Milk, two sugars, and one new man

He’s currently an assistant producer for the breakfast show at Talksport radio, but with a new ten-part Youtube series and his own show launching on Friday, George Sexton-Kerr tells me what it’s like flying through the airwaves and reaching cloud nine.

It’s probably appropriate that one of us works at a radio station called Talksport when that’s all we’ve ever done in each other’s company. I’m still waiting for a station called MindlessFootballChatThatNobodyWantsAtThreeInTheMorning to open up its doors, turn on its mics and then I’ll be sorted. But this is about George and a rise to a deserved place that I always thought he’d get to — fame.

It started with work experience at the station, at eighteen and with an ability to make a really good cup of tea (I can vouch for that). “It was literally a case of come do a week’s work and see how you go. I did a week, kept busy and that turned into about five weeks. Making teas, making coffees. Just being a kid and shitting myself really. To be honest, the only thing that kept me in the job in the first two years was being able to make a good cup of tea.”

Did this feel like actual experience though, for someone who had always had ambitions to work in media? “Completely, yeah. I was surrounded by these radio-heads 24/7. Just being around it was a buzz”.

Word got around pretty quickly however that George’s teas were good and he was kept on. “I made myself as useful as I could…I knew I was starting from the bottom. The one thing I did quite early on was learning how to answer the phone. I started doing that around the Christmas period of 2012 and then there were a couple of shifts going on the call-in shows so I gave it a go and it was like a baptism of fire.

They’re intense, quick-fire.” But so was the whole station as he explains. “It’s a fully-functioning news office, it’s fast-paced, people talk to each other abruptly because everyone’s got to get things done.”

He knew he wanted to be welcomed into this world, but his arms weren’t exactly outstretched in the hope of a helping hand, more tucked tentatively by his side as the anticipation of screwing up meant his early days were tough. It got so bad at one point that he remembers having panic attacks in the toilet before he’d start work.

“These people had all been to University and had done masters in Journalism, and I almost felt like I was cheating, sneaking in the back door.”

Time passed, the nerves settled and he took on more shifts, working weekends and two jobs. “I was doing a shift in London in the morning then would travel back to Colchester as soon as that was done, getting changed in the car as my Mum dropped me at Frankie & Benny’s, and then work until eleven at night.”

Fun?

“Literally just made milkshakes for fat kids. Definitely not as fun as being at the station.”

Two jobs became one as milkshakes were ditched for hard graft. He was aware of the risk he was taking in pursuit of something he wasn’t even sure he was good at. “I got my face around the studio more, got offered more jobs as an assistant producer on smaller shows and basically just started building up a rapport with as many people as I could. It took about two years but I learnt everything about radio in that period. What makes good radio, what you needed to get out of people in order to get it.”

Days were being spent tirelessly learning the craft, working for any hours and subsequent exposure he could get but there was always the obvious nagging notion that he might not ever really make the step up into something that resembled stability in an industry that lurched and jerked and could change course just as easily as a live broadcast. Personal tragedy then truly knocked any balance he had carefully assembled.

“I was sort of plodding along in life and then my dad passed away when I was 21. It was a very weird and horrible time in my life.” I wondered whether there was a period of assessment, of making sure he could regain balance before he started again?

“With grief, there’s many ways you can go with it but I just had a gut feeling I had to throw myself into my work.” Perhaps it was even just something else to focus on? “Yeah, I suppose it was the ultimate distraction from how I was feeling. I suddenly realised there was nothing to lose by going for this and feeling like I was massively out of my depth and in the space of sixth months, I’d solidified myself as a producer on the breakfast show, the biggest show at the station.”

Through hard work and hard times, he’d propelled himself to being an established producer. Radio had obviously given him a much-needed outlet but I wondered whether he’d always been interested in it.

“I knew I wanted to work in media. I knew I wanted to do something creative. I’d DJ a bit but that was always more of a thing I did at home with my dad. I can’t paint or draw and I tried music — I played the guitar and piano but I’ve just got no patience and I’m cack-handed (something he’s obviously had to temper working with so many buttons).

As soon as I realised that you could create something out of nothing with radio, I absolutely loved it. Creating debates, creating silly things, creating entertainment was amazing to me.” It’s something he’s still excited about in his work today. “No matter how small, to hear something go out on air and to know you’d been a part of it is so rewarding.”

In terms of listening to shows growing up, he reckons it was mainly whatever was on in the car in the mornings, usually Chris Moyles on Radio 1. But there was something else about radio that served more of a purpose than just filling long car journeys. “It felt like being let into this conversation, more than just something that was background noise. The best presenters sit and talk to the listener and make them feel like they’re in the room with you.”

In a digital age where media is manipulated and seemingly ever-present, there’s definitely a case to be made for radio offering something different to media in a written or visual form. I ask him what he thinks it offers that other media can’t.

“I think radio’s the most personal form of media. As someone working in radio, you’re talking directly to the listener, and as a listener, you’re being addressed personally. Especially with our station, it’s built on constant feedback, on taking calls, listener interaction and debate. If I’m creating a show, I’m creating a narrative to run along that whole show and I love that because it’s live, it can evolve as it’s on air. TV is so accessible now. Written media sometimes can feel quite throw away, it’s all bloggers now. But radio can be so last-minute. News is breaking all the time and suddenly there’s a new narrative to follow.”

He’d know about last-minute. It was him chucking clothes on and hopping in the back of a taxi at half-three in the morning to take him to work in order to set up for the breakfast show. I shared a house with this nocturnal Essex critter. He’d gone from sneaking in the back door at Talksport to sneaking out our front door (probably in some awful Hawaiian shirt) and into prime time radio.

The early mornings were worth it. After all, he was working a job that went hand in hand with his love of football. It’s a sport that’s tyranny certainly exerts itself all over my life. It’s the place my mind wanders to when I’m talking to someone boring. Small talk with someone from school that I’ve happened to bump into and never really liked is aided by my brain replacing their answers with my own grand visions of Arsenal’s possible line up for this weekend’s game.

But if that’s what goes on in my head, I can’t imagine George’s when it comes to football. He can’t switch it off because he’s got to stay clued up to every kick, every managerial appointment, every new billionaire owner taking over a club.

One he had paid particularly close attention to was Leicester’s Vichai Srivaddhanaprabha. He tragically died last year in a freak helicopter accident whilst leaving the football ground of a team that, with his guidance, had delivered an against-the-odds premier league title win. A team of outsiders had won the ultimate prize in English football.

The story had captured the hearts of the footballing world and his tragic death was met with an outpouring of grief. George was responsible for creating a montage for Talksport to honour the man. “It was so reactionary. It’s powerful that you can create that with a blend of some audio — a song, snippets of speech and you can transport people back to a time and place instantly. You get genuine testimonies from people that had met the man.”

It was an indication to him of the power radio can still have especially in the aftermath of loss. It’s been an important combative tool for George both in work and personal life.

“There will always be a need for it because it connects so instantly. For example, when Ray Wilkins, a legend in football and one of the co-hosts of our show passed away just over a year ago, everyone at the station was numb. We had people calling up and sharing their stories of him. An army veteran cried over the phone explaining how Ray had saved his life. The reactions were so personal and moving that I think it could have only happened on the radio. There’s a feeling of being in the moment.” It’s another reason why he values it more than any other media. “TV you don’t feel as engaged, it’s behind a box — radio feels like its next to you.”

Quite the exposure for a nervous tea-maker. Five years on, it’s clear he’s comfortable as a producer, but for someone who’s never been able to stand still for more than a second in his life, why stand still now? He’s definitely got a case of undiagnosed ADHD and that’s why he’s fun. He lifts a room like no-one else I’ve ever met and so it makes sense that Talksport has rewarded him with a ten-part Youtube series and his own three-hour weekly radio show.

“It’s a three-person panel show. It’s sort of off-the-wall football chat, previewing the weekend’s games and re-capping a week of debate and news at Talksport. The plan is for it to be a blend of everything really.”

And that’s perfect because that’s what he’s always been as long as I’ve known him. This sense of all walks of life coming together in one twenty-four-year-old Essex boy. He can chat with blokes, charm your nan and check you’re alright all at the same time. Annoyingly, he’s also probably a really good radio presenter.

If radio to him growing up was about feeling like you had someone in the room with you, I’d recommend being in a room with George Sexton-Kerr. It’s definitely not boring. Tune in this Friday.

George’s show debuts this Friday on Talksport, 7–10pm.