Most people have a small selection of reliably entertaining anecdotes they like to roll out on dates, or at parties, or when the mood feels right. For journalists, these might be the most bizarre stories they’ve worked on, or the funniest or, sometimes, the saddest. The elements of the story must all be just right – recognisable, significant, just other-worldly enough to be mildly shocking, while retaining a touch of relatability. For a long time, mine was this: I was there when Gazza turned up during the murderous Raoul Moat’s final few hours.
Back in the early 2010s I was a news reporter for a press agency based in Newcastle. I got the job aged 20 and started working, mostly for the tabloids, before I graduated university. Paul Gascoigne, the subject of a new BBC two-parter aiming to tell the troubled footballer’s story, was a sweetheart of the city, albeit a controversial one. He was a Geordie god, affable but often anxious. On my first day as a trainee, the newsroom received a call that he just arrived at the nearby train station and I pleaded with the news editor to let me go out on the story for a chance to prove myself.
