Stephen McGinty: Truth about fictionalised history…

Everyone can tell the difference between history and docu-drama, writes Stephen McGinty - can't they?

IS there, I wonder, a locked room in the bowels of Channel 4's headquarters where there are stored the docu- dramas deemed too risky even for a broadcaster that does not so much court as revel in publicity?

We've had Death of a President (2008) about the assassination of George W Bush, then there was The Execution of Gary Glitter (2009) (yup, capital punishment is restored for kiddie-fiddlers and the Leader of the Gang is first through the trap) and then on Thursday night, The Taking of Prince Harry.

For I have it on excellent authority that recent ideas raised, written and then banished to the basement cell include The Forced Feminsation of George Osborne, a documentary which examines the economic consequences for Britain if the Chancellor of the Exchequer was ever kidnapped by a gang of anarchist clowns who dress him in a frock, ringlets and pan-stick make-up then force him to make monetary policy broadcasts as his new alter-ego Matilda Dolittle.

Nestling beside the cancelled show's flyers are posters printed but never distributed for: Gordon Ramsay: Cannibal, a riveting documentary about the fate for the food industry if Britain's most celebrated chef ate himself over five nights on live television.

In case you missed it, or chose not to fall for Channel 4's provocation, The Taking of Prince Harry attempted to examine what would happen if the spare heir to the throne returned to Afghanistan as a helicopter pilot only to be downed and kidnapped by the Taleban.

One way to look at it was as a shameless piece of controversial programming, designed to attract both headlines and ghoulish Republicans anxious to see a member of the royal family in distress. Sitting squarely in this camp was the head of the armed forces, Air Chief Marshal Jock Stirrup, who wrote to the chairman of Channel 4 insisting that the programme should be withdrawn on the grounds that it could undermine the security of British troops in Afghanistan.

Frankly, it's hard to imagine how a British speculative documentary could further erode the already perilous position in which British troops currently find themselves. As Hamish Mykura, head of documentaries at Channel 4 said, the idea of taking the prince hostage is "clearly not an idea that would be new to the Taliban or al-Qaida or to their supporters".

In fact, when the news blackout broke in 2008 on the fact that Prince Harry had spent ten weeks on the front line in Afghanistan, my first thought was what would have happened if he had been kidnapped? So I watched out of a genuine interest to learn about the mechanics of state that would grind into play should such an event take place.

Did you know that the lead organisation would be the Metropolitan Police on the grounds that the prince, like any other soldier or civilian, was now the victim of a crime? No, me neither.

The recent, tragic death of Linda Norgrove, who was referenced, cast a dark shadow over the film. Everything we, as viewers, were asked to imagine the Queen and Prince Charles going through, had already been experienced by Mr and Mrs Norgrove, who were denied the benefit of the happy ending granted to royalty.

The film ended with Harry escaping just as a deal between Pakistan's SIS and his kidnappers was complete. A royal fudge, indeed. It would have been more honest, and direct, given the fate of the majority of kidnapped British subjects in Iraq and Afghanistan, to end with Prince Harry's death.

It would also have been suicidal for Channel 4 who know just how far to push things. Broadcasting the speculative death of a convicted paedophile is one thing, that of a serving soldier and member of the Royal family, quite another.

And yet for all its dodgy dialogue, the film was full of interesting facts and I would defend the docu-drama against critics who dismiss it as factual lies. What's fascinating is the manner in which television has borrowed from books. Previously it was only between the embossed covers of potboilers that individuals found themselves within an assassin's gun sights.

Jack Higgin's had Winston Churchill in danger in The Eagle has Landed (1975), Frederick Forsyth did the same with Charles de Gaulle in The Day of the Jackal (1971) while Jeffry Archer was forced to re-write his novel, Shall We Tell The President? (1977) in which President Teddy Kennedy is trailed by an assassin, for the America market with a fictitious president. In the first two books - I haven't read the third - there was a feel of researched authenticity.

At their best speculative, books and docu-dramas give a feel for an event and allow the viewer or reader to later seek confirmation in history books. The problem comes when the public don't attempt to distinguish between fact and fiction, when they take the events of, say, The Queen or the recent drama, The Special Relationship, about Tony Blair and Bill Clinton, as straight facts.

This is a danger feared by the historian Anthony Beevor, who believes that film should simply not be made about real people but that they should be disguised as in a roman clef. His experiences about the liberty taken by film-makers came while he acted as a historical adviser on Enemy at the Gates, a film about Stalingrad, which claimed to tell the true story of duelling snipers.

Unfortunately Beevor's recent book on the battle had revealed the story to be propaganda. The director, Jean-Jacques Annaud decided to opt for the philosophy espoused in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence that declared when the truth becomes legend, print the legend.

It is an approach Tony Blair appears to have taken, much to the delight of Peter Morgan, the screenwriter behind The Queen. In his autobiography, A Journey, the former prime minister claims that the Queen said to him: "You are my tenth prime minister. The first was Winston. That was before you were born."

In Morgan's script to the 2006 film, Helen Mirren, in the title role, tells Michael Sheen's Blair: "You are my tenth prime minister, Mr Blair. My first was Winston Churchill."

As Morgan has pointed out there are three possible explanations: that he guessed absolutely correctly; that Blair decided to endorse his line; or that the former prime minister can't tell where a fictitious film ends and a real life begins.

If the Prime Minister has such trouble, no wonder historians are concerned, but television and film should not try to do footnotes, and if Prince Harry does return and is unlucky, let us hope he too enjoys the fairytale ending that Channel 4 predicts.