded" segment, occasionally raising an eyebrow at comments made that we're later told will have to be removed. I could tell you but I'd have to kill you.

The credits for Stalag Luft roll, and we sit blinking as the dimmed lights are turned back up, before stumbling around on dead legs, collecting coats and bags.

Finally, Michael apologises for his jetlag and generally being under the weather, Terry bemoans his lack of a mobile phone, and we make our way back up to the now evening sun.

So, ever wonder how DVD commentaries are recorded? No, it's not the fabulous "cine-pixies", nor is it as easy and as free-flowing as larger groups like say, The League Of Gentlemen, or the Spaced cast make it appear. It's two people sitting in a cool dark room, drinking coffee and trying to remember what they were doing this time about 30 years ago. And then going to the pub.