tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34112781212598775412024-02-08T11:12:36.973-08:00Nanowrimo2012-The EntertainerRob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-66733603971252710472013-04-29T13:13:00.000-07:002013-04-29T13:19:08.470-07:0029. Episode Six Part 2<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why don't you go to Celebrity Spin
first, drag it out, and I can shout you when we get the connection up
and running?” Suggested Nigel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's not a bad idea. But that part
of the set isn't ready.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'll shout the set manager quickly
and get them to move it, very quickly, 60 seconds Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shit, ok.” With that Tony prepared
himself as a panicked set manager suddenly screamed at the three
stage hands to shift the Celebrity Spin wheel and podium onto the
stage.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the adverts ended and the show came
back on air, they still hadn't managed to get it in place. The base
of wheel was catching on the black carpet.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony started. “Welcome back to the
Tony James Show. We're going to go right into Celebrity Spin in a
minute, the trusty stage hands are just dealing with some technical
dif...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
THUD</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The wheel had fallen over from the
force of two stage hands pushing, and trapping the other stage hand
underneath it. She let out a cry of pain. The audience took a sharp
intake of breath.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony, after a brief moment of surprise,
carried on. “Yes. Definitely a few minor hitches to the current
programme. We...” He stopped as the yelps of the stage hand caught
under the wheel became too distracting to ignore.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
From the side of the stage with the
wheel, the voice of the stage hands were just about audible. Jon, the
eldest stage hand snapped. “Bloody Hell Gary, why did you shove it
like that?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think I've broken my leg guys.”
The trapped stage hand, Rosie, remarked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't push it hard, it must have
given way.” Gary replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It didn't fall of it's own accord
Gary.” Jon remarked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't push it any harder than
normal!” Gary insisted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“GUYS! I think my leg is broken.”
Rosie said loudly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm reporting you for this Gary.”
Jon continued.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why?! I didn't do anything!” Gary
pleaded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Rosie, in considerable pain and very
angry, drew a sharp intake of breath and screamed as loudly as she
could. The sound reverberated through every microphone in the studio,
and caused everyone in the studio to stop in silence and stare at
her. “GUYS. I HAVE BROKEN MY FUCKING LEG. SHUT THE FUCK UP AND MOVE
THIS THING.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony had given up trying to ignore the
calamity to his left and walked over to the wheel. “Do you mind
please, you're ruining...” Tony thought quickly to himself. “...Why
on earth did you push it so hard Gary?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't push it hard!” Gary
stomped.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You did. I saw you.” Jon replied</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yeah Gary, Jon saw you.” Tony
remarked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I did not!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You did!” Jon insisted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“See.” Tony added.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Fuck you Jon.” Gary threw his
hands in the air, paused a moment, and then quickly shaped his hand
to a fist and swung at Jon, catching him squarely on the jaw and
knocking him out completely.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Jesus Christ!” Tony jumped back in
surprise.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
While this was happening, Rosie, still
in pain, had put her hand over her forehead in frustration.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Can someone call an ambulance
please?” Tony remarked to the side of the stage.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Rosie snapped. “So he gets knocked
out for being a dick and you call an ambulance, meanwhile I've been
sat here with a broken leg and no one gives a shit?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gary, shocked by how much force he had
put into his punch, shakily realised they should probably help Rosie
now. “Tony, help me move this.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony grabbed one side of the wheel, and
Gary grabbed the other. They lifted as hard as they could and slowly
lifted it high enough that Rosie could move away. She went to move
very slowly and carefully, as she tried to support her leg with her
hands, the pain caused her to scream.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Just as the wheel was roughly in it's
upright position, Tony let out a cry and dropped to his knees
clutching his back. “My...my back has gone.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What do you mean?” Gary asked,
still shaken.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's upped and gone to Thailand to
start a new life for itself, what do you bloody think? Arrrrgh..”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Roughly thirty seconds of Tony trying
desperately to turn to camera was ended as the local first aid team
ran onto set to deal with the injuries.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel meanwhile, had taken off his
headphones and gone to the computer storage room to try and fix the
internet issue, and had missed the show since the break. He was
looking around the small dark cupboard with the whirring stacks of
hardware, as Holly the assistant burst in. “Nigel, control room
NOW.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not now Holly.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“NOW.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Fine fine, one minute.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“NOW.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Okay!” With that Nigel went with
Holly to the control room. He walked in and looked at the monitor
screen to see the Celebrity Spin set facing the wrong way, and with a
large crack in the wheel, two stage hands on the floor, one stage
hand shaking and mumbling, and Tony facing away from the camera on
his knees.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What. The. Fuck?” Nigel enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Logistical issues.” Holly replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Go to a break!” Nigel yelled at
Holly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But we just came back from one.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't care. Now!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Okay Nigel.” Holly leant over the
control machine and started the 'end of part two' graphics. The
unexpected change meant that the LTV broadcast controllers weren't
prepared and ended up showing a test card for 60 seconds while they
set the break up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't think they had those any
more?” Holly enquired.</div>
</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-61347236807908074672013-01-13T17:27:00.000-08:002013-01-13T17:27:07.733-08:0029. Episode Six (Part one)<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In the panic of trying to find a way to
get the internet to connect tonight’s guests to the show, the
bright lights and colourful video wall appeared to over power the
dark carpet more than usual. Turning a set that often felt a little
gothic into a wall of light that left Tony looking as exposed as he
felt.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He wasn't to know that Mark, the
lighting and set designer had been overly eager in his bet over
Gerald's desk. Even though there were four weeks of the bet left to
run, Mark felt it had settled into Gerald's office nicely. He had
decided to spend the money on the latest ultra powerful lighting rig,
the Blinder 800. The merest hint of plugging it in caused the energy
consumption meters at the National Grid to spike dangerously. It
bathed the set in such a gigantic amount of light that it left Tony
looking pale, or at least it would have done had he not looked a
little pale already. Across the nation, millions of viewers were
about to reach for their remote controls to increase the contrast
setting.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony was sat in his black chair, behind
his desk on the right of the stage, as the cue came from Nigel to
start the show. This was unfortunate as his cue point was the small x
at the front of the set.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The first thirty seconds of the show
consisted of Tony realising he was in the wrong place, stumbling out
of his chair, walking as quickly as he could without looking as if he
was exerting himself, tripping slightly as he stepped off the main
stage onto the grey laminate floor at the front of the set, picking
himself up, and eventually reaching his cue point.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's.” He said. Before realising
that the audience for his show were unlikely to get a 44 year old
reference.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Welcome to the Tony James Show.”
he started with a bluster as he tried to catch his breath and calm
his nerves. “We have a special show for you today. With three
fantastic surprise guests coming up soon.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience applauded, whilst looking
slightly confused. “I thought the line-up was announced earlier?”
one woman questioned to her friend in the next seat. “Maybe they
were all killed?” the woman sat next to her replied. The first
woman turned and looked uneasily at her friend.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But first.” Tony was getting ready
to stall for all he was worth. “I'd like to tell you a little
story.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Back in the control room, Nigel was
back under the mixing desk desperately trying to figure out what was
wrong with the feed from Manchester. He heard Tony's words, and
quietly whispered to himself, “Come on Tony, channel your inner
Ronnie Corbett.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I was talking this week to the head
of LTV, Gerald Morley.” Tony paused briefly. “He's a rather stout
old gentleman who loves his cigars and whiskey. Now, talking to
Gerald isn't always easy. I'm not saying he is bad tempered, but the
leaders of Israel and Palestine signed a new peace deal just to avoid
having to meet him.”</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience chuckled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So yes. I walked into his office to
have a chat. Or as we refer to it at LTV, a blitz. As I walked in,
being careful to avoid the landmines, I prepared myself for bad news.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You see, Gerald doesn't do good
news. He doesn't like it at all. In fact, good news is bad news for
him, although that doesn't mean he likes to deliver it to himself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I sat down on the sofa ready. Gerald
likes us to sit on a soil brown sofa, that's soil as in the earth I
should clarify. He had it lowered so that we always have to look up
to him, which is ironic because even when standing he looks down on
us.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Apparently the reason for the
meeting was my contract, or Terms of Surrender as they are better
known. The Court Marshal had decided that I was guilty of a minor
infraction, namely failing to salute a senior officer. Technically I
did salute, just not in the manner they were expecting.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The punishment was apparently three
days of solitary confinement in a dark holding cell. 'Have you not
seen my dressing room?' I said. It's so small it makes the broom
cupboard look Claridges.'</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I pleaded my case, which didn't do
much good, as the weight of evidence was firmly against me. For a
start, my creative salute wasn't only caught on the LTV security
cameras, I was also doing it in the meeting as well. I thought about
telling them I was counting, and had yet to get to three, but decided
against it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“In the end I accepted my punishment,
and spent the three days in the brig. But I learned a valuable
lesson. Apparently if you include a cigar in your salute, it doesn't
count. Or at least it appears that way.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A slightly puzzled audience slowly
started to clap a bit.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Now, it's time for a quick break.”
Tony said, sighing in partial relief as the show cut to a break.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel emerged from the desk to comment.
“Where the hell did that come from Tony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I have no idea Nigel.” Tony
replied. “Now all I need are 7 more of those and maybe we'll get
through the show.”</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-85985099534148998462013-01-02T17:01:00.001-08:002013-01-02T17:02:13.720-08:0027. Undercover<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel had turned up early to the studio
for the next episode of the Tony James Show. After the chaos of the
previous week, he had decided to take the time to enjoy the whole
show. If Tony managed to pull off the success, of a sort, of last
week it would be well worth watching.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel walked through the studio,
without the usual show lights and video screens switched on the
combination of black carpet and dark décor gave it a shadowy, creepy
atmosphere. He walked over to the blue carpet of the music area of
the set, and sat quietly down, looking around the set in
contemplation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Though he was relatively new to working
at LTV, Nigel had more than enough experience to look forward to
watching Tony get one over on them, eventually, he hoped.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He thought to himself. This whole
studio, this channel, the whole thing, just churns out the lowest
quality rubbish seven days a week. It has been years since this
station produced anything intelligent. When he started working with
Steve on the Tony James Show, the belief that Tony would finally
change that long hole in the schedules was his key motivation. Sadly,
he thought, that belief didn't survive very long with Gerald.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Let's make some shit television
gentlemen."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Bah.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"How can we make this more
asinine? I know, dancing dogs, gentlemen."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
What an arsehole.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel frowned, Gerald was everything he
hated about TV, everything he hated about the media, and everything
he hated about business. He was eternally grateful to Tony for giving
him an opportunity to take him down a peg or two.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Just at that moment, Tony walked into
the studio, and noticed Nigel sat on the blue square over on the far
left of the set. However Tony was not feeling particularly in the
mood to talk, he walked past Nigel who followed him silently with his
eyes, and wondered if he had been missed in the darkness.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Tony?" Nigel queried.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Not now Nigel."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Oh, er, ok." Nigel shrugged
and started looking around again, but his train of thought had
departed from the station. Then he figured that he should find out
what was up with Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel got up from the blue carpet,
walked off the set and through the black corridor to Tony's dressing
room. He walked up to the bright white door with the cheap plastic
star, and knocked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Go away." Tony shouted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Are you in character or really
annoyed?" Nigel asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Really annoyed."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Oh." Nigel went to walk
away, before realising that was probably more of a reason to stay.
"What's the matter Tony?"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Well aside from the fact that my
career is being slowly destroyed, I'm being forced to work out a
stupid contract on a terrible show, oh, and my girlfriend has left,
everything is fucking rosie posie Nigel."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"We're working on the show, your
reputation will be okay, and what about Abbie?" Nigel responded
quickly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"It's hardly fair is it?"
Tony replied despondently. "I do love Alison but something isn't
right, and then this whole situation with Abbie just adds to it."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Tony. Do what is going to make
you happy." Nigel replied with a maturity that surprised him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"I wish I knew what that was."
Tony sighed. "I wish I knew that I could."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"What do you mean?"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Why on earth would Abbie want to
be with someone like me?"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Why would she not?"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"For a start, she's gorgeous, and
I'm quite a few years older than she is."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Tony. What happened to you?"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Me?"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"You are always so confident, so
assured of who you are and what you do. Where the hell is this coming
from?"</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"You clearly haven't known me long
Nigel." Tony remarked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"No. But..." Nigel pondered.
"I guess I just figured you were always that way."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"First rule of television and
theatre Nigel." Tony explained. "Most actors, most
presenters, most comedians, they have ups and downs, and they need
the reassurance of being applauded and being liked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"I know Tony." Nigel replied.
"You just seemed different, better."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Sadly I'm not Nigel. I am just
the same, I might be a great actor, but I am not the Tony James you
see on screen all the time."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Given your current character,
that's probably a good thing."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"What does it matter anyway? After
this show ends I'm never going to work again. I might as well just
get into character and trash this piece of shit so I can get on with
finding something better to do that no one will ever watch."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel gently turned the door handle and
pushed open the door to find Tony sat on his black leather chair with
his head resting in his hands. He carefully approached Tony, rested a
reassuring hand on his back, and said. "You're Tony James man.
You'll be fine."</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
"Thanks, but not bloody likely."
Tony sighed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony. Did you not see how the people
in that club reacted to you?” Nigel explained.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“They were happy I slagged Chillgame
off.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well yes, weren't we all. But you
know it was more than that. You put something out there in public
that no one else was daring to do.” Nigel continued. “Maybe that
is something to take forwards when this crazy series ends.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hmm.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We'll chat about it tomorrow, we
will find a way Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony thought to himself. “I actually
feel a bit better now, thanks Nigel.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel bowed. “You're welcome. Let's
get Gerald and work you out of this contract first though yes?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes. I have an idea too.” Tony
plotted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Excellent.” Nigel nodded and left
the dressing room.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-5358887189265859602012-12-11T17:45:00.002-08:002012-12-11T17:45:55.327-08:0026. Metal Gear Wobbly<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A dark character stood with his back to
the wall, hidden carefully down a small side-street, peering out
round the corner. He was dressed from head to foot in a black, and
wearing black framed sunglasses that screamed 'I am up to something'.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was 11.25 in the morning, the high
street was busy with shoppers making use of the bright sunshine and
unusually warm temperatures.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the target moved away, the man
spotted a bus stop about ten metres ahead. He checked for obstacles
and then stealthily moved over to behind the bus shelter, peering out
again to check if he had been spotted. He had of course, but he
wasn't bothered about the old ladies busy doing their shopping and
sitting outside of cafés.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After twenty seconds, the man looked
for his next cover and eyed a folding shop signboard that was
advertising today's sandwich specials. He checked the coast was clear
and quietly sneaked out from the cover of the bus stop. Had this been
a cartoon, each of his footsteps would have been soundtracked with
the single plonk of a xylophone, played with the verve of the late
Patrick Moore.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Midway to the sandwich board the man
realised he looked too suspicious, so to stay less visible he adopted
the first rule of stealth video games, no one sees you if you do a
forward roll. However, The man was not what you might call an
accomplished gymnast. He crouched down, and hesitantly moved into a
wonky forward roll that promptly veered off to the side, resulting in
him kicking the sandwich board with his feet as he finished rolling.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The thud of the man's feet against the
board caused everybody in the near vicinity to turn around and stare
in bemusement. A second later the board fell on top of the man's
head, causing him to yelp out loud in pain.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A brief moment later he shook off the
injury and quietly ran ahead to behind the postbox up in front of
him, staring firmly at his target to ensure he hadn't been seen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel had heard the crash, but the
board had hidden his follower. He carried on walking down the busy
street, weaving between old ladies and occasionally glancing to the
shop windows, however he had the unshakeable feeling that something
was amiss.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was, that something was Steve.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve realised there was no further
cover, so decided to run to the nearby music shop about 100 metres
ahead, just behind Nigel. He started to run as quietly as he could,
he got to a point equally ten metres from Nigel and ten metres from
the shop, at which point he caught his shoe on the pavement and fell
sprawling over. The noise made Nigel turn around and leap out of his
skin as he saw the suspicious character behind him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
Nigel exclaimed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve stayed silent.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You looked like a bloody mental case
dressed like that.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve took off his glasses, before
realising a split second later that this was the only thing
preventing him from being recognised. He winced in irritation at his
mistake.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Steve? What the bloody hell are you
doing following me?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Pardon? Non Englische, er,
gesprechen.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Steve. Stop being a cock.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I er, no understand.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Steve!!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve sighed. “I was trying to find
out who planted the terrible guests onto Tony's show. I was trailing
the suspects for evidence of wrongdoing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm in town buying a new jacket
Steve.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I see.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How long have you been following
me?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well...” Steve counts on his
fingers. “Six, maybe seven... no, six. Six minutes.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ok, well stop it. If you want to
talk to me just ask.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not much of a secret investigation
if I just ask you is it Nigel?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why does it need to be secret?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve thought for a second. “Because
someone was acting on behalf of Gerald, and I want to expose them.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Have you thought about involving
Tony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well not yet.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You haven't got him as a suspect too
have you?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No. I ruled him out in the first
week of enquiries.” Steve remarked proudly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good work Officer Dibble.” Nigel
replied sarcastically.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you.” Steve replied with no
realisation of the real meaning.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Can I suggest you meet up with us
and we discuss this properly?” Nigel pleaded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No can do.” Steve answered boldly.
“I'm going to crack this case myself if it's the last thing I do.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Steve, if you keep falling over like
that it may very well be just that.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve ignored this and pointed at
Nigel. “You better not be behind this, I will catch you if you
are.” At which point, Steve turned and ran off, a few seconds later
he collided with an old lady's shopping bag causing both of them, and
the contents of the bag, to eject all over the pavement.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel looked confused, before remarking
to himself. “He really needs to stop watching those American cop
dramas.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve picked himself up, helped the old
lady to her feet, and carried on walking away with a slight limp.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel shook his head, turn back around
and walked off humming the theme tune from The Bill.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-83635397125726197082012-12-10T17:55:00.002-08:002012-12-10T17:55:07.816-08:0025. Oh What a Night (Part Two)<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The inside was decorated largely in
black, but with bright red and purple patterns on the wall. The
flames, stripes, and swirls contrasted with the dark aesthetic and
made the venue feel modern and stylish despite the initial
impressions given by the wailing grungy guitars. In addition, the bar
walls and ceiling were covered in rock memorabilia and what looked
like pieces of abstract social commentary in the form of art hanging
down. In particular, a battered disco ball covered in razor blades
caught Tony's attention as he queued at the bar.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After a few minutes Tony reached the
bar, only to catch sight of Sarah turning around from using the cash
register. She grinned and pointed her finger towards him as she
walked over to him. The music made it incredibly difficult to hear
clearly, but he just about made out what she said. “Tony! I looked
for you after the show, but I couldn't see you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry, I had to leave in case
Charlie came back to stab me.” He replied, truthfully.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What on earth are you doing here?!”
Sarah enquired. “I didn't think you'd actually visit a place like
this.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“My friend Patrick recommended it.”
Tony answered. “He likes all sorts.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You mean that guy there?” Sarah
pointed to Patrick, who was stood a few metres behind Tony, talking
to Abbie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony turned around to see who she
was pointing at. “Yes. You know him?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I met him after your show. He said
he liked my t-shirt, we got chatting and we went for a drink.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How strange!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Isn't it just! What are you having?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony tried to remember the order he had
taken a few moments earlier. “Three large rum and cokes, and, er,
and a vodka and orange please.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course.” Sarah smiled and went
to pour the drinks. She came back over shortly afterwards with them,
as Tony went to hand her the money she waved him away. “These are
on me.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you Sarah.” They both
smiled, and Tony walked over to Patrick and Abbie. “I didn't know
you knew the girl who was on my show yesterday Patrick?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nigel told me you'd met her before,
and she loved Zombie Grave Diggers. It took him a lot of work to find
her.” Patrick explained.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh wow. I didn't realise.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I thought I'd go meet her and see if
I could find a way for you two to meet up again.” Patrick thought
about what he was saying, looked over at Abbie, and back to Tony.
“Er, you know, celebrate the new more exciting Tony James Show!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sounds like a lot of effort, but
thanks!” Tony laughed and looked over at Abbie, who was happy
smiling and bobbing along to the music.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As he looked around at the people
dancing, Tony smiled. Once he had got over the volume and noise of
the place, Tony was starting to feel quite at home in The Pit. It was
full of people who didn't care about fashion, celebrity or trying to
fit in, people who were expressing themselves and getting deeply
involved in music they were passionate about. Tony couldn't bring
himself to try head-banging just yet, but over the course of the
first hour he gradually nodded his head more and more.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The four of them walked over to a space
nearer the dance floor, when all of a sudden the music stopped.
Patrick looked up and to the left where the DJ was playing from the
raised booth. As he did, the DJ picked up his microphone and started
to talk.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ladies and gentlemen. We have a
special guest with us here tonight.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony, Nigel, Abbie and Patrick looked
around to see who had arrived.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't know if any of you have been
watching the Tony James Show, but if you haven't you have been
missing out.” The Dj said as he pointed to Tony, who froze as two
hundred intense and slightly sweaty rockers on the dance floor looked
towards him simultaniously.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“This guy put Zombie Grave Diggers on
LTV. Then yesterday he tore that dickhead from Chillgame apart.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A huge cheer rose up from the dance
floor.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony James, you fucking legend. This
is for you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The DJ put down the mic and hit the
button to start playing Entrails of a Virgin Queen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony laughed and lost his nervousness
as the two hundred black clad rockers started to dance as if their
lives depended on it. Except for a few who were stood looking at
Tony, trying to beckon him to join them.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Patrick nudged him. “Just nod your
head in time with the music, look intense but happy, and move around
with them a bit.” He then shoved Tony towards the dance floor. Tony
stumbled a few steps before stopping, stood right in the middle of
the dance floor. Tony shrugged and started nodding his head
vigorously, which caused about fifty people to roar in delight and do
the same thing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Several hours, many drinks and much
dancing later, Tony, tired from dancing and a little worse for wear,
took a break and wandered into the smaller quieter room adjacent to
the main dance floor. He sat on a soft black square stool. A few
moments later Abbie came over too, sitting on the stool just next to
him. Although still decorated largely in black, the little room had
tiny star like lights all over the walls. It gave the space a
slightly romantic feel. “Worn out?!” she asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony nodded, catching his breath.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You've made a good attempt at
joining in, nine out of ten I'd say.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony smiled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm proud of you, you know?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony cocked his head in surprise.
“Why?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“For standing up for intelligence,
and for defending your reputation whatever the cost. For not
pandering to the lowest common denominator.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you. That means a lot coming
from you Bea.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie smiled. “No matter what
happens, you can hold your head up high.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony glanced into Abbie's eyes and
smiled. She did so in return. For a few moments they stayed in silent
comfort, happy to absorb the moment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie moved forward slightly to kiss
Tony, who pulled back sharply and nervously.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What's the matter Tony?” Abbie
replied, surprised at his reaction.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry, that was just unexpected.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What <i>were</i> you expecting?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I was hoping, but I never... jeez.”
Tony couldn't quite let the words he was thinking escape, and had to
make do with a few dishevelled syllables.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't realise it could get so
complicated kissing someone.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I just, I didn't think you would
actually want...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why on earth not?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You're beautiful. You're so pretty.”
Although he hadn't made his point particularly well, Abbie couldn't
help but reveal a little bit of a smile as Tony said this.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“And?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm not.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony. I would be rather worried
about you if I thought you looked pretty.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony's half inebriated brain giggled.
“Why would someone as pretty as you kiss someone like me?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm not sure I actually need a
reason Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No, but...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie interrupted. “Do you think if
you weren't worth kissing I would have done it?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, no.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So what's the problem Tony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You are so...” Perhaps Tony's
brain was more than half inebriated. He looked at Abbie as he started
the sentence, and as he couldn't find the words he looked down in
slight shame.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie's eyes flickered with empathy for
the usually confident and articulate man beside her. “You silly
thing Tony.” She put her hand on his cheek and he looked up. She
stared gently at his eyes, he went to speak, but she put her finger
over his lips for a second, before moving it away and kissing him
softly on the lips.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As she pulled slowly away a few seconds
later she saw a flurry of intense emotions run through Tony's face.
As if he was experiencing huge pain, pleasure, happiness, sadness and
confusion at the same time. She put her arm round him, he
reciprocated, and as they embraced they gently rested their foreheads
against each other. “It's ok.” She whispered.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
From across the dance floor, Nigel saw
the two of them together. He tapped Patrick, who was dancing near
him. Patrick looked at Nigel, then over at Tony and Abbie, then back
to Nigel, before exclaiming quietly. “Awwww!”</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-40760295541911595282012-12-08T17:50:00.004-08:002012-12-08T18:02:14.035-08:0025. Oh What a Night (Part One)<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sat in bed for a little while
contemplating the news. In a rare act of intrigue he read the stories
about his TV performance, and was surprised by how undecided they
were. He got out of bed, eventually, having sent a message to Alison,
apologising and asking her to come back and talk, as of yet he had
heard nothing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony made breakfast and wandered into
his lounge. The white walls and black blinds went crisply with the
dark red sofa, and made the room a pleasing mixture of cosy and
stylish.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sat on the sofa and tried to
remember what had happened the night before.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony and Nigel, fresh from the meeting
with Gerald had parked the car and wandered into the city to share a
drink with Patrick. The soft furniture and warm colours of The King James had felt
like a more attractive option than the flashy bars full of suited
bankers and PR managers anyway.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sitting on the soft barstools, Tony and
Nigel signalled their arrival to Patrick with a quick salute.
Patrick, always keen to up the ante proceeded to carry out a full
naval salute to full attention. He remained totally static.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After about ten seconds Nigel clicked,
and in his best Sergeant Major's voice bellowed. “At ease
gentlemen.” Patrick dropped the salute and stood quietly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That sounds like Gerald.” Tony
remarked as he nudged Nigel.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You alright Patrick?” Nigel asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Patrick stood still and said nothing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What are you... oh. Very good.
Permission to speak.” Tony laughed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you sir.” Patrick smirked.
“I'm fine thanks Tone.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It was me who asked, I find it rude
that you addressed a lesser ranking officer instead of me.” Nigel
added in his newly discovered Gerald voice.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry sir.” Patrick said with faux
remorse.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Did I say you could speak, private?”
Gerald, I mean Nigel snapped back.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No sir. Oh bugger.” Patrick
laughed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Okay okay, I get it.” Tony
interjected. “Can we stop the military talk and get down to
military style drinking please?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Two very large Navy Rums coming
up... SIR!” Patrick bellowed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
With the first sip of the outrageously
toe curling rum, the night had begun.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As Patrick's shift finished shortly
after Tony and Nigel has arrived, he soon joined them on the other
side of the bar, placing himself onto the bar stool at a moments
notice of clocking out.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I've been watching Tone, I love what
you are doing.” Patrick explained. “The whole show now has a
dangerous air around it, I never know what is going to happen next.
It's compulsive viewing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“See, that's because you haven't
taken it far enough yet Tony.” Nigel remarked. “People haven't
been put off the show, we need to get the idiots who watch it, no
offence, to switch off.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Some taken.” Tony offered an
amused glare to Nigel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I just mean the idiots who watch for
the stupid guests Gerald keeps bringing on.” Nigel clarified.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I know... I know.” Tony smiled.
“But I went for the jugular with Chillgame and people still seemed
to enjoy it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes but Chillgame are shit.”
Patrick added.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes. But the idiots we want to turn
over love them, and yet they seemed to like the show!” Tony
exclaimed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think you have to keep at it. If
you are rude to everybody then surely people will get sick of it
eventually.” Nigel insisted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I bloody well hope so.” Tony
sighed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As Patrick hopped round the bar to pour
the next shots of rum, Abbie walked through the door of the pub and
waved to Tony, smiling as her face lit up. Tony waved back and got
off of the bar stool to go and greet her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Patrick.” Nigel whispered. Patrick
didn't hear, he had his back to Nigel, pouring the rum.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Paaattrrriiickkk.” Nigel half
whispered half shouted. Patrick didn't hear.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel pick up a coaster and threw it at
Patrick.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ow.” Patrick exclaimed as the
coaster hit him squarely on the back of the head. “What?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Is it me, or is there something
happening with Tony and Abbie?” Nigel asked in as much of a whisper
as he could manage whilst being heard by Patrick.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Patrick looked across to Tony, who was
stood just in front of Abbie, both of whom were smiling. As Tony said
something unintelligible from the bar, Abbie laughed and flicked her
flame coloured hair. Shortly afterwards the two of them shared a hug,
which looked extremely comfortable, and went on for maybe a second
longer than you would expect from most people.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Who is she?” Patrick remarked. “I
think you may be right though.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She's a friend of ours. Do you think we should say
something?” Nigel asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Maybe, let's play it by ear.”
Patrick shrugged.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Okay. Makes sense.” Nigel nodded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hi guys, Abbie has come to join us
for a bit, is that ok?” Tony asked</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course Tone.” Patrick replied.
“I'm not sure I've been introduced though.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh, sorry Patrick. This is Abbie,
she is a brilliant hairdresser. Abbie, this Patrick, the son of my
former manager, and reasonable impersonator of a naval officer.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie looked a little confused, but
gave a little laugh and waved. “Nice to meet you Patrick.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Likewise miss. What can I get you?”
Patrick enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Noticing that all three of them had
what appeared to be glasses of the same drink, Abbie questioned.
“What are you guys on today?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Naval rum. It hits you like a
torpedo.” Tony replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ahhh, I see. Well I'll have the same
then please private.” Abbie giggled and sat on the bar stool to the
left of Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes Ma'am.” Patrick answered.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Word in your ear private, don't ever
call me ma'am, it makes me sound about fifty years old.” Abbie
replied with the mocking sternness of a headmistress.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry, er, sir?” Patrick shrugged.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Miss will do, thank you private.”
Abbie glanced over to Tony for a split second, he caught her gaze and
smiled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes miss.” Patrick saluted and
went to pour the rum.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“If I'd have known this was going to
carry on all night I would have borrowed some marine hats from the
props department.” Tony laughed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I can give you all naval haircuts if
you like?” Abbie added.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel posed thoughtfully. “Tony won't
need much help if you keep putting all those colours in his hair.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony scowled mockingly at Nigel and
sipped his rum. “So what's the plan from here gentlemen? Oh, and
er, girl.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie raised a single eyebrow, looked
inquisitive, and followed it up with a cheesy grin.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Patrick jumped in. “I know a great
place a few streets down, judging from the past few weeks of shows, I
think you'll love it Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel looked inquisitively at Patrick,
who nodded and looked slightly smug.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sounds good to me.” Tony replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A couple of hours later, and they were
ready to leave the pub. Nigel and Patrick walked on ahead towards the
next destination. Tony and Abbie walked behind, side by side and a
little slower, talking about her week.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Have you been okay Abbie?” Tony
asked with genuine kindness.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Still not great to be honest, but
better than before.” Abbie replied honestly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry things aren't great, you
deserve to be happy.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you Tony. As do you, I hope
you can be soon.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Me too.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I hope it doesn't take too long
though.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hang in there Bea, you'll be ok.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Bea?” Abbie enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony laughed nervously and put his hand
over his mouth, replying. “Sorry, for some reason that seemed a
nice way of er... I'll be quiet now.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie put her hand on his arm. “It's
ok Tony, it's nice.” She smiled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony smiled back, they shared a brief
glance and Tony put his arm round her waist as they walked along
together.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Just in front Nigel and Patrick were
discussing what was going on behind them.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She clearly likes him Nigel.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes, and he clearly likes her.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Patrick thought for a moment. “What
about Tony's partner?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Last I heard they were going through
a rough patch.” Nigel replied. “Besides, those two look so
comfortable together it would seem rude to interfere.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Can we interfere in a nice way?”
Patrick asked back.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh, of course we can do <i>that</i>.”
Nigel laughed. “I already have a little.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How do you mean?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, I made sure that she would be
around when he needed a new haircut for the show.” Nigel explained.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good work sergeant.” Patrick
replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Let's not start that again!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Ten minutes later and the four arrived
at the next destination. As Patrick led through the side street to
the nightclub, each of the other three gradually noticed the venue in
turn, and gave Patrick a quizzical look.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Lady and gentlemen. Welcome to your
new favourite nightclub.” Patrick announced, and walked to the
queue.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony, Abbie and Nigel looked up at the
bright neon sign and wondered what to expect.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>'The PIT.' London's Heaviest Rock
Club</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The exterior was black all over, except
for the white neon light of the sign. The queue was made up of people
dressed largely in black band t-shirts and what looked to Tony's
untrained eye like mild fetish wear.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“This is just a music club right?”
Tony enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I sure hope so.” Abbie replied.
“Only one way to find out.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
They walked into the queue, and
listened to the rumbling sounds coming from inside. It was hard to
pick out what was playing, but it definitely included loud distorted
guitars and louder drums being hit with the force of a shotgun
bullet. Whatever speakers were being used sounded as if they
had been rejected from a Motorhead concert for being too noisy.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the three reached the entry desk,
the girl behind the glass recognised Tony. She gave him the devil
horns with each of her hands and nodded her head in respect. “No
charge for you and your friends Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony nodded, said thanks and walked
through to the club with Abbie and Nigel.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-73027826258551387182012-12-07T07:38:00.002-08:002012-12-07T07:38:12.284-08:0024. The Sun Always Shines on TV<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After his past experiences with the
press, Tony very rarely bought newspapers, however the comments
surrounding his recent performances had started to get quite noisy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
While he hadn't yet been faced with
doorstep reporters, it was very clear from conversation taking place
online and from what he had heard was in the newspapers that his
actions were being discussed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
If there was one good thing about his
show being slagged off, it was that it seemed to stop them talking
about him and Abbie, which helped at home.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony. What the fuck is this?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Shit.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony?!” Alison was serious.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony's head was pounding, so he simply
looked sluggishly towards Alison with an inquisitive look. The large
fluffed up pillows and soft yellow quilt cover were not going to make
this comfortable he thought.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Do we even need to talk about this?”
Alison's voice was slightly muffled as she was trying to hold back
from crying. “If you don't want to be with me then just tell me
Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course I do.” Tony replied. “I
don't even know what you are talking about.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You never do Tony. Yet every couple
of weeks it's put in front of my face again.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You shouldn't read the papers, they
print anything they can get their hands on that looks like it might
cause scandal.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony, I know you've had trouble with
them in the past, but you cannot use that as an excuse to get me to
ignore something that appears to be pretty clear.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I really don't know what you mean.”
Tony really didn't, but as a hazy memory of the night before cam
back, he was worried he might soon.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony, how many times do I have to
see pictures of you with this girl before you either tell me
something I don't want to hear, or I find it out for myself?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sat in silent, doubly painful
contemplation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We agreed remember Tony. We sat and
we agreed that we would never do anything like this to each other.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I know. I haven't...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“After your past and my past Tony,
this is not something I want to deal with.” Alison really was
crying now.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“”I know.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So why are you making me have to
deal with it?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There really is nothing going on.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So why does it look like it, and why
are you always out with her, and never out with me?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony thought for a second. “She just
happens to be where I go, and we are just friends. If something were
to happen I would tell you, I really would.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Would you Tony? I love you but I am
starting to get the feeling that maybe you don't feel the same way.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course I love you.” Tony tried
to article the debate that was going on in his head. “It's just
that...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh fine. Fuck you Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
That was <i><b>not</b></i> what he
intended to say.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As Alison stormed out of the bedroom
she threw the paper at Tony, which landed open on the half page
picture of him with his arms wrapped around Abbie. Apparently it
hadn't stopped them.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony looked at the picture and thought
to himself. Part of him wanted to go and chase after Alison, while
his more analytical side was wondering why he was even in this
situation. He liked Abbie, of course he did, but he had never set out
with any intention of doing something wrong. Or had he? No. <i>No.</i>
He wasn't like that any more, even though it had taken a long time he
had grown up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony hit his stumbling block, the
question over what would happen if faced with a choice. While he was
many things, he was not the sort of person to carry on an affair. He
may make mistakes in how he deals with things, but he is not that
kind of person. He doesn't ever want to be that kind of person.
What's the point in being credible in his work if he couldn't be
credible in his own personal actions? Besides, it wasn't his fault
that his work credibility was being damaged, he had acted in good
faith at all times.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Maybe that was it. He <i>had</i> acted
in good faith, but the situation had developed in a way he wasn't
expecting. Bloody hell, where now?</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-89402399873406749602012-12-03T18:20:00.001-08:002012-12-03T18:20:51.172-08:0023. Peace<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony didn't bother to knock for the
following morning's meeting with Gerald. He walked with Nigel
straight up to the big oak door, turned the handle and pushed it
open.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't recall saying you could come
in gentlemen.” Gerald boomed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't recall you saying we
couldn't.” Tony snapped back.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Very true, I shall amend your
contract to clarify.” Gerald smirked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked in and sat down onto the
shallow mahogany coloured sofa with a vigour that belied his years,
Nigel followed with a slight awkwardness.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Excellent show gentlemen.” Gerald
started. “I thought it was wonderful, the series is starting to hit
it's stride.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Don't play that bullshit game with
us. We know you saw it, and we know you saw last weeks too so quit
the act.” Tony gesticulated his arms wildly, had he been acting he
would have been ashamed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I have no idea what you mean. Our
audience loved it. Our online surveys suggest the highest enjoyment
of any of the shows so far.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's ridiculous.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm afraid not, I'll send you the
data tomorrow.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There is no way that mess of a
broadcast was more popular.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It was.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No way.” Tony was even more
dismissive.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It was.” Gerald looked as if he
was enjoying this.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not a chance.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Fraid so.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Whatever.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald smiled. “Keep up the good work
gentlemen, but please, knock next time.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Can we not find some solution to
this problem?” Tony asked, attempting reason.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No.”Gerald replied abruptly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But this is..”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“..is the best ratings the show has
got so far.” Gerald interrupted. “We'd be mad to drop it now.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sat staring at Gerald, his face
contorted with contempt and rage.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You may leave gentlemen.” Gerald
pointed to the door.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony, still piercing through Gerald's
flesh with his eyes, stood up abruptly, walked aggressively to the
big oak door and slammed it as hard as he could. The door slammed
onto the similarly hefty frame and cause the entire office wall to
ripple, sending the pictures of historical LTV stars that hung there
toppling from it to the floor in a cascade of broken glass and silver
plastic.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel, still stood the other side,
crept carefully up the shaking door frame, opened it gently, tiptoed
out, and gently shut it again. “That went well.” He said
sarcastically to Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How can he want us to carry on
ruining the show?” Tony asked helplessly as he and Nigel walked
through the bright reception area to the car park.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He must think that everything going
on will make people tune in.” Nigel guessed. “People love
watching a car crash.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sighed. “Well I'd rather 20
million people see a car crash than a few thousand see me forced to
humiliate myself and blow my hard earned reputation by taking those
idiot non celebrities seriously.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel smiled. “If it's car crash you
want Tony. It's car crash we can do.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony's spirits lifted a little as they
got into his car. “So how did you know I'd met the girl Sarah
yesterday on that god awful quiz?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't, but I saw the t-shirt and
thought you would enjoy seeing it.” Nigel explained. “When do you
meet her?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I saw her on the train, she told me
how people like her, who listen to unusual music or dress differently
never get to see people they admire on TV. I think if I ever get out
of this stupid contract I'd like to do something that appeals to
intelligent people like her.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sounds brilliant. I hope you do.”
Nigel nodded. “Oh and, don't worry about the wheel, I've added a
control so I choose where it stops from now on.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony smiled. “Thanks Nigel.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not having some wealthy banker
taking Gerald's …” Nigel's eyes lit up, and he paused in thought.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I thought the money came from the
sponsor?” Tony enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Either way, if we keep giving away
tons of money, Gerald will want to stop it, or the sponsors will get
fed up and quit.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We can but hope my friend. We can
but hope.” Tony shrugged, slightly disillusioned that anything
would ever end the Tony James Show. “Pub?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I thought you would never ask. Crank
up the A-Ha.”</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-44952985166709462362012-11-17T06:12:00.002-08:002012-12-02T17:22:51.434-08:0022. Episode Five (Reordered and updated)<b><i>Updated and re-ordered: 2nd December</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nigel, he's added some sort of
terrible quiz show segment.” Tony ranted as he paced up and down
the small control room, weaving his way around Nigel and the young
work experience girl Holly each time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I know Tony, he sent me the details
and set, with express written notice that it's part of your contract
to do the segment as detailed.” Nigel replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He's messing with us, he knows I
want out and he is making this as difficult and frustrating for me as
possible.” Tony continued.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course, that sounds like Gerald
all over.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I suppose, on the bright side, if
our new friend Tony James is in charge, it might makes things a bit
less bland.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's the spirit. Just go out there
and have fun, be Tony James and kill it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'll give it my best shot.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony wandered back into his dressing
room and sat in his chair, staring at the wall. On the wall was a
picture of him and Michael that he always kept in his dressing rooms
for good luck. It seemed that for once, it hadn't been working, or if
it had, he didn't even want to comprehend the amount of bad fortune
that would have occurred otherwise.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He wondered, what would Michael do in
this situation? For all his long standing friendship, Tony had got so
caught up in the madness around his show that he hadn't been keeping
in touch with Michael as much as usual. He missed his sensible
advice.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For example Michael probably wouldn't
be advocating presenting a TV show as a fucked up alter ego version
of himself. Though if Michael had been around he wouldn't have been
put into this position in the first place, Michael would have spotted
the ridiculous parts of the deal and torn it up. If only.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
That said, he owed it to Michael to
protect the enviable reputation that he had helped Tony to build, or
at the very least, to see it go out with a bit of a bang. A great
actor (if he said so himself) taking one last crazy part to prove his
skills to the world before his career runs out of steam.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
One last crazy part. That sounded about
right. This was The Tony James Show, and Tony James was going to play
Tony James like only Tony James could.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was time. Or at least that was the
plan.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good evening and welcome to the Tony
James Show.” He started as usual. “I'm your host Tony James, here
with more talk than a confused mime.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony paused and looked in irritation
towards camera 3, whose screen in the control room faced directly
where the head writer usually stood. “That's not funny, and it
doesn't make sense.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A few people in the audience gasped, a
few others chuckled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“My guests tonight are the <i>wonderful
</i>star of the biggest DIY show in
town, Handyman Adventure, James Coleman.” The sarcasm in his use of
the word wonderful was unmissable.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Then
we have the not entirely awful comedian Peter Kinsella.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
crowd applauded and a few people whooped.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">My
final guest will be indie pop superstars Chillgame, who will also be
performing their latest hit single.” <span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Tony
disliked Chillgame so much that he couldn't even bring himself to
mock them, yet.</span></span> </span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The
crowd applauded again. One lady whispered to the person next to her.
“Who are Chillgame?” The lady beside her replied. “Killgame?
Sounds ghastly.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<span style="font-size: small;">Don't
forget we have the </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>fantastic</i></span><span style="font-size: small;">
new q</span>uiz Celebrity
Spin coming up as well, your chance to win twenty thousand pounds!”
Again, Tony failed to hide his contempt for the idea of hosting a
gameshow.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So let's bring on my first guest. He
knows how to use a hammer, James Coleman!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
James walked onto the set with a big
smile, carrying a large inflatable hammer. Nigel, having arranged
this earlier, had taken the opportunity to have fun, and selected MC
Hammer's You Can't Touch This as his entrance music.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Welcome to the show James” Tony
started.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's a pleasure to be here.”
Replied James. “I'm a big fan of yours.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why thank you.” Tony replied. “I'm
a big fan of yours, well I say fan. I've seen your show a couple of
times and not wanted to hang you up on your own MDF like a crucifix.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Luckily James had a good sense of
humour and didn't take himself seriously, so the first appearance of
the character known as Tony James didn't seem to offend him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's always nice to meet your fans.”
James replied with a jocular smile. “I've seen your show a couple
of times and I can't say I would have minded hanging up a few of
those guests myself.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony wanted to be rude but struggled as
he realised James was actually a smart, quick witted guy. Although
James' willingness to join in the banter was handy. Oh god, Tony
hated the word banter. He wasn't a 25 year old rugby playing
university student with wealthy parents.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So, having learned how to build an
Ikea wardrobe without destroying a room, what led you to believe that
was the stepping stone into a career on TV?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well I watched Ladies at Lunch one
day, and realised that if watching menopausal women talk about sex
for 45 minutes was a viable programme option, then I might be able to
make something people wanted to watch.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony laughed. Not even a character
laugh, a real laugh. “I can't stand them. It's like watching four
old ladies complain about their husbands during a tea break.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Exactly. If I can do something
useful and teach people a skill at the same time, why not?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But there are hundreds of these DIY
programmes, does anyone even watch them anymore?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I hope so Tony. After all, it's not
like LTV would pay me money for a another series if no one was
watching the first one!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony nodded. “I'm sure I will find
that one out for myself soon.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Five minutes later, and the first part
of the show was done. No one had been too offended, but Tony felt
like he had done enough for the change to quite visible, besides, he
had quite liked James. Up next was the passable comedian Peter
Kinsella, however then the ridiculous quiz came in, followed by
Chillgame, and he could not <i>stand</i> them.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony, don't slip out of character
now!” Nigel said through his earpiece with mild sarcasm. “You
told me you were a good actor.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oi, watch it!” Tony remarked back.
“It takes time to perfect the nuances, also, shut up!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There we are.” Nigel replied
wittily. “He's back! You're on in 1 minute.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony laughed and got ready for the next
part of the show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please welcome my next guest, he
tells jokes, a fair number of which are quite funny. Peter Kinsella!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Peter stepped through onto the set,
bathed in the bright lights and standing out a mile from the dark
carpeted set in his bright pink shirt. Sitting down on the sofa it
became quickly obvious that the shirt was close enough of a match to
the pink video wall as to make it appear to some people at the back
of the audience as if there was a rogue head floating on the set.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Welcome to the show Peter, it's
great to see you here.” Tony remarked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's wonderful to be here Tony.”
Peter responded in good spirits.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I hear your new tour has been doing
extremely well?” Tony sort of asked. He wanted to jump in with a
rude comment but found it difficult to hide his own personality
enough to let his alter ego shine.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It has been fantastic. 100 dates,
most of which were sold out, and an amazing arena gig to finish off
with, the biggest show I have ever done.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's fantastic. It's rare for
comedians to play in front of such big audiences so early into their
career. What do you think the public has latched on to with you?”
Tony asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel was leaning forward in the
control room watching the monitor intently. “Come on Tony. Come
on.” He urged.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well of course it's because I'm
bloody funny.” Peter remarked, offering a cheeky grin to the crowd.
For most comedians this would have fallen flat, but Peter had an
irritable likeability. “But I think it's because I'm just a regular
guy. I don't pretend to be a genius, or to be better than my
audience. I am on their level.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think you are right about that.”
Tony remarked, the attempt to imply his audience were as average as
he was didn't register on Peter or the crowd.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“In fact, that was one of the things
that inspired me to write my book.” Peter added.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony had never been a fan of promoting
products on his show, but he understood it was a part of the way
things had to be done. His alter ego however, (when he showed up) was
even less keen. “That was brilliantly subtle Peter.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Peter laughed. “Gotta get the book
mentioned early, you might just forget to do it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I once memorised my part for Hamlet
in three days.” Tony declared.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well when you only have three lines
it's not that hard.” Peter jokingly replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony wanted to say something rude in
return but struggled to stay in character when it came to insulting
him. Instead he tried to be funny back. “Hey, they were very big
lines I'll have you know.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So in the book I've tried to go back
to my life growing up and my early career and show the developments
that made me into the person I am today.” Peter continued.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“A cheeky bastard?” Tony was
getting closer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The cheekiest of the cheeky bastards
I'll have you know.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's quite some accolade.” Not
quite close enough.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm proud of my awards. Third in the
one hundred metres in year 5 sports day.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“At least it means your awards
cabinet isn't totally empty.” Closer.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I haven't got one yet, but I'll be
sure to ask James Coleman to help me put it together.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He is the man with the hammer after
all.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony was trying too hard. In trying to
say the right wrong thing, he was taking himself out of the character
altogether. <i>Curse these guests for not being hateful enough</i>...
Tony would laugh at the irony of this thought later that evening. For
now he got to the end of the interview and prepared himself for the
last two segments during the break.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I just don't know if I can do this.”
Tony said to Nigel through his microphone.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony, you are a great actor. You can
do it.” Nigel replied, before adding. “Come backstage quickly, I
know what will help.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony ran into the dark control room,
Nigel took his feet off the control desk and handed Tony what
appeared to be gigantic shot of Whiskey. “Are you sure about this
Nigel?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What's the worst that could happen?
You mess the show up?” Nigel replied with a grin.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Touche' Nigel.” Tony smiled and
went to drink the whiskey. “Bottoms up.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“People still say that?” Nigel
inquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes. Bugger off.” Tony snapped.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's the Tony we know and love.”
Nigel exclaimed. “Well, not really the Tony we know and love, but
that is the Tony we want to see performed by the Tony we know and
love.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony looked at Nigel with a raised
eyebrow, gulped down the drink and headed off back to the stage.
“Wish me luck.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony's intermittent mood was changed by
the appearance of the temporary set props for Celebrity Spin as he
walked back onto set. A gigantic cardboard looking wheel was carried
in, fashioned in a crude red and white colour scheme with categories
written over the segments. It looked as if it had been designed by a
small child using an old box and some half chewed up crayons.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Just the sight of the wheel and the
matching podium stand lurking in what was usually the band stand were
enough to make Tony irritable, and conveniently throw him back into
character for most of the latter half of the show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The cue came, and the audience at home
saw the show return with a shot of a scowling Tony stood behind the
podium, aiming his frustration at his autocue. He didn't plan on
reading it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Welcome back to the Tony James Show,
we now come to quite possibly the worst game show it has ever been
your misfortune to experience. Celebrity Spin!” Tony remarked with
sarcastic joy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony dragged his feet along the black
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">polypropylene</span>
carpet as he walked to the spinning wheel, scraping his soles like a
schoolboy being forced to do his homework, and causing a crackle of
static that was loud enough to be heard through the microphone.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes folks, by answering a few inane
questions about celebrities, you could find yourself twenty thousand
pounds richer.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience whooped.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course, you won't, because we've
rigged the wheel. You'll be lucky to take home a tin of baked beans.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience laughed, Tony was caught
off guard, he hadn't even thought about people finding his new
character funny. He liked the fact that he could gain appreciation
without having to stick to the idiotic setup given to him by Gerald
though.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald was watching in his office,
tapping his uncut cigar on the table with unusual impatience. When
the audience laughed however, he stopped tapping, and broke out in
something approximating a smile.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Back in the studio Tony was explaining
the rules of Celebrity Spin. “It's quite simple folks, we pick two
audience members at random. You have three questions to answer, and
for each one you get right you get one spin of the prize wheel.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony went to spin the wheel, but it
jammed in place and refused to spin. “Excuse me a moment.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience laughed again. Tony
wondered if he should play up to it. He went to spin the wheel again,
and as it refused to move his hand slipped from the handle and
scraped his skin across the metal clip. “Bloody hell!” Tony
exclaimed in genuine pain, in anger he kicked the wheel as hard as he
could, a move which promptly saw it unlock and gently start to spin.
The crowd loved it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry for those technical
difficulties.” His desire to crack a joke got the better of him. He
looked to the side camera and remarked to his earlier guest. “I
thought you knew how to build James? I'm taking this back to Ikea
tomorrow.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience laughed, though not quite
as much as Tony had hoped. This, combined with glancing the hideous
quiz set at he walked back to the podium, kept him firmly in his bad
mood.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So let's see who will be our lucky
first contestant this week.” Tony opened the silver envelope sat on
the podium. “Mrs Brockwell from Glasgow!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience looked around at each
other until a surprised Mrs Edith Brockwell, a surprisingly tough
looking 68 year old lady stood up, waved to the crowd, and walked
down the stairs.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good evening Edith.” Tony started.
“Lovely to have you here.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you.” Edith replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What would you do if you won twenty
thousand pounds?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'd invest it.” Edith explained.
“Add to my portfolio on the futures market.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Er, okay.” Tony wasn't quite sure
how to respond to someone who clearly had no need for any money she
won. “Your first question, are you ready?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I am.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Which pop star recently filmed the
TV show, 'Back in the Sack'?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Erm...” Edith thought. “Jennifer
Crosby.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Correct!” The audience applauded.
“You've won one spin of the wheel. Your second question. What is
the name of model Michelle Jones' pet poodle?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think...” Edith explained. “I
think it's Fluffles?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Correct! You've won a second spin of
the wheel with that entirely useless fact.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience applauded again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Last question Edith. Which actor
recently broke the world record for most advertising voice-overs in a
single week?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ooh, I should know this one.”
Edith thought aloud. “Is it... you?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony rolled his eyes. “I'm afraid
that's incorrect, the answer is Stephen Fry.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience let out an audible groan
of disappointment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So Edith, time to spin the wheel and
get your prizes!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As Edith moved over to the wheel, the
cheesy generic suspense music (as used by all quiz shows of the past
decade) started to play. Edith took hold of the wheel and span it as
hard as she could.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The wheel rolled round at speed before
gradually slowing and coming to a halt on the £100 prize. Cue more
disappointment from the audience.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“One hundred pounds, it's a good
start Edith. Time to spin again.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Edith span the wheel even harder, and
after about 10 seconds of spinning it slowed and rolled onto the
£10,000 section.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wow!” Tony exclaimed as the
audience cheered. Edith was jumping up and down in excitement, and
ran and hugged Tony who was caught off-guard and nearly fell back
onto the podium.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well done Edith! Spend it wisely.”
Tony remarked as the giddy Edith ran off stage after being directed
by the cameraman. “That's a good start to this cheesy rubbish.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony enjoyed seeing people win money,
but this was all coming at the expense of his own reputation and
dignity. Tony silently sighed and readied himself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Our second contestant today is.”
Tony looked at the card. “Miss Sarah Clarke from London!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience applauded again, looking
around to see the randomly picked participant. A pretty girl dressed
in black trousers and a black t shirt with a colourful print, stood
up and walked down the steps. As she approached, Tony realised it was
the girl he had spoken to earlier that week on the Underground. He
smiled to her as she approached, an action which made her grin and
look down shyly. At this point Tony realised she was wearing a Zombie
Grave Diggers t-shirt.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nice to have you down here Sarah,
what do you do?” Tony asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm a film student.” Sarah
replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wonderful.” Tony beamed, knocked
out of character by Sarah's reappearance. “What sort of films are
your favourite?” He asked, expecting the answer to be horror,
slasher, or some combination of the two.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well usually I enjoy French cinema,
though I do watch a lot of Japanese films too.” She responded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“A girl of the world, that's great to
see.” Tony was pleased to see a smart girl enjoying good cinema.
“How are you on celebrities?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Absolutely terrible.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well Sarah, let's hope you get some
good luck then as we play...” Tony sighed and adopted a mocking
tone. “Celebrity bloody Spin.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience chuckled and applauded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Your first question. The TV chef,
Antonio Gelatino is best known for which signature dish?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah paused to think. “Erm, is it
Lobster thermadore?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ooh, so close, I'm afraid not. The
answer is Cheese on toast.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience groaned.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony continued. “Cheese on toast? How
on earth do you need a chef to help you with cheese on bloody toast?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah shrugged and smiled in bemusement
at the question.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Your second question Sarah. The...”
Tony sighed and gave Sarah a look of knowing sympathy. “...boyband
'Safe Word' had their first UK number one with which song?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I have no idea Tony.” Sarah
replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm sorry Sarah. It was in fact,
'Keeping quiet'. I've not heard of it either.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah laughed, some of the audience
chuckled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Your final question, you need to get
this one right in order to have a spin of the wheel Sarah, is this.
Born in Sussex star Tara Young was recently given which award at the
Hiya! Magazine Women of Britain Ceremony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Erm.” Sarah thought hard. “I'm
not sure.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Have a guess, go on.” Tony replied
as he subtly winked to her with the eye that was facing away from the
camera.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Is it, erm, Loudest TV Star?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's right!” Tony exclaimed,
even though it wasn't. Several members of the audience who knew the
answer looked around in surprise. For reference, the actual answer
was 'Best Vajazzle.'</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah jumped into the air with
excitement.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You've earned one spin on this
junior woodwork project wheel.” Tony pointed to the wheel
half-heartedly. “They got a D minus by the way.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah stepped over to the wheel and got
ready to spin.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good luck!” Tony said.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah grabbed the handle and spun it as
hard as she could.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The wheel spun round and round,
gradually slowing. It was reaching a stop between a few low sums of
money. It was about to stop completely on £50, when Tony took the
wheel and manually rolled it round two more spaces to the £20,000
marker.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Amazing, you've just won the twenty
thousand pound jackpot!” Tony exclaimed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah put her hands over her mouth in
joy, and then promptly ran and hugged Tony. He gave her a friendly
squeeze, and for a few moments briefly broke character, smiling in
the knowledge that he had done something good in the midst of the
chaos.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sarah walked back up the steps to her
seat, scarcely able to believe what had just happened.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony was pleased, but only temporarily
as he remembered what was coming next.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That was the terrible gameshow
Celebrity Spin, and now please welcome my final guests who are,
somehow, the most popular band in the UK right now. Ladies and
gentlemen, it's Chillgame, with their latest single, 'broken hearts'.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Chillgame were the very definition of a
middle of the road band. Just enough guitars to feign credibility,
but dull enough tunes that people who didn't like music loved to be
seen with them. The kind of band that became a dividing line between
whether you had good taste or were just dull. If you went on a first
date and the other person said “I'm a big fan of Chillgame.” The
odds are anyone with much taste would point at an amazing occurrence
behind the other person, and promptly run as fast as they possibly
could out of the restaurant.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
However, there was no denying that
Chillgame were popular. Five number one albums, three number one
singles, and a lead singer that moved in celebrity circles. Charlie
Clarke was his name, a shortish, dark haired and Bristol born guy,
who, despite the blandness of his music, was known for being a bit
awkward in some of his interviews.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After three minutes and fifty two
seconds of blandness, they stepped off the blue lit musical stage and
walked across the now slightly frayed black carpet to the main part
of the set. Charlie led of course, taking the seat closest to Tony,
or 'the seat of maximum publicity' on the soft black leather sofa.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good evening Charlie, and the rest
of the band.” Tony started. Apparently Charlie didn't like the
other band members to be named all the time. “Welcome to the Tony
James show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's lovely to be here Tony.”
Charlie replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, I suppose so.” Tony
shrugged.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry?” Charlie looked back with a
confused irritation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I can't say I'm a big fan. Your
music really isn't my sort of thing.” Tony explained. Half of the
audience gasped, a quarter were stunned into silence, and the other
quarter smiled as if Tony was saying what they all wanted to hear.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Meanwhile watching from his house,
Gerald raised his eyebrow, smiled, and sipped his whisky.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, we're not to everybody's
taste.” Charlie snapped.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's very true. Though I'm not so
sure about the word <i>taste</i>.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
This time the whole audience was
silent.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'll have you know we've sold almost
seven million records.” Charlie waved his finger at Tony as he said
this, perhaps, in hindsight not a great idea.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So did Shakin' Stevens.” Tony,
even the new Tony, was always good with his research. “Are you
claiming that he is better than you?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course not, Shakin' Stevens was
rubbish.” Charlie replied angrily.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How
dare you insult the master of 50's revival pop.” Tony snapped back.
"Actually, Shaky sold over seven million, so he is definitely
better than you."</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh
please, Shaky was a novelty retro act that capitalised on a desire
from ageing 50's teens to be reminded of the music of Elvis and rock
n' roll.” Charlie knew his stuff too it seemed.</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Green
door was a masterpiece.” Tony aired defiantly. "...and you are
saying that someone who is novelty shit is better than you?
Wonderfully honest."</span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Novelty
trash.” Charlie insisted, secretly enjoying the argument, but also
feeling quite insulted at Tony's ability to say what most people
chickened out from telling them.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Besides, if they were novelty retro
trash, then using the same artistic descriptions we can summarise
that Chillgame are bland middle of the road bollocks bought by people
who have no taste in music and no desire to challenge themselves in
the media they consume.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Charlie was getting redder and redder.
The rest of the band just sat there staring blankly at Charlie and
Tony, although the one on the end was dangerously close to laughing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“In fact I would go as far as to say
you are the musical anti-christ. At least those cheesy boy bands know
they are there to pose and get girls screaming with cheesy pop songs.
The way you pretentiously sit there with your head so far up your own
arse that you can see out of your own nostrils makes me sick.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Charlie was visibly enraged.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That you get millions of sales while
interesting and talented bands have to scrape and save just to do
gigs is a travesty. If I had my way...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Charlie couldn't hold back anymore.
“Shut the fuck up. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. I didn't come all this way
to be lectured by someone with no musical taste whatsoever.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I could say exactly the same thing.”
Tony grinned as he said this.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel was sat with his feet up on the
big control desk, watching the mayhem, and sporting the biggest
cheesy smile it was possible to see. This was just perfect. At her
pretty little modern flat, Abbie was torn between disbelief and pride
for the man she had barely known a few weeks earlier.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why the hell would you invite me
here just to criticise me?” Charlie enquired with exasperation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well I sure as hell wouldn't invite
you here to praise you.” Tony answered. “God forbid I boost your
ego beyond it's already astronomical limits.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Fuck you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Does Bono know about your ego? He
might get jealous.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What the fuck do you know? This
programme is a load of shit.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ohh yeah. Speaking of shit. This is
Chillgame's new album, 'Floating in the Stars.'” Tony pulled out
the album from under his desk and waved it at the camera. “It's an
insipid waste of recording studio time. To think that a studio which
once recorded the Beatles has been lowered to doing your so called
'music' is saddening.” Tony threw the CD away to his side
nonchalantly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Right, fuck you.” Charlie got up
and looked squarely at Tony. “I don't have to listen to this
bollocks anymore.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony smiled and looked straight toward
Charlie. “Thankfully I can say the same thing about your new
album.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Charlie tore off his microphone and
stormed off, the crowd were still completely stunned in silence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony laughed, waited a moment, and
turned to the three other band members, each of whom were too amused
to follow Charlie off of the sofa. “So, is he always like this?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The musician at the end of the sofa
couldn't take it any more and he burst into laughter, the others
swiftly followed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony turned back to camera 1. “Well
folks, as an interviewer it's my job to reveal the truth. Job done.
Don't buy this album, or that bastard in the green room will get more
of your hard earned money.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience seemed incapable of making
a sound.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'd like to say thank you to my
guests James Coleman and Peter Kinsella, and a big fuck you to
Charlie Clarke. What a wanker.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the credits rolled and the show's
music kicked in, the already stunned audience and the gobsmacked
viewers at home saw something moving at the side of the stage.
Charlie had brought out his bottle of beer from the green room, heard
Tony's final remarks, and had started to run across the wide set
towards his desk.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony saw him coming and quickly stood
up, backing away from the desk as Charlie reached the sofa. As
Charlie swung the bottle to the desk, breaking the end from it, the
other members of Chillgame grabbed him and tried to pull him away
from Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the show faded out to the
sponsorship message, viewers were left with the image of ten large
LTV security guard bundling on top of the singer from the most
popular band in Britain.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-10620111029023936952012-11-16T05:45:00.004-08:002012-11-16T05:45:40.699-08:0021. Acting<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony spent the rest of the week
distracting himself from his troubles with Alison by throwing himself
into understanding and developing his new character.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Over the course of 48 hours he had
tried no fewer than 18 different methods of playing Tony James,
including six different accents, two speech impediments, three
variants of sexuality and one thankfully brief attempt at sounding
urban. He had managed to narrow it down to two, both with similar
accents to his own, and was now weighing up the finer points of the
character in his head.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Of all the many many characters Tony
had played, he wanted to get this one right. The complexities and
nuances of Tony James would make a massive amount of difference to
how the character would be perceived. Too angry and people wouldn't
empathise with him at all, too nice, and it would make no difference
to his contract fiasco.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In many respects this was the most
complicated person Tony had ever been asked to play, a combination of
himself and the very opposite, wedged together in an angry little
ball of frustration. Tony knew how to play himself, but he had never
really been required to stretch his definition of his person in this
way before.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
At 9pm the night before the show, Tony
finally reached the point where he was happy with his character. Like
all good creations, Tony James would evolve, although hopefully he
wouldn't have many shows left with which to evolve in, but the core
was now there. Happy with his work so far, Tony opened a beer and
started to watch TV.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Although he didn't normally watch LTV,
he had noticed that Britain's Next Top Hairdresser was on, and as
Alison was out, he thought he'd watch Abbie in action.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's a wonderful design you have
created there Marcus, with just one small problem.” Abbie remarked
to the contestant. “You got half of the dye on her face.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the picture of the poor model with
bright purple splodges on her face, as if suffering from some weird
cartoon disease, appeared on screen, Tony laughed out loud, instantly
feeling guilty for doing so.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm sure you'll agree that is a
pretty significant problem.” Abbie continued.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Marcus looked at the floor of the
elaborate salon themed set in embarrassment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“However, in most other areas you
were excellent. So you get one more chance. Brush up on the dye!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you.” a flustered Marcus
uttered.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The voiceover came on. “Find out who
else is through to the next round of Britain's Next Top Hairdresser
after this short break.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He was a man with nothing to lose.”
a trailer for one of LTV's future shows appeared. “A cop whose
reputation lay in ruins decides to take the law into his own hands to
bring justice against the man who murdered his wife.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Well this looks original, chuckled
Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“With both the police, and the
murderer on his tail, it won't be long before all hell breaks loose.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sighed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Starring Robert Nordstrom as Jimmy
Mackenzie, and Mario Wright as Alistair Frank. Bloodshed. Starts this
Autumn on LTV.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony stared at the screen, not quite
sure what he had just seen. What on earth was Robert Nordstrom doing
on a generic cop drama series? Two minutes later, he was distracted
back to reality by a trailer for his own show, led by the clips he
had pre-recorded before the first show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“On this week's Tony James Show, we
have some great guests and a few unexpected surprises, be sure to
tune in.” A distinctly plain haired, sensibly dressed Tony James
remarked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony chuckled a nervous laugh.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The Tony James Show is sponsored by
Planet X energy drink, rocket fuel for the stars.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Somewhere, in an apartment a few miles
away, a writer felt a weird breeze on the back his neck.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Be sure to catch this week's Tony
James Show for the chance to win £20,000 in Tony's new quiz,
Celebrity Spin.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony leapt off of his seat in anger. He
had heard nothing about this, Gerald hadn't even seen the... right.
In the immortal words of Bugs Bunny, Tony said to himself. “You do
realise that <i>this</i> means war.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-7847936941930369682012-11-16T05:45:00.000-08:002012-11-16T05:45:07.173-08:0020. Hangover<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Huhh?” Tony woke up groggily.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“TONY.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Whh... what is it?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think we need to talk.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What's the matter?” Tony was still
barely awake, his head appeared to have a small family of woodpeckers
drilling away.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What is happening Tony?” Alison
asked in a stern voice. “Is there something going on between you
and this girl?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What girl?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The one you are pictured in the
newspaper with, again.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As if Tony didn't hate the newspapers
enough already. “I don't know what you mean, I haven't done
anything wrong if that's what they are suggesting.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So why are you having a romantic
meal with that pretty girl?” Alison's eyes teared up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We're friends! I invited her for a
couple of drinks and we stayed for food as neither of us had eaten.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It sure as hell looks like a date
Tony. I don't think I've even seen that shirt before”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I bought it a couple of weeks ago,
nothing special.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony, if you are doing something
please just tell me.” Alison was now streaming tears down her face.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I haven't done anything. I'm not
going to do anything. She is my friend, I'll introduce you if you
like, so you can see for yourself.” Tony said this out loud, before
privately wondering if it was such a good idea.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Alison sniffed and wiped the tears from
her cheek. “Okay.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony got up and put his arms round
Alison and squeezed, he rested his head against hers, looking at the
wall deep in private contemplation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I do love you Tony, you know that
right?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course I do. I love you too.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He did love Alison, but in Tony's life
things were rarely ever that simple.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony had met his first wife Judith Long
on the set of Country Boys, and their marriage had been a happy one
until the newspaper allegations that split them up. However Tony took
the split very badly, running into a number of relationships over the
next two years. He was truly in love with Judith, and never really
got over their split even whilst married to his second wife Bea.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Bea was an extremely pretty girl with
long black hair and a glowing smile. She was only just over five foot
tall, and the two of them constantly joked about their height
difference during their three year marriage.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
They had a loving relationship, but
Tony could never manage to feel as comfortable or be as open around
Bea as he had Judith, largely due to his inability to get over the
first real love of his life.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Eventually, Bea realised that Tony was
unlikely to open up in the way he kept saying would one day happen.
It was unfair for her to wait around for the hole in their
relationship to fix itself, she needed to do something to fix it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Bea offered Tony a choice. Since she
had been a little girl, Bea had always wanted to go travelling and
see the world, to explore new places and live a simple life. If Tony
was serious about making their relationship work, he needed to go
with her, travel the world for a year or two, and try and solve the
connection issues they had.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony genuinely loved Bea, but he was
far less interested in travelling, and hated the idea of not being
able to act or perform. However, neither could he work past his
memories of Judith. With sadness the two of them split up, and Bea
moved to Thailand where she still lives, occasionally watching
repeats of Tony's old shows on the local TV station.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Right now Tony was stuck in a difficult
place. He loved Alison, but felt that their relationship had fizzled
out, that it had become more of a habit than a real close bond. He
wanted to work things out though, and had every intention of fighting
to save what they had.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony had no intention of starting a
relationship with Abbie, they were just friends. Sure she was pretty,
and kind, and smart, and interesting, but they were only friends.
Tony just found it rare to have a close connection with someone in
the way the two of them did, she was a wonderful person and he wanted
to make the most of that. She was also very pretty, very smart, very
interesting, and... <i>Shit</i>.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-87174848032438468062012-11-14T17:43:00.001-08:002012-11-14T17:43:17.883-08:0019. Direction<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
If one thing had been bugging Steve,
other than the slightly nervous feeling he had about why no one from
LTV had chased him up about his absence in the last week, it was
trying to understand what had been happening to the guests on Tony's
show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He had booked Stephen Fry. He had
booked the girls from Wild About Animals. He had signed contracts,
but when he arrived other people were in their dressing rooms.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Not only was someone at the station
undermining him, they were doing so in a way that was deliberately
aimed at turning Tony against him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Whilst he and Tony weren't exactly the
best of friends, Steve had always prided himself on being an honest
person, someone who told things as they were and didn't manipulate
people. Yet here he was looking like the bad guy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve had been looking after shows for
LTV for 6 years, holding the directorial reigns on some of their most
famous output. His recent drama series Western Chapel had won a
boatload of awards. He had wondered exactly how many awards would fit
into a boat, especially when the size of the said boat was not
specified, he presumed it was a fair few though.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve was born and raised in Manchester
by a well respected Jewish family. Whilst he was not particularly
religious, he was always seen at the family home for religious or
family occasions. His limited knowledge of Hebrew rapidly revised and
rehearsed the week before.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve had started out acting in local
theatre shows, including performing an amateur production of King
Lear on the night of the legendary 'Ice Cream Riots'. After a few
brief appearances in bigger local shows, it became apparent to him
that his skills lay in production and direction. Which of course is a
polite way of saying his overacting was so notoriously bad as to
cause Brian Blessed to storm out of a matinee performance of
Starlight Express.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Behind the camera, or curtain, on the
other hand, Steve was a master of precision and perfection, working
with difficult actors and, at times, hopeless stage hands to get
performances far beyond those of other directors. The stunning
results he dragged out of mediocre ensembles won enough praise to see
him move, first to the West End, and then to TV within six years.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve had initially won Tony's respect
after he had discovered Steve was the director behind Robert
Nordstrom's last great original play 'Life After Cynthia', the tale
of a middle aged divorcee who becomes a poet in order to fund his
child's private education.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve had been racking his brains to
work out what had happened with the show guests. Who had enough
access to the show, and would have been party to both the listed
guests schedule and the one that Gerald had clearly been pushing?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As he walked through the first few
weeks shows in his mind, the answer came to him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Nigel.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel was a bit of an unknown to the
rest of the crew. He had joined as Steve's assistant on his last
show, and had done a good enough job to warrant keeping on. Yet he
had always kept his personal life completely silent, even in an
industry that thrived on gossip and rumour.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A few times Steve had asked Nigel about
his past and his career, but Nigel had never provided more than a few
token stories. The only one of note describing his attempts to get
his second job with the independent production company Ubiquity.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel walked into the super shiny
office, covered head to toe in gloss white. Following a promising
start working with the Scottish production house Eye Media, he had
moved down to London in hopes of working on some larger projects. He
had been invited to an interview for an assistant role with their
Head of Regional Production, Gary White.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you for coming in Nigel. We
are glad you would like to join us here at Ubiquity.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Very happy to be here Mr White, you
produce some great shows.” Nigel replied, before lying. “I love
Born in Sussex and Mackem County.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Excellent, you'd be surprised how
many people start here and are unable to name a single of our
programmes.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel laughed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“They all watch them, they just don't
pay any attention.” Gary continued with no visible glimpse of
humour.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After a few basic questions, Gary got
to the heart of the interview.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So Nigel. What experience do you
have?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, I've spent a eighteen months
working at Eye Media, assisting the directors in a range of
programmes including two of the best rated Scottish shows this year.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I see.” Gary looked thoughtful.
“So what about here in London?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well.” Nigel explained. “I've
just moved here in order to gain more experience and challenge
myself, with the aim of developing into a director one day.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I see. So you haven't done any work
here in London then?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not yet no.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well that makes things difficult you
see, if you haven't worked in London we can't really take a risk on
you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But I've got great references and a
big list of skills from Eye Media, including those two incredibly
popular Scottish shows.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes.” Gary explained. “But they
are in Scotland, we are in London.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How is that different?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well you see, the way things work
here aren't the same.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“In what way?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, you see we work in London,
and..”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But you are the head of regional
shows?” Nigel interrupted in frustration.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes, but we don't actually do any
work outside of London. That would be stupid.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel looked bemused. “None?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not really no.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So Made in Sussex?” Nigel
enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Filmed in Dagenham.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Mackem County?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shot in Clapham.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well that's just ridiculous.” Gary
remarked in anger.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm afraid that's just the way it
is.” Nigel shrugged.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well why can't you change it?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's just the way things are.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You said that, but why?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Because... ooh, hang on a minute.”
Gary's eyes lit up. “Where were you born?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sevenoaks”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Bugger. So very close.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hang on, are you saying if I was
born ten miles North you would be able to hire me?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't make the rules I'm afraid.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But you are the head of...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nothing I can do.” Gary
interrupted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But wait. How am I supposed to get
experience in a London production company if you only hire people who
already have London experience?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There are plenty of rubbish
companies who'll hire any old so and so.” Gary remarked with an air
of irritation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So you are saying you would rather I
had worked at a shit company in London than a great one somewhere
else?” Nigel asked, nearing the end of his tether.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We do things differently in London.”
Gary parroted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So I see. I'll show myself out.”
Nigel growled before slamming the thin glass door, shattering it into
500 small pieces.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gary tutted to himself.<i> </i>If
Nigel had worked in London that door would still be in one piece.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-33822773379018681902012-11-13T15:37:00.002-08:002012-11-13T15:46:19.188-08:0018. Meeting Yourself<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony James, meet Tony James.”
Nigel announced, waving a piece of paper freshly printed from his
laptop. Nigel's house was surprisingly large for someone of his
position, a large semi detached house in Kensington with a modern but
warm interior.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony stared at the piece of paper for a
moment, took a deep breath, and started to read.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Tony James. (No relation.) Is a
nasty sarcastic son of a bitch.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Interesting.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>A deeply flawed character who had a
very difficult childhood. Managing to fight his way through several
very complex family situations to become a star, he took to heavily
to drink and drugs. Instead of being able to control his anger and
sarcasm, he is controlled by it.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's good, but I'm still not sure I
will be able to do it well.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Tony James has a massive ego, and
believes anyone who doesn't live up to his high standards is an
idiot.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I hope this <i>isn't</i> me.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>You cross Tony James at your peril.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hmm.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sat and thought to himself for a
while. “I'll give it a go, but I can't make any promises.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel grinned and replied. “That's
all I can ask.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Are you getting revenge or me?!”
Tony exclaimed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Both of us.”
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why are <i>you</i> getting revenge?”
Tony questioned.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell
you another time.” Nigel replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ok.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So, are you going to get in
character ready for the show?” Nigel changed the subject.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Maybe. Though I don't think this
Tony James is the one that should be seen in public.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony thanked Nigel, and headed off down
the street for his catch up with Abbie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As Tony got onto the tube, he noticed
several people staring at him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Oh shit. I forgot my hair. </i>He
thought to himself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Whilst not at the
crazy heights it was during the show, the array of colours still
remained, and were pretty difficult to disguise without a hat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
One of the people
staring was a teenage girl, maybe 18 or 19, and dressed from head to
toe in black, in fact, she looked rather like she was a member of
Zombie Grave Diggers. Tony felt a little unnerved by the constant
gaze of people, especially one who had so much metal on her that it
must have weighed more than she did, however the young girl
deliberately caught his attention and smiled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A few moments later
she stepped over to his side of the carriage. “Thank you Mr James.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What for?” He
replied with a confused look.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“For being brave,
and going out on live TV with crazy clothes and hair. For putting an
amazing band that get no coverage or exposure in front of millions of
people.” She explained. “All we see on TV are the same stupid
reality stars, bland corporate pop bands and idiots. It was so nice
to see something better.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well I'm glad
you liked it.” Tony replied with uncharacteristic shyness. He
hadn't realised that there was a real audience for such crazy acts.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It was really
inspiring. People like me, we get ridiculed for being different, for
liking things beyond what most people see on their screens. To be
reminded we aren't alone is amazing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wonderful. I'm
afraid the station didn't like it though, I don't think I'll be able
to get any more good acts on soon.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's a shame.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I will try
though, and if not, keep watching young lady, I think you'll like it
anyway.” Tony smiled a cheeky smile.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I will. Thank
you again.” She smiled back and went back to her seat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony reached his
stop, followed the mildly disordered queue out from the underground
station, and set off towards his destination.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The Grill on Fifth
was a nice little restaurant, with aspersions of being fine dining,
but not yet the price tag to distinguish it for those with more money
than sense. Sporting a sleek black design, and lots of warm wooden
fittings it felt extremely cosy, the jazzy sounds heading across from
the piano giving it the slight air of a high class cocktail bar.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sat at the
bar, Abbie had not yet arrived. He ordered a Shiraz and sipped at it
whilst pondering his future. After a few minutes he started to wonder
whether The Grill on Fifth might have been a little over the top for
a catch up with Abbie, just as he realised it probably was, she
walked in.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
To say she looked
good would have been an understatement, Abbie was wearing a pretty
black dress, and her bright maroon hair was held up in an unusual,
but interesting way. Tony managed to just about catch his jaw as it
dropped, and shuffled his brain into getting up and saying hello.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hi Abbie, you
look wonderful.” Tony gushed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hiiiii Tony!”
Abbie replied, giving him a great big hug. “Thank you dear, you
look very smart!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Whilst Tony's shirt
and jacket didn't quite reach the giddy heights of artistic licence
that it had on his show, it was certainly a bolder selection than he
had been used to making. It also colour coordinated with his hair, an
important bit of advice he had recalled Alison reading in a magazine
a while ago.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony ushered Abbie
across to their seats, sat at the closest table to the piano, whose
player was currently on a break. They sat down, ordered their food
and started to catch up on the preceding week.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The show was
brilliant. I just wish I had been there to see the look on Gerald's
face when you appeared.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Same here.
Though I think he missed it, there was no mention of it at all in our
last meeting.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He missed it?”
exclaimed Abbie. “Oh that's terrible. I hope you have something
good planned for this week then.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I do, if I can
pull it off.” Tony explained. “I have been given a new acting
role for the show, T<i>ony James</i>, no relation of course, the
<i><u>bastard</u></i>.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I... er... see.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We'll see how it
goes, but as I can't escape it any other way I am just going to have
some fun.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'll drink to
that Tony.” Abbie raised her glass, as did he, and they both sipped
in anticipation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So how have you
been Abbie?” Tony inquired. “Things going well?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, no not
really.” Abbie explained. “I had a falling out with John, and I'm
not sure that he is going to forgive me.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh, I'm so
sorry.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He just doesn't
trust me.” Abbie continued. “He hears things and sees me with
people and just presumes the worst.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's
terrible.” Replied Tony as he realised what she meant, but wasn't
saying. “I've had the same thing before, people see things and
can't help letting it run all over their mind.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's sad isn't
it?” Abbie replied, realising what Tony meant, but wasn't saying.
In actual fact, he hadn't meant what she thought, though it was an
equally relevant example.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Press rumours
broke up my first marriage. They just kept printing more and more
lies until my wife couldn't take it any more.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh Tony, that's
so sad.” Abbie showed a sympathetic smile, and caught Tony's eyes
to let him know she empathised. “They just don't care at all about
people or their lives, only about sales and the money.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's right,
sadly.” Tony agreed. “I daren't even look at what they said about
the show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You are a good
man. Things will come around and you will get karmic justice for what
has happened.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You believe in
karma?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not
particularly, but it seemed relevant.” Abbie laughed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well I hope so
in this case!” Tony replied. “Oh and with Gerald too... jeez. I
never thought <i>I</i> would be the kind of person to have a list of
enemies.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well if I helps,
I don't think you come across as a psychotic maniac.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Er... thanks!
That's probably the weirdest compliment I have ever received Abbie.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Mw pwswrw.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Swwwy?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Whww?!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“WWW??”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The piano player
had subtly returned and started to play the loudest jazz funk that
had ever been heard in a restaurant.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“THWW MUWWW WW A
BWW LWWW!!” Tony tried desperately to be heard.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I CAWW HWWW
YWW!!” Abbie screeched</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The two of them
laughed, looked at each other and decided to try again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“WHWWW WHWW YWW
SWWWWW?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“WWWW???!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I SWWW WHWW
WHWWW YWW SWWWWW???!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I SAID IT'S MY
PLEASURE TO SAY YOU AREN'T A PSYCHOTIC MANIAC YOU DEAF
BA..ahem..bastard!!” Abbie screamed at the top of her previously
dainty voice with cheeky sarcasm, just as that particular piece of
jazz funk came to an abrupt end.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony promptly fell
head-first into a gigantic pit of giggles as he realised the whole
floor was staring at the two of them, which caused Abbie to burst
into slightly embarrassed nervous giggles. The pair just about
managed to regain their composure as the first course arrived and the
music started again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Who ordered the
wwwwwwww?” The waiter asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony laughed and
pointed to Abbie in the 50% chance that it was the right dish.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After a few
moments, he waited for Abbie to look down at her food, and performed
the most over the top jazz hands seen in a restaurant since the
Pineapple Dance Studio Christmas Party.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie looked up
just as put the hands away. She looked puzzled and pulled a
questioning face, before looking to the side to pick up her wine
glass. As she did, the jazz hands returned.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She looked back
with a silly look that said <i>Caught you</i>. Except she hadn't,
Tony had removed them just in time and now wore a face of extreme
innocence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie mocked a
scowl and wagged her finger at him, causing Tony to feign even more
exagerrated innocence, and Abbie to burst into giggles.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A few moments later
after she regained her composure and started to eat again, Tony
pulled out even bigger jazz hands, except this time she was ready.
She turned and caught him right in the middle of the jazzification.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony stopped his
hands, looked around as if to admit defeat, before very very slowly
lowering his hands whilst still in jazz mode.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Half an hour later
and they had finished their meal, enjoyed a good bottle of Rose, and
barely been able to say a single word to each other since the piano
started again. In a way though, they hadn't really needed to
communicate, they were comfortable enough in each others company that
the odd look or gesture said an awful lot, as did the jazz hands.
Although at the end of the meal words became slightly more important
again.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony decided not to
try shouting, and instead searched his jacket for a pen. Finding one,
he took the unused napkin from the next table and started to write.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Where shall we go next?</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbie smiled and
gestured for the pen, writing her reply.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Anywhere you like dear :)</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony pulled his
most over the top thinking face, including a single raised eyebrow
which caused Abbie to burst out laughing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Anywhere that doesn't have a piano
is good! There's a great wine bar near my house, good drinks, but not
as pretentious as in the city. </i>Tony
suggested.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Sounds lovely.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>I'll ask for the bill then we'll
head off.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Perfect. X</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Huhh?” Tony woke up groggily.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“TONY.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Whh... what is it?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think we need to talk.”</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-42278344510315590202012-11-11T18:42:00.000-08:002012-11-11T18:42:08.883-08:0017. Showdown<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
To say Tony was nervous about seeing
Gerald was an understatement. On the one hand, he knew he had done an
awful lot to piss him off, but on the other, he hadn't done enough to
actually ruin the show. He figured he was likely to end up in some
annoying middle ground where Gerald was angry but not angry enough to
fire him and break the contract.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel was also nervous, but secretly
was looking forward to the possible showdown.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
They walked through the reception to
Gerald's big oak door. Tony knocked and awaited the usual call. <i>“Come
in gentlemen.”</i> Nigel quietly mocked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Come in Gentlemen.” Gerald boomed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked in with Nigel following
closely behind. Tony's eyes wandered to the big shotguns on the wall.
With their gently worn wooden handle and chunky barrels that appeared
to go and on like the legs of a tall supermodel. He hoped they were
going to stay on the wall, glancing back down to the bullet hole in
the floor as they sat down.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Great show gentlemen.” remarked
Gerald. “I think that might be our best one yet.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony and Nigel looked dumbfounded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Highly entertaining, and the guests
were great if I do say so myself.” he continued.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But.. what about?” Tony mumbled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What about the swearing? It's post
watershed, people need to stop being babies about these things.”
Gerald explained.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But surely...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But surely we can do better? Very
true gentlemen, and we shall. Next week I have lined up some
fantastic guests, and the public are going to love it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony looked to Nigel, who looked
equally puzzled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That is all gentlemen.” Gerald
declared, sending them back out before they had even had time to get
settled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony and Nigel crept out of the giant
doorway, closing the big door behind them while they tried to figure
out what just happened.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I bet he didn't watch it.” Nigel
ventured as they walked into the car park.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald leant back in his seat,
chuckled, and lit a cigar.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Driving back from the office, Tony and
Nigel were discussing their next move in surprisingly good spirits,
Nigel seemed to bring out the positive side of Tony more than Steve
ever had.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I know a good pub we can go to.”
Tony ventured. “One of the barman is the son of a dear old friend
of mine.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That sounds good to me.” Nigel
replied. “We need to work out our plan for next week, and I have an
idea that will see us victorious Tony. Do you have any victory
music?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Erm.” Tony thought for a moment.
“I've got some A-Ha...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel laughed. “That's not what I was
expecting. But sod it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For the next three minutes and forty
five seconds, a small part of West London looked on bemusedly as a
dark red BMW 5-Series passed them with it's occupants singing the
work of Norway's finest pop band at the top of their voices, nodding
their heads in early celebration.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Taaaake onnn meeeeee.” sang Tony</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Taake on meee” echoed Nigel</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Taaaake meeee onnn.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'llll beeee gonnnnnnee.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony and Nigel looked at each other for
a split second, they both took a deep breath and moved to an
alarmingly high pitched falsetto, placing their hands in the air as
the car passed a group of little old ladies.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Innn a dayyy orrrrrrrrrrr
<i>twwwooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.</i>”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Just as the high note finished, the
left wheel of the car clipped a kerb, and Tony quickly put his hands
back on the wheel to correct it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony drove Nigel back to his house, but
they didn't venture inside, simply dropping the car off before
heading into the city again on foot.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As they walked back to the pub where
Patrick Woodward worked, Tony noticed the sign above the door that he
had been too angry to see last time he visited. Written in a typical
pub style with light silvery yellow letters was the name “The King
James”.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The interior was decorated like most
traditional pubs, lots of wood and greeny fabrics, but it had a
cleanliness and character beyond the old style setting.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Evening Patrick.” Tony announced
their arrival. “How are you?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm good thanks Tone. What can I get
you?” replied Patrick.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Later, some ideas. But before that,
two Merlots please.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sure thing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Several drinks later, and Patrick had
joined in with Tony and Nigel's discussion on the show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Right guys.” declared Nigel. “It's
time to hear my idea.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Bring it on.” remarked Patrick.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony here.” Nigel gestured with a
sense of absurd sympathy. “He is too nice to be rude in front of
his guests. But we need him to be rude in order to get his contract
cancelled.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Everybody loves my politeness you
know it all bastard!” Tony laughed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What about this?” Nigel continued.
“You said your career was ruined regardless of what we do right?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes.” Answered Tony. “This isn't
helping!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Patience friend.” Nigel gestured.
“So what if we send you out with the finest bit of acting of your
career?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You want me to present the show
dressed as a transvestite with a Scottish accent?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Erm... not personally, we'll keep
that one in the bank.” Nigel chuckled. “But what if you prove
your acting skills by playing a total bastard?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm not sure I can. I know I'm good,
but they don't call me Tony 'Nice Guy' James for nothing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No one calls you that. Not ever.”
added Patrick. “My dad called you Tony 'Elvis' James after your
white suit phase in 1977, but never that.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Come on Tony!” Nigel started to
get excited and exaggerate his words and gestures. “We'll create a
full rounded character for you to play, a TV show host that is a
complete and utter obnoxious prick, who just so happens to share your
name.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm not convinced.” Tony
responded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Come on Tone! If anyone can act like
the dickhead that is Tony James, it's Tony James.” Patrick joked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Watch it.” Tony pointed at
Patrick.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You know it's a great idea Tony.”
Nigel interjected. “You can wreck the show, demonstrate your acting
skills, and still maintain your reputation as a great guy.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony thought to himself for a moment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Go on!” Patrick nudged him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ah go on then. I have nothing to
lose anyway, and I hate the guests they keep giving me.” Tony
explained. “Except for a couple of them who were okay I suppose.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel looked at Patrick and whispered.
“Abbie.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oi!” Tony growled jokingly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He's in love!” Nigel remarked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I am not! We're just friends. I have
a girlfriend for goodness sakes!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Me thinks the lady doth protest too
much.” Patrick added.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Bastards... I'm just going to say
nothing.” Tony sulked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You don't need to say anything, love
is an emotional rollercoaster after all!” laughed Nigel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's a bloody good job the other
Tony James isn't here, he'd kick your disrespectful asses.” Tony
growled slyly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's the spirit!” Nigel
retorted.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-34041788950290606752012-11-10T19:14:00.002-08:002012-11-10T19:14:25.121-08:0016. Episode Five<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked into the studio wearing a
large hat. It was difficult to tell whether it was a cowboy, a
Mexican sombrero, a ladies wedding hat, or a gigantic hat from ladies
day at Royal Ascot, but it was absurdly large. Walking straight
through to the control room, where he greeted Nigel with a nod. “Is
everything set to go?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It is. Oh how it is.” replied
Nigel with a grin.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wonderful.” exclaimed Tony. “I'm
off to get make-up then get changed.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel chuckled and awaited the start of
the show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked back to the dressing room,
where he took off his hat, said hello to Abbie, and sat in his chair
while she added the finishing touches to his style.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel came to the dressing room to give
Tony the call to be on set. “Tony I... whoa.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You like it Nigel?” Abbie
enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's erm... perfect.” replied a
bemused Nigel. “Five minutes til we're on air.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony hugged Abbie, gave her a kiss on
the cheek and said thank you. Stepping out of the dressing room he
walked up to the side of the stage and prepared himself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As Tony walked onto the dark carpet of
the set, one by one the audience member spotted him and let out
audible gasps. Tony checked his desk and walked up to the front of
the stage for the opening introductions.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ready. On in five, four, three...”
declared Nigel through the earpiece.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the titles finished and the shot
faded in, Gerald, watching the show from his office, opened his mouth
in disbelief and promptly fell off his chair.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Welcome to the Tony James Show! You
might not realise it, but I am Tony James.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel looked at the writer and smiled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“On this weeks show we have the star
of LTV's own 'The Mega Quiz Show' Ian Fielding!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The crowd gave an instinctive round of
quiet applause, still puzzling about what they were looking at.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We also have two of the judges from
'Variety Star Search'. Adam Morley and Vanessa Paris”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The crowd continued its robotic
auto-pilot applause.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Finally we have a special surprise
guest, all the way from Norway, they are the hottest thing in pop
music right now... but you'll have to wait!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The crowd looked blankly. One of the
audience members turned to the woman next to her.
“What...er...who...er.” The woman stared into space for a moment,
and replied in a confused voice. “Did they kill him?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Our first guest is the host of one
the most popular quiz shows of the year, 'The Mega Quiz Show', please
welcome to the stage, Ian Fielding!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
More autopilot applause.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Ian walked onto the set, heading across
to Tony with a wave and a bow to the audience. As he turned and saw
Tony, he gawped and for a brief half-second, stopped walking.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's, er.. a very interesting look
you have this week Tony. What inspired this?!” Ian opened the
conversation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thanks for asking, welcome to the
show by the way.” Tony answered. “This amazing hair was created
by our guests from a couple of weeks ago, Abbie Jones. While the suit
was originally a Vivienne Westwood, but had a few modifications made
by a friend of mine.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It certainly stands out.”
exclaimed Ian truthfully.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That it does my friend. There isn't
enough artistic clothing and styling on TV, I thought it was time to
change that.” Tony explained.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I agree. I don't think that style
would suit me though, for a start I'd need hair.” joked Ian.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It does help. So tell us about the
Mega Quiz Show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, it's the biggest quiz ever to
be seen in the UK. Over the first series, we will be giving away more
than ten million pounds in prize money.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>I could do with ten million pounds</i>
thought Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Ten brief minutes later and it was time
for the break. Nigel spoke to Tony through his earpiece. “Tony,
great outfit, but you are being too nice!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I feel bad being rude to people.”
explained Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well let's get to the end of today
and we'll discuss it. We still have our special guest.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel and Tony both smiled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The judges from Variety Star Search
were professional but as cold as you might expect from people that
have to destroy the deluded dreams of talentless members of the
public for three months in a year. The show went to the break, and
Tony raced into the control room to speak to Nigel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Are we ready Nigel?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh we are.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How did you get them through
make-up?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't. I figured pale is a good
look for them.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Brilliant. Here we go.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked back onto the set, sat in
his chair and smiled as the show restarted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Time for my final, special guests
tonight. We'll be speaking to them in a minute, but before we do,
it's time to introduce them!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
If Gerald had been paying more
attention to the set, and not to Tony's clothing, he might have
noticed that the music set didn't look like it was preparing for
Scandinavia's latest teen pop sensation. For a start, there were two
guitars and a bass, with a drum kit that appeared to have every
cymbal ever produced by mankind.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Their latest album went into the
Norwegian charts at number one, and they are predicted to do great
things here.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel covered his eyes with his hands,
and then realised he had to watch.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please welcome to The Tony James
Show, my favourite new band, Zombie Grave Diggers with their latest
single, Entrails of a Virgin Queen.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald raised his eyebrows, leant back
in his chair and puffed his cigar in contemplation. As he did, seven
gigantic Norwegians in chunky New Rock boots, dressed head to toe in
black with metal spikes, and each with 2 foot long black hair, walked
onto the stage and started to play.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was unlikely that Gerald, or much of
the audience for that matter, had ever heard black speed metal
before, but they were now unlikely to ever forget it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony made surprisingly good
conversation with Zombie Grave Diggers, especially considering their
limited knowledge of the English language and penchant for swearing
every third word. As the show finished and the silently stunned crowd
left their seats Tony wandered back to his dressing room. He sat down
briefly and a knock came on the door. “Come in.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony the band were amazing, but you
were too nice!” Nigel explained as he walked into the dressing
room. “You still made the show work! We shall talk about <i>this</i>
tomorrow.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald watched the end credits roll,
and switched off the screen. He took a sip from his whiskey glass,
and muttered to himself. “This means war.”</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-42936977101311192562012-11-10T19:13:00.000-08:002012-11-10T19:13:01.089-08:0015. Plotting<br />
Tony and Nigel decided to discuss their plan over a few drinks. They left the studio and headed out into the city, walking down the dusty streets as the bright red buses drove past.<br />
<br />
“Where would you like to go?” Asked Tony.<br />
<br />
“Somewhere quiet for now I think. No rush.” replied Nigel<br />
<br />
“Good idea.”<br />
<br />
The two of them scanned the street for interesting pubs and bars, finally spying one that looked both cosy and comfortable. Named The Old Hen, it was by all appearances the same kind of décor that had probably been there since the 1970's. Brown wooden fittings, but with mild yellow and pale green paint in places. As if an interior decorator had been given to small tins of paint and half an hour to give the place some colour. On the plus side, the warm colours gave it a pleasant atmosphere, which was exactly what was needed for some grade A plotting.<br />
<br />
Tony and Nigel ordered their drinks and found a quiet spot in the corner from which to plan their assault on the show. Tony explained the contract situation to Nigel, and he started to think to himself.<br />
<br />
“I can't take it anymore Nigel.” Started Tony. “I hate what they are doing to my show, but I have no way of leaving.”<br />
<br />
“Well Gerald said that he'd take you off air if the ratings dropped too low.” suggested Nigel.<br />
<br />
“Yes, but the stream of terrible lowbrow guests they are forcing on me means people are tuning in. Why can't people have at least reasonable taste? I know we can't all enjoy classical music or complex dramas, but my show appears to be attracting the very worst audience around. Apart from Jeremy Kyle of course.”<br />
<br />
“Yes, but some people watch that for ironic value.”<br />
<br />
“Oh bloody hell. I've got a worse audience than Jeremy Kyle. I'm finished.”<br />
<br />
“You aren't finished.”<br />
<br />
“Of course I am. My reputation as a respected actor will be blown away, and my popularity is only going to remain with the idiots who think watching bright orange idiots get wasted is the new Panorama.”<br />
<br />
“So you're saying you have nothing to lose Tony?<br />
<br />
“Basically... well yes. I have essentially nothing left to lose.”<br />
<br />
Nigel eyes lit up. “In that case, I have an idea.”<br />
<br />
“I'm listening...”<br />
<br />
“You can't quit right?”<br />
<br />
“Right.”<br />
<br />
“And your guests are pulling in the audience?”<br />
<br />
“Right.”<br />
<br />
“So you are stuck with the job.”<br />
<br />
“Yes. When does the idea bit happen?”<br />
<br />
“I'm getting to it.” Nigel snapped sarcastically.<br />
<br />
“Ok, just checking!”<br />
<br />
“You can only get out of this by being fired yes?”<br />
<br />
“Yep.”<br />
<br />
“So what could you do to get yourself fired?”<br />
<br />
“Well nothing really.”<br />
<br />
“Stop thinking like a professional.”<br />
<br />
“And...?”<br />
<br />
“Jeez Tony. Fuck the show up.”<br />
<br />
Tony thought for a moment. “You mean... seriously ruin it?”<br />
<br />
“Bingo.”<br />
<br />
Tony stared at his Merlot for a few moments. “That's brilliant.”<br />
<br />
“Why thank you.”<br />
<br />
“Will you help me Nigel?”<br />
<br />
“You mean ruin my career in TV production for the rest of my life in order to help you gain revenge on the most powerful man in commercial TV?”<br />
<br />
“Well when you put it like that...”<br />
<br />
“Of course I'm in Tony. You're a good man, and that's all that really matters. Besides, I'd rather be in front of the camera than behind the scenes.” declared Nigel.<br />
<br />
“Brilliant.”<br />
<br />
For the next hour they sat discussing how they should tackle next week's show, and the battle lines were drawn up. This was war.<br />
<br />
Following the pub, the two conspirators headed to Cubism. Nigel said he was meeting a few friends, and Tony was happy to tag along now the pressure was off.<br />
<br />
As they arrived outside the small black door with gigantic neon orange sign, it became clear that Nigel knew everybody. Not a lot of people, everybody. However there was one particular person that was needed to help out today.<br />
<br />
“Abbie!” Nigel exclaimed as she gave him a huge hug. “Lovely to see you. Look who I brought along.”<br />
<br />
Tony walked in just behind them. Abbie waved and hugged him too. She was wearing a soft purple dress that matched her newly maroon hair perfectly. It flowed over her like a wave. She smelt of a sweet perfume, a hint of peaches and flowers, it probably had some extravagant name and cost fifty pounds per squirt. Tony thought it was worth it though.<br />
<br />
“I'll go get us some drinks.” Nigel declared, walking off to the bar behind Abbie. Tony noticed him point his finger, first at Abbie and then towards him.<br />
<br />
“It's so good to see you again Tony.”<br />
<br />
Tony found himself slightly nervous. “And you too. I had so much fun last time we were here. Did you see the er.. paper?”<br />
<br />
“Of course. I don't worry about them. No one believes them anyway.”<br />
<br />
“I hope not... Abbie.” he started to enquire. “Can you do me a favour please?”<br />
<br />
“Of course dear.” replied Abbie, smiling widely. “Anything for you.”<br />
<br />
“I need a haircut, something, well... that no one has ever seen before on a middle aged man.” Tony explained.<br />
<br />
“Dare I ask why?” Abbie enquired.<br />
<br />
“You know how I told you about the show messing me around?”<br />
<br />
“Oh god yeah, that contract is ludicrous.”<br />
<br />
“I'm going to force them to break it. I am going to get myself fired, from a bloody cannon.”<br />
<br />
“Are you sure that's a good idea dear?”<br />
<br />
“Absolutely.”<br />
<br />
“Then of course I will.”<br />
<br />
“Thank you!” Tony shook his fist slightly in celebration at the plan coming together. You know how you said that hair dressing could be art?”<br />
<br />
“Wow, you actually listened.” Abbie was impressed, it made a big change for someone to take her ideas that hair styling could be more than just a bit of fashion seriously.<br />
<br />
“This is a chance to prove it. You can be the hair stylist that creates the piece that makes the most powerful man in Television spit out his over priced whiskey in horror.” As he said this, a look of pure joy crept over Tony's face.<br />
<br />
“Deal!” Abbie exclaimed, she inspected his medium length but tidy black hair. Her eyes lit up, she put her arms round Tony and and squeezed him tightly, whispering softly in his ear with a deliciously mischievous tone. “I'll make him drop the whole bottle dear.”<br />
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-42270421472208127862012-11-09T07:05:00.001-08:002012-11-09T07:05:02.476-08:0014. Episode Four<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony wandered into the studio with the
air of contemplation of a man who had almost gone beyond anger and
sadness to a state of zen silence.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He went into control room, to find
Steve still absent and Nigel laying back in the chair with his feet
up on the control desk. “Oi!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel jumped and took his feet off the
million pound desk. “Sorry, just resting before the show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Where's Steve?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I have no idea, he just said he
wasn't coming in.” replied Nigel. “I've almost given up asking.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well isn't that nice.” exclaimed
Tony sarcastically. “So who has actually turned up this week?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“For once, the appointed guests.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Excellent.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I've put Robert in the master group
dressing room. So far he seems happy. I've told him that To The Left
are an operatic trio, they won't be on until after him so it makes no
difference.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I hope so.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That also means I've had to squeeze
To The Left into dressing room 5, I won't say it's cramped in there,
but somewhere a zombie Jimmy Savile just crawled out of his grave.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ew.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“All that matters is keeping Robert
happy until after he has been on.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Agreed. Thanks Nigel. Oh, er do we
know how he feels about Planet X energy drink?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well we put a can of it in with his
rider and so far he hasn't touched it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony squirmed, and walked off to his
dressing room to prepare for the show. After what seemed like about
thirty seconds, Nigel made the call for him to get to the stage.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good evening and welcome to the Tony
James Show. The only show guaranteed to give you your recommended
daily allowance of Tony James.” Tony looked to his left and stared
menacingly down camera 3, the sight of which from the control room
made the head writer cower.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“On tonight's show we have the
hottest er... talents in pop, To The Left.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The female members of the audience
screamed as if just witnesses a violent and bloody murder.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We then have the best horticulturist
in Britain. Green fingers himself, Alan Smith.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The older female members of the
audience screeched.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But first we have one of the
greatest actors to ever grace the stage, the incredible Robert
Nordstrom. Let's take a look at him in action.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Polite applause, then followed a short
sequence of clips showing Robert's career. One of the audience
members turned to the person next to her and asked. “Oh, they're
all here. Who's Robert Nordstrom?” The woman next to her replied.
“I think he's that guy who killed his violent girlfriend.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Robert Nordstrom walked on stage with
the air of a man who had a rod up the rod up his backside. He scanned
the gothic looking set with an air of contempt, and only appeared to
settle down once he acknowledged Tony, an actor for whom he had much
respect, even if he didn't intend on showing it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ghastly set Tony. Opened Robert.
“Looks like valentines day at The Munster's house.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony smiled. “Fashion and taste moves
so quickly, sometimes in the wrong direction.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Robert nodded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's amazing to have you on the show
Robert. You've been a hero of mine since I started performing.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you for having me.” Robert
replied with intermittent gratitude, and got glancingly close to a
compliment. “I've always found you to be the least objectionable
actor of your type.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony beamed at this half-compliment.
“Of all the many amazing roles you have had over the years, which
is your very favourite?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well Tony, one has been fortunate
enough to star in a great number of amazing works.” Robert's
uniquely deep and gravelly voice boomed. “I must say that playing
the lead in the RSC production of the Scottish Play was the most
inspiring.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony replied without thinking. “You
mean Macbeth?” Tony put his hand to his mouth.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Robert chuckled pretentiously. “Yes,
<i>that</i> one.” Tony breathed a silent sigh of relief.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It was a magnificent performance. I
saw it three times.” fawned Tony, slightly forgetting his role as
host for a brief moment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So what made you decide to get into
acting in the first place?” Tony enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Robert picked up his glass without
looking and waved it in the air as he spoke. “Sometimes one just
knows ones calling. I knew as soon as I set foot on stage that I was
destined to remain there.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Robert sipped his drink and spat it
back into the glass, which he then looked at. “What is this shit?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony, thinking quickly, replied. “Oh
I'm sorry Robert, that was supposed to be there later for the next
guest. We'll get you a glass of water.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Water?” came the indignant reply.
“Did you even read what I asked for?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not personally of course.”
answered a nervous Tony, attempting to make a joke to calm the
situation. “I'll fire whoever it was that did.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No need.” remarked Robert as he
stood up, disconnected his microphone and walked off the stage
booming. “Bloody amateur philistines.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Through his earpiece, Tony heard Nigel
say. “You weren't kidding were you? I put water in a plain glass
out, but someone switched it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Remaining his professional exterior,
Tony tried to make light of the situation. “Well folks, sometimes
these things happen on live TV. We'll cut to a break and be right
back with To The Left!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Queue the audience to scream wildly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the show went to the break, Tony's
eyes turned to a burning fiery colour. It was all very well making a
fool of him in front of an audience, but to be shamed in the eyes of
Robert Nordstrom was too much. He wasn't sure how he was going to get
through the show. His career was surely as good as over anyway, after
the terrible guests, the walkouts, the ridiculous unbreakable
contract.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony. I am really sorry about this.
I don't know who changed his glass. Just finish the show, and we'll
work out a way to get revenge.” suggested Nigel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Revenge? That's not a bad plan, Tony
thought. “It'll be fine Nigel. We'll discuss that magnificent idea
later.” With this sweet prospect lodged into his head, Tony somehow
managed to get the rest of the show finished without exploding.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the show clicked off air, Tony ran
into the dressing room as fast as he could to apologise to Robert,
but he was nowhere to be seen.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-83489952250757585942012-11-09T07:03:00.006-08:002012-11-09T07:03:58.640-08:0013. Papparazzi<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She's pretty.” came the voice that
stirred Tony from his sleep.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wha..?” he replied groggily.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She's pretty.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Who?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The girl you were dancing with the
other day.” explained Alison.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I did what?” remarked a bemused
Tony. “I don't dance!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well either you are dancing or you
appear to be having some kind of seizure.” Alison smirked, showing
Tony the picture.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Jesus. I was dancing. I don't
remember doing that.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“With quite some energy it seems!”
Alison joked. “She is pretty though, isn't that the lady who was on
your show the other day?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yeah. I bumped into her and her
friend Sam while I was out.” explained Tony. “We had a few
drinks, and apparently I also danced.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, don't go dancing with too many
pretty girls please. I want you for myself thank you!” Alison half
joked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hahaha.” Tony chuckled nervously.
“Of course not.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Alison gave him a kiss, and Tony sat
down to read the page of the newspaper that showed him and Abbie
dancing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><b>'Is TV Host Dating Hairdressing
Star?'</b></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony raised his eyebrows and bit his
lip. These papers know how to turn anything into a half story. A
quick dance becomes a date, a coffee becomes a relationship, a
shopping trip becomes marriage. Apparently getting past middle age
was no longer a guarantee that the cameras would point in a different
direction.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It wasn't the first time that the
newspapers has printed false accusations against him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Back in 1985, three years after he and
Judith has moved into their cottage home in Yorkshire, a particularly
distasteful article had appeared which linked Tony to the pop star
Beverley Griffiths. Despite him having only met her once, briefly
while on a night out with Judith, they saw it fit to paint him as a
cheat. Perhaps if they had even considered the feelings of those
involved he might still be with his first true love. Instead of
realising that they had chatted for five minutes while Judith had
gone to the ladies room, they presumed he was, by virtue of talking
to a member of the opposite sex, some kind of love rat.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Their complete disregard for the truth
led to a string of photos and articles that speculated about affairs
whenever Tony was seen with another woman for more than two minutes.
Eventually Judith was unable to take the strain of being seen to be
humiliated every fortnight in a national paper.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony was devastated. He had never so
much as contemplated cheating. While he was friends with some of the
ladies in question, he was friends and nothing more.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony thought about suing the papers,
but under legal advice decided not to. Essentially, the lawyer was
really interested until finding out which paper had printed the
story, at which point even the prospect of a big money national case
was not enough to sway him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Essentially, the newspaper had been
entitled to secretly take pictures of him, make up rumours and lies,
repeat those lies and create new ones, break up his marriage.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
From that day forward Tony had never
spoken to the newspaper in question ever again. He never said
anything against them publicly for fear they would try the trick
again, but he privately was looking forward to having a Sword of
Damocles moment sometime in the future.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-41917595340073444822012-11-08T18:29:00.005-08:002012-11-08T18:29:57.892-08:0012. Preparation<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked into the office in better
spirits than he had expected 18 hours earlier. No musical feet, but
similarly there was no desire to punch the walls, shout at Steve,
shout at the walls, or punch Steve. He decided that trying to enjoy
the travesty as much as he could was the most sensible path to take.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As he walked in, he noticed that Steve
was nowhere to be seen, and instead Nigel was sat in Steve's chair.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Morning Nigel.” remarked Tony.
“Where's Steve?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm afraid he couldn't make it in
today, and he asked me to look after it.” replied Nigel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I see.” uttered a slightly puzzled
Tony, noticing the increasingly steely look in Nigel's expressions.
“What's the damage?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well. It's not as bad as I had
feared.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony breathed a sceptical sigh of
relief. “Go on.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, first the bad news.” Nigel
forewarned carefully. “We have the teenage boyband 'To The Left'.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hmm. Not as bad you say?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Following that we have celebrity
gardener Alan Smith.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“...and?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Then we have Robert Nordstrom.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony fell silent.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What do you think?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Robert Nordstrom agreed to come on
this show?” Tony babbled. “Has he not seen out recent calibre of
guest?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I told him that we had emergency
cancellations, and that the aim is to have only the top level of
guest on the show.” declared Nigel proudly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“...and he bought it? Robert is
incredibly difficult to please, I can't believe that he would agree
to be on LTV let alone on a chat show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“His last play completely flopped.”
detailed a well researched Nigel. “He might be a genius in the
field of acting, but he has been choosing work badly and is in need
of a profile boost.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Brilliant.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I mean. His last work was a four
hour, one man show about the self portraits of Andy Warhol. With none
of Andy's work on display whatsoever. What was he thinking?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That sounds quite interesting
actually. But either way brilliant work Nigel.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thanks Tony, it was Steve as well,
we worked together.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well good work both of you. I trust
this guest will actually turn up?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's the best part. I've been
trying to work out why the guests keep changing. I haven't figured it
out yet, but I think Gerald may have been pressuring Steve.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sounds about right.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“However. Gerald secretly has a huge
stake in the company that looks after Robert's career. So having
Robert appear on the show will be of personal benefit to him.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nigel. I think you may be my new
best friend.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thanks. So fingers crossed, we might
be able to actually get some intelligent conversation out there yet!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony left the meeting and headed home
in a great frame of mind. He stepped in the door when a private
number rang his mobile.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hello?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hello Tony.” replied the big
booming voice.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hi Gerald. What's the matter?”
replied a nervous Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I've just seen the line up for the
next show, and I have to say I am impressed.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony chuckled to himself. “I didn't
know you were a fan of Robert Nordstrom.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of course. Fine actor. One in need
of bringing to a wider audience.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well I am glad we agree on this.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Likewise. There is just one thing
Tony.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Uh oh.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The show has just found a sponsor.
So we need to have all of the guests drinking Planet X sports drink
from branded cups.” Gerald happily declared.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Erm.. that's great.” Tony lied.
“But Robert Nordstrom won't agree to that, he is notorious for
getting pissed off at anyone who he feels sells him out.” That bit
wasn't a lie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Unfortunately you don't have much
choice. It's in your contract.” Gerald smiled, but not quite enough
of a smile to translate in his tone of voice. “Besides, you are a
professional, you'll be able to handle it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony was a professional, but apparently
he was going to have to be a miracle worker as well. “I'll do my
best.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“See you do. Bye gentlemen.” With
that, Gerald hung up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony cursed his luck, walked solemnly
into his kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Is that you dear?” Alison called.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sadly yes.” answered Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Alison walked up to her husband of
three years and cocked her head as she looked at him, puzzling to try
and work out what was wrong with the man she loved. “More problems
with the show?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“'Fraid so.” said Tony. “Yet
more.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ah it will be okay.” responded a
comforting Alison. “Let's go have dinner somewhere nice and a glass
of wine or two.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No thank you sweetie, I just need to
lie down and work out what to do.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Alright. If I can help just let me know
dear.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I will.” Tony kissed Alison and
went upstairs where he flopped onto his bed and buried his face in
the soft foam pillow.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-63694235390460752882012-11-07T18:25:00.001-08:002012-11-07T18:25:30.449-08:0011. Realisation<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony had not taken to the news of his
contract well. After leaving the LTV Head Office, he had wandered
into his car and driven slowly and contemplatively home. Tony wasn't
sure if it was technically possible to drive contemplatively, but if
it was, he had just done it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
His car pulled up at his house, he
walked to the door and turned his key in the lock. Stepping in to his
hallway, he called out hello to Alison, and said he was off out for a
bit. She walked through from the kitchen, but he had already left.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked at a rapid pace towards the
underground station, his mind completely distracted from the process
of moving or looking what was around him. He bumped into three people
in the short three hundred metre walk, and nearly tripped over on a
kerb as he crossed the road, almost getting hit by a car in the
process.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The dazed Tony wandered into station,
and continued his empty walk towards the ticket barrier. He scanned
his Oyster card and walked through to the station. He had decided to
get very drunk, but he wasn't sure where.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The train arrived and Tony stepped onto
it, walking a few paces down and sitting in one of the many empty
seats. After a few minutes the train reached the next station, where
several university age students got on, the girls were wearing
leggings, and the guys were wearing what appeared to be leggings, in
a range of colours so bright that it would dazzle a rabbit. They
moved over to near him and sat down in the surrounding seats.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Evening. Have you got the time
please mate?” One of the guys asked. Normally the first rule of the
underground is that speaking to a stranger is punishable by evil eyes
and tutting, but asking a question with the word 'mate' at the end is
usually accepted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's about five o'clock.” answered
Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thanks, mate.” replied the guy.
“Hang on. Aren't you that guy off the TV?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Er.. well, I do appear on TV
sometimes.” Tony replied, still wanting to remain in his own world
of quiet contemplation.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I knew it! You do that show, what's
it called? … The Tony James Show, that's the one. Are you Tony
James?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony managed to avoid rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, that's me.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wow. I love your show. Mario Wright
and Kerry Prost, love it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony definitely got close to rolling
his eyes this time.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Who's on this week?” the guy
asked.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't know yet I'm afraid, I find
out tomorrow.” Tony replied with a truthful sense of dread.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ah ok. Good luck!” replied the
guy, finishing just as they reached their destination.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the students walked off the train,
Tony put his hands to his head and let out a very soft whimper. It
was great to be recognised when you were doing work that you enjoyed,
but horrible when you were doing work you hated.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A few minutes later and he reached his
destination, or at least his first destination. He walked off the
train, through the station and out into the cool breeze of the late
afternoon.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony decided that left was the best way
to start. He walked along the busy street until he found a pub,
opened the large door and wandered to the first bar stool he could
find. Acknowledging the barman, he prepared to start what would be a
long night ahead.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hi, can I get a large vodka and coke
please?” Tony asked. “No ice please.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sure thing.” replied the barman.
“Early start isn't it Tony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's been a crazy day so far.”
Tony explained. “Frankly I've had more enjoyable operations.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ouch. Sounds nasty, what happened?”
the barman enquired.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony then proceeded, over the course of
several large drinks to explain to the barman just what had happened.
For some reason he decided the polite young man seemed like a level
headed and trustworthy character.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That whole situation seems
ludicrous.” commented the barman. “I can't believe that's even
possible, it's like weird plot device from a crappy novel or a
sitcom. A contract with no possible way to escape.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What can I do? I'm completely stuck
doing a show that I hate. If I had decent guests it would be fine but
I'm being given talentless idiots, and it's only going to get worse.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, personally I'd say if you have
no choice then just do your best to enjoy it.” came the barman's
advice. “It might not be the best thing you'll ever do, but at
least you'll be popular when the next good opportunity comes along.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's good advice, thank
you...er..” Tony realised he hadn't found the barman's name.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's Patrick.” replied the barman.
Tony spilled his drink. For a few moments he had thought the barman
looked familiar, but now he knew.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Patrick.... Woodward?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes, about time you remembered me.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I am so so sorry. It's been so long,
and I have been completely distracted.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's ok. My dad misses you, he
always asks how your show is going. I won't tell him all of that
bullshit though, just that it is going well.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony laughed, his first real laugh that
day, one he had needed badly. “Thanks, don't want him getting big
headed and thinking I need him.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Too right. His ego is big enough as
it is.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony smiled at the thought of his kind,
selfless friend having an ego. “It was so nice to see you Patrick.
I'll pop back next and let you know how the show goes.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'll already know Tone, I do watch
it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh god, tell me you aren't a fan of
Born in Sussex and all that stuff?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nah, I just read that Stephen Fry
was due on.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony chuckled, said goodbye to Patrick
and headed off to the next bar in much higher sprits. Coincidentally,
spirits and higher prices were what awaited him later that night.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Around 11pm, a slightly worse for wear
Tony walked into “Cubism”, a fashionable club with a décor made
entirely of square shapes and cubes. It looked fantastic, but the
jagged corners provided a lot of misery once people started to lose
their coordination. Spread over three huge floors, it was by any
definition, a maze of a building.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony ordered a whiskey from the bar and
sat down on the abstract square seats. He sipped the drink and placed
it on the table. Still in better spirits, he looked around the club.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony!” A voice came from across
the room, it was too dark to make out who it was. “Tony!!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony puzzled himself over who it was,
until he made out a pair of bright red trousers coming through the
crowd. Feeling his positive spirits draining away by the second, but
too polite to run away, he answered. “Sam!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How are yas doing Tony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm okay thanks Sam. Just having a
bit of a night on the town.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Great idea ain't it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Er.. yeah. You with friends?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yeah, I'm out with Abbie ain't it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony smiled at the thought of the
intelligent flame haired woman who had been the high point of the
disaster that was the last show. This thought made speaking to Sam a
touch more bearable. “That's great, would you two like to join me
for a glass of wine?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sure ain't it. I'll ask Abbie, meet
yas here in a few minutes ain't it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
With that, Sam vanished into the club,
returning twenty minutes later with Abbie, just as Tony had decided
to give up on seeing him return.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-5334444919675976552012-11-07T09:29:00.000-08:002012-11-07T09:29:55.180-08:0010. The Contract<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After the departure of Michael for the
USA, Tony had worked for a little while on his own, but eventually
had decided that he needed to get a new manager. Whilst guesting on
Space Doctor, one of the stars had recommended SMT Management Team,
they had helped him to get three starring roles in the past four
years, all in well written and produced series.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked into their Golden Square
office for his appointment. He opened the gigantic glass doors and
surveyed the ostentatiously peacocking reception area, which had more
open space than the sahara desert, and appeared to have just as much
character. Two white and two black leather sofas were strategically
placed in the middle of the gigantic area, which must have been about
one hundred feet wide and at least two hundred feet long, in order to
allow anyone waiting for their appointment to realise that SMT meant
business, or at least had a keen eye for snobby furniture and design.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the reception called Tony to his
appointment, he walked through the reception to the main office door.
He kept walking, and walking, until eventually he got there. Stepping
through the glazed glass door took Tony into an incredibly tightly
packed office space, he shuffled past the desks and found his way to
The Mary Portas Suite, in other words, meeting room 2.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Squeezing his way round the chairs Tony
took a seat and waited for the representative from SMT to join him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
About five minutes later a rather
chunky man in his mid-fifties walked into the room and sat at the
seat opposite.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good afternoon Mr James.” he
announced. “My name is Andy Smith, the Head of Acting and
Performance talent here at the management team of SMT Management
Team.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Pleased to meet you.” replied
Tony, shaking Andy's hand. Andy's handshake felt like the grip of a
1970's wrestler trying to hold onto a fellow wrestler that was
hanging off a large cliff by one hand.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We see great things for you Tony.”
Andy continued. “The public love you, and we take the blue sky view
that the opportunities available to you are second to none.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Blue sky view? Tony thought that even
old fashioned business managers had given up on that phrase.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We'll do everything we can to make
you a very rich man indeed.” Andy finished.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thanks.” replied Tony. “But I'm
not too bothered about making a ton of money, I want to do good work
and find a way to perform in America.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Andy looked a little puzzled, and
waited a few seconds before a lightbulb went off in his head.
“America, that's where the big money is. I see where you are
going.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think you maybe misunderstood.”
clarified Tony. “I want to perform on Broadway.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Andy rambled, as if thinking aloud.
“Broadway, the streets are paved with gold, big audiences, big
money, raking it in...sorry, where was I?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Broadway, I want to work on
Broadway.” Tony repeated.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“If that's what you want, the
management team at SMT Management team will make it happen for you.
Just sign here.” Andy announced with significantly better clarity.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In hindsight, Tony would have checked
the contract more thoroughly, and made better enquiries as to the
quality of SMT Management Team's staff, but happy at the thought of
Broadway, he signed the contract there and then.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Things started well, SMT came up with
the idea of the 35<sup>th</sup> anniversary special that brought Tony
back to glowing stardom with the public, and they had also negotiated
the agreement for The Tony James Show, which three weeks earlier had
seemed like a brilliant thing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony and Andy stood outside Geralds'
thick oak door. Having explained to Andy that he intended on quitting
the show, Andy had tried to talk him round, but hearing that his
client was adamant, he decided the most profitable course of action
was to accompany him and try and negotiate changes that would keep
the cash rolling in, and Tony happy.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Come in gentlemen.” came the nod
from Gerald.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony and Andy walked in. Andy surveyed
the remarkable blend of brown that filled the large office,
resembling in some respects what his office might have looked like
seventy years ago. Tony sat down, and as Andy went to sit down, he
misjudged the deceptively low height of the sofa and fell backwards in an
embarrassingly farcical manner. Dusting himself down and shuffling
back to a normal seated position, the meeting was ready to start.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony worked up the courage to announce
his plans, but as he did so Gerald started.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good work gentlemen. Good work
indeed. Your figures were up by two million this week, it was your
best episode yet by a long way.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony glanced at Andy with slight
embarrassment, however Andy was too distracted by the dollar signs in
his eyes. Why he used dollars Tony was unsure, after all, the Great
British Pound was hardly an undiscovered currency.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I have decided to...” Tony
started.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I was so pleased that I ordered you
a special present to celebrate.” Gerald continued. “It's a
remarkable Whiskey from Middlesex. They only make 200 bottles a year,
and I buy 35 of them. You two and Steve have earned them with your
improved ratings.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony got up and walked across to the
desk. As Gerald went to hand the bottle to him, he found his bravery
and blurted out. “I'm resigning from the show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He could have sworn that the bottle
moved at least a foot towards him in a split second, but it stopped
before reaching him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald handed the bottle over, cut his
cigar, and lit it. He took in a breath of smoke and sat back in his
rosewood coloured chair. “Hmm. That's unexpected, I thought the
show was doing well.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony explained. “I signed up to make
an intelligent show, with popular guests but without the usual
reality and talent show stars of the other chat shows. The guests I
have been given have not lived up to that promise.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald took another breath of his
cigar. “I see. Of course you do realise that your contract says you
have no say whatsoever over the guests?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony look stunned.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It also says you have no right to
resign. That unless we fire you, you are contractually obliged to
film whatever episodes of the show we tell you.” Gerald continued.
“If you break your contract you will have to pay a ten million
pound fee.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's ridiculous. That contract
isn't legal.” replied an angry Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm afraid it is.” continued
Gerald. “Didn't your management team check it over?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony turned as scowled at Andy, who in
return thought to himself, and said nothing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Let me see that contract.”
demanded Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald opened his creaky chocolate
coloured filing cupboard and pulled out Tony's contract. Handing it
to Tony he proudly declared, “It's watertight.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony scanned through the main points of
the document slowly and carefully, his eyebrows raised so highly they
looked as if they might fall off from his head. “That is not a
legal contract. I'm no lawyer, but no court would allow this contract
to stand.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm afraid not.” replied a
slightly smug Gerald.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No court in the UK would allow this
to stand.” argued an increasingly irate Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's irrelevant.” explained
Gerald. “Look closer.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony investigated the small print. His
eyes widened. 'Whilst the contract shall be enacted in the United
Kingdom. This contract is bound by the laws and statutes of the
Republic of St. Gerald.'</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“St Gerald?!” exclaimed Tony. “What
in the name of god is this going on about?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The Republic of St. Gerald. A fine
principality, with an incredibly strict legal system that makes that
contract impossible to get out of.” Gerald chuckled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But I've never even heard of the
Republic of St. Ger... hang on.” muttered Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald smiled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But that's impossible surely?”
exclaimed Tony. “Surely that can't be true.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald's smile grew bigger. “If you
wish to test it, feel free to sue. I have the best lawyer in the
business. In fact, I have all the best lawyers in the business.
You'll be lucky to have the clothes you are wearing left by time I'm
finished with you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony was speechless.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So I'll see you on next weeks show.
I've already told Steve who your guests need to be. You may kindly
leave now gentlemen.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
With that a stunned Tony and still
silent Andy walked out of the big oak door into the reception area.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Andy.” remarked Tony. “You are
fired. The management team at Star Management Team Management Team,
which is a stupid bloody name by the way, are all fired.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Finding his voice at the prospect of
lost income, Andy retorted. “Actually if you check your contract
you will find that...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Andy. If I get another bill or email
or letter or call from SMT, I will go in and tell Gerald that you
forced me to try and resign in order to get more money out of him.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Andy paused and thought to himself for
a moment. Tony looked back towards the oak door in a state of
disbelief at what had just taken place, when he looked back Andy was
nowhere to be seen.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-2771979944977931522012-11-06T07:42:00.002-08:002012-11-06T07:42:25.603-08:009. Episode Three<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony strolled into the LTV Head Office
with a joy that had been missing from his step ever since Michael
Gates had been forced to cancel his appearance two weeks earlier. He
swung through the office as if driven by a Rhumba or Cha Cha, even
timing his greetings to the passing staff along with the melody that
appeared to be channeling it's way through his shoes.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve on the other hand, was stuck.
Wedged into a solid traffic jam cutting through the streets of West
London. There was no chance of a taxi getting him to the studio on
time, the only close Tube line had massive delays, and running would
take at least twenty minutes. There was no other choice, Steve phoned
Nigel, his assistant.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nigel, I've been stuck in slow
traffic for two hours, I can't get to the studio in time. I have no
idea what is going on here, but you are going to have to look after
tonight’s show until I arrive.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sure thing boss.” Nigel replied
casually. “I'll start preparing everything we need.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thanks, I'll let you know as soon as
I know a likely time I'll get there.” With that Steve hung up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel put his phone back in his pocket,
and promptly put his hands to his head. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,
oh shit, what do I do? Shit shit shit shit.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Jesus Nigel, calm down.” said
Marcus, the head writer sternly. “You've done this with Steve a
hundred times, just follow your usual procedure and things will be
just fine.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“...You're right.” said Nigel,
calming down slowly. “It's no different to any show we've done
before. Plus no crazy Chinese artists on this week.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel sat in the control seat, stared
at the monitors with the air of a king surveying his kingdom,
breathed a sigh of relaxation, and remarked back to Marcus. “This'll
be a piece of cake.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON NIGEL?
WHAT THE HELL IS STEVE PLAYING AT? WHERE IS HE? I AM GOING TO KILL
HIM. I AM GOING TO BLOODY KILL HIM.” screamed Tony as he stormed
into the control room, throwing his coffee on the floor in anger.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel looked at Tony like a small child
being told off in a foreign language by a scary looking great aunt.
His eyes started to well up, and just about holding himself together,
asked. “What's the matter Tony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“WHAT'S THE MATTER? THAT BASTARD LIED
TO ME. HE LIED TO ME AGAIN.” screeched an enraged Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Y..Y..You'll have to explain Tony. I
don't understand.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony paused for a second to try and
calm himself down. It didn't work. “That bastard told me we had
Stephen Fry on the show. I decided to go to his dressing room to say
hello, and he wasn't there. In his dressing room was the former model
and...” Tony adopted the most condescending tone he knew how to do,
which being a versatile actor was quite staggeringly condescending.
“..and... <i>author</i>... Kerry Prost.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But that can't be right.” replied
Nigel. “I checked the schedule and it quite clearly says Stephen
Fry.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well unless he dyed his hair blonde
and had gigantic breast implants he isn't here.” snapped Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's... that's not right.”
spluttered Nigel.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Damn right it's not.” growled Tony
as he stormed out of the control room. “I have had enough of this
shit.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Nigel shakily picked up his phone and
rang Steve. Nothing. “Shit shit shit. What do I do, we're on air in
ten minutes?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sat in his dressing room, his eyes
staring directly into the point blank. His expression a combination
of utter anger, frustration and sadness. He had tried so hard to make
a show that people would like, a show that people would truly enjoy
without it pandering to the lowest common denominator, that Sun
reader and Guardian reader alike could appreciate. Instead it was
gradually turning into the Daily Star for the screen.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After so many years, he could feel his
reputation draining away from him with each passing minute of the
abomination that was becoming The Tony James Show. If things got any
worse, everything he had worked for his entire life would vanish in a
pouting puff of silicone enhanced lips.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
That was it, Tony thought. After
tonight's show he was quitting. Nothing was worth the degradation of
his hard earned reputation by cheap television stars with no talent.
Of course, he thought to himself, Mario had just been an actor, so
maybe he wasn't that bad. But what on earth are real actors doing on
shows that have no real purpose, that are cannon fodder entertainment
with no message?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
His mind was made up. After the show,
after the reality show judges, after the <i>model</i>, he was going
to see Gerald and resign from the show. After all, he wanted to
replace it with repeats anyway, so if he pulled the plug it wouldn't
really matter. To LTV no show at all was better than poor ratings.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the cue came for the start of the
show, Tony smiled, knowing that this would be the last episode of the
Tony James Show he would ever have to present. He even managed to
introduce that night's guests without so much as a raised eyebrow.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Welcome to The Tony James Show! The
only show on TV with enough Tony James to keep the whole family
happy.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In the control room, a nervous Nigel
looked across the room at the head writer with a scowl learned
wholeheartedly from Steve.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“On tonight's show are the amazing
judges from Britain's Next Top Hairdresser, Sam Wilder and Abbie
Jones!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The crowd applauded wildly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Following that we have the
incredibly successful author, singer, business woman and model, Kerry
Prost!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience applauded, but a few
people started whispering to themselves about the line up. “I heard
Stephen Fry was supposed to be here?” one woman questioned. “I
heard he killed his manager.” the woman sat next to her replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Last but not least, we have the lead
singer of the magnificent Snow Plough, Matthew Stevens!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The audience screamed in a delight that
blew away the cobwebs of Fry based disappointment.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Let's bring on my first guests! As
the head judges in the smash hit show Britains Next Top Hairdresser,
we've seen them chop, trim and curl... the contestants. It's Sam
Wilder and Abbie Jones!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the audience applauded the head
writer hung his head in shame before Nigel even had time to look at
him.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The judges walked on to stage with a
huge round of cheering and clapping from the audience. They shook
hands with Tony and took their seats.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony started. “Welcome to the show.
Great to have you here.” He even sounded as if he meant it. “I
love the show. do you think it's doing a good job of reminding people
of the true skill involved in hairdressing?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Abbey, a tall, spindly girl with a
pretty face and bright red hair replied. “I do Tony. People have
this impression that hairdressers are all the same, one gigantic
stereotype, I think this show proves to people that we are all
individuals.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A slightly surprised Tony continued.
“What do you think Sam?</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sam was 22, wearing red trousers that
were so tight his feet must have been crying out for blood, and a
shirt that Eddie Jordan would reject as flouncey, replied. “It's
great ain't it. We ain't all gay.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Riiiight.” stumbled Tony. “So
Abbie, what brought you into the world of hairdressing?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well mainly, it was a desire to
bring something new to a world that seemed very one dimensional. A
sense that the styling of hair is an art form in itself, not just an
extension of the fashion world. That there is a craft and skill to
what we do.” Abbey answered passionately.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's excellent.” remarked an
impressed Tony. “Do you think hair can really be art?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I do Tony. A good stylist puts the
same technique and thought into their hair as an artist does a
painting, an architect does a building, or a graphic artist does a
sign or piece of packaging. Every style is right for the head that
holds it, so to speak.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I love that passion that you have.”
responded Tony. “It's very inspiring. What about you Sam?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's great, ain't it. Cutting hair
of famous celebs and seen your name in magazines and stuff.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Riiiight.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I once cut David Beckham's hair, was
amazing ain't it. Saw it in all the papers.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That must have been a big moment for
you.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yeah, I got his autograph and
everything ain't it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So Abbey.” Tony deflected. “Are
you enjoying making the show?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's brilliant Tony. Seeing the
talents of so many young people being developed and tested in front
of your eyes.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A few minutes later and the show cut to
it's first break. Tony stayed sat in his seat, speaking to Nigel . “I
thought that went quite well, everything okay with you Nigel?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A rapidly maturing Nigel replied “Yes
thanks. Good work so far. Hang in there for the writer. You're on in
one minute.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thanks Nigel.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The ad break ended, and the next part
of the show was on. Tony introduced the next guest cheerfully, and
even gave her a hug as she came onto the stage. Kerry sat down and
produced a happy looking smile. She had an unusual look to her, as if
every action she made or word that came out of her mouth had been
pre-planned. She seemed almost as if getting a genuine reaction from
her was an impossibility, like she was a robot tricking the entire
world into thinking she was human. A robot with massive breasts.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Welcome Kerry. It's wonderful to
have you here.” Tony started.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“ThAnK yOu ToNy. I aM hApPy To Be
HeRe On YoUr <i>LoVeLy</i> ShOw.” Kerry replied. In reality she
sounded less like a robot than <i>that</i>, but the weird intonation
of the word lovely was entirely accurate.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
In typical fashion, every reply that
Kerry gave talked about a product with her name on it, a show she had
done, or an event that could be publicised in tacky celebrity gossip
rags. The only spark of life to appear through her eyes was when Tony
mentioned her children. For a brief minute she reacted with the joy
and pride of motherhood, demonstrating that behind the machine there
appeared to be a functioning human being lost in there somewhere.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After fifteen minutes Tony still
maintained his genuine smile. This wasn't his show for much longer,
it was almost time to let it go and move on to something better.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Even the drab guitar whining of Snow
Plough didn't dampen his spirits, and by the end he was ready to walk
away from The Tony James Show forever.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you to all my guests. Take
care and see you soon.” Tony closed the show, wanting to say. “In
a show far far away from here.” Although he didn't.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As the lights went off, Tony resumed
his earlier Cha Cha steps and sat back at his desk, leaning back on
the chair, he let out a sigh of contentment and started to spin it
round and round.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-60082574068732983832012-11-05T17:01:00.002-08:002012-11-05T17:01:29.575-08:008. Good News<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gerald seemed in a comparatively upbeat
mood when he invited Tony into the office the next day. “Come in
gentlemen.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked in nervously and sat down
on the low-rise mahogany sofa.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Er...I'm sorry Steve isn't here. He
is working on next week's guest line up.” muttered Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yesterday was definitely an
improvement.” Gerald dictated, ignoring Tony's words entirely. “The
figures are up, but not by enough. I expect to see them up again next
week.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony braced himself.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That Mario lad was just the sort of
thing we need more of. The kind of thing that the people at home can
relate to.” Gerald waved his left index finger whilst holding on to
his crystal decanter in the other, and appeared to be talking to the
embarrassingly large portrait of himself and Geraldine at the rear of
the office. “I want more guests like him.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But my fans aren't really into that
kind of celebrity and reality show rubbish. They want something a bit
more highbrow, or at the very least, less lowbrow.” replied Tony
with polite bravery.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't care two hoot about brows. I
want ratings. Ratings bring in the money Mr James. The station's
money brings in MY money. If you plan on having a deliberate negative
impact on my financial circumstance we may have a rather large
falling out.” Gerald boomed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony, realising nothing he said was
likely to have much of an impact, looked down at the floor for just
long enough to see a hole in the floor approximately the size of a
rather large bullet. “Well what if we can get some guests that are
both highbrow and likely to bring in ratings?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm afraid Stephen Fry is busy
shooting a commercial this week. So I want more guests that will get
the audience screaming, okay?” Gerald replied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony thought to himself in quiet
contemplation, wondering if there was anything he could do. He also
noticed that the sofa he was sat on perfectly matched the colour of
Mario's fake-tan basted skin.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'll speak to Steve.” was the best
Tony could think of to try and ignore Gerald and his orders.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I already have. He'll let you know
who your new guests are tomorrow.” he continued to dictate.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony nodded and accepted his fate.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You may leave now gentlemen.”
Gerald announced.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
With that, Tony wandered through the
big oak door and let out probably the biggest sigh ever produced on
planet earth. He walked out of LTV headquarters, and into his car. A
few moments of quiet contemplation later he stepped out of the car
and walked to the nearest pub or bar he could find.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony had never absorbed himself in the
worlds of chaotic drink and drugs like many of his peers. He
maintained a sensible but enjoyable relationship with alcohol, well,
usually.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony walked into the bar, a typical bar
for the area, an attempt to fuse upper class snobbery with hipster
led musical fascism. His ear was greeted by a cacophonous fusion of
dubstep and jazz, which nearly caused his head to explode. Tony sat
on the outrageously stylish stool at the empty bar and gestured to
the bartender.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please don't sit on that sir.” she
observed pointedly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry? Don't what?” replied Tony</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please don't sit on the antique
stools.” she bleated.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So where do I sit?” he queried.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“On the seats over there smart arse.”
the tall spindly bartender replied. She had gigantic glasses which
appeared to have no glass in them, and a gold medallion neck chain
that appeared as if it was being boldly ironic.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ah ok, sorry.” Tony replied with
undeserved politeness, getting off of the stool. “Can I get a
double whiskey please?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Which whiskey would you like?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Erm. Do you have Jack?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The bartender rolled her eyes and let
out a subtle snort of derision. “We don't have Jack.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, maybe a Bells?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
More eye rolling.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Jonny Walker Black Label?” he
asked through slightly gritted teeth.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sold out I'm afraid.” came the
reply.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony sighed. “How about you recommend
me one?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ok.” said the bartender as she
disappeared into the maze of Gerald coloured bottles.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Ten minutes late she returned. “Only
two hundred bottles of this are made per year. It's the most
exclusive Whiskey produced in Middlesex.” she said with no hint of
amusement.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sure.” Tony uttered in the hope of
finally getting a drink.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The bartender poured the double whiskey
onto three cubes of ice that Tony had not asked for. “That will be
eighteen pounds please.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony handed the twenty pound note to
the bartender, who checked it was real, placed it in the till, and
made only a cursory attempt to return the change before Tony waved to
her to keep it.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Maybe that can go towards some
lessons in manners.” Tony muttered under his breath as he walked
across the bar and sat in one of the extravagant leather sofas in the
corner.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not that one.” shouted the
bartender angrily, causing Tony to leap off in surprise.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony downed his whiskey, almost choking
on an ice cube in the process, and walked straight out to find
another bar.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
NGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wha..?” Tony mumbled groggily.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
NGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As Tony slowly woke up, the ghosts of
alcohol past haunted his head like a cheap TV psychic experiencing a
real possession. He left Alison sleeping soundly and slowly, very
slowly managed to get out of bed.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
NGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The sound felt like a blunt power-drill
being inserted into his brain via his ear.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
NGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony picked up the phone with the
twitching coordination of a drunken elephant on a unicycle.
“H..hello?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hi Tony, it's Steve.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What the hell do you want?” Tony
mumbled.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I just wanted to explain about the
other day and tell you about the next guest line up.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't want to know about the other
day.” Tony remarked, awakening quickly once prodded by the pointed
stick of anger. “Just tell me about the next show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ok, ok. I think I've got a line up
that will please both us and Gerald.” hoped Steve. “There's two
of the judges from Britain's Next Top Hairdresser.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A whole <i>bunch</i> of pointed sticks.
Tony remained silent.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But it gets better.” Steve happily
exclaimed. “Stephen Fry cancelled his ad shoot, so has agreed to
come on.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
No more sticks.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Finally we have the lead singer from
the rock band Snow Plough, and the band will perform to close the
show.” Steve concluded.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I am still very mad at you... But
thank you.” Tony mustered the courage to say.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'll keep trying for the show Tony.”
Steve proudly declared, and with that he hung up.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Although still suffering from the after
effects of the previous night, Tony, excited at the thought of having
Stephen Fry on his show, managed to slowly and achingly drag himself
downstairs to his desk, where he happily started to conduct his usual
meticulous research.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-56190365315509125902012-11-05T12:35:00.001-08:002012-11-05T12:35:42.354-08:007. A Reputation to Savour<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
One of the most amazing things about
Tony James and his career so far was that he always managed to
maintain his reputation. Even when constantly in demand, he never
lowered his standards, and never took the easy money.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
While his contemporaries were doing
game shows, Tony was in the theatre. While they were boosting their
flagging careers by appearing on reality TV, Tony was doing top-end
Sunday drama series. Apart from his aforementioned sorties into
animal costume based gameshows and mid-nineties variety hell, Tony's
selection of work could not be faulted for hitting the Schofield
Ratio perfectly, and the public had long respected him for this.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
For over thirty years Tony had stuck by
his agent and long time friend Michael Woodward, who had always kept
him working. Even during the wilderness years Michael was searching
day and night to find Tony quality work, not just cheap appearances
for cash and publicity.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony met Michael during his early years
in the theatre. Michael was the stage manager for Down't Mine Again,
and the two had bonded over their love of the work of Dudley Moore
and Peter Cook. Indeed, the two would occasionally be heard uttering
lines from their sketches backstage, and they had at one point
seriously approached a financial backer with the idea of producing a
version of Tarzan with a uni-legged protagonist.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After the show closed, Michael
approached Tony with the idea of managing him. Despite having no
previous experience, Tony decided to go ahead with the arrangement,
as no other managers had expressed any interest in him, despite his
positive reviews.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Over the years Michael had been
invaluable to Tony. He had learnt quickly and effectively the rules
of show-business, despite a few minor mistakes early on.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The worst of these was when Michael
accidentally wrote the wrong figure on a contract, resulting in Tony
being paid £20 a performance instead of £200. Luckily that
particular show was not a success, and it closed before Tony had to
broach the subject with the director.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Being a kind man, Tony never even
mentioned the error to Michael until after the show closed, paying
him his usual ten percent of the income, and using his savings to
keep him going.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Their bond extended to their personal
lives where they close remained friends, Tony was named the godfather
of Tony's first child Peter, and in kind, Tony was the best man at
Michaels wedding.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
However the relationship changed
somewhat in 2009 when Michael received a message from rising
Hollywood starlet Melinda Dawson with an offer that he quite
literally jumped at. This was rather awkward as he was in church at
the time. It did however mean, that after spending the best part of
his life working with Tony, they would have to go their separate
ways. Tony was happy for Michael, but was also privately sad that
their working relationship was to come to a close after spending the
best part of their lives working together.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I really want to do this Tone, but I
won't if you feel you need me here.” Michael explained with the
mixed emotions that only leaving a close friend can bring.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No Mikey, you have to do it. This is
a once in a lifetime opportunity to step up to the big time, and I
refuse to be the person who will hold you back from it.” Tony
replied, with reassuring confidence in his old friend.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Are you sure?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes, of course. You are a good man
and a great friend, I will miss your company, but now it's your turn
to make someone else the best actor they can possibly be.” Tony
replied. “If you don't take this opportunity you will regret it,
and you should never have to look back and wonder what could have
been.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you Tone.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Since then, although they remained in
touch, their relationship had inevitably changed. Instead of speaking
every day, they now spoke once a week at most, and only saw each
other every few months when Michael flew back from America. Now and
again though, Tony would still get a blank envelope in the post,
postmarked from California, and containing nothing but a crisp $20
note.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony had always wanted to be a star in
the US, but after his brief appearance in La Calamity he had never
been invited back. His films and shows were huge hits in the UK, but
had never merited more than niche popularity state-side. Michael had
worked hard to arrange appearances, but without a major TV or film
vehicle to back him they were reluctant to book such an unknown name.
One of Tony's main motivations for taking the new show, negotiated by
his new management team from SMT Management Team (The initials
standing for Star Management Team) was the hope that working with
internationally popular film stars would boost his profile and
options for working in Hollywood, or at least Broadway. After the
first two editions of The Tony James Show, he figured that he would
be lucky to get through the Department of Immigration.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
On the bright side, after the
horrendous debacles of the past fortnight, it was unlikely that he
would be forced to put up with the growing trauma for much longer.
Unless things improved.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3411278121259877541.post-75088239985315068182012-11-04T18:10:00.001-08:002012-11-04T18:16:13.769-08:006. Episode Two (part 2)<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve stared at the screens with an
intense gaze for the next fifteen minutes, as the first guest spot
went by without a hitch. As the show cut to the break, Tony excused
himself and walked casually backstage, where, once out of sight of
the audience, he immediately stormed into the control room and
shouted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
“STEVE. What the fuck was that?
You promised me we had someone else?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tony, I spoke to them and...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't care. I don't care Steve. I
can't believe you did that. Don't ever speak to me again outside of
this show.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I, I'm sorry Tony, but we...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Fuck off.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
With that he stomped back to the side
of the stage, where he proceeded to walk suavely to his desk ready
for the second part of the show.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please welcome my next guest. The.”
Tony made a fractional pause, barely enough to register, but enough
to demonstrate his contempt for what was to follow to his director.
“The .. star of Born in Sussex, Mario Wright!”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Mario walked on to screams from a large
section of the crowd, who were ecstatic to see the man of the moment
in front of them.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What happened to Tanya and Annie?”
remarked a member of the audience. “I heard Tanya killed Annie.”
replied the lady sat next to her.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Mario sat, observed the studio and
remarked in a forced cockney accent with well rehearsed butch-tinged
campness.“Hi Tony, I luv what yuve done wiv the set dear, a
beautiful feminine colour.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Just as he did so a huge thud went
through the microphones. Tony looked around in puzzlement, cleverly
disguising the fact that he had just kicked the side of his desk with
such force that it was surprising he didn't spin round in his chair
out of recoil.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Thank you Mario. It's super isn't
it.” remarked Tony, at which point Steve raised his fist in the
direction of the head writer, before realising this part of the show
had no autocue.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So, er... as the most popular cast
member of Born in Sussex, what do you think it is that has attracted
people to the show?” Tony asked with genuine interest.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well. I fink it's cos we ah reyal
people, ya know? We jus do what we do an people cun relate to it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony, resisting with all his might the
urge to roll his eyes, tried to think of the most intelligent set of
questions he could having had no time to prepare, and presuming that Mario's IQ was
about the equivalent of a rather small hamster. “Yes, that
certainly comes across in the show, no one can ever doubt that all of
the cast are showing themselves as they truly are, the good and the
bad right?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yeah.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony waited.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Weev all dun stupid stuff right?
It's jus dat ours is put up der fur everywan ta see it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony contemplated smashing his glass of
water into Mario's mahogany face. “What's the most embarrassing
thing you've ever done that's been shown on TV so far?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well Tarny, once I's got into a
fight wiv dis girl I met in a bar. We was pashing on da floor wen her
mate came up and tried ta steal ma phaan. We ended up in a right ald
barny.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Somehow, Tony managed to make it
through another ten minutes with Mario, and through the remaining
guest without anything going wrong. When the audience had gradually
filtered out, he sat down at his desk, and gently banged his head on
the surface several times.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve walked onto the set and towards
Tony. “Tony, please let me explain.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Fuck off Steve. Just fuck off.” he
mumbled through the desk.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I didn't mean for this to happen
Tony. I really tried.” pleaded Steve.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Tony lifted his head. “Steve. I am
not a violent man, but if you don't leave right this second in a
cloud of silence I will smash this desk lamp through your skull. Are
we clear?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Steve nodded and walked off the stage,
as he did Mario, sensing Tony was in distress, came on to have a
word.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I thought it went rather well
personally.” Mario remarked in extravagantly luvvey tones.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Who the fuck are...jesus christ.”
spluttered Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I have to say I'm a big fan. I
thought your performance in The Slightly Camp Transvestite and
Vampire Show was incredible. Truly moving. I wish I had your range
and charisma darling.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Erm, thanks.” replied a bewildered
Tony.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“One day I hope I can make it to the
West End and do what you do so well.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But you, sound so...”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Different? Well one has to get fully
in character darling.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So I see Mario. So I see.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Are you alright Tony?”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I will be. Thanks.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ok. Take care Tony.” With that
Mario walked off set.</div>
Rob Mortimer (aka Famous Rob)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10070962082242558718noreply@blogger.com0