would be excruciating.
‘You do understand I have to do it, don’t you, Rodders? I mean you two having been an item and then you dumping her and all that. Brilliant telly, her coming back to audition once more in front of the very man with whom she once shared a bed. Just fantastic. Then of course there’s the fact that she needs to come back and audition at all, having got absolutely nowhere in the last year. Can’t let you off the hook on that one, Rodders. Not after everything you promised.’
Rodney’s face showed he understood exactly where Calvin was going with this. After all, both Calvin and Beryl had rubbished Iona and her band, while Rodney had publicly stated that he intended to make them into stars. Iona’s return to the Chart Throb audition process was going to brutally demonstrate that Rodney had not made her into a star.
‘Calvin,’ Rodney stammered. ‘I’d really rather you didn’t . . .’
‘Oh, come on, Rodney. All right, Beryl and I might tease you a bit but so what? One of the consistent themes of Chart Throb is broken promises and outrageous predictions. Every week one or other of us gravely informs some wide-eyed innocent that they could sell a lot of records and the public never seems to mind that almost none of them ever do. Tell you what, mate. Here’s a thought: you want to be mean, how about this, we bring her back but you tell her to dump her crappy band. Plenty of drama there and it will certainly make you look tough.’
Calvin looked at Rodney as he thought it through.
‘Yes. I suppose you’re right actually,’ he said finally.
‘That’s my job.’
‘Like, I’m the hard-bitten professional. OK, so we had our thing, but that’s dead and gone . . .’
‘Get over it, babes. I have.’
‘Exactly. Move on.’
‘Walk away.’
‘Can’t build a future if you’re living in the past.’
‘No way.’
Rodney was growing enthusiastic.
‘So if she comes back solo we give her another chance?’
‘Exactly, and you can show just how tough you’ve become by giving your ex-girlfriend, to whom last year you were almost engaged, a really, really hard time.’
Once more doubt clouded Rodney’s features.
‘A really, really hard time?’ he asked nervously.
‘Great telly, Rodders. Great telly.’
Flight of Fancy
The next morning found Calvin, Rodney and Beryl squashed together in the rear section of a private jet circling high over RAF Brize Norton. They were squashed together because the front section of the plane was occupied by a camera crew, which consisted of a camera operator, a sound recordist, a continuity girl, costume and make-up mistresses and the director. Trent and Emma, senior researchers, were also present because it would be their job to stitch the material taken that day into the overall edit. They were shooting the ‘travelling’ sequences, those earnest, dramatic shots of the three judges diligently sweeping the country day after day, week after week, in search of potential Chart Throbs, those raw young talents whom they would mentor and mould into superstars.
They had been airborne for about ninety minutes and although the plane in which they were travelling had never been more than twenty miles from Brize Norton they had already visited Glasgow and Newcastle and they were just leaving Manchester.
‘All right,’ Trent called out from the confusion of cables, clipboards, laptops and costumes in which he was crouching. ‘We’re flying out of Manchester and heading for Birmingham. Can we change position, please? Beryl and Rodney swap seats.’
‘Why do we have to change position?’ Beryl complained, for the aircraft was small and moving about in it was not easy and involved unpleasantly intimate contact as the three judges attempted to squeeze past one another.
‘Because it’s a different day, Beryl.’
‘I know that, Trent. I am acquainted with the magic of television, you know.’
‘Yes, of course, Beryl,
‘You do understand I have to do it, don’t you, Rodders? I mean you two having been an item and then you dumping her and all that. Brilliant telly, her coming back to audition once more in front of the very man with whom she once shared a bed. Just fantastic. Then of course there’s the fact that she needs to come back and audition at all, having got absolutely nowhere in the last year. Can’t let you off the hook on that one, Rodders. Not after everything you promised.’
Rodney’s face showed he understood exactly where Calvin was going with this. After all, both Calvin and Beryl had rubbished Iona and her band, while Rodney had publicly stated that he intended to make them into stars. Iona’s return to the Chart Throb audition process was going to brutally demonstrate that Rodney had not made her into a star.
‘Calvin,’ Rodney stammered. ‘I’d really rather you didn’t . . .’
‘Oh, come on, Rodney. All right, Beryl and I might tease you a bit but so what? One of the consistent themes of Chart Throb is broken promises and outrageous predictions. Every week one or other of us gravely informs some wide-eyed innocent that they could sell a lot of records and the public never seems to mind that almost none of them ever do. Tell you what, mate. Here’s a thought: you want to be mean, how about this, we bring her back but you tell her to dump her crappy band. Plenty of drama there and it will certainly make you look tough.’
Calvin looked at Rodney as he thought it through.
‘Yes. I suppose you’re right actually,’ he said finally.
‘That’s my job.’
‘Like, I’m the hard-bitten professional. OK, so we had our thing, but that’s dead and gone . . .’
‘Get over it, babes. I have.’
‘Exactly. Move on.’
‘Walk away.’
‘Can’t build a future if you’re living in the past.’
‘No way.’
Rodney was growing enthusiastic.
‘So if she comes back solo we give her another chance?’
‘Exactly, and you can show just how tough you’ve become by giving your ex-girlfriend, to whom last year you were almost engaged, a really, really hard time.’
Once more doubt clouded Rodney’s features.
‘A really, really hard time?’ he asked nervously.
‘Great telly, Rodders. Great telly.’
Flight of Fancy
The next morning found Calvin, Rodney and Beryl squashed together in the rear section of a private jet circling high over RAF Brize Norton. They were squashed together because the front section of the plane was occupied by a camera crew, which consisted of a camera operator, a sound recordist, a continuity girl, costume and make-up mistresses and the director. Trent and Emma, senior researchers, were also present because it would be their job to stitch the material taken that day into the overall edit. They were shooting the ‘travelling’ sequences, those earnest, dramatic shots of the three judges diligently sweeping the country day after day, week after week, in search of potential Chart Throbs, those raw young talents whom they would mentor and mould into superstars.
They had been airborne for about ninety minutes and although the plane in which they were travelling had never been more than twenty miles from Brize Norton they had already visited Glasgow and Newcastle and they were just leaving Manchester.
‘All right,’ Trent called out from the confusion of cables, clipboards, laptops and costumes in which he was crouching. ‘We’re flying out of Manchester and heading for Birmingham. Can we change position, please? Beryl and Rodney swap seats.’
‘Why do we have to change position?’ Beryl complained, for the aircraft was small and moving about in it was not easy and involved unpleasantly intimate contact as the three judges attempted to squeeze past one another.
‘Because it’s a different day, Beryl.’
‘I know that, Trent. I am acquainted with the magic of television, you know.’
‘Yes, of course, Beryl,
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