Dead famous by Ben Elton Page A

be useful later.’
    ‘What, you mean put it in out of sequence?’ Fogarty was taken aback.
    ‘Maybe,’ replied Geraldine.
    ‘Who’d notice the difference?’
    ‘But…But the time codes on the video…They’d be out of sequence. We couldn’t adjust them.’
    ‘Of course you can, you silly arse. They’re just numbers on a screen, you can change them. Just go into the Apple menu and dig out the control panel.’
    ‘I know how to do it, Geraldine,’ Bob Fogarty replied coldly.
    ‘I meant we couldn’t do it morally, professionally.’
    ‘Our moral and professional duty is to provide good telly to the public, who pay our wages. We are not fucking anthropologists, we are entertainers, mate. Turns. We work on the end of the pier along with the illusionists, the mystics, the magicians, the hypnotists and all the other cheating shysters who make up this great business we call show. Now stick the whole thing in a separate file and hide it somewhere.’ The team said no more, working on in silence, hoping that if Geraldine did want to do something as outrageous as broadcasting house events out of sequence it would not be them whom she instructed to do it. Back on the screens the attention of the editing team was drawn by a flurry of bras and knickers. The girls were getting ready for bed.
    ‘Nipple-watch!’ Shouted Geraldine.
    They all had their styles. Sally got into bed in her T-shirt and knickers. Kelly allowed the occasional flash as she whipped off her shirt and dived into bed. Moon was happy to wander about in front of the infra-red cameras entirely naked. Layla and Dervla were the most coy: both put on long nighties before removing their underwear. When Geraldine saw this on the first night she had made a mental note to catch both of these prudes out at some point, in the showers, probably, or perhaps the pool, and put their nipples out in the Sunday night special compilation. She wasn’t having hoitytoity little scrubbers like them holding back on the flesh. What did they think they were on telly for? The atmosphere in the bedroom was sombre. On previous nights the girls had laughed and giggled as they got into their beds, but on this occasion there was silence. Moon’s revelations had rocked them all. Not just because it had been such a sad and shocking tale, but also because her distress would so obviously appeal to the public’s sympathy and give her the edge when eviction time came. It was very strange to have to remember all the time that every conversation was a conversation between rivals who were competing against each other for the affection of the public. Then Moon spoke.
    ‘Oh, by the way, girls,’she said.
    ‘All that stuff I just told you. That were rubbish, by the way. Sorry.’ There was another moment’s silence.
    ‘What!’ Layla,who rarely shouted, was furious.
    ‘Don’t worry about it, love,’ Moon said in a calm, matter-of- fact voice.
    ‘I were ‘having a laugh. Take me mind off me septic nipple.’
    ‘You said you’d been abused’
    ‘Well, everybody says they’ve been abused these days, don’t they?’ Moon replied.
    ‘Blimey, if you look at the posters them charities put out, apparently every fookin’ kid in the country’s getting touched up on a more or less continual basis.’
    ‘What’s your game, Moon?’ Said Dervla with barely controlled fury.
    ‘Told you. Just thought I’d have a laugh,’ Moon said.
    ‘Plus, I thought our Sally was getting a bit too serious, hopping into Kelly a bit strong about fookin’ loonies, that’s all.’
    ‘You rotten bitch,’ said Layla.
    ‘You cow,’ said Kelly.
    ‘That was a pretty low trick. Moon,’said Dervla.
    ‘I don’t think sexual abuse is a very funny subject.’
    ‘Well, it passed the time, didn’t it?’ Moon said.
    ‘Night.’ There was another long pause. Finally Kelly broke the silence.
    ‘So were you telling the truth about your breast implants, then?’ She asked.
    ‘Oh, yeah, couldn’t do without