Mick the Miner: Picasso and Me

Mick the Miner was the star of today’s piece in The Sun.

The Ministry of Food hype offensive is impressive- a double page spread every day in the nation’s biggest selling newspaper. Unfortunately for the producers- the more information that gets out about this enterprise, the more the whole thing is exposed as a charade.

Casting is everything when you’re putting together a drama.

The pretence the whole show is built upon is that our hero is haunted by the images of Rawmarsh. He decides the key to the nation’s health is to get people cooking at home. He decides to kick off his new chefs’ network in Rotherham. If he can get the town of food sin onside- surely the rest of the country will believe in the project. The whole thing will end with a huge party next to the fence where the burger mums force fed their kids chips. The town that rejected Jamie have come to love him and accept that he is always right and they were worthless no marks till he shone his light upon them.

A key ingredient is getting the right stereotypes on board to crumble in the face of Home Counties finger wagging.

No doubt, number one on the shopping list was a big, obstinate miner. The Jamie target audience loved Billy Elliot. It was the closest to ‘Up North’ most of them had ever been. They would be sure to flip over a journey which took a senior version out of his dreary existence to a new life of metrosexuality. Imagine if Jamie could take a sexist oaf and pass him off in society as almost a Southerner.

The researchers probably thought that they’d be able to find a collier who fitted the bill easily. Rotherham- you won’t be able to move for ‘em. Riding round the cobbled streets on their pit ponies: a trombone in one hand and a snap tin full of pigtail baccie in the other. Then they hit a slight hitch.

The only pit left in the borough of Rotherham is Maltby. Maltby is a town in it’s own right- complete with Jobcentre, non league football team and everything. The pit is at the far end of town- I’d guess about eight or nine miles from Rotherham town. Quite a hike.

Undeterred- the production company went headhunting for a miner. Mick the Miner takes up the story in today’s Sun:

“Two girls from Jamie’s TV company came to the pit earlier this year and when they saw me finishing my shift they asked if I could cook.

“I said, ‘No, it’s for poofs’.

“My wife does all the cooking — I’ve never even made beans on toast’.

They must have nearly wet their pants with excitement. The perfect subject. Sexist, homophobic, larger than life- if Jamie could get this guy on camera and convert him it would be TV gold. Even if he didn’t- we could sort it in the edit. If it all goes wrong- we can hang the dinosaur out to dry and feed him to the liberal columnists.

Another, bigger hitch. The Sun describes our hero as:

“Mick, from Armthorpe near Doncaster.”

I assume this is true.

I’ll admit- I had to look Armthorpe up on the map. It’s so far East it may as well be Warsaw. According to the RAC website- it is 22.65 miles from the centre of Rotherham.

To help our Southern readers: imagine if someone was supposed to be making a campaigning documentary about social problems in Inner London – but one of the main characters is someone who lives in Guildford and works in Croydon.

So much for the idea of getting the local community together to help each other. Mick can get to Hull as easy as Rotherham. The message is clear- the producers found someone who would be an ideal character for Jamie to bounce off. So what if he doesn’t live in the town we’re supposed to be helping.

Another hitch- a real deal breaker: Mick wasn’t interested. No way Jose. He had no intention of getting involved. He told The Sun:

“They were very persistent, though, and eventually I gave them my number — to get rid of them.”

 

Exactly what anyone would do right? When you’re dead set against something- you give the people who are hassling you your contact details, so they know where to reach you whenever they want. To further show his resolve and resistance to cooking- Mick travelled all the way to Rotherham for a Jamie event. The rest is history.

The relationship between Mick the Miner and Jamie Oliver is a glaring example of the flaws underpinning Jamie’s Ministry of Food. Both men are using each other for their own ends. Jamie Oliver needs to produce an entertaining TV show. He needs participants willing to jump through hoops and basically build the Jamie myth. For reasons we have outlined before- the Pass it On idea is fundamentally unattractive to those it is supposedly designed to help.

Off the back of his “success” in Rotherham- Jamie will be able to sell books. More importantly- he will be able to set up the Pass it On campaign among his core fans. They all cook anyway, but this could turn into some posho dinner party database. Social networking’s where it’s at baby. A fully signed up and subscribed foodie nation who can be pimped out to any marketeer with a pound note. Facebook for people who love food. (Chubbyfacebook? Doublechinbook?)

 

Cynical, sinister- but pretty smart eh?

 

Mick the Miner is obviously a very popular bloke at Maltby colliery. The comments and emails I have received about him since I first mentioned him on the blog have talked about him in glowing terms. I’m not going to pretend I know Mick, but the impression I get is- he likes to be the centre of attention. Take this comment from “Maltby Mafia” for example:

“nar then leave ar mick alone he just loves publicity he might be a balloon head but he’s ar balloon head.”
The love of publicity is the only possible reason for someone who claims to hate cooking to get involved with the Ministry. The difference in attendancefigures at the M of F HQ between when the cameras were there and when they weren’t was colossal. Once the cameras are gone for good and the scheme is rolled out- only the foodies will be left. They’re the ones with the profile the advertisers want anyway- so it’s all good. Social enterprise- do leave it out.

To get to that stage- the Rotherham experiment needs to turn the paper the right colour. Through Mick- Jamie has the ideal savage to do a Henry Higgins on. He also got the chance to dress up like a little action man and go down the pit with his new, butch friends- which will excite his sizeable “poof” following no end.

(Article with photo of Jamie and Mick getting down and dirty)

Mick’s goal is unclear. I’m not really buying the road to Damascus conversion. The stuff Mick comes out with is so over the top. I’m thinking he either knows what the producers want and he lays on the Northern schtick with a trowel to keep the lens pointed on him or he is simply taking the piss.

Examples from today’s Sun:

“It was like a miracle had happened — all the flavours just exploded in my mouth. I knew that from that moment I was hooked.”

“It was like Picasso had walked into my life and taught me how to paint.”

 

Whether he’s on the level or angling for Carol Vorderman’s job is immaterial. Mick the Miner has been parachuted into town to portray the unhealthy, feckless, takeaway loving populace of Rotherham- although he looks pretty healthy in his pictures, has sporty kids, has eaten his wife’s home cooked food every night and doesn’t live in Rotherham.

They may as well get actors in. They may as well use puppets.

This is as unreal as reality TV gets.