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With thanks to demelzabunny for finding this. We already had an abridged version of this article but this is more indepth. And I love the title. LOL

The day I told Robin Hood to drop his tights and join the SAS
By COLONEL TIM COLLINS

Standing in a doorway of a narrow cobbled street on a cold, April morning, the body of a freshly slaughtered goat dangling from a nearby beam, I watched as two men on horseback made their way through a busy market.

To those in the ragged crowd, they appeared quite nondescript. But I knew different. These men were freedom fighters - or terrorists, depending on your point of view. Highly trained soldiers, determined to bring down their country's regime.

It sounds like a flashback to my time with Special Forces, when I would try to blend into the crowd in some Middle Eastern or South American market. But these were no Al Qaeda suspects. This was a breathtakingly realistic film set, in Hungary, with actors portraying Robin Hood and his companion Much, for the BBC's new Saturday evening series.

The show is a fresh, modern and intelligent take on the traditional tale and stars Irish actor Jonas Armstrong. I was there to advise the writer, Dominic Minghella, on what the leader of a band of guerrilla freedom fighters might be like (I've met a few over the years) and how such a man might conduct himself.

Make no mistake: this latest incarnation of Robin Hood is unlike anything you have seen before. Forget the laughing Douglas Fairbanks Jnr, the thigh-slapping Errol Flynn and the well groomed Richard Greene riding through the glen. And don't expect a reprise of the touchy-feely character portrayed by Kevin Costner in 1991's Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves.

This new Robin, who makes his debut on our screens next month, is very much a product of our age, inspired by some of the warriors in Iraq and Afghanistan. Robin's cause is a noble one, of course, unlike today's fanatics who blow up innocent civilians in the name of Islam. Nevertheless, he is regarded as a terrorist by the Sheriff of Nottingham.

That is not to say there isn't a great deal of humour in this new series - you laugh because of the witty script. Gone are Friar Tuck and the tights, in come tactics and character traits similar to the modern-day rebel fighters I came across during my time with the SAS.

The Merry Men are less merry and more businesslike. Even the costumes have a cachet that may become the latest thing once this show is aired.

The BBC set, just outside Budapest, was incredible. Designers had conjured up a medieval town square, complete with shops, houses, taverns and, of course, the exterior of Nottingham Castle.

Outside the castle walls was a moat and in the centre of the square was a set of gallows. I had never been on a working set before, and when I saw it for the first time I was astounded by the attention to detail. Only by touching the castle walls could I persuade myself they were not made of solid stone.

On set, the activity was frenetic. Everywhere I looked there were wires and lights and technicians and cameramen bustling around preparing for the next take, while costumed actors huddled under umbrellas, taking cover from a steady drizzle. The most extraordinary sight of all, however, was that of the 30 or so extras.

Where they found such a bizarre-looking bunch of people I have no idea. Long and short, fat and thin, with lumps and bumps and carbuncles; every one was worthy of a second look. One man must have been 6ft 7in, most of him neck. A woman standing next to him was under 5ft, and about the same width-ways. They were frightening and made for very convincing medieval peasants.

Wandering through the set, producer Foz Allen outlined the concept of the new production and introduced me to the cast.

The idea was one of Robin returning from an unpopular war to which he willingly went, motivated by love of king and country, and at great personal sacrifice, only to find an England in the grip of a slightly mad despot (Keith Allen's menacing and calculating Sheriff) said to be based on Gordon Brown.

Disillusioned by what he finds, Robin tries to make sense of his situation. He soon realises there is more righteousness among the outlaws that have set themselves against the regime than there is among the Establishment.

I found myself in a not dissimilar situation two years ago when I returned from Iraq and realised the extent to which we had been misled by the Government, and I suspect it is no accident that Dominic Minghella, younger brother of Oscar-winning director Anthony, had asked me along to add some thoughts on how such a character might manifest himself.

Back at my hotel, I took time to reflect on those who reminded me of Robin. The character is a metaphor much used in resistance scenarios. Today, Islamic fanatics describe Osama Bin Laden as a Robin Hood figure, while in the Seventies Francie Hughes, the IRA terrorist and hunger striker, was also regarded in his community as a Robin Hood. He cultivated that image despite being shot and captured by the SAS and then jailed until his death by starvation.

But these men have nothing to do with the real Robin Hood. Although probably a composite of individuals rather than one historical figure, the character of Robin is, nevertheless, an inspiring one. He is a righteous man, an idealist who has no truck with oppressors, wherever they might be. This immediately disqualifies Osama Bin Laden and Francie Hughes, who use, or used, bloodshed as a tool and whose aim is murder.

If Robin was around today he probably would be at odds with the Government and the blunders of the "War on Terror", but there the analogy with Bin Laden would end. He certainly wouldn't resort to the murder of innocents, or fit a suicide vest to Little John and justify his actions by some spurious interpretation of the Koran.

There are fighters I have met, however, who can lay claim to the legacy of Robin Hood. One is my old ally in Iraq, Karim Mahood, aka Abu Hatim, aka the "Prince of the Marshes". He led a Shia rebel faction against Saddam after his release from jail in 1986 and fought a 17-year guerrilla war against the dictator. He was styled as Robin by his followers in Al Amarah and, although now regarded by most British commanders as a terrorist, was a brave and honourable fighter.

The same applies to Ahmed Shah Massoud, known as the Lion of Panjshir by his followers, who led the Northern Alliance against first the communists and then the Taliban in Afghanistan. And there is also a young Arab sheik, whom I cannot name, who greatly impressed me with his integrity during his nation's most turbulent times. Educated at Gordonstoun and Sandhurst, he is at ease with statesmen yet can talk long into the night round a campfire with tribesmen who hang on to his every word, in awe of his mystique.

There are also many SAS soldiers who evoke the spirit of Robin Hood. These are the men who join indigenous rebel forces around the world and help them in their battle against our common enemies. Their deeds are never publicised but these "blades", as we call SAS soldiers, are some of the bravest I have ever met.

When they return to their original regiments, inoculated against the "but that's how we've always done it" attitude of the bureaucratic Cold War generation of senior officers, they are treated as heroes. Their confident style and credibility, won on the battlefield, grates with the time-servers and inspires a whole new generation of volunteers.

All these men have certain personality traits that I tried to pass on to Jonas. They are charismatic and courageous, as all leaders must be. They are battle-hardened. And they are supremely confident, but never arrogant. Jonas is a fantastic actor, but when I first watched him delivering his lines a dramatic scene in which he reads out a death sentence handed out by the Sheriff of Nottingham he sounded as if he were at a sixth-form prize-giving.

At first, I tried to tell him something about Abu Hatim and General Massoud and explain how they generated so much authority and loyal devotion. But unless you've met them in the flesh, it is hard to understand, let alone imitate. However, as luck would have it, there was someone on set who acted as inspiration the stunt co-ordinator, BÇla Unger.

A bull-necked Hungarian with a head like a robber's dog, a lantern jaw and piercing blue eyes, BÇla was as adept at riding horses as wielding a sword and stomped round the set terrifying everyone. Whenever you were with him, you had the sense that something dangerous was about to happen.

"Deliver your lines a bit more like BÇla," I said to Jonas. He understood exactly what I meant and his performance transformed immediately.


At an ungodly hour the next day, I was picked up from my hotel and returned to the set. To my surprise the actors were already there, preparing their costumes and going over their lines. It's hard work being an actor, I discovered. Before starting my work, I sat down for breakfast, which was dealt out in industrial quantities, much to the delight of the extras. They shuffled in looking like Orcs from The Lord Of The Rings (and that was before they'd put on their costumes and make-up) and ploughed through the breakfast as if it were an eating contest.

That day I watched some fantastic scenes and acts of derring-do by the stuntmen. There were back-flips off barns, breathtaking rope slides and exciting fight scenes. At one stage, 12 outlaws hammered past on horses within inches of me, pursued by the Sheriff's men in full armour. It was authentic and exhilarating and reminded me that little has changed in the world of guerrilla warfare in 800 years. Just as Robin Hood robs the rich to feed the poor, so today's freedom fighters often have to resort to thieving to fund their campaigns.

In another scene, Robin Hood hides broadswords in a cartload of hay, just as IRA terrorists used to hide guns in the boots of cars. And while Robin targets his enemies with flaming arrows, so today's rebels attack with bombs and mortars.

By the time I left the set, I thought Jonas had captured the spirit of Robin Hood perfectly. There is something about his performance that reminds me of David Beckham or Jamie Oliver, but, in a strange way, that seems appropriate.

Today's rebel leader has to be media-savvy. Image is important. It is a combination of image, charisma, courage and skill that motivates your followers and terrifies your enemies.

I believe that Jonas's character has it all. I look forward to the series.

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Robin Hood helps the BBC make 11 Million

HIT shows such as Life On Mars and Robin Hood helped the BBC's commercial arm make record profits of £111million.

Dr Who was the biggest money-spinner with 1.9 million DVD sales worldwide. The 24 per cent leap in profits was also helped by the success of Strictly Come Dancing, which proved a hit in 41 countries.

BBC Worldwide chief John Smith said the business had boosted profits threefold in the past three years.

Belfast Telegraph 23/10/06

If you thought Robin Hood spent all his time in Sherwood Forest then think again.

As a little boy this Robin used to drop in on his granny in Castlederg.

And his first claim to fame was on the day he was born January 1 1981 in Mount Carmel Hospital in Dublin just one minute after the year dawned. The first babe to arrive in Ireland that year, his mum Eva was informed.

In other words 25-year-old actor Jonas Armstrong who plays the leader of the Merry Men in the new hit BBC1 romantic drama series has nice thoughts of occasional childhood visits to Co Tyrone with his father Harold, a native of Castlederg, to see gran, newsagent uncle Alan and aunt Lorna who still live there. He inherited a little of his acting talent from me - I was the second best actor at Portora Royal when I was a pupil there," said Armstrong senior at his home in St Ive's today.

"Everybody seems to be loving the new Robin Hood. Jonas enjoyed his trips to Castlederg to meet the family when he was little"

Trinity College, Dublin, graduate dad spent some in Canada before meeting his Dublin-born wife to be Eva and eventually moving the family to England.

Jonas, six feet and a bit tall, "definitely inherited his father's good looks and love of the theatre and show business" said a family friend today.

Jonas used to be in Channel 4's Teachers.

"There is pressure playing an iconic hero character like Robin Hood. But if I'm a hit I'll be in for another two series"

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Keith Allen Interview icEaling.com

Nov 8 2006 
 
KEITH Allen stars in BBC One's Robin Hood on Saturday evenings.

The comedian and actor reveals to GEMMA QUADE that playing the evil Sheriff of Nottingham was a painful business.

Keith Allen's name was first brought to the attention of the masses when he starred in Comic Strip Presents. While his co-stars including Robbie Coltrane, Rik Mayall, Jennifer Saunders and Dawn French - have become something approaching national treasures, Keith's career has taken a more varied route.

Having had important, albeit small, roles in cult films including Shallow Grave, Trainspotting and 24-Hour Party People -and being best mates with Brit artist Damien Hirst Keith is seen as a pretty cool, rebellious kind of bloke.

He has even had a massive hit record, Vindaloo, which he recorded with Hirst and Alex James of Blur fame. It reached number two in the charts, and became the unofficial theme tune to the 1998 World Cup Finals.

More recently, the self-proclaimed drug taker and hard drinker has become best known for being dad to pop star Lily Allen, but he takes it in good humour.

"Yes my daughter's a brilliant singer, next question," he chuckles.

However, his deliciously evil portrayal of the cruel Sheriffof Nottingham in the BBC's flagship Saturday night drama Robin Hood, written by Dominic Minghella, may see father and daughter's position in the fame league reversed.

Despite losing 1.5 million viewers by its second episode, the show is still attracting fans in their droves.

The Sheriff gets up to some dastardly deeds, like when he captured outlaw Roy and offered him a deadly ultimatum -kill his leader Robin or see his own mother hanged.

It's obviously a role Keith is relishing, and he says he based the decidedly unnoble nobleman on a very modern politician - the Chancellor of the Exchequer.

"I've made the Sheriff a combination of Gordon Brown and Blackadder - I thought that would do," he explains.

"He's got a very cool, calculating political mind that will stop at nothing. He is actually very funny. You get to see him enjoy himself a lot more as the series progresses, but there is no softness to him at all."

And Keith is in no doubt that he has the plum job of the programme.

"I think I've got the most enjoyable role. There's a tremendous weight of responsibility on Jonas Armstrong's (who plays Robin) shoulders, which I don't have to carry. In that respect I'd much rather be doing my job than his."

Much has been made of the casting of Armstrong as the lead. Despite having only TV roles in Teachers and Ghost Squad on his CV, the BBC was sure he'd rise to the challenge and fill the boots of the man in green tights superbly. Keith is similarly full of praise for his young colleague.

"I think a star is born - he's absolutely brilliant.It was very brave to cast Jonas.
I mean, he's so ugly I can't believe it," he cackles.

"He's an unknown and it is an iconic and historic role, but I think he's more than matched it."

Others were surprised Allen was chosen to play one of legend's most renowned baddies.

"I think Robert Lindsay was out of the country, and I know David Suchet was doing something else, so they offered it to me," he kids in typical flippant style.

Alan Rickman famously played the Sheriffin Robin Hood Prince of Thieves, but Keith insists he felt no pressure from that memorable performance.

"Luckily I'm so self-centred I've never watched any of the others. I remember the Richard Greene series from when I was a kid, but funnily enough I don't remember the Sheriff."

Keith was one of the unluckiest cast members during filming in Hungary. He suffered a plethora of injuries, not least a broken tooth.

"In typical Sheriff style I was cowering behind Guy of Gisborne's (RichardArmitage) back, and he swung round and caught me with his elbow.

"So impressed was Dominic Minghella, he wrote it into the plot line for the last episode. So not only did I have to walk around with a goatee beard, a stupid tuft of hair and sideboards, I couldn't get my tooth repaired until we finished filming!"

Unfortunately for Keith, the mishaps didn't stop there.

"I also fell off a horse and ruptured my groin. It was very painful and went black.

"It led to some improvisation -it was a necessity rather than me being the mother of invention. Because of my groin I couldn't get on a horse without a ladder," he explains.

"Whenever you see the Sheriff's animal come up, a soldier immediately gets on all fours, and I just climb on to get on my horse. It looks great!"

Keith says he is thrilled with the final product.

"I've bought a 42-inch TV screen with the view to watching myself on a Saturday night. I actually think I look quite good in high definition, I look like a bag of shit normally."

And it's not just the look of the series Keith is pleased with. He enjoys the comments the show makes on life in the 21st century, particularly the conflict in Iraq, and thinks it's important the viewers pick up on them.

"I think the morality of each story has a very contemporary resonance about it.

"We can't ignore Iraq and the war, it's as simple as that. I think the writers have been incredibly brave to have taken it on and included it in the script.

"They haven't run away from it, and I think they've struck absolutely the right balance."

It seems likely Robin Hood will be recommissioned for another series and Keith says he'll be delighted if it is.

"I'd be pleased to see the show go for another two years.

"Mind you, the way I'm drinking and eating at the moment I might be Friar Tuck next series!"

 Article from timesonline.co.uk

Robin and the boyz in the wood

Deep in the Hungarian forest, the BBC is reinventing the tale of Robin Hood for a new audience, says Garry Jenkins

A dense, dark, Sleepy Hollow-like tangle of woods and volcanic rock an hour or so outside Budapest, Dobogoko forest has long been a haven for outlaws and assorted rogues. In medieval days, gangs of them hid out here, lying in wait for gold-laden caravans en route to the cities of the Danube plains below. The limestone clearing that was the robbers’ favourite hiding spot is still known as Zsivany Szikla, Bandit Rocks. If you are lucky, so the local legend goes, you can still stumble across caches of their contraband concealed in its gnarled nooks and crannies.
Now lurking in the leafy glades is a band of BBC technicians. On the spot where the bandits of Dobogoko used to hole out, the BBC is quietly reinventing the legend of the most famous woodland resident outlaw of them all, Robin Hood.

“We wanted to make a drama that is earthy and rural, and this place has been the business in terms of the way it looks,” says the writer-producer Dominic Minghella of the Hungarian hideaway his crew have chosen to double for Sherwood Forest. “But it’s also been a good place to get away from things. We sense there are a lot of eyes on us, a lot of people waiting to see what we’re going to come up with. Being out here takes the heat off — a bit.”

The anticipation is high for several reasons. Minghella, brother of the Oscar-winning director of The English Patient, is considered one of British television’s rising stars. His

last series for ITV, Doc Martin, starring Martin Clunes, delivered the beleaguered network one of its few ratings successes in recent years. It was largely on the back of this that Minghella and his co-producer at the production company Tiger Aspect, Foz Allan, were last year given a multimillion-pound budget to film 13 episodes of Robin Hood for the BBC, with further series almost certain provided ratings are respectable.

All this makes it a high-profile production, especially since it is the first show to be specifically targeted at what is now the holy grail of BBC programming. Robin Hood will go out in the same Saturday evening spot as Doctor Who, the show that is credited with reinventing the concept of Saturday family viewing. With this in mind, Minghella and Allan have been given the same “show runner” status as Doctor Who’s creator Russell T. Davies, overseeing every aspect from writing scripts and storylines to casting, filming and creating spin-offs.

This morning the forest set reveals the first glimpses of how Minghella and his team have reimagined Robin Hood. As you pick your way past the makeshift tents and canopies, the first thing you notice is that Will Scarlett and company are dressed not in shades of Lincoln green, but browns and khakis. There is not a pair of tights or a feathered hat in sight. Some are wearing crumpled scarves, others paisley leggings. Almost all the gang have hoods. They look as if they have been dragged through a hedge backwards.

The other thing that strikes you is their age. With the exception of the comic actor Gordon Kennedy, who plays Little John, the rest of the gang — Joe Armstrong as Alan-a-Dale, Harry Lloyd as Will Scarlett and Sam Troughton as Much the Miller’s son — are all in their early twenties. Crouched at the root of a tree, Robin Hood himself is perhaps the most strikingly youthful. The Irish-born Jonas Armstrong is just 25 but, if it wasn’t for the recently acquired stubble, he could struggle to persuade a nightclub doorman he is over 18.

Minghella reveals that all these choices have been carefully planned. Even the headwear. “Yes, I know, someone has already coined the phrase Robin Hoodie. We will, of course, be inviting David Cameron along to the launch so that he can hug one,” he says with a smile. “But we did want to get across the idea that, at one level, at least, it’s about a gang of smelly boys in the woods. “We wanted Robin Hood to be on the cusp between man and boy. We need to believe he has been off to war and is a leader of men, who has got past his youthful instinct to go off and fight and arrived at a more cerebral, intelligent position. But by the same token we need him to be someone who can hang out with the lads, backflip off the top of a building and snog a girl for the fun of it, too” Robin Hood’s mix of adventure and escapism, romance and political intrigue has been casting its spell over artists for centuries. Conventional wisdom has it that he first appeared in a medieval ballad, A Gest of Robyn Hode, early in the 15th century, when he was little more than a South Yorkshire cattle rustler (Doncaster is still vying with Nottingham for bragging rights as the hero’s real home). Since then Robin has reflected the shifting values and attitudes of the ages, evolving from a canny thief into a kind of Che Guevara of Sherwood Forest, fighting a guerrilla war against the oppressive King John while his master, King Richard, is off fighting the Crusades. At various stages along the line he has also morphed into a nobleman, Robin of Loxley and Lord of Huntingdon, become a veteran of the Crusades himself and adopted the proto-socialist idea of stealing from the rich to give to the poor.

The truth is that, as a figure rooted in folklore, Robin Hood will always be whatever anyone wants him to be. This was the first challenge facing Minghella and his collaborative partner Allan, when the BBC commissioned them in August 2005. Who is Robin Hood? What does he do? And what does he stand for? As it turns out, the first thing they decided was that the legend had been reinvented quite enough. “One of the reasons Robin Hood is enduring,” Allan says, “is that he is someone who gets things done. He has the superhero skills around the edges but the truth is he’s a bloke who says: ‘No, we need to do the right thing.’ So we ended up having no buts. It’s Robin Hood, it’s what it says on the tin, a guy who’s good with arrows and is a decent bloke.”

In this, Minghella admits he took inspiration from a distinctly modern hero.

“Jamie Oliver was one of our touchstones. Politicians through the ages have said we should improve school dinners then done nothing about it. Jamie Oliver came along and just did it.” This is, of course, far from the first Robin British television has attempted. Actors from Patrick Troughton — the first to play the role on the BBC in the 1950s — to Richard Greene and Jason Connery have taken on the mantle. With its misty-lensed look, ponderous action and ethereal soundtrack, the last major drama, Robin of Sherwood, starring first Michael Praed and then Connery as the hero, was a paean to a more spiritual world and an almost pagan connection to nature. “That went out at the height of Thatcherism and they made a decision to show that there was a spiritual side to life as well as a material one,” says Allan. “It tapped into something and went down rather well. But we have moved on from there.”

Today’s Robin isn’t worried by materialism. This time, Robin is a medieval Bob Geldof, a man driven more by his social conscience than his desire to redistribute wealth. “Our Robin doesn’t rob random rich people. His fight is with the Sheriff of Nottingham and his henchman Guy of Gisborne. That’s immediately a contemporary thing,” explains Minghella. “Not so long ago rich people in drama were automatically antipathetic. We don’t any more dislike people automatically because they happen to be rich. That doesn’t make them immoral.”

Minghella and Allan were clear that their Robin had to echo the darker undercurrents of our times, too. “We want to be crowd-pleasing. This isn’t Play For Today. We want people to enjoy an action adventure, but if you do want to find contemporary parallels I want you to do so relatively easily. Being tabloid and broadsheet is what Doctor Who has done. It’s an adult and a family show,” he says.

The most obvious echoes here, of course, concern the war in the Holy Land. In this morning’s scene, for instance, Robin and his gang must confront a team of suicidal Islamic soldiers who have appeared in Nottingham seemingly intent on avenging injustices in the Holy Land. When Alan-a-Dale bemoans the fact they are worrying about a “war that is happening 2,000 miles away”, Robin angrily tells him the conflict is closer to home. “The war’s here, it’s in the forest.” As this suggests, Minghella’s Robin is a soldier who has returned from the Middle East with his eyes opened to the futility of war — and its consequences for the people of England.
“Robin’s asking himself: ‘What does war achieve?’ So when we put him in situations where, for instance, the Sheriff of Nottingham is cutting people’s tongues out, he tries to use his wits first before using the tools available to him. Robin tries everything not to use violence. I think that’s very contemporary; it’s about diplomacy, left-field thinking.”

For all their desire for contemporary resonances, however, Minghella and Allan, a veteran of long-running popular hits such as Casualty, are much too commercially aware to make the show overly serious. “There’s a danger of being pious and worthy, which we avoid by keeping it young and fresh and cheeky. We’ve got a bit of the buccaneering Errol Flynn in there as well,” says Minghella. With the swashbuckling Flynn in mind, Robin and his gang wield an exotic collection of weapons that includes a Saracen bow and scimitar for Robin and a massive, long-bladed sword for Little John.

Lightening the mood, too, are the support players. Robin is joined by a gang of multitalented partners, although not — in this series, at least — by Friar Tuck. “We didn’t have room for him in this series, but people shouldn’t read too much into that,” Minghella says, slightly defensively. “If there’s another series, there’s absolutely no reason why he couldn’t be there.”

As usual, the love interest is provided by Marian, the noblewoman with a foot in both the camp of Robin and the castle of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Originally depicted as a warrior, subsequently she was softened into a more passive figure by the Victorians. Minghella’s Marian — played by Lucy Griffiths — blends the best of both schools. Her feisty, bow-and-arrow wielding heroine is straight from the Keira Knightley mould, but the romantic sparks fly between her and Jonas Armstrong, too. She also gives the show a strong, appealing, young feminine figure to compare with Billie Piper, whose character, Rose, was central to Doctor Who’s success.

The show’s clowns and villains provide the light relief. A Falstaffian fall guy, Much the Miller’s son, is played by Sam Troughton, the grandson of the first television Robin (and later, of course, the second Doctor Who), Patrick Troughton. Minghella and Alan’s most astute piece of casting, however, may have been in the villains. Expect Keith Allen as a sneering and chillingly sadistic Sheriff of Nottingham (Allen later reveals that he has based the character on Gordon Brown), and Richard Armitage, as a debonair yet murderous Gisborne, to be vying for acting awards.

And welcome as critical success would be, Minghella and Allan hope to emulate Doctor Who in other ways. With its vast collection of bestselling books, DVDs, toys and memorabilia, Doctor Who is, so far, the best example of what the BBC calls “360-degree commissioning”. Minghella and his team hope that children everywhere will soon be demanding their versions of Robin’s scimitar and Saracen bow. “I did economics at university,” says Minghella. “The fusion of creative and commercial appeals to me.”

That fusion was behind the decision to come to low-budget Hungary. The move looked ill-advised at one point. As filming drew to a close, four high-definition tapes of the show were stolen from a production office, it is thought by a local extra. Rumours swirled of Hungarian robbers holding the BBC to a £1 million ransom. Eventually, however, concerns that scenes would need to be reshot proved unfounded and the production remained on track.

At the Fot Studios in Budapest, they have built three permanent sets, including the Sheriff of Nottingham’s castle and a complete reconstruction of the medieval village of Loxley, but the heart of the production is in the forest, an hour away. As the morning draws to an end at Bandit Rocks, Jonas Armstrong is justifying the faith the production has placed in him — remarkably, he was cast after one 20-minute audition. This morning’s scene, in which the gang debate how to respond to the Saracen menace, has taken almost five hours to complete.

The scene, Armstrong explains, sums up the Robin Hood he is creating. “He’s always been played almost as a superhero. The way I wanted to play him was as an everyman. He is not the kind of guy who sees something wrong and lets it be. He has to go by his sense of justice and what he thinks is right. This scene was very relevant to what he saw in the Crusades, so it was very important,” he says.

He admits that after five months of 6am wake-ups and 12-hour days it would be easy to let the energy levels dip. “A scene like today, you can’t go in with low energy because we’ve only got six weeks to go. You can’t risk it,” he says. He admits, however, that the production is taking its toll.

“When we started five months ago I didn’t think I would be able to get to the end of it, but now I can see there is a finish line. It has been very tough but very rewarding,” he says.

And can it imitate the success of Doctor Who? The early signs are good, as far as the Minghella household is concerned at least. The father of three children showed his 11-year-old son the opening episode on a brief trip home. “I had to drag him away from the computer games. But within 15 minutes he was hooked. Much to my relief,” he chuckles.

He will know soon enough whether his production is really out of the woods. But the smart money suggests that the forests of Dobogoko have not seen the last of their outlaws just yet.

Writing the script for the BBC's new Robin Hood series was the easy bit. Much harder, says Dominic Minghella in his on-set diary, was trying to keep his merry band of men in check

March 22, 2006, Budapest 

Spring in Budapest, famously, lasts a weekend, but you have to see it to believe it. The weather switches from brutal winter to short-sleeve summer in an instant. And here it is, happening before our very eyes.

It is not convenient. Because today we have our read-through of the scripts for Episodes One and Two, and the world and his wife from London descends upon us for the occasion: the controllers from the BBC; our colleagues from Tiger Aspect and a host of important stakeholders. We have been complaining for weeks now about the non-arrival of spring. We have sent daily photos of our construction crew, building an entire Locksley Village on a snowbound police rifle range near our studios, trying heroically to dig ground frozen at minus 14 degrees. We've told true stories of paint for the exterior of Nottingham Castle freezing on the brush. We have explained that this extraordinary winter will seriously hamper our ability to create on-screen the world of Robin Hood we think our audience expects. It is going to look bleak. The greenwood is not going to be green. Our rising panic has turned, inevitably, into a plea for more time. Which entails more money. But now, suddenly, spring is here.

Our visitors from London will think we were bleating. Sure enough, here they are, spilling out of a minibus, flight-weary but full of anticipation, and joshing: so where's the snow, then, Dominic?

March 23 

Look out of my office window at the backlot, and hear cheering. Joe Armstrong, who plays Allan A Dale, has hit a bull's-eye. This is 'Hood Academy', our two-week rehearsal and training period. We want our boys (and girl) to be convincing when they shoot, fight and ride. They have to get to know their stunt horses, and our stunt master has to get to know their limits. We planned this, but I somehow thought it would never happen. Budget would prevent, or availability. But there's my cast. They are really here and we are really doing this.

I wander down in the hope of getting a couple of shots in myself, but as ever, there is no time, and I'm exposing myself to the relentless hail of questions. (Actually, they amount to just one question: where are the effing scripts? They will put that on my gravestone.) Big Gordon Kennedy, who plays Little John, scowls at me. Where's my weapon? he asks. Everyone else has a sword or a dagger or a bow or a mace. He shakes Little John's staff at me in disgust. And what have I got? A f---ing stick! I think he is joking.

March 24

It seems I am married to a man. That man is the gifted Foz Allan. We are creating and executive-producing Robin Hood together. It is an all-consuming business, not least because we are starting with 13 episodes. That is a big deal for a first series. Traditionally, in British television, we do a six-parter and then graduate to eight episodes for Series Two, when everybody knows the tone, the milieu, the world in which they are operating. This time, we are starting with one script and a vision in our heads. It is terrifying. I have decided to stick to Foz like glue, so that the myriad decisions made expressly or by default through the day are ones we both know about and share. I realise that for several weeks now we have even begun to go to the loo at the same time. It means we do not have to explain to each other what was agreed while one of us was out of the room. It is absurd.

No surprises then when Rita, our production secretary, calls me Foz. I do not bother to correct her. The truth is that my Robin Hood 'husband' (or is that 'wife'?) could not be more different from me. He is alpha-male. I am, I guess, beta-male. Maybe gamma-male. He is, in his bones, a 'series telly' man, brought up on The A Team and The Six Million Dollar Man. In my bones, I am a Play for Today boy. I do understand that telly is about big audiences … but in my youth I loved the single plays, knew they were special, loved that sense that the author was 'speaking' directly to me. Perhaps these DNA differences between us make for a good fusion, a good marriage. There is common ground, of course – because 'authored' series television is entirely possible. We both love The Sopranos. If we were courting, we would rest a TV dinner on our laps and crack open a DVD box-set of Tony and the boys. In fact, we have done just that in Foz's apartment. (The Sopranos bit, not the courting bit.)

March 25 

One of our great casting coups is Richard Armitage (who plays Sir Guy of Gisborne, the Sheriff's right-hand man), a modest man of sharp intellect and smouldering good looks. He has, shall we say, an impressive female following. Online discussion groups have been known to crash under the weight of his virtual fans' effusive admiration.

Today, he knocks on my door with a pencil and pad. Can he ask me some questions about his character? I tell him, truthfully, that I can't believe he is here – an actor of his talent, sitting on my sofa, talking to me about playing this part. I feel so lucky. Suddenly I stop myself – do I destroy what little (gamma-male) authority I have by being so candid? I glance at him. My concerns are unfounded. He is blushing. A man of his talent. I remind myself that the only folk more insecure than writers are actors.

March 27

Remind me, please, why I wanted to produce? Today is our first day of filming. And we are already out of time and money. The first stunt of the shoot involves Much, played with verve and vividness by the fabulous Sam Troughton. In the scene, Much is single-handedly and uselessly trying to get into the castle to rescue Robin. He tries a ladder. It is too short. But he cannot climb down because a guard dog snaps at his heels. He is trapped until dawn, when the rest of the gang, led by Little John, has decided to support Robin and comes to his rescue. It is a pivotal moment. It is the moment when Robin acquires his gang.

Little John lifts the ladder onto his shoulders and, with his height, they can now climb over the wall. But we cannot afford either the time to shoot or the safety rigs required to make it insurance-compliant. I am depressed, and settle for a compromise in which we give the audience the suggestion that they will climb over the wall – without actually seeing it.

March 29

Keith Allen's first day on set. Keith, who plays the Sheriff of Nottingham with delicious, amoral aplomb, is a Big Personality. I am anxious that he might throw his weight around. I resolve to be tough with him and anyone else who tries to tell us how the show should be run. In the car on the way to the studios, I share that decision with Foz. If I am asked for script changes by the cast, I am going to say No, even if I agree with the reason for the request.

Immediately - of course - my phone rings. Holly, our assistant director, warns me that Keith would like to discuss something textual.

On arrival at the studios, I steel myself, practise my firm 'No', and head for make-up. Keith explains his reservation about the scene in Episode Two in which the Sheriff mocks Robin's unwillingness to kill. Keith thinks a line of dialogue is misleading. He is completely right, but that is beside the point. I open my mouth … and find myself saying, Give me five minutes – I'll fix it.

When I return with the revised page, Keith is in his trailer. I knock.

'Who is it?' a voice barks. 'It's me,' I mumble. The door is unlocked and opens by exactly one inch. I am supposed to feed the page through the crack. No way. Keith, I say, I cannot feed script pages through the door to you like this. No reply. The gamma-male in me wins out, and I feed the page through the crack, and beat my hasty, shameful retreat.

March 30

Suffer the little birds. Today Keith shoots the scene in Episode One in which the Sheriff storms back to his bedchamber, takes out one of his pet birds – something alive that loves him – and cups it in his hands.

He remembers Robin's outspokenness moments before in the Council of Nobles Meeting – and inwardly curses him. As he does so, he inadvertently crushes the bird in his hands.

And director John McKay has shot it. This is why I am showrunning Robin Hood and not just writing. Because if I had written that for somebody else to make, they would have lost their nerve and cut it before it ever made the schedule. It is true we have to get it into our first episode's cut, and, in turn, get that past the BBC's John Yorke [Controller of Continuing Drama Series], and doubtless past Jane Tranter [Controller of Drama Commissioning] and Peter Fincham [Controller of BBC1], too. You can hang boys, as we do later in the episode, but cruelty to animals, on British television, is another matter altogether. Nevertheless, we have at least shot it, which for me is career progress. That little bird died a noble death. That little bird is why I am here.