The first time I met Michael Mosley was at a BBC summer party. The very first Horizon documentary I presented had just aired, which qualified me for an invite. I knew literally no one at the party, particularly as many of the attendees were household names, so I was just a little star-struck and intimidated, and ended up quietly people-watching at the bar while nursing a drink. It was at this point that Michael came up to me.
“Hi, I’m Michael Mosley,” he said. He needn’t have introduced himself – of course I knew who he was! We started talking and ended up hanging out for much of the evening. It was only a year later when I got the Trust Me, I’m a Doctor gig, that I began working with Michael. But that first meeting always stayed with me; he didn’t know me from Adam, but noted the newbie at the party and made me feel welcome.
Michael’s career as a producer, broadcaster and author spanned more than four decades, many of those years were spent with the BBC. As a consequence, he has left a great legacy and, in the process, created a new genre of science presenting: the self-experimenting presenter.
He famously, for example, infested himself with tapeworms in the name of science. But what Michael is arguably most well known for is popularising the 5:2 intermittent fasting diet, which he himself used to successfully lose weight and, crucially, put his type 2 diabetes into remission. Today, self-experimentation as a science presenter is almost the norm. Certainly nearly all of the pieces I did for Trust Me, I’m a Doctor involved me performing some procedure or dietary intervention on myself.
Michael did have his critics and got quite a bit of pushback from the scientific community because n=1 experiments aren’t experiments, but anecdotes. And from a puritanical point of view, that is of course correct. Michael wasn’t performing experiments, however, and never claimed to be; rather, he was trying to inform. He didn’t just present science, he showed science. That, coupled with his uncanny talent for making the complex seem simple, meant he ended up educating an awful lot of people.
From a personal perspective, Michael was very much a mentor to me. Much like his podcast Just One Thing, where, each week, he revealed simple, actionable tips to improve your health, he provided me with practical pieces of advice to survive in the world of broadcasting. For example, if at all possible, don’t point to an object unnecessarily when filming. Why? Because that would invariably entail an extra 15–20 minutes of shooting close-ups of my finger pointing at said object, to use as cut-aways – time was always ridiculously tight on these Trust Me… shoots!
I also saw how he interviewed people in a non-aggressive fashion yet managed to extract whatever information was required. And how he constructed his summaries for the ‘wrap-up’ pieces to camera, which were never scripted. All of these techniques I still employ today, whether in broadcasting or in my day job of academia.
Through the years of the pandemic, we witnessed some wonderful examples of science communication. Equally, we were also exposed to some god-awful examples of science communication. If there are any lessons to be gleaned from the COVID years, it’s that bad science communication kills.
This is not a phenomenon that’s unique to global viral pandemics, though. Bad science communication also kills when discussing cancer, heart disease and, crucially, diet-related illnesses such as obesity and type 2 diabetes. These represent the vast burden of non-communicable diseases a huge number of people are suffering from today. I don’t think it’s hyperbole to say that, through his science communication, Michael has affected the health of a great many people for the better, and even saved a few lives in the process.
Michael Mosley was a close colleague, a respected mentor and a dear friend. I shall miss him dearly.
Read more: