Podcast appearances and mentions of Martin Wheatley

In this episode, voice actor and comedian Dominic Frisby discusses podcast musicals, from 36 Questions and Anthem Homunculus to concept albums and Hamilton. We also talk about the song "Kisses on a Postcard" from Terence Frisby, Martin Wheatley, Gordon Clyde, and Dominic Frisby's 2022 podcast musical Kisses on a Postcard.  You can write to scenetosong@gmail.com with a comment or question about an episode or about musical theater, or if you'd like to be a podcast guest. Follow on Instagram at @ScenetoSong, on Twitter at @SceneSong, and on Facebook at “Scene to Song with Shoshana Greenberg Podcast.” And be sure to sign up for the new monthly e-newsletter at scenetosong.substack.com. Contribute to the new Patreon. The theme music is by Julia Meinwald. Music played in this episode: "The End of Love" from Anthem Homunculus "Hear Me Out" from 36 Questions "Kisses on a Postcard" from Kisses on a Postcard

I have an odd professional life.  I double as a financial writer and a comedian. It seems to work. I specialise in unacceptable songs. You're bound to have stumbled across one of them at some point. Apparently, I'm Nigel Farage's favourite comic.  I've just made what many would consider a comical investment. I have put more money than I care to think about into a theatrical venture on which I am almost certainly going to lose my shirt. It's got a cast of over 50, a 15-piece orchestra and more. But I don't care, because this is more important than money. My father, Terence Frisby, had a full and successful life. His play There's A Girl In Soup was, for a time, the longest-running comedy in the history of the West End and a worldwide hit with runs on Broadway and across Europe (in Paris with Gérard Depardieu, in Rome with Domenico Modugno). It was made into a film with Peter Sellers and Goldie Hawn, and my father won the Writer's Guild Award for the screenplay. His sitcom Lucky Feller, starring David Jason as one of two working-class brothers living in a council flat in south-east London (sound familiar?) was one ITV's most successful sitcoms of the 1970s, and, another of his sitcoms, That's Love, would become one of ITV's most successful sitcoms of the 1980s. He made fortunes, lost fortunes, won awards, had a string of high profile court cases and beautiful girlfriends, a glamorous wife (my mum) - for a bit - and plenty of fresh air.But there was one thing that nagged away at him constantly, like squirrels in the attic of his mind. It was that he never saw the best thing he ever wrote on the West End stage or on screen. That thing is Kisses on a Postcard.How Kisses on a Postcard got its name In 1940, when my father was seven and his brother, my uncle Jack, was eleven, they were evacuated from their family in south-east London to escape the Blitz. Millions of children across the country met with the same fate. Neither they nor the parents knew where they were going, who they would be staying with or for how long.“Whatever happens, you stay together,” insisted their mum, my grandmother. “You got that? You stay together!” Then, to turn it into an adventure for the two boys, she invented a secret code for them.  “When you get there,” she said, handing them a stamped, addressed postcard, “you find out your new address,  you write it on this card and you post it to me. Got it? Now, here's the code. You know how to write a kiss - with a cross? Well, put one kiss if it's horrible and I'll come straight there and bring you back home. You put two kisses if it's all right. And three kisses if it's nice. Then I'll know.”The two boys were put on a train along with the rest of their school, each with a gas mask, some sandwiches and a label round their neck with their name on. They ended up in a tiny village in Cornwall, where they were herded into the school hall and picked at random by whichever local would take them.Jack and Terry were chosen by a Welsh ex-coal miner and his wife, Auntie Rose and Uncle Jack, who lived in a tiny cottage by the railway with their soldier son Gwyn. Inside, they found a room packed with things: a cat curled beside the stove: a canary in a cage; oil lamps - there was no electricity here; and two First-World-War shells in their cases, over six inches tall, standing on either side of the clock on the mantelpiece. Outside in the yard, there was a pig and chickens; beyond that a valley with endless woods, a rushing river, fish to catch, streams to dam, paths, tracks, a quarry to climb. And, best of all, at the bottom of the yard lay the main line from London to Penzance. Trains!That night, on a borrowed mattress on the floor, staring at the postcard, they considered their code. They covered the card with kisses and posted it the next morning.My father would spend the next four years in that Cornish village. While many had horrible experiences as vackies, my father didn't. He called it his second childhood. Kisses on a Postcard tells the story of those two boys and the tiny Cornish village during the war, with its conflicts, kindness, pettiness, generosity and gossip, turned on its head, first by the arrival of so many children, then by the arrival of American soldiers, prior to D-Day – a whole regiment of black GIs. No one in the village had ever seen a black man.Having had the theatre thrust upon me since an early age, I'm not as crazy about it as some. My view is that theatre disappeared up its own backside in somewhere around 1974 never to return - certainly the subsidised stuff, anyway. Kisses was only ever staged many years ago as a tiny community theatre project in North Devon, with mostly amateur performers, but it was like nothing I ever saw. Suddenly, I understood why Dad loved the theatre so much and just what a brilliant medium it can be. It became one of my lifetime missions to get Kisses on, and anyone who knows me will know that I have constantly been hustling for over 20 years trying to make it happen. I was hooked. I only stumbled upon my second career writing about money because I was trying to figure out how to raise the capital. A 1970s concept album for the internet eraMy father died in April 2020, probably not a bad time to shuffle off t his mortal coil, given what was going on at the time. As I was going through his things, I came across the script of Kisses. I took it home and stuck it on the shelf, to be dealt with at some later stage. But then, every day, as I looked up from my desk, it would catch my eye and look at me longingly, like a dog wanting a walk.After several months, I couldn't take it any more. “I can't let this die. It's too good to be just a script gathering dust on a shelf. If I don't do something about it, no one will.” To turn Kisses into a film or a West End show would require millions and, more crucially, powerful allies, neither of which I have. But, having spent a large chunk of my adult life in a sound studio - I do a lot of voiceovers as well as the financial writing and the comedy - I did have the means to make some kind of audio drama podcast thing out of it. Like a 1970s concept album, re-formatted for the internet.It needed a lot of re-writing. I could do that. The music still wasn't right - Gordon Clyde, the original composer, had died in 2008 and Dad had turned to various others to fill the gaps. Each did their bit beautifully, but the overall result was a bit disjointed, and needed unifying. I turned to one of my occasional collaborators, Martin Wheatley, a genius who has somehow managed to remain undiscovered his whole life. By coincidence, or as I call it, fate, Martin's father had also been evacuated to Cornwall. We set to work, composed about ten new songs as well as unearthing and reversioning a load of Cornish folk gems that only Martin and about three other people have ever heard of.We have been dogged with good luck ever since. John Owen-Jones - voted the best-ever Valjean in Les Mis and the longest-running phantom in you can guess what - would play the lead role of Uncle Jack, the man who became stand-in father to my dad and uncle. Uncle Jack was a Welsh former coal miner, now a platelayer on the Great Western Railway; fierce, humorous, passionately anti-war and anti-establishment.  When I first spoke to John - I'm still not sure who was auditioning who - he said, “Les Mis, Jesus Christ Superstar - they all started as concept albums. If you were doing it any other way, I'd tell you to do it as a concept album first. It's how great things start.”We were all set to record with an orchestra at a London studio, which started totally breaking my balls over Covid regulations. I phoned round the other studios at the last minute, and Abbey Road had just had a cancellation. We recorded it at Abbey Road Studios! Another stroke of fortune.The result is this concept album/musical about an extraordinary time in British history. Those who were evacuated in 1940 will be in their late 80s and 90s now, if they are still with us at all. In many ways Kisses is a farewell to that generation. But I played it to some friends in the car last month, and during the evacuation scenes they all said, “that's exactly what's happening now in Ukraine.” The story remains so pertinent. Dad said he used to get letters from people in Germany who had been evacuated to escape Allied bombs. If you are anything like me, this story will disarm you in the most unexpected ways. I hope you will find yourself laughing and weeping, as I did, at just what wonderful things the kindest of human beings can be.The full four version of Kisses on a Postcard is available at Bandcamp, costing £16, with the 2-hour abridged version for £12.  With parts 1 and 2, freely available as a podcast here via iTunes and other podcast platforms.Everything you need to know is here at the website. This article first appeared here in the Telegraph. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.theflyingfrisby.com/subscribe

I have an odd professional life.  I double as a financial writer and a comedian. It seems to work. I specialise in unacceptable songs. You're bound to have stumbled across one of them at some point. Apparently, I'm Nigel Farage's favourite comic.  I've just made what many would consider a comical investment. I have put more money than I care to think about into a theatrical venture on which I am almost certainly going to lose my shirt. It's got a cast of over 50, a 15-piece orchestra and more. But I don't care, because this is more important than money. My father, Terence Frisby, had a full and successful life. His play There's A Girl In Soup was, for a time, the longest-running comedy in the history of the West End and a worldwide hit with runs on Broadway and across Europe (in Paris with Gérard Depardieu, in Rome with Domenico Modugno). It was made into a film with Peter Sellers and Goldie Hawn, and my father won the Writer's Guild Award for the screenplay. His sitcom Lucky Feller, starring David Jason as one of two working-class brothers living in a council flat in south-east London (sound familiar?) was one ITV's most successful sitcoms of the 1970s, and, another of his sitcoms, That's Love, would become one of ITV's most successful sitcoms of the 1980s. He made fortunes, lost fortunes, won awards, had a string of high profile court cases and beautiful girlfriends, a glamorous wife (my mum) - for a bit - and plenty of fresh air.But there was one thing that nagged away at him constantly, like squirrels in the attic of his mind. It was that he never saw the best thing he ever wrote on the West End stage or on screen. That thing is Kisses on a Postcard.How Kisses on a Postcard got its name In 1940, when my father was seven and his brother, my uncle Jack, was eleven, they were evacuated from their family in south-east London to escape the Blitz. Millions of children across the country met with the same fate. Neither they nor the parents knew where they were going, who they would be staying with or for how long.“Whatever happens, you stay together,” insisted their mum, my grandmother. “You got that? You stay together!” Then, to turn it into an adventure for the two boys, she invented a secret code for them.  “When you get there,” she said, handing them a stamped, addressed postcard, “you find out your new address,  you write it on this card and you post it to me. Got it? Now, here's the code. You know how to write a kiss - with a cross? Well, put one kiss if it's horrible and I'll come straight there and bring you back home. You put two kisses if it's all right. And three kisses if it's nice. Then I'll know.”The two boys were put on a train along with the rest of their school, each with a gas mask, some sandwiches and a label round their neck with their name on. They ended up in a tiny village in Cornwall, where they were herded into the school hall and picked at random by whichever local would take them.Jack and Terry were chosen by a Welsh ex-coal miner and his wife, Auntie Rose and Uncle Jack, who lived in a tiny cottage by the railway with their soldier son Gwyn. Inside, they found a room packed with things: a cat curled beside the stove: a canary in a cage; oil lamps - there was no electricity here; and two First-World-War shells in their cases, over six inches tall, standing on either side of the clock on the mantelpiece. Outside in the yard, there was a pig and chickens; beyond that a valley with endless woods, a rushing river, fish to catch, streams to dam, paths, tracks, a quarry to climb. And, best of all, at the bottom of the yard lay the main line from London to Penzance. Trains!That night, on a borrowed mattress on the floor, staring at the postcard, they considered their code. They covered the card with kisses and posted it the next morning.My father would spend the next four years in that Cornish village. While many had horrible experiences as vackies, my father didn't. He called it his second childhood. Kisses on a Postcard tells the story of those two boys and the tiny Cornish village during the war, with its conflicts, kindness, pettiness, generosity and gossip, turned on its head, first by the arrival of so many children, then by the arrival of American soldiers, prior to D-Day – a whole regiment of black GIs. No one in the village had ever seen a black man.Having had the theatre thrust upon me since an early age, I'm not as crazy about it as some. My view is that theatre disappeared up its own backside in somewhere around 1974 never to return - certainly the subsidised stuff, anyway. Kisses was only ever staged many years ago as a tiny community theatre project in North Devon, with mostly amateur performers, but it was like nothing I ever saw. Suddenly, I understood why Dad loved the theatre so much and just what a brilliant medium it can be. It became one of my lifetime missions to get Kisses on, and anyone who knows me will know that I have constantly been hustling for over 20 years trying to make it happen. I was hooked. I only stumbled upon my second career writing about money because I was trying to figure out how to raise the capital. A 1970s concept album for the internet eraMy father died in April 2020, probably not a bad time to shuffle off t his mortal coil, given what was going on at the time. As I was going through his things, I came across the script of Kisses. I took it home and stuck it on the shelf, to be dealt with at some later stage. But then, every day, as I looked up from my desk, it would catch my eye and look at me longingly, like a dog wanting a walk.After several months, I couldn't take it any more. “I can't let this die. It's too good to be just a script gathering dust on a shelf. If I don't do something about it, no one will.” To turn Kisses into a film or a West End show would require millions and, more crucially, powerful allies, neither of which I have. But, having spent a large chunk of my adult life in a sound studio - I do a lot of voiceovers as well as the financial writing and the comedy - I did have the means to make some kind of audio drama podcast thing out of it. Like a 1970s concept album, re-formatted for the internet.It needed a lot of re-writing. I could do that. The music still wasn't right - Gordon Clyde, the original composer, had died in 2008 and Dad had turned to various others to fill the gaps. Each did their bit beautifully, but the overall result was a bit disjointed, and needed unifying. I turned to one of my occasional collaborators, Martin Wheatley, a genius who has somehow managed to remain undiscovered his whole life. By coincidence, or as I call it, fate, Martin's father had also been evacuated to Cornwall. We set to work, composed about ten new songs as well as unearthing and reversioning a load of Cornish folk gems that only Martin and about three other people have ever heard of.We have been dogged with good luck ever since. John Owen-Jones - voted the best-ever Valjean in Les Mis and the longest-running phantom in you can guess what - would play the lead role of Uncle Jack, the man who became stand-in father to my dad and uncle. Uncle Jack was a Welsh former coal miner, now a platelayer on the Great Western Railway; fierce, humorous, passionately anti-war and anti-establishment.  When I first spoke to John - I'm still not sure who was auditioning who - he said, “Les Mis, Jesus Christ Superstar - they all started as concept albums. If you were doing it any other way, I'd tell you to do it as a concept album first. It's how great things start.”We were all set to record with an orchestra at a London studio, which started totally breaking my balls over Covid regulations. I phoned round the other studios at the last minute, and Abbey Road had just had a cancellation. We recorded it at Abbey Road Studios! Another stroke of fortune.The result is this concept album/musical about an extraordinary time in British history. Those who were evacuated in 1940 will be in their late 80s and 90s now, if they are still with us at all. In many ways Kisses is a farewell to that generation. But I played it to some friends in the car last month, and during the evacuation scenes they all said, “that's exactly what's happening now in Ukraine.” The story remains so pertinent. Dad said he used to get letters from people in Germany who had been evacuated to escape Allied bombs. If you are anything like me, this story will disarm you in the most unexpected ways. I hope you will find yourself laughing and weeping, as I did, at just what wonderful things the kindest of human beings can be.The full four version of Kisses on a Postcard is available at Bandcamp, costing £16, with the 2-hour abridged version for £12.  With parts 1 and 2, freely available as a podcast here via iTunes and other podcast platforms.Everything you need to know is here at the website. This article first appeared here in the Telegraph. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit frisby.substack.com/subscribe

Silent film star Buster Keaton has and probably always will exist in the shadow of his contemporary Charlie Chaplin. And because of that underdog status, Keaton has had his share of passionate advocates. The latest is Slate critic and friend of the show Dana Stevens, whose new book "Camera Man" puts Keaton at the center of her study of "The Dawn of Cinema and the Invention of the 20th Century." With four classic Keaton shorts selected by Stevens, Adam and Josh embark on their Buster Keaton Marathon. Plus, Filmspotting Madness—Best of the 1970s kicks off with the Play-In Round. 0:00 - Billboard 1:00 - Keaton #1: "One Week" / "The Scarecrow" / "The Play House" / "Cops" Mark Allaway, Martin Wheatley, and Jeff Lardner, "Silent Movie Chase" 34:19 - Next Week / Poll 44:25 - Notes / Massacre Theatre 49:39 - Filmspotting Madness: Play-Ins 1:08:16 - Outro Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The CEO of the UK's Financial Conduct Authority shares his thoughts on the panel "Beyond reforms and recriminations: the future of financial leadership"

Olafur Grimsson, President of Iceland; Paul Polman, CEO Unilever and Martin Wheatley, CEO Financial Conduct Authority are among the line up of big hitters at London Business School's annual leadership event.

In 2019 the Government plans to run a new spending review – setting out how much money it will give each department. In doing so, it will shape the future of public services and investment. It will have to declare whether it is still attempting to shrink the deficit or departing from the course of austerity. It will also have a chance to explain its vision of the UK after Brexit. A new report from the IfG argues that past spending reviews have failed in important respects. Future ones should be run differently in order to improve people’s lives and achieve the Government’s goals. The report was introduced by Martin Wheatley, Senior Fellow at the Institute for Government. The event was chaired by Bronwen Maddox, Director of the Institute for Government. To discuss the findings, our panel will included: James Bowler, Director General, Public Spending, HM Treasury Simon Parker, Director of Strategy, London Borough of Redbridge

Suggested by a listener, your hosts, Robert and Richard divulge their favorite post-Beatles desert island discs (and books and videos, too), in a follow-up to their earlier Beatles Desert Island Discs show. Songs include…well, listen and find out! “Sleepy Lagoon” performance by Martin Wheatley – check out his music here. Find Richard’s books here. Find Robert’s books here. The post 109: Desert Island Solo Discs appeared first on Something About The Beatles.

Suggested by a listener, your hosts, Robert and Richard divulge their favorite post-Beatles desert island discs (and books and videos, too), in a follow-up to their earlier Beatles Desert Island Discs show. Songs include…well, listen and find out! “Sleepy Lagoon” performance by Martin Wheatley – check out his music here. Find Richard’s books here. Find Robert’s books here. The post 109: Desert Island Solo Discs appeared first on Something About The Beatles.

Clarinetista y cantante, Carola Ortiz debuta a su nombre con "Sirin", palabra que se refiere a un ser mitológico, mitad mujer, mitad pájaro. En esta edición de 'Club de Jazz' del 10 de junio de 2016 conversamos con ella y escuchamos música no sólo de este disco, también de su participación en el "Univers Ornete" del Esmuc Jazz Project, con Los Moussakis y en el trío que compartió con el zanfonista Marc Egea y músico de electrónicas Leo Bettinelli. Además, Fernando Ortiz de Urbina nos ofrece en "London Calling" la música de Martin Wheatley, guitarrista que en "Lucky Star" hace exhibición de su habilidad y buen gusto con todo tipo de guitarras, banjos o ukeleles. Toda la información y derechos: http://www.elclubdejazz.com

Clarinetista y cantante, Carola Ortiz debuta a su nombre con "Sirin", palabra que se refiere a un ser mitológico, mitad mujer, mitad pájaro. En esta edición de 'Club de Jazz' del 10 de junio de 2016 conversamos con ella y escuchamos música no sólo de este disco, también de su participación en el "Univers Ornete" del Esmuc Jazz Project, con Los Moussakis y en el trío que compartió con el zanfonista Marc Egea y músico de electrónicas Leo Bettinelli. Además, Fernando Ortiz de Urbina nos ofrece en "London Calling" la música de Martin Wheatley, guitarrista que en "Lucky Star" hace exhibición de su habilidad y buen gusto con todo tipo de guitarras, banjos o ukeleles. Toda la información y derechos: http://www.elclubdejazz.com

The City of London is celebrating the departure of Martin Wheatley as head of the UK Financial Conduct Authority. Patrick Jenkins, financial editor, asks Caroline Binham, financial regulation correspondent, whether this ushers in a more lenient era for the banks. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Patrick Jenkins and guests discuss cost cutting at Standard Chartered and Barclays, US bank results and Fed capital buffer rules, and relief in the City of London over Martin Wheatley's departure. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

The UK Financial Conduct Authority's Chief Executive Officer, Martin Wheatley talks to London Business School about the key financial and regulatory challenges facing the organisation in a struggling economy.

The CEO of the UK Financial Conduct Authority, Martin Wheatley, says that changes to industry culture, legal and competition powers are key factors to the success of the organisation.

Martin Wheatley, CEO of the UK's Financial Conduct Authority talks to London Business School about his career, the role of the organisation in regulating the finance industry and the challenges that lie ahead.

Martin Wheatley, CEO of the UK's Financial Conduct Authority, talks about his career, the role of the organisation in regulating the finance industry and the challenges that lie ahead.

The CEO of the UK's Financial Conduct Authority shares his thoughts on the panel "Beyond reforms and recriminations: the future of financial leadership" at London Business School's Global Leadership Summit 2013.

The CEO of the UK's Financial Conduct Authority, Martin Wheatley, says that changes to industry culture, legal and competition powers are key factors to the success of the organisation.

The UK's Finance Conduct Authority's Chief Executive Officer, Martin Wheatley, talks to London Business School about the key financial and regulatory challenges facing the organisation in a struggling economy.