The ex-children's entertainer had then gone on to explain that he had worked at the seaside town of Southport making doughnuts in a small, sea-front kiosk, claiming that is where his eating disorder really kicked in. Roebuck had nodded his head sadly, though internally he was picturing the man with his head in the deep fat fryer.
'Hard times, Tommy,' had been his stock reply.
Hammer had wiped at his leaking piggy eyes with sausage-like fingers. 'You have no idea, Charlie, all I did was eat doughnuts non-stop, I used to have a good diet, my mummy always taught me to eat my greens, even the sprouts, although they gave me bad gas, I always cleaned my plate, but the sugar rings got me big time.'
'Sounds traumatic,' Roebuck replied, though he suspected the last time Hammer had eaten a meal off a plate it had been of the paper variety with a grease-packed kebab on top after fourteen pints of Guinness, finished off with a line of snow.
'I started to dream of doughnuts and my mother.'
Roebuck had frowned at the words. 'A sugar-coated Oedipus complex?'
Hammer had frowned back at him in confusion. 'I even incorporated them into my sexual fantasies.'
Roebuck had blinked, if this had been an A-lister then the admission would have been gold dust, but this was Hammer, a man with no talent, a man who had been lucky the first time around and blown it big time.
'I even lost that job, I mean, I was wearing the doughnuts – if you know what I mean?'
'This is before the watershed, Tommy, and I would sooner not go there, I…'
'I ended up with third degree burns on my…'
'Tongue?' Roebuck had jumped in as the live audience had looked on agog.
'No, not my tongue.'
'Big toe?' Roebuck could see the studio director waving his arms, his face bleached white in fear.
'No, Charlie, it was…'
'A terrible accident, but…'
'Oh, it was no accident, I…'
'So, where did you work after the doughnut disaster?' Roebuck had asked, crossing his legs like a shrink.
'I started to work for a digital production company.'
'Ah, so you managed to get back into the acting profession?' Roebuck enquired.
'I did.'
'Did you star in anything we would have heard of?'
'Have you ever seen Bloaters who bare all?'
'Er, no.'
'What about, Supersize this?'
Roebuck had turned to camera three and grimaced. 'I want to apologise to the viewers at home and in the studio for this debacle. Believe me, I like to come into these interviews prepared but as I am sure you can appreciate I do not chose the participants, and in this case, someone has made a dreadful mistake in booking our guest.'
The clapping had been sporadic at first, but Roebuck had seized his chance to drive a handful of nails into Hammer's coffin.
'I am sure we can all empathise with Mr Hammer, after all we can all go astray in this thing called life.'
More clapping.
Roebuck had ploughed on, his mind starting to really motor. 'However, ultimately we are solely responsible for the choices we make in life.'
Someone in the audience had whooped in agreement.
'Tommy Hammer was a talented children's entertainer, a man who brought smiles to the faces of countless children, he even performed in front of Royalty and yet look how he ended up.'
The camera had zoomed in on Hammer's moon-like face as he pulled a doughnut from his pocket and pushed it into his mouth, the tears all but spurting from his eyes as the custard filling ran down his three chins.
Roebuck could remember thinking of the masses in front of their flatscreen TVs, no doubt some would be eating their evening meals, the sound of knives and forks being dropped onto full plates echoing around the country.
'I assure you that Tommy Hammer will be offered help for his various addictions, though whether he chooses to grab the lifeline is up to him.'
The crowd had started to cheer in earnest.
'Goodnight, God bless,' Roebuck had said to camera before placing an arm around Hammer's shaking shoulders.
The last time he had checked, the programme had been watched over a million times on YouTube. Occasionally, he would take a look at the comments beneath the clip, they ranged from. ''Hammer is a doughnut God'', to the more factual, ''greedy fat bastard''.
Opening his eyes, Roebuck looked at the monitors and sighed.
Shortly after the programme, Hammer had been offered a job with auntie Beeb, touring the country trying to find the UK's best doughnut. The show had been a huge success, the ratings off the scale, so he had made the same programme but this time he travelled the States. Six months later, he died of a heart attack whilst eating a doughnut that contained half a dozen Dragon's Breath chili peppers. The camera crew had filmed the whole thing, Hammer slamming face first into the table of the diner, the other eaters whooping and hollering as he died, thinking it was all part of the show.
That clip had put Hammer's appearance on Roebuck's show to shame with almost five million YouTube hits.
Roebuck had attended the funeral, standing by the graveside, the mourners had mostly been ex-celebrities whose lives had come crashing down. Of course, Timothy Wiggins had been in attendance, dabbing at his leaking eyes with a lace handkerchief with the ''Happy Campers Outdoor Yurt Holidays'' logo emblazoned on the cloth. Bruce Blare had done a capella version of ''Mr Bo Jangles'', tap-dancing on the wooden hardboard that had been placed on the grass as the small crane lowered the box into the double grave.
With a shake of the head, Roebuck dismissed the memories, all that was in the past and you could do nothing to change what had been, now he had the future to contend with.
'What I wouldn't give for a Tommy Hammer right now,' he whispered as he leaned forward and hit the play button.
And soon to be re-released, the two books in the Marnie Hammond series. Now back 'inhouse', they will be released with new cover art, new titles and with the original manuscript. Keep watching for the opening offer.
Many thanks as always to Val for all her tireless work during the editing and proofreading process a long and arduous task at the best of times.
Desolate Hearts Page 33