Latest news with #AdamBuxton
Telegraph
21-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Adam Buxton: ‘I'm a middle class, angsty try-hard who wants people to like me'
After years as one of Britain's most popular podcasters, it makes sense that Adam Buxton is a very good chit-chatter. He's always engaged, genuinely listens, and can't help but be self-deprecating, even when randomly name-dropping a celebrity. 'I think I actually introduced Noel Gallagher to his first wife Meg Matthews while at T In The Park when I was hanging out with Travis,' Buxton segues during an answer about whether The Adam & Joe Show would be made today. 'But that's another story.' Originally running between December 1996, and May 1999, The Adam & Joe Show was the cult sketch show that first brought Buxton and his longtime collaborator Joe Cornish to the attention of audiences. The pair initially became friends as teenagers at the Westminster School in London, where they bonded over their love of comics, movies and TV and were also close with documentarian Louis Theroux. After impressing Channel 4 with their work on Takeover TV, a show that aired homemade films from viewers, Buxton and Cornish were offered their own series. They wrote, filmed, acted, edited and hosted every aspect of The Adam & Joe Show, using cuddly toys to recreate scenes from Star Wars and Trainspotting, pulling pranks on unsuspecting people, writing and performing a variety of songs, and raiding the homes of rock stars to examine their record collections, to name just a few of their many sketches. Buxton's father, Nigel – a former travel editor for The Sunday Telegraph – even had his own section where he discussed aspects of youth culture. This wasn't the first time the father and son duo had collaborated. Buxton initially considered becoming a writer after university, and even wrote a few travel articles for The Telegraph under the pseudonym Thomas Newtown, David Bowie's character from The Man Who Fell To Earth. 'My dad made a bid to go full nepotistic to try and drag me into a respectable profession. It didn't work.' Buxton insists that 'a lot of people don't remember' The Adam & Joe Show now. 'It's not like it was a massive cultural landmark. It was a very marginal, culty thing.' But it still left its mark on those who did connect with its humour and references. Fans revelled in its DIY aesthetic, silliness, and the camaraderie between Buxton and Cornish. When he finally gets around to answering whether it would still get made today, Buxton opines that 'the internet has squeezed all of that amateurishness out of TV,' adding that the medium has had to 'double down' and make sure everything looks polished and professional. 'If you want to do your own weird thing, then you can go off to YouTube to do it.' Even at the time The Adam & Joe Show was deemed too bizarre by certain viewers, who were almost certainly put off by its seemingly amateurish and low-budget approach and its use of random and surreal humour. In Song For Bob Hoskins Buxton performs a musical number as the legendary British actor, while in You Break It, You Pay For It, Cornish smashes items in a glass shop, much to the dismay of its owners, having misinterpreted the you break it, you pay for it policy. 'Years later, when I saw [Meg Matthews], she said, 'Me and Noel watch your show sometimes, but it's so cringe. It's so studenty.' I've never known exactly what she meant by that.' Over 25 years later, Buxton can't help but ruminate over Matthews and Gallagher's assessment of the show. 'I think [her comment] was more about us trying too hard. Oasis were the definition of working class insouciance. Me and Joe were the opposite. We're middle class, angsty, try-hard, who want people to like us.' Buxton's first memoir Ramble Book, which was released in September 2020, depicted his childhood, friendship with Cornish and Theroux, his love of 1980s pop culture, and his relationship with his father, who died in 2015 at the age of 91. I Love You, Byeee covers his time making The Adam & Joe Show, working alongside Cornish, the death of his mother Valerie, and candidly explores his self-doubt and vulnerabilities in a brutally honest manner. In it, Buxton calls himself 'a ball of self-conscious angst at the best of times,' especially during his appearance on the celebrity version of the Great British Bake Off. He recalls him and Cornish being irritable with each other during production as they created increasingly extravagant sketches. At one point, after Buxton told Cornish he was jealous of his sketch for The Toy Patient, he immediately tried to out-do him, only for Cornish to make a replica of the Titanic that was the length of a room. Ultimately, Buxton writes in the book that 'there's no question [he] can be a d---,' but insists that's mostly due to his 'ongoing battle with low self-esteem and oversensitivity.' Buxton had a lot to consider regarding his partnership with Cornish. In the late 2000s, Cornish began to focus on making his own movies, writing and directing Attack The Block and The Kid Who Would Be King, while also co-writing The Adventures Of Tintin and Ant-Man. Buxton admits to being a little lost at this point in his career. 'I had no clue what I was going to do. I always felt jealous of Joe because it was obvious that he was going to go and make films one way or another. It was obvious that Louis (Theroux) was going to be fine at whatever he did. He had that calmness and confidence that I didn't really have.' After appearing on various panel shows and television series, Buxton really found his lane in September 2015, when he launched the Adam Buxton Podcast. Over 249 episodes, Buxton has spoken to the likes of David Letterman, Paul McCartney, Michael Palin, Brian Eno, a cavalcade of British comedians, and, of course, Joe Cornish. Buxton's gentle, compassionate and funny approach has been widely praised, and the podcast has amassed over 65 million all-time listens. Fans were enchanted by how Buxton was able to seamlessly mix humour and serious topics with each guest, while the fact he opened each episode with his own candid ramblings as he walked his dog Rosie made the show feel even more intimate and friendly. His discussion with Theroux, where he was able to interrogate the famous interviewer for a change while still being silly with his old friend, and his frank talk with writer and activist Hassan Akkad, about leaving Syria for the UK, highlight why Buxton is such a popular and compelling podcast host. 'I really think it's the greatest medium ever,' declares Buxton. 'You can get lost in what really matters to people.' Buxton says the success of the podcast is what allowed him to get a 'mainstream publisher interested in' the Ramble Book. After finishing it, he never even considered writing a second. 'I found the first one quite difficult. But I soon started to feel a bit more upbeat about it and thought, 'How hard could a second one be?' Then my mum, very obligingly, died, which gave me something more substantial to write about. She doesn't take up too much space in the book, because she was harder to write about than my dad.' Buxton didn't have a problem navigating his thoughts and feelings towards Cornish. Although he can't help but wonder if his old friend ever gets a little tired of how much Buxton talks about them. 'I've always talked about it quite a bit. Joe is very nice about it. He endures it. He's never actually said, 'God I wish he would stop talking about us on podcasts. It's really embarrassing.' But that's not his natural mode. He doesn't really like dissecting things in the same way that I do.' With the book, Buxton wanted to write about how friendship can become complicated by ambition and work, which he believed would be relatable to a lot of readers. 'The one thing I feel I can do that some people find difficult is to be honest about those internal struggles while also finding something funny about them. Because a lot of the time they are funny and stupid.' In the book, after heaping praise on Cornish's filmmaking debut Attack The Block, calling it the 'kind of funny, exciting and stylish movie we'd have loved as teenage filmgoers in the 1980s,' Buxton jokes his voiceover cameo was too miniscule, then in the next paragraph admits Cornish's success left him 'grieving what felt like the end of a friendship that had defined [his] life for over 25 years.' While Buxton admits that the pair see much less of each other than they used to, as Cornish lives in London with his partner and child and he is in Norwich with his wife and three children, they still get together a few times a year. Cornish has reacted positively to Buxton's book, too. 'I think he was delighted that someone memorialised our stupid TV show and wrote a whole book about it. He's been very kind.' Buxton did irk some people close to him with a few lines in the book, though. He had to have a 'tense conversation' with his wife Sarah over some of what he'd written. He wouldn't divulge which aspects she was specifically unhappy with, but the book does include a log of arguments he's had with his wife, which range from her working on the weekend instead of going to the cinema with the family, to her being moody. 'She was like, 'I know you're joking, but there are a couple of bits of truth in there.' We sort of unpacked it.' By the end of their conversation, Buxton regretted putting the lines in and apologised profusely to her. 'It was kind of a brilliant conversation. Even though I do regret it, it was worth it for that conversation. It made me think that my parents would never have had those kinds of conversations. So it just made me feel even more lucky.' Hopefully she'll be much happier with Buxton's latest artistic venture. Never afraid to test out new creative waters, Buxton's debut album Buckle Up – a mixture of indie-pop with comedy lyrics – will be released on September 12 from Decca Records. Metronomy's Joseph Mount is the lead producer on the album, which Buxton was initially approached about five years ago. While he's been busy working on his podcast and other projects, he kept coming back to the music. Buxton is even currently taking singing lessons as he's hoping to go out on tour with the album at some point in the future. 'People think it's a bit odd that I've made the album and now I'm having singing lessons,' he can't help but joke. 'I can sing fine when I'm on my own. It's not quite so easy to do when you're out on stage.' Having directed the Radiohead music videos for Jigsaw Falling Into Place and Nude, Buxton sent his debut single Pizza Time to their guitarist Jonny Greenwood. He provided some feedback that wasn't only constructive but actually neatly summed up Buxton's entire career. 'He said the lyrics were in the uncanny valley between funny and sincere. He didn't think anyone had ever made that work in the world of music. I'm not sure I agree with him. I think some people do make that work. I think that's a good description of where I am most of the time.'
The Guardian
15-06-2025
- Business
- The Guardian
Policymakers who think AI can help rescue flagging UK economy should take heed
From helping consultants diagnose cancer, to aiding teachers in drawing up lesson plans – and flooding social media with derivative slop – generative artificial intelligence is being adopted across the economy at breakneck speed. Yet a growing number of voices are starting to question how much of an asset the technology can be to the UK's sluggish economy. Not least because there is no escaping a persistent flaw: large language models (LLMs) remain prone to casually making things up. It's a phenomenon known as 'hallucination'. In a recent blogpost, the barrister Tahir Khan cited three cases in which lawyers had used large language models to formulate legal filings or arguments – only to find they slipped in fictitious supreme court cases, and made up regulations, or nonexistent laws. 'Hallucinated legal texts often appear stylistically legitimate, formatted with citations, statutes, and judicial opinions, creating an illusion of credibility that can mislead even experienced legal professionals,' he warned. In a recent episode of his podcast, the broadcaster Adam Buxton read out excerpts from a book he had bought online, purporting to be a compilation of quotes and anecdotes about his own life, many of which were superficially plausible – but completely fictitious. The tech-sceptic journalist Ed Zitron argued in a recent blogpost that the tendency of ChatGPT (and every other chatbot) to 'assert something to be true, when it isn't', meant it was, 'a non-starter for most business customers, where (obviously) what you write has to be true'. Academics at the University of Glasgow have said that because the models are not set up to solve problems, or to reason, but to predict the most plausible-sounding sentence based on the reams of data they have hoovered up, a better word for their factual hiccups is not 'hallucinations' but 'bullshit'. In a paper from last year that glories in the title 'ChatGPT is bullshit', Michael Townsen Hicks and his colleagues say: 'Large language models simply aim to replicate human speech or writing. This means that their primary goal, insofar as they have one, is to produce human-like text. They do so by estimating the likelihood that a particular word will appear next, given the text that has come before.' In other words, the 'hallucinations' are not glitches likely to be ironed out – but integral to the models. A recent paper in New Scientist suggested they are getting more frequent. Even the cutting-edge forms of AI known as 'large reasoning models' suffer 'accuracy collapse' when faced with complex problems, according to a much-shared paper from Apple last week. None of this is to subtract from the usefulness of LLMs for many analytical tasks – and neither are LLMs the full extent of generative AI; but it does make it risky to lean on chatbots as authorities – as those lawyers found. If LLMs really are more bullshitters than reasoning machines, that has several profound implications. First, it raises questions about the extent to which AI should really be replacing – rather than augmenting or assisting – human employees, who take ultimate responsibility for what they produce. Last year's joint winner of the Nobel prize for economics Daron Acemoglu says that given its issues with accuracy, generative AI as currently conceived will only replace a narrowly defined set of roles, in the foreseeable future. 'It's going to impact a bunch of office jobs that are about data summary, visual matching, pattern recognition, etc. And those are essentially about 5% of the economy,' he said in October. He calls for more research effort to be directed towards building AI tools that workers can use rather than bots aimed at replacing them altogether. Sign up to Business Today Get set for the working day – we'll point you to all the business news and analysis you need every morning after newsletter promotion If he is right, AI is unlikely to come to the rescue of countries – in particular the UK – whose productivity has never recovered from the global financial crisis and some of whose policymakers are ardently hoping the AI fairy will help workers do more with less. Second, the patchier the benefits of AI, the lower the costs society should be ready to accept, and the more we should be trying to ensure they are borne, and where possible mitigated, by the originators of the models. These include massive energy costs but also the obvious downsides for politics and democracy of flooding the public realm with invented content. As Sandra Wachter of the Oxford Internet Institute put this recently: 'Everybody's just throwing their empty cans into the forest. So it's going to be much harder to have a nice walk out there because it's just being polluted, and because those systems can pollute so much quicker than humans could.' Third, governments should rightly be open to adopting new technologies, including AI – but with a clear understanding of what they can and can't do, alongside a healthy scepticism of some of their proponents' wilder (and riskier) claims. To ministers' credit, last week's spending review talked as much about 'digitisation' as about AI as a way of improving the delivery of public services. Ministers are well aware that long before swathes of civil servants are in line to be replaced by chatbots, the UK's put-upon citizenry would like to be able to hear from their doctor in some other format than a letter. ChatGPT and its rivals have awesome power: they can synthesise vast amounts of information and present it in whatever style and format you choose, and they're great for unearthing the accumulated wisdom of the web. But as anyone who has met a charming bullshitter in their life will tell you (and who hasn't?), it is a mistake to think they will solve all your problems – and wise to keep your wits about you.
The Guardian
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
I Love You, Byeee by Adam Buxton review – a book that is by turns stupid, zany, and surprisingly charming
One day Adam Buxton ordered two teas with oat milk from the trolley on the train. Unfortunately his came with cow's milk and, because his need for vegan alternatives is apparently greater than his wife Sarah's, he asked her to swap. Before Sarah had the chance to reply, the woman serving their drinks intervened, observing sensibly: 'She might not want that one.' Buxton retorted with exaggerated gruffness: 'She's my wife, so she'll have what she's given!' The comedian, radio and TV presenter recalls what happened next. Passengers shook their heads and looked at Sarah with pity and concern. Sarah sank mortified into her seat. The incident, Buxton writes, made him look 'even more like the kind of controlling monster I had just parodied. But maybe,' he reflects, 'a husband who makes a joke that lands so badly and embarrasses his wife as I just had is a kind of monster. On the other hand, perhaps I'm right and everyone else is wrong.' I was all set to hate this book, with its stupid, chummy title redolent of Russell Brand's bestseller My Booky Wook, and its cover emblazoned with Buxton's mug in the manner now customary for celebrity memoirs. But much of it consists of Buxton parading his failures – jokes that misfire, TV pranks that end in a Brixton shop with someone threatening to punch him, and the author's abiding fear he's a talentless impostor – all endearingly contrary to the self-aggrandising Trumpian zeitgeist. True, Buxton rambles. There's a very long section on the ideas he pitched to Channel 4 that were cruelly denied. One such proposal was a sitcom in which David Bowie's characters – the laughing gnome, Ziggy Stardust, Major Tom, the junkie Pierrot and so on – shared a flat. Buxton notes that in 2006 Bowie made an advertisement for Vittel mineral water which, he muses, bears a remarkable likeness to his failed pitch. Did Bowie nick his idea? It seems unlikely but, now the thin white duke is dead, we may never know for sure. There are also too many passages about him hanging out with musical heroes Radiohead and Travis. More entertainingly, he and Joe Cornish, fellow host of TV and radio's The Adam and Joe Show, get menaced by a drunken Mark E Smith (late frontman of The Fall) who marches the pair to a cashpoint to get the £200 they promised him in order to appear in one of their daft skits. The book is padded out with a spreadsheet of arguments he's had with long-suffering Sarah. For example: 'Subject of Argument: Wife leaving dirty plates and coffee mugs by the sink to clean later. Buckles' point [Buxton calls himself Buckles throughout. Just accept it]: 'I always think it's better to clean as you go.' Sarah's response? 'I always think it's better to fuck while you off.' Sarah 1, Buckles 0.' Oddly, these digressions are mostly charming. And a letter to his mother, who died during Covid, at the end of the book, had me welling up. 'Thanks,' he writes, 'for lending me your makeup and showing me how to apply it, not only when I was afflicted by volcanic eruptions of bad skin as a teenager but also when I just wanted to look more intense and interesting.' That I was charmed at all is more surprising since Buxton is not relatable. He went to Windlesham House School where he met mockney herbert and future film director Guy Ritchie and to Westminster where he was contemporaneous with future posh TV prankster Louis Theroux. He found his calling at Cheltenham Art School where he made silly films for his degree that, cannily, he parlayed into the TV shows with which he and fellow Westminster alum, Cornish (AKA Cornballs) made their name in the 90s and noughties. They dressed up, pranked shoppers, satirised crap telly like Richard and Judy, painstakingly made a little model of the doomed ship for their parody Toytanic – as if they were Peter Pans with Blue Peter badges. Buxton is now in his 50s and his line of work, so far as I can tell, consists of asking infantile questions of celebrities and seeing if they will play nice or be dicks. He once asked Paul Weller, live on Radio 2: 'Does anyone ever say to you, 'Paul Weller, Weller, Weller. Oooh! Tell me more! Tell me more!' To which the glum musician replied: 'Was that supposed to be funny?' I found Buxton's self-deprecation endearing right up to the point that I realised he's probably getting a huge advance for offloading his insecurities. And yet, he has written a celebrity memoir that does something extraordinary: it manages to be worth reading. Though I suspect not everyone – the modfather among them – will agree. I Love You, Byeee: Rambles on DIY TV, Rockstars, Kids and Mums by Adam Buxton is published by Mudlark (£22). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.
