How to Get Ahead in Television (7 page)

STEP 14 – ANYTHING THAT CAN GO WRONG, WILL GO WRONG (ESPECIALLY IF THERE IS A CAMERA POINTED AT IT)

FROM
: RHIDIAN

TO
: POPPY

This is a work in progress… just so we don't lose track… ;)

T
HE SHOW WAS
a disaster. Two of the MacLeod clan were injured in an overly vicious caber toss and Shannon went crazy about the new tartan shorts in the high-wire game.

‘WARDROBE! WHICH IMBECILE PUT THE CLANS IN THOSE RIDICULOUS OUTFITS!' Shannon screamed down the radio waves to the production team on headsets. Leon's voice piped up: ‘They wouldn't wear underwear with their kilts, Shannon, it was our only option!'

‘They look like… God, I don't know what they look like; a cross between Groundskeeper Willy and some kind of special needs golf outing,' Shannon wailed.

Valerie also kept reading her lines at the speed of an elderly caterpillar, and no amount of cajoling would convince her to speak faster. The biggest crisis came in the gallery when the Channel Commissioner for Nations and Regions piped up halfway through the recording to say he had concerns that the whole show felt ‘just the wrong side of racist'.

‘Racist?' said JR, turning on the channel commissioner.

‘Well, not racist
exactly
,' the commissioner backtracked, physically cowering beneath JR's gaze. ‘It just feels quite stereotype-heavy, doesn't it? It's a cumulative concern. Things like “The Jock Jockey Game” – I'm just not sure they sit right with me.'

‘Well, you could have mentioned that a few months ago,' said JR angrily. ‘That game's been in the format since day one. DAY ONE.'

‘Well, I didn't think it was a problem until I saw it happening, James. I'm just not sure how our Scottish viewers are going to respond to the look and feel of this.'

Crisis meetings were held and I was sent to fetch Reg from the catering van so an unbiased Scot could weigh in on whether the show was coming across as racist. Reg didn't really help matters, as no one could understand a word he was saying. The commissioner, Shannon and JR eventually agreed on a compromise, and the next round was delayed until all the signs could be changed from ‘The Jock Jockey Game' to ‘Riding Highlands Style' (deemed by the commissioner to be less controversial).

I hovered at the back of the gallery, watching this drama unfold. JR was phenomenal in the way he took control of the situation. The commissioner was about to call his boss at ITV for a second opinion on the racist question, when JR said, ‘We don't have time for more opinions; we've got a show to make.' I watched it all, quietly in awe.

When the show finally wrapped and the clans had been sent home, the production team and crew all congregated for a drink in the makeshift green room set up in one of the tents on site. I found myself chatting to Alan the AP.

‘I didn't think the shorts looked that bad, did you?' he asked me.

‘No, I thought it was the best you could do, in the circumstances,' I tried to reassure him.

‘I mean “special needs golfers” was a bit harsh, wasn't it?' Alan looked crestfallen.

I could see Rhidian at the other side of the green room, surrounded by a gaggle of girls, and caught his eye. He smiled at me, then excused himself from the group and started walking towards Alan and me.

‘So are you ready yet?' Rhidian asked me.

‘For what?' I asked.

‘For me to take the piss out of you for nearly killing Valerie Decouz.'

‘You'd have done the production a favour if you had,' Alan said bleakly.

‘I did not “nearly kill her”,' I protested. ‘I just braked sharply.'

‘Oh! Is that what the email from Jack Chamberlain was about?' Alan asked gleefully, glad he was not the only one to have screwed up today.

‘Thanks, Rhidian! Tell everyone, why don't you?'

‘Sorry.'

There was an awkward pause, so I decided to change the subject.

‘Did you guys hear JR in the gallery?'

‘Yes,' said Alan, ‘what a prick.'

‘Really? I thought he was amazing,' I said. ‘He really told that commissioner what's what.'

‘I don't know, Poppy, I think he took over Shannon's show rather,' said Rhidian.

‘Yeah, you don't do that,' said Alan. ‘He totally undermined her as a producer.'

‘No, honestly, you should have been there, he was just so brilliant with the commissioner,' I said. ‘He was all, “I'm telling you it's not racist and that's the end of it”.'

‘Who are you, founder of the James Ravenstone fan club or something?' chuckled Rhidian.

‘No, it was just really impressive to see him work. From where I was standing, he was awesome.'

‘Awesome's a bit much,' Rhidian laughed.

‘Well, that's my opinion,' I said defensively. ‘All the make-up girls think you're “yummy enough to eat”, and that's
their
opinion. We're all entitled to our opinions, aren't we?'

There was another awkward silence. Alan and Rhidian took long sips of their drinks. I hadn't meant to sound so spiky, but I was embarrassed that they thought I was gushing about JR, as though I had some sort of schoolgirl crush on him when, really, I was just impressed with his skills as a producer.

‘Of course you're entitled to your opinions, Poppy.' Rhidian gave a wounded little smile, and excused himself to go and help behind the bar.

I now felt a bit bad saying that thing about the make-up girls.

‘So did JR mention anything to you about the tartan shorts?' Alan asked.

STEP 15 – NEVER WORK WITH ANIMALS OR CHILDREN

T
HE NEXT DAY
, Rhidian had gone, driving south in the Mercedes with the very-minor-hardly-noticeable-at-all scratch on the right wing mirror. I spent the day helping the Art Department put finishing touches to one of the games for that afternoon's show. The game was called ‘Kilty Pleasures' and involved giant cardboard cut-outs of men wearing tablecloth-sized kilts. The contestants had to feel beneath the kilts and try to guess what objects were hidden behind them.

The production team had amassed a selection of objects they thought it would be amusing to make the contestants touch. They included: jelly, pinecones, live hedgehogs and the feet of minor celebrity Keith Ray. (I think he was in
Eastenders
in the nineties, or maybe
Hollyoaks
?)

The producer, Leon, came over to inspect our handiwork. He looked stressed.

‘What tartan is that?'

‘What do you mean?' asked the art director.

‘Well, what kind of tartan have you used for those giant kilts? Is it Campbell, MacGregor, whatever? I got in shit yesterday for giving the MacLeods aprons made out of a rival clan's tartan.'

‘Well, I just bought it from some fabric warehouse.' The art director shrugged. ‘That one's called “Green Tartan” and the other one's “Tartan Nights with Beige”.'

‘Oh great, so they aren't even real tartans, that's even worse!' Leon cried, throwing his clipboard down in frustration.

‘I'm sure no one will notice,' I said, chipping in. ‘I'm Poppy, by the way.'

‘Leon,' said Leon, his eyes darting about nervously, alert for another crisis that might need his attention. ‘Listen, Poppy, can you do me a favour?'

‘Sure!' I said, happy to help.

‘Can you look after Keith Ray when he arrives? Just get him coffee and make him feel special, you know. Even though we're only using his feet, he'll expect to be treated like talent and all my researchers are busy. You can also look after that guy.' He pointed to a middle-aged man dressed in full camouflage gear and high-visibility jacket. (Which struck me as an odd combination: an outfit designed to both blend in and stand out at the same time.)

‘Who's he?' I asked.

‘He's the animal handler for the hedgehogs. Just check in with him every now and then. He shouldn't be any trouble.'

‘No problem,' I said, excited to be given a job that involved more than coffee collecting and cutting out Velcro strips.

‘Thanks a mill, Poppy.' Leon gave me a panicked smile, patted his hair to make sure it was still slicked into place, and then charged off, hands aloft like he was about to break into the Charleston.

I decided to be proactive in my new role as ‘Warden of the Kilty Pleasures Game' and set off to introduce myself to the animal handler.

‘Hi, I'm Poppy, one of the runners. Can I get you a coffee or anything?' I asked.

‘Trevor Whittington,' said the man. ‘I'm good, but your performers could do with some fresh water.'

‘Performers?'

‘The hedgehogs. People tend to think they drink warm cows' milk. Never feed a hedgehog milk – causes havoc with their digestion.'

‘Ah, I see. So are you a hedgehog specialist then?'

‘Do you really think there's that much demand for performing hedgehogs?' he asked scornfully.

‘Er, I suppose not…'

‘I look after all yer animals on TV. You see an animal on telly, it's probably mine,' Trevor said proudly.

‘Ooh, that's exciting. Did you look after that dog on
Downton Abbey
?'

‘Er, no.' Trevor looked annoyed. ‘Dogs are different. Also, recurring animals are different. Les Barclay looks after that performer.'

‘Ooh, well what about the ones on that
Pet Rescue
show?' I tried.

‘No. They're real pets, aren't they? They aren't performance artists.' Trevor was not warming to me. ‘Did you see
Zelda's Zoo
on BBC4?' he tried again.

‘Er, no, I'm afraid not.'

‘Well, there was a parrot and a cow in that. Those were mine.'

We stood in silence for a few minutes.

‘I'll get a saucer of water, shall I, then?'

‘Tepid, please,' said Trevor. ‘If in doubt, err on the side of warm.'

Just then my phone began to ring. It was my mother.

‘Hi, Mum, I'm afraid this isn't the best time.'

‘Poppy, where are you, your reception is terrible?'

‘I'm in Scotland, Mum. I'm helping out on this TV show.'

‘Scotland? What on earth are you doing there?'

‘Mum, honestly, I'm at work, I can't really chat. Is everything okay?'

‘Poppy, now you have called Ian back, haven't you?'

‘Ian?' My mind takes a moment to register. ‘Oh shit!'

‘Poppy! You must call him. I saw Lorraine for tea and she said to me… Well, she didn't say, but she implied to me that you hadn't been all that polite when he took the trouble to call you—'

‘Oh, I know, I was driving, and there were, well, it wasn't the best time.'

‘Well, you need to find time, young lady. Poor old Ian!'

‘Mum, I will, I'll call him. I don't know why you gave him my number, but you're right, it's very rude of me, I'll sort it out. Look, I've got to go and hydrate some hedgehogs. I'll speak to you later.'

‘Is that some kind of drug speak?' my mother asked nervously.

‘No, real hedgehogs. I don't even know what kind of drug hydrated hedgehogs would be, Mum. I'll call you later.'

Minor celebrity Keith Ray arrived in a velour tracksuit, chain-smoking, with an entourage of two rather suspect-looking girls. He hadn't been told that he'd only been booked for his feet, and he was not happy about it.

Leon attempted to diffuse the situation.

‘Keith, it won't
just
be your feet. Once the contestants guess, we'll pull back the kilt and reveal you. Then I'm sure there'll be a bit of chat with Valerie and Hamish.'

‘Do I 'ave a dressing room at least?' Keith asked.

‘Poppy? Are you okay to take Keith to his dressing room?' Leon asked me, looking relieved to offload a sulky celebrity onto someone else.

‘Sure.'

I took Keith and the two girls through to his dressing room in one of the cabins.

Keith sat down on a chair and pulled a bottle of vodka out of his bag. One of the giggling girls jumped into his lap.

‘Can I get you some tea or coffee?' I asked nervously.

‘Nah, we're good,' said Keith, waving the vodka at me. ‘Mixers might be nice though, blondie.'

‘I'll see what I can do…'

I was a bit worried about Keith drinking before he went on TV, but didn't think I had the authority to confiscate booze. I supplied them with as many mixers as I could, hoping they would be sensible in their alcohol-to-mixer ratios.

*

Back at the Kilty Pleasures game, rehearsals were about to start.

‘Here, put this on,' said Leon, handing me a headset. ‘We're short of researchers, so we're going to need you to prep this game tonight, okay?'

‘Sure.'

‘I'll be here to run it once we're actually filming, but I just need you to get everything in place before we come to it. Hedgehogs, Keith et cetera.'

As I put the headset on, I could hear Shannon talking in the gallery.

‘Look, we've run out of time to do a full rehearsal,' shouted Shannon. ‘We'll just do a rough run-through for the cameras of Kilty Pleasures and Och Aye the Who? Okay, Nigel?'

‘Well, I guess it will have to be,' the director sighed.

The camera crew practised the shots of the giant kilts being pulled back to reveal the pinecones, hedgehogs and me standing in for Keith Ray's feet. Everyone thought the giant kilts looked very amusing, and there was a lot of laughter coming from the gallery. I thought I could hear JR laughing and felt nervous that he was watching me on camera. I subtly pulled my hair out of a hastily scraped-back ponytail; I could see myself on the monitor and realized I looked a bit scruffy.

‘Comedy visuals!' said Shannon, at a relatively normal decibel level. ‘Well done, Art Team.'

In the break between rehearsals and filming the show, there was a quick dinner break in the catering tent. I finished my food quickly and made my excuses to go and check on Keith.

‘Hi, Keith, just checking you're all right,' I said, knocking on his door and pushing it open. ‘We should be starting the recording in thirty minutes or so, so not…'

I trailed off. The room was awash with empty vodka
bottles and fag ends, and one of the girls was walking around in her bra and knickers.

‘You!' snarled Keith. ‘What are… YOU… in this jamboree of shit?'

Oh god. He was annihilated.

‘Can I get you all some food? I think I should get you some food.'

‘Fuck food! Bring us some more booze,' one of the girls said. She had taken the taps off the sink and was holding them up to her face like earrings. ‘Look, pretty!'

Oh god, maybe they'd been doing more in here than just drinking.

I closed the door and ran off to find Leon. I eventually found him looking even more stressed than usual. His eyes darted around like a meercat sensing an imminent attack and his perfectly pomaded hair lay slightly askew.

‘Leon. I think we have a problem.'

‘What?'

‘Keith Ray is drunk.'

‘How drunk?'

‘Belligerent drunk.'

A female researcher ran up to us, looking for Leon.

‘Leon, one of the MacDonald clan says he's not a confident swimmer, so he can't do the Loch Mess game.'

‘What?'

‘Yeah, didn't tell us that in rehearsals, did he?' She shrugged.

‘Leon, Valerie wants you!' Alan shouted across the field.

‘Right.' Leon looked at me. ‘Just make him eat something and sober him up. We're only using his feet so we'll just try not to feature him for too long. You,' he turned to the researcher, ‘walk and talk with me.'

They darted off in the direction of the studio.

For the next forty-five minutes I struggled to get Keith to eat something. I managed to get him to drink coffee, which was a
start, and separate him from the two girls (who, I had concluded, were a very bad influence). I tried to tell other people on the production about the situation, but everyone appeared to be dealing with their own crisis.

Before I knew it, the show had started and I could hear Shannon Long over the talkback radio saying, ‘Ten minutes till we come to Kilty Pleasures. Everyone prep for positions!'

A stage manager helped me escort Keith from his dressing room and I tried to fend off his wandering hands as he steadied himself on my shoulder.

‘You smell of sunsh… ine and glockens… piels…' slurred Keith.

Keith was soon safely deposited in his seat and the Art Department had prepared the pinecones and jelly. Trevor and the hedgehogs were nowhere to be seen.

The art director shrugged, ‘I dunno, they were here a minute ago.'

I raced around, panicking that I only had a few minutes until we were on. I finally saw Trevor's jacket over by his van.

‘Trevor, quick, we need the hedgehogs back on set,' I puffed, out of breath.

‘No, no, they're on their break now I'm afraid,' Trevor said, waving a stern finger at me.

‘What?'

‘I told them: animals hours are regulated the same way humans are. These performers have been out now for four hours. They are entitled to a break. Union rules.'

‘But they don't have to do anything!' I cried, exasperated. ‘They just need to sit there. Please, Trevor, we're going to miss the item otherwise.'

I pleaded with Trevor, promising we could probably work out some sort of overtime payment for the hedgehogs, and managed to get him back to set with only minutes to spare. He reluctantly unpacked the hedgehogs onto their specially-designed podium.

‘Little spikers!' shouted Keith from his chair next to the hedgehog podium.

‘Shhh…' I said to him. ‘You have to be quiet now, Keith, they're coming to this item in a few minutes. Just keep your feet still on that stool.'

Keith put a finger to his lips and did an exaggerated ‘Shhhhh'.

Everything was in place, just in time.

‘And coming to Kilty Pleasures in five, four, three, two…' came Nigel's voice over the radio.

I ducked out of sight, just as I heard Valerie, Hamish and the clan contestants arrive in front of the set.

Valerie introduced the game in her slow, languorous voice.

‘Right, MacDonald clan, who's going to play from your team?' asked Hamish.

The clan selected a player and a pair of hands came through the kilt to touch the jelly. The contestant guessed correctly and moved along to the next kilt: pinecones.