Classic Desert Island Discs - Simon Reeve
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BBC Sounds. Music, radio, podcasts. Hello, I'm Lauren Laverne and this is the Desert Island Discs podcast. Every week I ask my guests to choose the eight tracks, book and luxury they'd want to take with them if they were cast away to a desert island. For rights reasons, the music is shorter than the original broadcast. I hope you enjoy listening. MUSIC PLAYS

My castaway this week is the broadcaster and writer Simon Reeve. You might know him as the intrepid on-screen adventurer who's dodged bullets on front lines, walked through minefields, tracked lions on foot and been detained for spying by the KGB. But his media career began much earlier after he wrote one of the first books about Al-Qaeda back in 1998.

It was ignored when it came out, but three years later, in the wake of 9-11, he found himself on television screens across America. He circumnavigated the world three times and visited 120 countries, though

Though perhaps the most dangerous journey he's taken was one he revealed only recently, his troubled path to adulthood. As a teenager, he suffered poor mental health and by 17 he'd left school with one GCSE, no job and facing an uncertain future. Getting hired as a postboy at the Sunday Times helped him turn things around, along with the advice from a kindly benefits clerk to quite literally keep putting one foot in front of the other. He says, I'm not travelling to film a holiday brochure.

What I'm trying to do is get people to take an interest in our world. Simon Reeve, welcome to Desert Island Discs. Thank you so much. It's an enormous honour. Well, we're thrilled to have you. Your feet, Simon, must be incredibly itchy by now. Covid-19 has obviously curbed your overseas trips, so instead you've been making programmes about the UK. I wonder what surprised you most about filming on home turf?

I've learnt loads. That's been the biggest surprise. What's been the biggest insight for you? Oh, goodness. It was probably about river re-wiggling because over centuries we've been straightening our rivers. And it's one of those things when it's pointed out to you, you sort of go, oh, yeah, yeah.

They don't normally go like that, do they? And you start to see how we've shaped our landscape in profound and tiny ways for hundreds and perhaps even thousands of years. So I think hearing and seeing that in the lakes just off the top of the head was a big surprise. But it's what I love about the journeys. It's not just about me trying to show people and teach them about the world. I'm learning all the time. That's why I absolutely love them every hour, every day. Yeah.

Simon, your films can be hard hitting and I've seen you in tears a few times when presenting very difficult stories about the effect of war and poverty on individuals and communities that you're connecting with. Why do you think it's important to show your emotions?

I think I've always been affected by it. I think the team initially, when I first started working on these programmes, and I think the team were, oh God, Simon's crying again. But more obviously, perhaps I do it with my wows and my, oh my goodness, this is amazing. You need almost a little bit of a jolt from me as the presenter to be reminded that what we're seeing is either extraordinary or upsetting or should be inspiring. It's partly why I repeat some things back at people.

because they'll say in a sort of monotone voice, you know, we fought a battle with a thousand people from the other community. And they'll say it very normally and the translation comes back as though they're talking about having lunch the previous day. And I'll respond and perhaps with a bit too much emotion say, you fought a battle with... So I'll get a bit carried away with my response. And it is partly because I'm thinking of what to say next, but it is also really just to try and bring home to anybody watching that this matters.

It's time for your first disc. What have you chosen and why are you taking it with you today? Disc number one is taken from the album Ethiopiques 8 from Swinging Addis, 1969 to 1974. The musician is Alemayehu Ushite and the song is Asku Gezu Ubechi. And I think we just have to linger on the fact it is from Ethiopia, 1969 to 1974.

And honestly, if we all ask ourselves what preconceptions and stereotypes we have of Ethiopia, I don't think it's that. So I love it for the music primarily, but I also love the story. I love where it's come from and I love what it says about the place and the deep, deep culture that exists there that challenges our sometimes simplistic preconceptions. MUSIC PLAYS

Thank you.

So, Simon Reeve, many listeners will feel like they've travelled the world with you, but they might be surprised to learn that your family holidays weren't quite so adventurous when you were growing up. No, they weren't. It's true. They were lovely. They were warm. They were traditional in the sense that we would go down to the south coast year after year. My dad had seen an advert in a church magazine for a holiday rental cottage at a ludicrously cheap price.

And it meant we were able to have an affordable family holiday down in Wareham in Dorset. And then we'd go to Studland Beach in Studland Bay. We didn't go abroad. I didn't go on a plane until I was an adult. I think that's partly why I'm so grateful for the journeys I've been on since. I don't take them for granted as a result. Home the rest of the year was Acton in West London, where you were born. Your dad, Alan, was a teacher. How would you describe your relationship?

Difficult is the word that springs to mind, but I feel a betrayal saying that. There was love, absolutely. It was loving, but it was definitely difficult. He was a tough teacher from a poor background and he had a playbook, I suppose, which came from being a teacher in one of the toughest schools in the country at the time.

at a time when discipline was challenging and physicality was acceptable from teachers, I think. And I think that was how he tried to parent. And those roles are different. It doesn't work quite that way when you're back at home. And I was trouble. I was a problem. And I was struggling to find my way. And we...

We didn't have the natural connection that I hope I'll have with my lad when he reaches the same sort of early teen sort of age. But yes, there would have been things thrown, things smashed. I put my foot through the door, a wall. I had physical rows with my dad. There was a lot of screaming. But I was young. I was 10, 11, 12, 13. Yeah.

Those were troublesome times. Tell me about your mum, Cindy. Oh, my mum Cindy is a rock to this day. She saved my life literally multiple times when I was a child, when I had meningitis, then tonsillitis, then near-death pneumonia. And I owe her almost everything.

You were close to your grandmother, Lucy. What did you enjoy about the time that you spent with her? She was the perfect grandmother in so many ways. She was warm and large and cuddly and she'd had polio when she was a child and she had a caliper on her leg as a result. But she could get out and about. I owe a lot to her because I think she really helped to spark a love of

travel and adventure in my little heart and head because she would take James and I, my brother, out on what we called magical mystery tours in her adapted car. And what did they involve? She would basically put us in the back, strapped in carefully, of course, and she would say, right, where should we go? And James and I sort of five, six, he was, I was seven, eight, maybe nine, ten, that's the age,

we were allowed to say, go down there, Grandma, what's down there? And we'd be allowed to say, go left, Grandma, have a look down here. And she wouldn't quite do a handbrake turn, but she would react very, she was willing to do a hard turn if we wanted to explore really exotic places like Hounslow and Wembley Park Trading Estate. We were able to honestly learn a lot about West London, where we lived, and also just

cultivate and develop that love of knowing what was around the corner what was over the hill as it were grandma helped to widen the horizons a bit

It's time for some more music, Simon. Second disc, what is it and why are you taking it with you? We didn't play loads of music at home when I was growing up because Dad was coaching students at home, doing private coaching to earn some more money. But then he would eventually come out and he might put a bit of opera on at the end of his very long 12, 14-hour day of work.

and he'd often play this song, Vici Date, from Tosca, and it might well make me shed a tear or two hearing it. SEMPRE CON FEI SINCERA LA MIA PRECHIA E SANTO COLISERI SEMPRE CON FEI SINCERA

SINGING IN ITALIAN

Vici Date from Puccini's Tosca, performed by Dame Kiri Takanawa with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Sir John Pritchard. Simon Reeve, by the time you'd reached your early teens, I think it's safe to say that you weren't exactly a model pupil. What were you and your friends getting up to? We were doing naughty stuff. I grew up on the edge of inner-city London. I don't come from the leafy suburbs, but I grew up in the middle of the city.

I was carrying a knife by the time I was 12, 13. But that's beyond naughty, isn't it? That is, but it wasn't abnormal for the time. And I think it's still not as abnormal as we would all want it to be. You were lighting fires, you were, as well as carrying knives, I think you were selling knives at one stage. I mean, how do you look back at that now?

Well, I can see how it happens. I can see the path, really. But, you know, you're right. On the page, it's not good. I'm not proud of it. I'm not proud of things that I did or saw or people I knew were up to. You know, on some of the estates near where I grew up, people would...

light fires to get the firefighters on and then chuck petrol bombs at them. That's not something I'm proud to have... I'm not proud to have known in some ways those people at all. It wasn't something I did, but I certainly sat in cars that didn't belong to the people who were driving them. And I knew what I was doing was wrong. I got away with a lot. And then my head health just went. I lost my confidence. I lost my way. And by the time it got to...

proper exams and schooling. I was in a terrible state. I hadn't been turning up to school. I hadn't been studying. I was just at home in bed a lot of the time. And I spiralled down.

I'd been having counselling as well, in truth, during that time because people, the doctor could see I wasn't in the best of ways and my mum was trying to get help for me and so... So your mum could tell things weren't right? Mum could tell things were not right, definitely, and was trying to and encouraging me and leading me to help. What I would...

want to change if I could go back and talk to that lad now I would want to try and help him find a path that would give him purpose and meaning because I think that was what was lacking most in my existence then and that was when my confidence started to really go and I started to panic about existence and spiral down well we'll find out what happened next in a minute we've got to make some time for the music right now though Simon what are we going to hear and why have you chosen it today

Number three. We're going to hear It Takes Two by Rob Bass and DJ Easy Rock. I remember my brother putting shouts out on pirate radio to me from friends who'd set up pirate radio stations on the top of tower blocks in South Acton Estate. And this reminds me of that whole time and a whole world of music. It Takes Two. It Takes Two.

It takes two. Rob Bass and DJ Easy Rock. Simon Reeve, you left school at 16 with one GCSE and little prospect of getting a job. I know your mental health at the time was still fragile too. How do you look back at that time? How do you remember it now? I drank too much and I was in bed most of the time. And I couldn't face life. I couldn't face existence. And I found myself on the edge of a bridge.

I stepped back in every possible sense. I was the wrong side of railings and I climbed back and I cannot fully explain why. I think partly it was fear of ending more than fear of going on, but it wasn't the most conscious of decisions. It was close and I bounced along the bottom for a long time and eventually...

I say eventually, it was maybe months, it wasn't years, but months. I went to, my brother said, you've got to go and sign on. And I managed it. It was terrifying for me. But I went and signed on the dole. I went to a DSS office as it was then. And I tried, they wouldn't let me sign on for the dole. I was too young. I had to sign on for income support. And I was like, I'm going to sign on for the dole.

I listened to the advice I was given in there. The lady who signed me on, she was warm and caring, even though I was just another person in a sausage factory, really, in a place where the furniture was screwed down. But she listened and I said, I don't know what to do. I don't know. You know, kids, we're told, have a plan, have a five-year plan. I said, I can't get out of bed. And she said, just take things slowly. Just take everything step by step. And that got me out and it did start to help.

You took your first steps. I took my first steps and then I came up with this mad idea that I was going to go to Scotland. Yeah, Glencoe. Why Glencoe specifically? It was legendary. You know, my world was small. I didn't have a connection to Scotland. It was really because I'd watched the movie Highlander. Right, OK, here we are. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. We've arrived at the...

The real reason. And I loved the idea of going to Scotland and going into Glencoe. I just ambled around there initially, but then I decided I was going to try and

see if I could go for a walk up the hill, as it were, just to that bush over there initially. I can go to that bush. All right, what about that rock over there? Oh, I've made it to that rock. Did you have any of the kit or anything? I had no kit, no food. So what, you're in your trainers? I'm in my trainers. I've got my Adidas Cagoule from Shepherd's Bush Market. And I'm going up this ridge, to the top of this ridge in Glencoe, up to the Lost Valley in

in Glencoe and people are coming back down and it's the end of the day and they're telling me, turn around, you silly boy. And I'm saying, oh no, I'm going to turn around any minute, but I go on. I'm like a walking advert for what can go wrong, but I made it to the top. And I did it all following the advice from this woman in the job centre of doing it all, putting one foot in front of the other, step by step,

And it was a sense of physical achievement like I've never experienced since. It was astonishing. I think we should have some music, Simon. Oh, I'd love to. We Will Rock You by Queen. Highlander was my gateway into Queen. There was a lot of the music in the movie and We Will Rock You is one of my absolute faves. You're a big disgrace Kicking your can all over the place Singing we

We will rock you by Queen. Simon Reeve, after a few false starts then, you got a job at the Sunday Times, starting out in the post room. Do you remember your first day? Oh God, yeah. I remember the first few days. I was terrified. My mum came with me on the tube just to make sure I got there. I was sick, physically sick.

for the first few days before going in. I couldn't eat, but I went. I did it. And I'm so proud of myself for going through that. But every day I was there, my confidence grew because it was brilliant. It was perfect for me. Nothing was really expected. I sorted the post.

I'd put mail into pigeonholes, I'd go and photocopy things for people. And soon I was volunteering and I was asking people if they wanted any help with anything. And so when one of the senior... I was daft. I was sorting the post. One of the senior people came up to me, he says, Simon, I need you to go to Boston. There's two South African neo-Nazi terrorists on the run and I need you to go and find them. LAUGHTER

And that was your first assignment? It was my big break. But I was in a complete state, of course. Boston? I'd never been in a plane. I didn't have a passport. I didn't tell him, but I went round everyone saying, what am I going to do? And they said, calm down, it's OK. It's Boston in Lincolnshire. It'll be OK. And I started working on other investigations into organised crime, terrorism, nuclear smuggling. By the time I was...

I was working undercover on some things. I felt that I could do this. It's time for some more music. What's next, Simon? What are we going to hear? I think we're going to hear The Killers. We're going to hear Mr Brightside. Why have you chosen it?

Well, I remember very vividly driving around Mogadishu in Somalia, a tricky time in the story and history of that country. I was in the cab of what's called a technical, which is like a poor man's tank, a pickup truck with an anti-aircraft gun mounted on the back. We drove around the corner, came up against a gang from Somalia.

and other warlords, mercenaries, and were confronted with looking down the barrel of the opposition's weapons. And I had to have a sense of acceptance about the situation and hope that wiser heads prevailed. Fortunately, they did. And the screaming went down a notch to shouting. And then it went down to another notch to just swearing. And then they other guys went first and we drove on as if nothing had happened.

Mr Brightside was playing very loudly and it's a tune I love and still play. I can never listen to it without thinking back about avoiding death and how lucky I've been. I've been doing just fine. God, I want it all. It's happening like this. It was only a kiss. It was only a kiss. Now I'm asleep and she's calling it while he's having a smoke and she's taking a drag. Now they're going to bed and my stomach is saying

Mr Brightside, The Killers. Simon Reeve, in 1993, there was a bomb attack on the World Trade Centre in New York and the attackers had links to Al-Qaeda. You researched the story for the Sunday Times and then wrote a book about what you referred to as the new terrorism and its links to Osama bin Laden. How did you approach this complex subject?

I was living the life of somebody in their early 20s, living in flat shares in North London, going to parties, having a social life and then being on the phone and meeting people from Pakistani intelligence and the American Joint...

Terrorist Task Force. It was completely surreal. And I was so young, but nobody else was really talking to these people. So they were willing to even talk to me, this young Brit, I think because they were worried. They sensed that there was a threat growing that other people weren't listening to in the corridors of power when they were trying to warn about this new menace of a more apocalyptic type of terrorist attack.

and people didn't realise what was coming at us. Your book was published in 1998 and honestly didn't cause much of a ripple at the time but then 9-11 happened and everything changed for you. What do you remember of the early days after the attack? I mean life changed for all of us and for other people in so much more profound ways than me but of course I'd spent time in the towers, I knew people who were there, I'd

spent years researching the first attack on the World Trade Centre. So I felt very connected to those images that I saw. I was appalled and horrified. I swayed. I remember almost feeling, this is almost too much to take in. But by the time the second tower had been hit, my phone was ringing and it just didn't stop. I'd written really the only book

in the world, on the group responsible. Inevitably, the media were at my door within a couple of hours. Quite literally at your door? Quite literally. Satellite trucks outside. And I was really just being shuttled from...

New studio to new studio as a pundit, I suppose. You were 29. I was, yeah. Whatever age you are, how does one deal with a situation like that? I just did the best I could.

It's time for your next track, Simon. What's it going to be? Well, I owe a big debt to Stormzy because having Stormzy on and working at a stand-up desk and drinking a lot of tea has helped me do quite a fair bit of my work, I have to be honest. So thank you, Stormzy. And next choice is going to be Wiley Floe.

Yeah.

♪♪

Stormzy and Wiley Flo. Simon Reeve, after all the attention died down, you caught the eye of the BBC and you started making documentaries, travelling to places we don't often see on screen. You once said a little bit of danger is good for us, we should embrace it when it comes. What did you mean by that? Say yes.

Do you want to go out in the middle of the night and try and see bears in the forest? Yes, of course I do. Do you want to go and cross this border and try and meet the embattled, endangered Chin people in western Burma? Yes, yes, we should do that. Think about the risks, mitigate them, of course.

but embrace life and take chances on planet Earth because it's the way to feel alive. On screen, Simon, you've got what seems like a very unscripted and rehearsed presenting style. And for the viewer, it sometimes feels like anything could happen. To what extent do you feel responsible for the crew, the production crew who are with you? Because they're following you around and in effect, you dictate where everyone goes.

I'd like to think I'm not dictating, but I know what you mean. But you're making it up as you go along. We're making it up as we go along. And there is a moment, yes, and there have been times where I felt afterwards, flipping heck, that was dangerous. I was in a South African township...

and we were trying to find out what was the source of a strange new drug and somebody said you need to go and talk to the crazy man who lives down the road and I thought that sounds like a good idea and we went down and walked in and as we're going in I realised oh my goodness we're stepping into a gang's drug den here and the guys I was with two colleagues filming me trying not to trip over me and I was the point man with the eyes out front and

That was a point then and since that I've thought I should have taken a few more precautions and thought it through a bit more. So I do feel a sense of responsibility in that sense. But I work with people who I trust and I hope trust me. We're alert to risk and danger probably more than most people. And we try and mitigate and design that out wherever possible.

Simon, you've spoken very passionately about how important it is to look after the environment. How do you juggle the needs of your programmes with your own carbon footprint? It's a tricky one. And I obviously feel many a time like a hypocrite. Personally, I would like to think there is some tiny value there.

in the programmes I make. And I hope that mitigates in some ways the enormous footprint that I have and we have making these journeys. We've tried to incorporate from the beginning true, honest stories about what's happening to our planet. And ultimately, the only way we're going to know what's happening out there is by going out there and

faithfully capturing it and bringing it back for people to see and be shocked by. I'm not sure we entirely get it right, but I think there is a value and importance to doing it. Let's go to the music, Simon. It's your seventh choice. Why are you taking it with you to the island? This is...

My Wife, Anya and My Song. I think it was on a road trip to Denmark many, many years ago we heard You're Lovely to Me and I knew that I was looking at the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, this incredible woman who inspires and guides and leads and shares and partners with me and makes me laugh and You're Lovely to Me is my and our soppy, lovely song.

You're lovely to me, yes you are We've traveled together, we've traveled so far Your tongue, it is wise And there's love in your eyes, deep and blue You're lovely to me, yes you are And Venus ascending is surely your star I've seen how you shine But I can't make you mine It is true

You're Lovely to Me by Lucky Jim. Simon Reeve, your dad, Alan, passed away in 2001 and as we've heard, you didn't always see eye to eye with him when you were growing up. Were you able to settle your differences by the time of his death? We were. We had. Not just by the time of his death even, but years before things had got dramatically better and we had some lovely family times.

some gorgeous moments. Going to the cinema, I remember with my dad and my brother and I in our 20s and we had to park a distance away and we were running down the road with our dad and I remember looking at him and he had such a

huge smile of joy on his face as he was running along to get to the cinema with his two big sons. He was happy at that point and we were properly back together and much more understanding of each other. You and your wife, Anya, have a 10-year-old son of your own now, Jake. You've also talked very openly about the difficulties you had conceiving him. How has becoming a father changed you?

We did have enormous difficulties, yes. I mean, to the point where I was told at one point that I was infertile and it would be impossible for me to have a child. So how has it changed me? It's...

He is like nothing I have ever experienced before. No adventure, no encounter, no experience I have had anywhere on planet Earth. And in truth, I have had quite a few. Nothing comes close to the emotion and the joy and the purpose and meaning that I've had from that little lad popping out and then attempting to raise him the best possible way. He's absolutely everything to me.

Simon, you've been to so many inhospitable areas of the world that I'm quite sure our desert island will hold no fears for you. But I do wonder how you'll get on all alone there because, as you said, travel for you is all about the people. It's all about the encounters. I think I'll handle it pretty badly, actually. I

I'm not going to be sitting back and enjoying my splendid isolation and a chance to get away from emails. No, I'm going to be missing my son. I'm going to be missing my wife. I'm going to be missing our dogs, my family, my friends, home, life, existence. I'm always happy to come home from my journeys, but...

So, no, I'm going to be working my way off Lawrence Desert Island. Sorry. Oh, well, before we get there, then, I think we should hear your final disc. Well, if I do get stuck and I can't get off the island, right, then I think this final track will really help me because it always has me singing up to the stars whenever I hear it. It fills my heart and soul and makes the old chest swell as I'm singing. It really does. It's Elton and Rocket Man. And I think it's going to be

Elton John and Rocketman. So, Simon Reeve, the time has come. I'm going to send you away to the island. I'm giving you the Bible and the complete works of Shakespeare. You can also take a book of your own choice. What will that be?

I would like a beginner's or Muppet's Guide to Making Your Own Moonshine. Oh, OK. One of the soundtracks to our upbringing was Dad trying to make, not the most magnificent, it has to be said, fruit wine in these demijohns that would sit on every available space and they would constantly be popping as the fruit wine would ferment. And then we'd bottle it as Chateau Reeve and give it away as cheapy presents. Yeah, good enough for Dad.

I'm going to have a bit of moonshine myself. Simon, I can offer you moonshine for beginners. Will that do? Perfect. You can also have a luxury item. What would you like? I'm going to go for a supply of bird seed. I think I'd need a few pets on a desert island, so I'm hoping that the bird seed would draw them in. Finally, which one of the eight tracks that you've shared with us today would you rush to save from the waves if you had to? Rocket Man. It would keep me going. It really would.

Simon Reeve, thank you very much for letting us hear your Desert Island Discs. It's been such a pleasure and such an honour. Thank you.

Welcome to You Heard It Here First. Chris McCausland on BBC Radio 4. This is the show that asks our guests to live in an all-you-only world. Where panellists use sound clues to work out what's going on. Guess how this dog's feeling. Constipated. Yeah, definitely. Stay on. That hand dryer. LAUGHTER

Is this the same dog? You heard it here first with me, Chris McCausland. Why are you so familiar with that sound? From BBC Radio 4. Listen now on BBC Sounds.