Scott had been misidentified in a pub quiz
A listener sent Scott a photograph from a pub quiz picture round.
Scott’s old Radio 1 publicity photograph had appeared among the celebrity faces.
The team playing did not know who he was.
So they guessed.
Their answer:
Gemma Collins.
Scott was offended on several different levels.
He accepted that not everybody would recognise a radio presenter by face.
He could even accept being mistaken for another famous person.
But Gemma Collins?
He could not see it.
Chris checked Gemma Collins without sunglasses
The team tried to understand the logic.
Perhaps the hair.
Perhaps the face shape in that old photograph.
Perhaps the players had simply panicked.
Scott argued that if somebody had written Ellen DeGeneres, he would at least have accepted there was a resemblance.
Chris looked at pictures of Gemma Collins without her usual large sunglasses.
Still not really Scott.
The pub-quiz team had apparently got several celebrities wrong, including other television names.
Scott decided their final score probably reflected the quality of the identification.
Charlie Puth’s singing interview returned
The archive Golden Moment went back to Charlie Puth.
When Charlie had visited previously, Scott and Chris decided an ordinary interview wasted his musical ability.
So they put a piano in front of him.
Every answer had to be sung.
Charlie improvised his responses about British television, adverts, politics and Nando’s.
The segment worked because he could apparently turn almost any sentence into a song instantly.
Scott remembered the conversation involving old British-TV moments such as John Prescott punching a protester.
Hearing Charlie sing about it made the event sound even stranger.
Could Facebook Marketplace become a dating app?
Then came the day’s central question.
Everybody had heard of couples who met on Tinder or Grindr.
What about completely unconventional online platforms?
Could somebody meet through Facebook Marketplace?
A work network?
A comments section?
The first major answer was even better:
LinkedIn.
Becky found LinkedIn love through recruitment
Becky, from Manchester, worked in recruitment.
LinkedIn was therefore part of her job.
She contacted a man professionally because his profile was relevant to work.
They had an introductory call.
Friendly.
Normal.
Then Becky followed up by email and included a direct phone number with an invitation to contact her personally.
The work connection continued into regular Teams calls.
The balance gradually changed.
Ten per cent work.
Ninety per cent personal.
Becky realised the man she was speaking to every week was actually very attractive.
A lockdown walk turned into a relationship
During lockdown, the man happened to be travelling near Manchester Airport.
Becky suggested a walk.
The relationship developed.
At one point he invited her to stay for a week.
They continued seeing each other for almost a year.
Then, unexpectedly, he largely stopped replying.
The LinkedIn love story had become a LinkedIn ghosting story.
They could still see each other’s professional posts.
He even continued interacting online.
The personal relationship had vanished while the networking profiles remained.
Scott thought this was one of the strangest possible consequences of mixing work and romance.
LinkedIn was apparently much more romantic than Scott realised
Another listener, Rosie, also described a LinkedIn connection.
A training course led to contact online and eventually a man travelling hundreds of miles to see her.
Scott and Chris had barely used LinkedIn themselves.
They had assumed it was simply a place for jobs, professional updates and people congratulating one another on promotions.
Listeners were revealing an entire romantic layer underneath it.
By the end of January, the programme had learned that love can begin almost anywhere online.
Even somewhere with endorsements for Microsoft Excel.
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