by Sam Holden
'Clear as day,' said Dom. 'Another pint?'
'Why not?'
Dom went up to the bar. I turned to Emma.
'I'll need a chart,' I said.
'A chart? What sort of chart?'
'One for the incentivisation and disincentivisation strategy.'
'But what do they look like?'
I took out a pen and paper from my laptop bag and drew two 2 10 grids, one marked 'Incentivisation Totems' and the other marked 'Disincentivisation Totems'.
'Whenever Michael or Mary do something good, we want to further incentivise them to carry on doing good. Therefore we apply a cross on the incentivisation chart. If they do something bad, we want to disincentivise them from doing more bad, and we put a cross on the disincentivisation chart. One crucial element of the two charts is that their products are mutually inclusive.'
'What?'
'They, um, cancel each other out.'
'Aaaah, now I've got it!' said Emma.
'Excellent!'
'We used to have this at my primary school.'
'Really? That must have been a very advanced school. These charts represent the cutting edge of management-consultant thinking.'
'Not at all. We just called them blacks and golds.'
'Blacks and golds?'
'Yes. You got a black if you were bad, and a gold if you were good. The blacks cancelled the golds, and whoever got the most golds at the end of the term won a prize. Isn't that basically the same as your system?'
'Er, yes.'
'So why does it have be called disincentivathing-ummyadoodah?'
'Because that's what it's called. But it's more than just your blacks and golds.'
'Really? How?'
'It's structured.'
'Right.'
I decided that I didn't want to listen to any more of Emma's questions. Sometimes it's hard to defend management consultancy. To the outsider it looks like a load of crapola management speak, but really, it's not. I was cynical at first, deeply cynical, but when I saw how well management consultancy worked on some of our clients, my doubts were swept away. The systems and the strategies that we put in place would reap huge dividends, and would sometimes make our clients some money as well.
However, I didn't want to go into all this with Emma, so instead I just said, 'If I explained it all in detail, you'd be very very bored.'
Emma smiled and took my grids from me.
'I'll get Ted to make some nice charts for you this afternoon.'
Mr Sincock was around that afternoon, and as a result the children were slightly better behaved. This is not to claim that they were well-behaved, as there was still an enormous amount of disobedience and breaking things. After teatime I tried to explain the purpose of the incentivisation and disincentivisation strategy, and the family looked blankly at me.
'This sounds like pluses and minuses,' said Sincock after I had shown them my presentation.
'Quite,' said Mrs Sincock. 'We used to call them merits and demerits when I was at school.'
'I'm glad you're aware of the principle,' I said through gritted teeth.
'What's this shit anyway?' said Michael. 'It sounds like BOLLOCKS!'
'Bollocks!' said Mary. 'You're bollocks!'
'Quiet you two!' went Sincock. 'That's quite enough of that language. You shall go to your rooms if you use it again!'
'Aha!' I went, slightly too triumphantly. 'This represents an excellent opportunity to introduce the charts. Clearly we wish to disincentivise bad language, don't we, so now we should award a disincentivisation totem to each of them.'
I then took out my red marker pen and filled in a disincentivisation box on each of their charts, which brandished spankingly smart WonderHubby logos.
'There,' I said, admiring my handiwork. I think I might have even put my hands on my hips, as though I were surveying a drystone wall I had just spent several hours making.
Everybody looked at the two little red squares, transfixed. For a moment or three, silence did actually reign.
'What a load of bollocks!' said Michael.
'BOLLOCKS!' shouted Mary.
Sincock started to open his mouth, but I beat him to it.
'Ah! Ah! Not so fast!'
I grabbed my red pen again, and filled in two more disincentivisation squares on their charts.
'You see?' I said to Mary and Michael. 'Every time you say bollocks, you get another square!'
'But you just said bollocks!' shouted Michael.
'Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks!' screamed Mary.
'Yes, but that was an accident!' I insisted.
I looked at the parents, hoping they would see the funny side, but alas no. Instead, they looked on grimly, unimpressed so far with my exciting new method. I then addressed the children.
'But do you see how it works?'
They nodded.
'Every time we say bollocks you draw a red square,' said Mary.
'That's right,' I said. 'But don't say it again, or I'll have to give you another red square. And that goes for any other rude words or bad behaviour.'
'What sort of rude words?' asked Michael.
'You know which ones,' I said.
'Shit is a rude word,' said Mary, straight-facedly.
That earned another red square.
'So is crap!' said Michael.
That earned Michael square number three.
'Poo!'
'Willy!'
'Turd!'
'Piss!'
'Cock!'
'Fuck!'
'Right!' said Sincock. 'To your rooms, now!'
'Please,' I said, as I struggled to match the squares to the language. 'Please just give my system a chance!'
'Can't you see that it's encouraging them?'
'There will of course be an initial excitement scenario, which will dissipate when the full reality of the chart sinks in.'
'How, exactly?'
'Just you watch – it will take some time, but the yields are surprisingly high.'
By the end of the day Michael had earned 24 disincentivisation points, and Mary 26. Miraculously, they had earned 3 incentivisation points, all of which were for turning off the TV (although it should never have been switched on in the first place).
All I could say to the Sincocks was that 'it will be fine'.
It wasn't. By the end of Wednesday Michael and Mary had earned 87 disincentivisation points between them, and no more incentivisation points. I had told Mrs Sincock that we had to stick with it, and that she was not to worry, because the system was bound to work.
'These are not normal children,' she said, close to tears.
I caught Dom's eye over her shoulder. He was rotating his hand to indicate that the conversation should continue. Gormlessly, I couldn't work out why, and frowned back.
'They're perfectly normal children,' I said. 'They're just a little high-spirited, that's all.'
'You mean you don't believe in ADHD?'
'Not really.'
'Well, it's real, and if my children haven't got that, they must have got something else.'
Dom scribbled something on a sheet of paper and held it up behind her.
MAKE SURE SHE CRIES
I couldn't quite believe what I had just read.
'No,' I mouthed.
Dom's eyes did the Tube-logo thing. He then underlined the words, and made throat-cutting actions. I weighed my options quickly. I would go to hell if I followed Dom's order, but then as I didn't believe in hell . . .
I turned back to Mrs Sincock. I put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
'I'm so sorry,' I said. 'But you must remember that underneath all that naughtiness are the tender souls of God's children.'
Mrs Sincock started to blub. Massive thumbs-up from Dom.
'Because,' I said, 'I can tell that they are, in their little hearts, the sweetest and most affectionate children there could be. I've no doubt that they will grow out of it.'
'Oh dear Lord, I hope so!'
Mrs Sincock then started to cry properly. Not full on howling and wailing at the wall, but enough to put a huge smile on Dom's face. I felt disgusted with him, and disgusted with myself. What made me feel worse was when Dom leaned forward and asked, in the most sensitive tone he could muster, 'Mrs Sincock? Would you like us to stop filming now?'
'Yes please,' she nodded.
'I totally understand,' he said, and then looked at Toby to turn off the camera.
Until I found out the truth, I thought a miracle had happened. The change started in the early afternoon. Mrs Sincock was taking the children out for a walk, and they actually behaved decently. They didn't swear that much, and instead of running around they walked obediently alongside her, as if they were well-trained Labradors.
By the time we got back Mrs Sincock looked both delighted and stunned.
'Well,' she said. 'You've both been very well behaved!'
'I agree,' I added. 'You certainly deserve some squares on the incentivisation chart!'
As I coloured, I couldn't quite believe what had happened. When we had been on a walk the day before, they had all but murdered each other, and had even beaten their mother with some elder branches.
'Mum,' said Michael. 'Please can we watch the TV?'
Mrs Sincock looked as if she'd had a turn.
'What was that?' she asked.
'Please may we watch the TV?'
'Um, no darling, it's not time yet.'
'All right then.'
I checked to see whether the camera had caught this historic moment in the life of the Sincock household, and indeed of the Holden Childcare Programme. Surely, I thought, this was the defining moment, the moment in which the programme went from being some sort of joke to raise a cheap laugh, to becoming an actual system that people could use throughout the world to take control of their offspring. I felt immensely proud.
Michael and Mary sat down in their playroom and started to look through some books.
'This is incredible,' said Mrs Sincock. 'I don't know if there's ever been a time in which they've just sat down and read of their own accord.'
It was indeed incredible. Dom also looked impressed, and gave a little thumbs up. Mrs Sincock then cooked the children their tea, and while she did so they continued to either read or play quietly. For the first time in days we could hear the hum of the fridge and the sound of the fan in the oven.
'I don't know whether it's your programme, Mr Holden,' said Mrs Sincock, 'or whether it's a miracle, but this is the longest time I've ever known them to be quiet.'
'Can you say that again please, Mrs Holden?' asked Dom. 'I don't think we quite picked it up.'
Mrs Sincock looked happy to do so, and Dom just grinned and grinned. And, when the children were at the table, they ate nicely – barring the odd fish-finger regurgitation – and even had to be told that they could get down. When their father appeared just towards the end, he too was dumbfounded.
'Well, well, well,' he said. 'The Lord be praised. I've been praying for this for many years, and finally he has answered. I see this as a true test of faith.'
He then turned to me. Frankly, I was a bit shagged off that God was getting all the credit.
'Thank you, Mr Holden,' he said, and he sounded sincere. 'If you are indeed sent by the Lord, he does indeed move in mysterious ways!'
I didn't know what to make of that, so I just smiled inanely.
'My pleasure,' I said. 'But let's not count our chickens just yet!'
'Quite! If they're like this tomorrow, then I'll know that you have succeeded.'
Dom was insistent that we turned up before breakfast, which I found pointless, but he said he wanted to catch the 'little buggers at their worst'. I said that they would now be fine, but he had his doubts, and wondered whether it had all been a fluke. Sadly, he was right, and it looked as though the 'miracle' had worn off. Michael and Mary were back to their appalling selves, and throughout breakfast they repeatedly threw their food at each other, their parents and even the camera. Dom didn't seem to mind, and just stood there with his quotidian voyeuristic grin.
'I'm sorry,' I said to the Sincocks.
'Don't be,' said Mrs Sincock.
'It looks as though the Lord is testing us still,' said the Rev.
Nevertheless, I continued with awarding them disincentivisation points, although after they had earned no less than 24 in the space of 15 minutes I was wondering whether Sincock was not in fact right, and that it was merely encouraging their bad behaviour.
However, about half an hour after breakfast, their mood changed, and once again Mary and Michael sat down in their playroom and started reading and playing with their toys.
'Another miracle,' I said to Mrs Sincock.
'You know, I think you may be right,' she said.
'What I find strange is the delay.'
'I know what you mean. It's as though the lessons of the charts take a short while to sink in.'
I watched while the Reverend kissed his children goodbye. They actually reciprocated the affection, and I could tell that he was deeply touched.
'Do you have time to say a few words?' asked Dom.
'What sort of words?' Sincock enquired.
'Well, just a few sentences about what you think of the programme, and how it's gone.'
'Of course.'
Dom and Toby then discussed the best place to film the parents, and they plumped for the conservatory, with the children playing quietly at their feet. I was sitting alongside them, and the comments they made were addressed to me directly. It all felt very staged and scripted, which in fact it was.
'At the beginning of the week,' said Sincock, 'I had my doubts about your programme. I thought it was all management speak and highfalutin language, but now I realise that it really did mean something.'
'Thanks,' I said. 'Michael and Mary were certainly a challenge for any system of childcare.'
'But with your management strategies,' said Mrs Sincock, 'you have made a world of difference. Michael and Mary are so much better behaved.'
'Yes,' said Sincock. 'With your incentivisation and disincentivisation charts, our children are now functioning as high-value members of our family.'
'I'm so glad,' I said. 'It goes to show that with any turn-round solution, constant reapplication of strategy is key for a successful result.'
'I couldn't agree more,' said Mrs Sincock. 'We shall certainly be rolling out your solutions from now on.'
'Excellent,' I said. 'But there are two people whose opinions count most of all, and they are of course Michael and Mary.'
I leaned down with a fixed smile, and felt like the evil Child-Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
'So what do you think of the programme, eh?'
'Bollocks!' shouted Michael.
'Cut!' shouted Dom.
I tried not to laugh.
'Shall we film that again?' I asked.
Dom and Emma exchanged glances.
'Nah,' he said. 'I think we've got enough. You can pack up, Toby.'
'Pack up for this interview?' I asked.
'No, for the whole thing,' he said. 'We've got more than enough.'
'But I thought we were meant to be here until tomorrow.'
'So did I,' said Mrs Sincock.
'No need,' said Dom. 'It's clear that the programme has worked wonders already. We can all award ourselves an early weekend.'
I pointed at Michael.
'But he just said bollocks!'
'So what?' said Dom. 'The occasional bollocks isn't going to hurt.'
'Bollocks!' said Mary.
'And now she's saying it!'
Dom ignored me and walked over to the Sincocks.
'Mr and Mrs Sincock,' he gushed, 'it's been an absolute privilege being allowed into your home over the past few days. I am extremely grateful.'
'Not at all,' said Sincock. 'It seems as though your programme has worked wonders, which is not a word I use lightly.'
'Bollocks!' went Michael.
/> 'I expect there will be a little of that left,' said Dom. 'But as Sam will doubtless tell you, keep applying the programme, and I'm sure you'll reap the benefits.'
'Er yes,' I went, 'keep applying the programme.'
Much to everyone's confusion, including mine, we were out the house in about five minutes. When we got to the car, I asked Dom why we had to leave so suddenly.
'I was worried that the children were going to start behaving badly again,' he said.
'But we could have continued to apply the programme, it was really starting to work.'
Dom looked at me.
'Do you really think so?'
'Yes! The proof of the pudding was in the eating. There was no doubt that they were beginning to change.'
'In the eating,' Dom repeated. 'Funny you should mention that.'
'Why?'
He reached into his pocket and passed me a small plastic tube. There was no doubt what it was.
'Oh fucking hell,' I said. 'You . . . you . . . actually drugged them?'
'Yup,' said Dom.
'But that's . . . that's criminal!'
'To my mind, it was more criminal of the Sincocks to refuse their children medication.'
'But you can't just give them . . . how the hell did you give it to them?'
'Powdered up the tablets and put them in their food.'
'So that's why you wanted to make it before breakfast this morning.'
'Exactamundo.'
'I don't believe this,' I said. 'You actually spiked some pre-pubescents in order to make a TV programme?'
'Yup.'
He seemed utterly unashamed.
'What I can't believe is that you really thought your chart was the thing that was doing it.'
'What else was I supposed to think?' I asked.
Dom just shrugged his shoulders.
'I was worried that it was a bit too obvious. Yesterday I thought I had OD'd them – they were almost comatose.'
'Jesus! You know, one of them could have had a reaction. They might have died or something!'
'Well, they didn't.'
'How were you to know?'
'I didn't. But look, these drugs are pretty bloody safe. Millions of children are on these things. They're fine. I wasn't going to bloody kill them. And besides, I've done them a favour. They had a few hours of peace didn't they?'
I didn't know how to respond. And I certainly didn't know what I should do. What had I got myself into? This was more than just 'enhancing reality', this was illegal.