How to Get Ahead in Television

by Sophie Cousens

  ‘Ah, Lily, pet, there you are,’ said Les.

  ‘Um, I’ve brought you two types, of… coffee,’ I said, offering him both mugs.

  Without even looking up, Les reached for the bourbon, as though there were sensors in his fingers, guiding him towards the one he wanted.

  ‘Thanks, petal.’

  ‘And Trey’s fixing the script.’

  ‘Aren’t you a doll?’ he said, giving me a big grin, then looking back down at his notes. ‘Also, font sixteen. I need font sixteen or I can’t read it. I can’t read this.’ He tapped a finger against his cards.

  Outside Les’s room I ran into the AP from downstairs. She thrust a new script into my hand.

  ‘Will you take this to Kel? Tell her we’ve tweaked the intro. Thanks.’ She then legged it back down the corridor, evidently in a huge rush to be somewhere else.

  I knocked on Kel O’Shaunessy’s door.

  ‘Come in!’

  Kel was on the phone. She held up a finger and then clicked another finger at me to come in and wait. Kel was absolutely stunning in person: she had long blonde hair, doll-like skin, and the most beautifully petite features. I’d never seen someone so skinny; the camera really must add ten pounds, because she looked positively skeletal in real life.

  ‘I don’t care, James, it’s not good enough,’ she said down the phone. ‘My parents want to meet you, so you need to make yourself available, comprende?… I don’t care how you pronounce it… No, I don’t speak Spanish. Just free up your diary.’

  She hung up the phone and turned her attention to me. A feeling of unease came over me as I realized what I thought I’d just heard.

  ‘Yes?’ Kel said.

  ‘Oh, um… I… I have some changes to the script,’ I stumbled, made nervous by her fierce glare.

  ‘What changes?’

  I went to give her the script.

  ‘Um, just the beginning… The phone numbers, I think…’ I tailed off.

  Kel scanned the first page. ‘Oh great, because that dinosaur won’t read the bloody phone numbers, my script turns into a talking Yellow Pages! I’m tired of it!’

  She threw the script back at me and I instinctively held my hands up to my face. The script fell apart in a flurry of pages all over the floor.

  ‘If he won’t read numbers, I won’t read numbers. I’m just as important as him, you know.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Les AND Kel, you know, not The Les Stourton Show. How they persuaded me to do another series with that old drunk I don’t know.’ She stood up and started fixing her hair in the mirror. ‘Well? Why are you still here? Zip, zip.’

  I turned to go.

  ‘Wait,’ she snapped. ‘Order me a pizza for after the show. Pepperoni, low-fat cheese, and tell Trey: I. Won’t. Read. Numbers.’

  I scuttled out of the room, picking up bits of the disintegrated script as I went. Was JR still seeing Kel? Had he tried to sleep with me behind her back? Maybe it was another James? I felt… I don’t know what I felt, but I definitely felt better about my decision to pull the escape cord last night.

  Downstairs, Trey’s hair was starting to look less than composed; bits of his towering coif were coming loose from their hair-sprayed manacles.

  ‘Um, two things…’ I said, once I’d gained his attention. ‘Les said he needs his cards to be font sixteen, and Kel, um, Kel says she won’t read numbers either.’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Trey cried. ‘Les’s cards are already font eighteen, we can’t make them any bigger or it will literally be a word a card, and Kel better… oh for… I’ll have to go up there.’ Trey flounced off.

  I’d only been here an hour and already this was the most stressful show I’d been involved in. Worse than Valerie, worse than Last Clan Standing, even worse than Changing Grooms. I asked one of the production managers where I could order Kel’s lunch and they took the order from me.

  ‘She is a total nightmare,’ one of the production runners said, sidling up to me. ‘Can you imagine going out with her? What a piece of work. I mean, I know she’s fit and everything, but seriously…’

  ‘Yeah, she seems quite on edge,’ I said.

  ‘There’s a high turnover of runners on this show. Kel keeps firing them. I try to avoid going into her room; I’ve lasted a whole series that way.’

  ‘She threw a script at me,’ I said.

  ‘She threw a bowl of cornflakes at Kenny last series. He had to have three stitches.’

  ‘Woah!’

  ‘Les is quite sweet. Drunk, but sweet.’

  ‘Poppy,’ the production manager called over, ‘will you take these cards back to Les? They’re the same as the ones he had before, but tell him we’ve increased the size and he’ll be happy.’

  ‘Er, okay, sure. Nice to meet you,’ I said to the other runner, before heading back upstairs to the danger zone.

  I could hear Kel screaming at Trey from the other end of the corridor. I knocked and ducked into Les’s room.

  ‘Someone got out of bed on the wrong side,’ Les said with a smile as Kel’s screaming reverberated down the corridor.

  ‘I’ve got you some new cards,’ I said, holding them out to him.

  ‘Much better!’ he said, scanning them. ‘Now, where were we?’

  I read through Les’s lines with him and then it was time for the show to begin. I watched from the wings, excited about witnessing my first bit of live television. Kel had calmed down and appeared the picture of sweetness and charm on camera.

  ‘So welcome back from the break,’ she said to the audience. ‘Don’t forget to enter our competition, you just need to call the number on your screen for a chance to win.’

  ‘So we’ll see you after the break!’ said Les, raising his coffee cup up to the camera.

  ‘Ha ha,’ said Kel, nervously. ‘We’ve just come back from the break, Les.’ She nudged him jovially.

  ‘Nooooo we haven’t,’ Les slurred.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I heard Trey ask over talkback radio.

  ‘Anyway, so now it’s time for our item on robotic objects you can use in the home.’ Kel ploughed on with the next item. ‘Les, what have you got there, a robotic coat hanger?’

  Les had taken a seat in his chair and looked as though he might be about to snooze off.

  ‘Oh, for bleeding…’ cried Trey. ‘Go to break, go to break!’

  ‘We’ve just had a break,’ came the script secretary’s voice from the gallery.

  ‘Well, go to another one!’ yelled Trey.

  The floor manager revived Les for the last ten minutes of the show and they stumbled through an item about ‘original things to have on toast’, featuring an interview with a man who’d set up a crisp sandwich shop in Norwich.

  ‘I like jam on toast,’ Les pronounced.

  ‘I’m more of a Marmite girl,’ said Kel.

  ‘What, people either love you or hate you?’ Les laughed.

  ‘Hardly.’ Kel looked ready to kill him.

  ‘I like toast,’ said the crisp sandwich man. They hadn’t asked him a single question yet and he obviously felt as though he should say something.

  ‘So people actually buy crisp sandwiches, do they?’ Kel asked.

  ‘Yes, they are surprisingly popular,’ said the man.

  ‘And that’s all we’ve got time for today!’ said Les, winding up the show, taking another swig from his coffee mug as the credits rolled.

  I assumed the show would be deemed an unmitigated disaster, and everyone would be tearing their hair out as soon as we were off-air. Les had thrown to a break when there wasn’t one, fallen asleep on air, and asked the interviewee precisely one question, but as soon as the show was over, I heard Trey say, ‘Great show, everyone! Great to be back on the air!’

  Everyone started congratulating each other. Les and Kel hugged and began chatting away to the studio audience as though they were the best of friends.

  After the show, I was sent to take the presenters lunch in their dressing
rooms.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Kel shrieked as I presented her with the pizza she’d ordered.

  ‘Um, your pizza? Pepperoni with low-fat cheese?’

  ‘Do I look like someone who eats pizza?’ Kel snarled.

  ‘You definitely asked for pizza…’ I trailed off, just as a large sloppy pizza slice hit me in the jaw.

  ‘Get out!! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!!!’ Kel screamed.

  Downstairs, I tried to explain the situation to Trey.

  ‘Kel definitely asked for pizza, I promise you she did, but then she threw it at me and said she didn’t.’

  ‘Hmmm, yeah, she does that. She’s got a split personality when it comes to food.’

  The production manager got off the phone and had a quiet word with Trey, who pulled me to one side.

  ‘Um, that was Kel’s agent. I’m afraid you can’t work on the show any more.’

  ‘What? I’m fired?’

  ‘Not fired as such. Kel just doesn’t want you around. Don’t worry about it, you lasted longer than a lot of other runners.’

  ‘But I lasted less than a day.’

  ‘You lasted a whole show! Don’t worry about it, Poppy. Do you want this pizza, by the way?’

  STEP 38 – RESPECT THOSE WITH MORE EXPERIENCE THAN YOU

  TO: POPPY

  FROM: MUM

  Poppy, see Telegraph today, page 5: good article on prolonging fertility into your 30s. Are you eating enough eggs? Not smoking? If you are being sexually promiscuous – using protection? (STDs very bad for fertility!) Love Mum

  I SLUNK BACK to the office feeling deflated. However much Trey had tried to reassure me, it didn’t look good being asked to do a two-week placement on a production and then being asked to leave after one morning. The whole incident shone a little light on JR’s behaviour, though. If he was still seeing Kel, it explained his low tolerance for melodrama. Still, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed; disappointed that people really behaved like that, cheating so unashamedly. I was also depressed that JR, the man I’d looked up to, had turned out to be so unworthy of my admiration.

  Back at RealiTV, the reception was bustling with all sorts of random people. They had to be here for some kind of run-through; they didn’t look like telly people. Half of them were wearing suits, while the other half looked like people who didn’t have jobs and had nothing better to do than help out on yet-to-be-commissioned TV shows. I recognized Arnold from the What Do They Know? run-through, back in my first week working here.

  ‘Oh hi, Pam,’ he said when he saw me. ‘Are you here for the run-through?’

  ‘No, I work here,’ I said. ‘What show are you here for?’

  ‘Something called Banker’s Bonus,’ he said.

  Banker’s Bonus? Was JR workshopping my show idea without me? I hurried downstairs to the studio and found him setting up desks with Jude.

  ‘James, can I have a word?’ I said.

  He turned around and looked momentarily thrown when he saw me.

  ‘I’m a bit busy, Poppy.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  JR paused and took a deep breath. ‘Jude, give us a minute.’

  Jude left the studio, giving me a little wave on her way out.

  ‘Listen, Poppy,’ JR said in a patronizing tone. ‘You’re upset that I don’t want a relationship, I get that, but you need to be professional, you need to be able to separate that disappointment from your work life, okay?’ He reached out and held my shoulders with both his hands, looking down into my eyes. ‘I can’t have your feelings disrupting me at work, Poppy.’

  ‘I’m not!’ I shrugged off his hands. ‘This isn’t about last night I… Why are you doing a run-through of Bank My Bonus without me?’

  ‘Poppy, Poppy, Poppy, I’m doing a workshop day, which means trying out all sorts of ideas, one of which is Bank My Bonus, IF I have time for it after all the other ideas. You should be pleased I’m progressing your idea.’

  I didn’t know what to say. I bit my lower lip, wondering if I’d overreacted again.

  ‘Didn’t you say you were working on a production this week?’ JR asked.

  ‘Yes, Les and Kel,’ I said, watching his face for a reaction.

  It only lasted a split second, but I saw it before he managed to compose himself: a fractional flash of panic.

  ‘You didn’t say you were doing that?’

  ‘Didn’t I?’ I paused. ‘Kel’s interesting, isn’t she?’

  ‘Don’t get jealous, Poppy.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t seeing her any more?’

  JR sighed. ‘Don’t involve yourself in things you don’t understand. It’s complicated. I’m not seeing her but she’s an old friend, we’ve known each other for years.’

  ‘She threw a pizza at me.’

  ‘Well, I obviously have a penchant for women who throw food.’ JR raised an eyebrow at me.

  ‘That was different. You deserved that,’ I said, hand on hip.

  I wasn’t going to apologize any more, he had deserved it, and if I had a vat of soup with me now, I’d soak him all over again, the two-timing scumbag.

  ‘You’ve changed your tune. Poppy, I really need to get on with these workshops.’

  ‘Will you at least let me know if you get to Bank My Bonus?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll give you a call if we get to it,’ JR said, patting me on the back as I left.

  ‘Don’t touch me, please,’ I said testily.

  Something didn’t feel at all right about this.

  I headed upstairs to find Dominic and explain that I’d miraculously become free to work on something else.

  ‘So you met Kel then,’ Dominic said, when I explained that I’d been dismissed.

  ‘Um, yes. But I swear, I didn’t do anything, she’s a total—’

  ‘I’ll stop you there, Poppy. Trey called. I’ve already sent Rhidian to replace you.’

  Great. Rhidian to the rescue again.

  STEP 39 – IF IN DOUBT, GET A SECOND OPINION

  ‘SO HOW’S LONDON life going?’ my sister Clemmie enquired. We’d met for a bracing drink in an old-man pub on Newman Street before embarking on the onslaught of a family dinner. ‘How’s this placement going?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said, swirling the dregs of my half pint of shandy. ‘I don’t think I’m going to get the job, I’m broke, I’m having to get my student sister to buy me a drink, I’m out of my depth in terms of dating, and, to top it all off, I’m starting to wonder whether TV isn’t all just a load of old bollocks.’

  ‘So good, then.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Why out of your depth in terms of dating?’

  I don’t usually talk to my sister about anything boy-related, but we appeared to be having a rare ceasefire in our usually fractious relationship.

  ‘Oh, I’ve just been a bit of an idiot over this guy at work. It turns out older guys are a totally different ball game to university boys.’

  ‘Maybe not all of them: this guy might just be an cock.’

  ‘That is true.’

  ‘And why is TV all a load of old bollocks?’

  ‘I don’t know, just a lot of the shows I’ve been working on, I don’t think they’re very good, Clem, and the presenters aren’t very nice. This week I was helping out on Les and Kel and they were doing an item on “things to have on toast”. I mean, seriously?’

  ‘Yeah, but Poppy, isn’t that one of the most popular daytime TV shows? We always watch it at uni – it’s crap in a reassuring way. When I’m hungover, “things to have on toast” is about the level of intellect I want to engage with.’

  ‘That’s what’s so depressing. All the shows RealiTV make are really successful, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re any good. I mean, is this what I really want to spend my life doing? Earning shit money, fighting with Mum and Dad, just to make crap TV about toast toppings?’

  Clemmie finished her wine and got the barman’s attention to order two more drinks.

  ‘D
o we have time?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, it’s just around the corner, we’ll be fine. Look, Poppy, what did you expect? I mean, you’re not going to be making sweeping, epic documentaries about the meaning of life or the plight of single mothers in Mogadishu when you’re working for RealiTV, are you? It’s a foot in the door, that’s what you said.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘You pay your dues, then you can work on decent shows later. It’s like my friend Marjorie. She didn’t go to uni. She knew she wanted to be a journalist so she just went for it. She aspired to write serious opinion pieces, but the only gigs she could get were puff pieces for fashion mags like “how much prettier does mascara make you on a scale of one to ten” or “which beauty product would you take to a desert island?”.’

  ‘Conditioner.’

  ‘Obviously.’ Clemmie started to pile her curls of hair up on top of her head into a giant bun. ‘Anyway, three years later and Majorie’s got this column writing about politics. See, all it takes is a bit of perseverance and you can carve your own path, Poppy.’

  ‘Is that your friend Marjorie who writes the column for Stylish on Westminster fashions?’

  ‘Yes… Okay, so it’s not exactly about politics, but she’s definitely headed that way.’

  ‘I know you’re right.’ I shrugged. ‘What a wise little sister I have.’

  ‘Quite honestly, Poppy, what else are you going to do? I mean, you’re hardly going to go and get a job in a bank or become a doctor, are you?’

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Well, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’ve always been creative, Pop. Remember all those plays you used to put on for me with your stuffed toys when we were kids? Of course you were going to end up working in theatre or TV.’ Clemmie laughed. ‘I remember you putting on a production of Romeo and Juliet on my bed, with all the Capulets played by your Puppy Pals and the Montagues played by my Care Bears. You know, I never told you this, but your production was way more entertaining than the Romeo and Juliet I got dragged to the National for by school.’

  ‘Oh, I remember that! Bonio and Juliet.’ I chuckled.

  ‘Bonio and Juliet, that was it. And your ending was so much more fun than the gloomy old original.’