Interview with Freddie Browne (WEST SIDE)

Freddie Browne (30)

Event Emcee, London

Freddie is a self-deprecating, party-loving social animal who is well known for having starred in Made in Chelsea and for his social media presence, interviewing clubbers at the legendary Inferno’s Night Club in Clapham, London. 

Usually immaculately dressed in sharp suits, he also loves classic cars. Freddie likes to put the fun into everything. He’s super social and friendly and hates confrontation. He looks forward to starting a new society and even naming the streets. Freddie has years of hunting experience and learnt how to skin and prepare rabbits from a young age.

What made you want to take part in Apocalypse? 

I entered the apocalypse off the back of two gin and tonics, and it was the best decision I ever made. I needed to prove that I didn’t need my air fryer or Mountain Pine Bath Essence. I was right, but I did miss them.

How did you prepare for going in? 

It was theoretical preparation rather than practical, because it's quite hard to find an abandoned city you can just go and live in for a couple of days to get used to it. My "studying" mostly meant reading classic dangerous-books-for-boys type stuff and watching things like the Bear Grylls show. 

What kit did you bring in, and what were the rules?

The rules were strict. No toothbrushes, one shirt, one base layer (top and bottom), one fleece, one jacket, a hat, one pair of trousers, two pairs of boxers, one pair of socks, and a pair of boots. That was it. An ex-Royal Marine ran the check-in process.

Before filming, what did you think would be the hardest part of surviving without electricity, heating, available food or running water?

I thought I’d be fine, having grown up in a house that wasn’t too far off apocalyptic conditions, I was freezing all year round, electricity cuts in storms, and a stream as the main water source. It's an old country house, freezing cold, holes in the roof, no real insulation, double glazing completely out of the question. I've basically been "method preparing" for years without realising it, sticking on another layer because there's no heating, lighting a fire because it's the only source of warmth. 

What skill did you think you'd bring to the group?

I'm a very social person, and through my job I've spoken to hundreds if not thousands of people in all kinds of states, usually intoxicated. Going in, I knew that would be one of my main assets, being steady and reliable, keeping spirits up and people's minds on track. As much as the physical effects of not eating are huge, a lot of it comes down to mentality, so being able to stay calm and keep the group focused mattered a lot.

What were you secretly worried about, or thought you'd be terrible at?

The physical side. I'm hardly built like a Fijian rugby player, so the lack of natural insulation and the impact of not eating were real concerns. Staying warm is probably the thing I'd have said I'd be worst at.

How would you describe the location/setting?

The environment reminded me a bit of Stansted Airport… in that I had no idea where I was, what was going on, or how anything worked. It also had a slightly video-game feel to it.

What surprised you most about the other people in the group?

How quickly everyone adapted, and how much fun we had. Survival strips away backgrounds pretty fast and we were able to enjoy small talk around the fire. What surprised me most was how much humour carried us through, it never left, no matter what state anyone was in. 

Were you shocked to discover that there was a second group?

Yes, genuinely shocked. It's strange that you immediately assume a level of hostility toward the unknown group, without really knowing why. I think it's simply the unknown: you don't know their intentions, where they came from, or who they are, and that lack of information tightens your circle and makes you cautious. 

Why was there immediate hostility instead of banding together?

It's easy to say that from outside the apocalypse. On paper, pooling resources is the logical move, and it's what I'd have said myself beforehand too. But not knowing the other group's intentions changes everything and you start questioning everything once something doesn't go to plan. 

There's also a kind of protectiveness that kicks in even over small things. Five cans of spaghetti hoops and baked beans start to feel valuable, and if the other group is in the same situation, you assume they'll want them too. You don't know how desperate they are, or whether they'd take your stuff, so you become insular and cautious. It's all about the unknown.

Were there moments where you genuinely thought "I'm not sure I could do this"?

Honestly, no. I was committed to going as long as I could. We used to talk about a scale running from "surviving" to "thriving," and by the end, once we were more in the swing of things, the mindset was that things would always get better from where we were. There's a stiff-upper-lip optimism to it and if you complain, you do it in a comedic way. By the time we were closer to thriving, even having the odd "dinner party”, made the feeling shift to almost not wanting to leave, rather than wanting to give up.

Did your group start to feel like a community, or something stronger?

We were strangers who very quickly became friends, then family, brothers, sisters, some closer than others. I'd expected a bigger split along national lines (Australians vs Brits), but it wasn't like that at all. My best friend on the show was Dean and not just because he shared food, but because we had some great adventures together. 

There's a phrase I used a lot: "the apocalypse giveth, and the apocalypse taketh." You get very close to people fast, and politics, opinions and philosophy fall away.  What matters is character, resourcefulness and skill. At the end of the world, none of the usual social divisions really matter anymore, which was, in a strange way, a genuinely good and healthy thing.

Did the group develop its own culture, language, or ways of marking time?

Yes, it was like watching society reinvent and rediscover itself. We developed our own geographical shorthand for places (references like "St O's" and "the water tower"), and without a clock, we developed our own way of tracking time: first light, "small shadow" for around noon (when your shadow is shortest), and we thought a particular bird, possibly sparrows, though we could never confirm it, would appear roughly an hour before dusk, which became a reliable signal that light was running out.

What was your favourite place in the apocalypse?

I never actually made it down to the lake, but I loved the basement of the school, and especially the river, there was a great fishing spot there. It was probably the most peaceful spot.

I also loved the abandoned bar, and the underground tunnel beneath the old mental asylum, genuinely creepy, so I decided that if I was going to be "the ghost," the ghost couldn't hurt me, and started slamming doors and making noise to scare one of the others which I found very funny. My own quiet space, though, was probably my little office, where I kept arrowheads and where papers ended up being stored. It doubled as a pantry too, and became a genuine spot of peace and quiet for me.

How has the experience changed how you think about life?

It's increased my appetite and appreciation for life. Towards the end, a lot of the group talked about becoming much more conservative afterwards, eating everything down to the bone, cutting back on drinking, and so on. I felt the opposite. I wanted to make sure I remembered and enjoyed the good times as much as possible, in case anything like it ever happened again.