Two excerpts from Music Video Mischief

Richard Ogden called. Back in my motorcycle messenger days, I often dropped off packages at his office in West London. Back then he was managing Motörhead, but things had changed — I was now making music videos, and he was now managing Paul McCartney.

Paul was releasing a single, and somehow my name had come up as a possible director of the clip. My heart stopped beating and I gasped for breath. I tried to sound as relaxed as I could while we talked but I knew my voice was quivering. Before Richard put down the phone he suggested I talk with Paul.

“That’s a great idea. Will someone arrange the call?”

“Well, he’s in the car with Linda right now,” said Richard, “Why don’t you call him yourself?”

Managers are notoriously protective of their charges. Getting to speak with the drummer of an unknown starter group is right up there with getting a direct line to the leader of the free world. And yet somehow I was reaching for a pen and paper so I could write down the number for the man who wrote “Hey Jude.“

Minutes later I could hear the broken-up sound of an English ringtone and then a rather familiar voice.

“Um, is Paul there? This is Nigel Dick calling.”

“Ullo, Dickey. Paul speaking. Say hello to Linda, she’s in the car with me.”

It seemed like another phone call with old friends. I had to control myself and not get too familiar. It was all so easy, and Paul made it so.

Oasis needed a video for “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” and they wanted it fast. The band would be in L.A. for a day, could I bash out a treatment overnight? Like Noel, I went back to the Beatles for inspiration. I’d plundered the early black and white years for “Wonderwall,” so I needed to move on and come up with something a bit more Revolver for this next video. The foosball table had been very useful as a distraction on the “Wonderwall” set, so I thought maybe a host of lovely women might do the trick this time.

I was a member of BAFTA (British Association of Film and Television Artists) and had noticed in a monthly blurb that onetime Avengers star Patrick Macnee lived outside Los Angeles in Rancho Mirage and was looking for work. Perhaps we could get him in the video? I wanted the video to feel English, so I added a cab and a John Lennon-style mansion, and I had my idea.

A few days later, I was waiting nervously outside a large house in Pasadena as a limo drove up and Patrick Macnee stepped out, sporting his Avengers outfit of bowler hat and umbrella. I hadn’t asked, but hoped he would bring them “Everyone expects me to show up dressed like this,” he told me. “I’d hate to disappoint them.”

I don’t think the band knew who Patrick Macnee was. They didn’t pay much attention to him; in the end, I don’t think they paid much attention to the women, either. Noel later delivered his critical appraisal of the video: “The biggest pain in the arse ever. Bag of shite, that. Waste of a fucking afternoon.”