Well, I pitched my idea. To a multi-EMMY winning director. Who said ‘yes’, and pitched up in Erbil with a cameraman and several thousand packets of Dunhill International. I guess I’m something like the producer? How the Dickens did I get into this? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
We got kicked out of a village by security forces in the morning, then saw a young man confidently strolling around the conservative city of Duhok sporting nothing but a smile and a disturbingly large erection and witnessed a five year old boy getting sent somersaulting through the air after being hit by a car. That was day one.
Day three saw us travel to eastern Mosul, the liberated side. Well, mostly liberated – the neighbourhood in which we found ourselves was a good 2 miles from the last checkpoint, and there was not a single member of the police or army to be seen. That was sketchy. But you know – we’re making a film.
We shot in refugee camps, in the mountains, had interviews in homes, and meetings in bars. There was beer, the odd disagreement and a cascade of problems. Most of all there is the lingering smell of Dunhill International in my house and car. We go again in three weeks’ time.