‘I despised television’: Trump’s Selina Scott, Prince Andrew, Frank Bough and the BBC


Before she gave it all up to live on a farm, she was one of the best names on TV.

She speaks about Princess Diana’s friendship, the horror of tabloid abuse and the extraordinary misogyny she experienced.

Selina Scott came in from the cold there.

She lights a fire and makes a cup of tea for herself — black, sugar free. On a farm in North Yorkshire, the former BBC “Golden Girl” lives with a few dogs, a couple of rare Belted Galloway goats, a flock of ducks and swans and an occasional otter. The space looks dark and dreary, and it doesn’t work well on the internet, so it’s hard for us to zoom in. “I’m going to move you to another room.”rum,”rum,”I’m going to move you to another room.

Back then, it was more of a stately caress, laced with a youthful giggle. Her voice today is darker, more edgy, but still with a touch of grandeur. In the peaty soil, the Yorkshire roots of her childhood have resurfaced and rooted themselves firmly. It’s been 40 years since she made her name, followed by BBC Breakfast Time, The Clothes Show, The Selina Scott Show for NBC, the magazine show West 57th for CBS, and a short stint on Sky, as the anchor of News at 10.

Scott wasn’t just an old host at all.

She bore an unusual resemblance to Princess Diana (or, as she prefers, the younger Diana bore an unusual resemblance to her), and she became the sweetheart of the country, like Diana.

She was hounded by the press like Diana, in a way that no other journalist was.

And like Diana, she wanted, at the height of her fame, to leave it all behind. The reasons for the departure of Scott from the BBC gradually came to light over the years, in the form of a series of revelations.

The BBC was a hothouse of misogyny, gas lighting and abuse for Scott, instead of a cozy, trustworthy aunt. This week, in the BBC series Winter Walks, shot last February, she is making a rare foray back into television.

She nods to walkers, exchanges stories with a fisherman who caught a giant grayling, and shares a sunset beer with ferret-catching locals in Appletreewick.

But this is a very lonely Scot – a woman in nature, in her element. Her face is weathered naturally and yet beautifully stunning.

Her hair, which is now the same silver-gray as the stone houses she passes along her path, is the key difference at 69. Today, in movements against ageism, you are more likely to see her on TV than on tv.

She was still battling to prohibit live exports of animals — the dilemma was enough to make her a Brexiteer. Of course, the European Union allows it, since it is about the free movement of animals.

Boris Johnson has promised that there will be an end to live animal exports.” She is hopeful but skeptical.” “Of course, they may close the front door and leave the back door open so Northern Ireland and Ireland can take the animals,” she says. “Scott, the oldest of five children, was born to a journalist and a policeman in Scarborough.

She grew up with a gang of boys, even though she had only one child, and still got her way.

She remembers a cricket match when she was little and a boy who was batting refused to leave the field because she, a girl, had caught him. “He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave.” We had a big war. He was forced to leave.

It hasn’t been right.

I physically got rid of him in the end. She may seem calm on TV, but she says she was always a warrior. She just got into a fight today with a farmer who had parked his tractor to shoot a game in one of her fields. “She may seem calm on TV, but she says she’s always been a fighter. Today, she just got into a fight with a farmer who had parked his tractor in one of her fields to shoot a game. ” He said, “Where the hell should I park?” On the lane, I can’t park.

And I said,’ You can park on the driveway, though.

Step.” You’d think the way she speaks, no one would dare mess with Scott.

But there was quite a different truth.

In 1983, she was a high-profile transfer from ITV to star in the BBC program Breakfast Time alongside the avuncular Frank Bough, who died last year.

In retrospect, it was the strangest of couples – a TV marriage made in hell, and a reflection of the times.

Bough was 50 but could have passed for an energetic retiree; Scott was 31 and looked younger.

And it turned out Bough wasn’t quite so avuncular after all.

In 1988


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