smokingboot

'You - hey you! Don't ignore me when I pass you, remember I got you this job, so you be polite OK?'

'I don't want to have this conversation, I don't want to - there's nothing to talk about.'

'Well just you remember your manners or I will fuck you up, I WILL FUCK YOU UP, OK?'

Stunned silence as we all stare.

'I WILL FUCK YOU UP, I MEAN IT, I WILL FUCK YOU RIGHT UP!'

We walk away, shocked. When History meets Handbags At Dawn, where do you go? Now, the roarer is a big guy, got his own show on the channel, and the lady is a small quaking east European blonde. And one tries not to judge but it's really hard, especially with him pulling this whole 'You'll never work in this town again' shit. Clearly he thinks we're MGM and he's got his own dressing room; a flick of his finger and east European lady will be out on her ear begging at the canteen door for a bit part and a sandwich.

Jelly babies all around as we cringe over our coffee cups; here everybody likes everybody and everyone smiles and builds you up. Or not.

The scratchiness continued for a while - 'Why are you feeding [boot] a line when I'm counting you down to a break?' a producer yells at a presenter; 'She's got to answer, and you'll have to cut her off!'
'You told me to!' Comes the reply to which he ricochets 'I told you to say something quick not go on about your skin. For god's sake, think!'

Worriedboot hangs her head, afraid she's got someone in trouble, presenter shrugs and smiles, nudges me and says 'He'll have forgotten in two minutes! Got to toughen up round here, Boot! '

Turns out she's right. Traffic is high, producer/director is suddenly smiling and telling us that if we hit some astonishing target or other, he will wear the blow-up sumo body suit someone has left crumpled in the corner; turns out that even with me presenting by myself for a while, people do not switch off in disgust. I'm still hopeless with the talkback and spend something like thirty seconds staring at the monitor, with my head cocked on one side like a defective spaniel, while the producer gives me achingly slow ecoutez-et-repetez instructions in William Shatner speak, so I endup... talkinglike... thisand ...findmyselfintheee...neverending... sentence.

Still, I enjoyed myself, we made absolutely cracking levels of traffic, pumelling his target into oblivion, everybody hugged everybody, the moderator said very nice things to me, the producer said it was the best show he had done, perhaps ever, and, true to his word, bounced around in the sumo suit. If only he had done that on air.

Meeting up with

mitchy was a highlight of the weekend - strange how you meet certain people and it's like you've always known them and it has always been totally cool, apart from her willful insistence on not telling me what happens in Harry Potter, thereby necessitating me actually reading the stuff. Cruel and heartless I call it. We must meet more often - maybe sometime we can grab many beers and some dvds and watch lots of Dr Who and House:-)