What happens when a fresh-faced kid in a Depeche Mode t-shirt walks onto your track and quietly dismantles everything you believed about winning?

For Kriss Akabusi MBE — Olympian, world champion, and one of the most iconic figures in British athletics history — that moment arrived in 1985, when a teenager called Roger Black turned up to train with a group of seasoned internationals.

Roger was Racy Roger from Portsmouth Grammar. Kriss was a working-class boy raised in a children's home who'd joined the army at 16. They had almost nothing in common — except the track. And that track would change both of their lives.

In this episode, Kriss reflects on the brilliant human who shattered a quiet but suffocating mindset inside Team GB: that simply making the plane was enough. Roger didn't just compete — he won. And in doing so, he gave an entire generation of British athletes permission to believe they could too.

Kriss also speaks about Roger's devastating injury setbacks, the unshakeable tunnel vision that kept him going, and how their friendship forged in the hardest training sessions ultimately led to one of the greatest moments in British athletics — the 1991 World Championships Men's 4x400m relay in Tokyo, a race you can watch here: https://youtu.be/9a1r9NC_Po0?si=OT9NzC8G8znAYsJi.

This is a story about friendship, belief, and what it means to know yourself — and show yourself.

He grew up in a children's home in East London. Roger grew up as a grammar school boy on the South Coast, heading for a career in medicine. On paper, their worlds should never have touched. But geography — and a shared, relentless hunger to be the best — changed everything.

In this episode, two-time Olympic silver medallist Roger Black MBE celebrates the brilliant human at the centre of his story: Kriss Akabusi. The man the public knows as larger than life, infectious, joyful. The man Roger knows as the most committed, self-aware, and quietly methodical athlete he's ever encountered.

Together, they trained, sacrificed, and pushed each other toward heights neither might have reached alone. Their partnership culminated in one of British athletics' most iconic moments — the 1991 World Championships Men's 4x400m relay in Tokyo, a race you can watch here: https://youtu.be/9a1r9NC_Po0?si=OT9NzC8G8znAYsJi

But this conversation goes far deeper than gold medals. Roger reflects on what Kriss saw before Roger saw it in himself, why their differences were never obstacles, and how the most transformative people in our lives are sometimes delivered to us simply by geography — by the extraordinary accident of being in the same place at the same moment in time.

What kind of man puts money behind the bar of a local pub for strangers, quietly funds redundant journalists, and turns down a fortune just to keep his concert tickets under forty pounds? Paul Heaton — singer, songwriter, and one of Britain's most quietly extraordinary humans — has never made headlines for his generosity. And that's exactly the point.

Simon Cresswell first stumbled into Paul Heaton's world through a borrowed Best Of CD in the late nineties, and what started as a love of sharp, witty lyrics slowly became something deeper. Through the House Martins' protest folk, the Beautiful South's bittersweet duets, and solo albums that tackled stillbirth, alcoholism, and refugee crises with equal tenderness, Paul became the unofficial soundtrack to Simon's entire life — school, university, first jobs, Sunday drives with his grandparents.

But it wasn't just the music. When Simon discovered that Paul Heaton also collects vintage crisp packets, something clicked beyond admiration. Here was a millionaire who passed his driving test in his fifties just to take his daughters to school, who tried to nationalise his own back catalogue for the NHS, who toured the country by bike to support struggling British pubs.

In this episode, Simon — social worker, dedicated dad, and proud Beautiful South fan who fought that corner alone at secondary school — shares why Paul Heaton's quiet brilliance has shaped not just his taste, but his values.