How to Get Ahead in Television (4 page)

STEP 8 – BECOME COMPUTER LITERATE ASAP

TO
: <
[email protected]
>

FROM
: <
[email protected]
>

SUBJECT
: Welcome

Dear Poppy

Welcome to the RealiTV Outlook service. Please give the IT department a call on 001 if you have any queries about your set-up.

Yours

Sam Carter

IT Department

RealiTV

Because a real workforce makes real TV!

TO
: <
[email protected]
>

FROM
: <
[email protected]
>

SUBJECT
: Serious Work Email

Nat,

Check out my new email address! How pro am I? They've set us up with our own email addresses now as we're
starting on productions next week. I think I should start writing to big-shot famous Hollywood directors pitching ideas for screenplays. I mean, Tarantino isn't going to reply to
[email protected]
, but to
[email protected]
, well, I bet all the emails from TV companies get fast-tracked or something? Right?

This place is so ridiculous – everyone has this RealiTV
Because a real workforce makes real TV!
sign-off automatically attached to the bottom of their emails. What's that about? They could at least come up with a decent slogan if they're going to send it on the bottom of absolutely everything. I might suggest a few new ones to the CEO.

RealiTV – Because TV is Reali Important…

RealiTV – Because reality is our mentality…

Hmmm. Needs more thought.

So, You Know Who is still being superirritating. I made it to the computer first today (hence my ability to email you) and he's acting like he's not even bothered. He's spent all morning loitering around the reception desk, chatting to stuck-up Mel, who keeps giggling at everything he says. God she's annoying. Literally, she hasn't said one word to me, but finds everything R says hil-fucking-arious! Grrr…

X

Poppy Penfold

RealiTV

Because we really don't give a shit about making quality drama

(Oooh, look, I managed to change my sign-off. Am IT genius!)

TO
: <
[email protected]
>

FROM
: <
[email protected]
>

SUBJECT
: IT

Poppy,

Your email account has been flagged to me by IT. Apparently you sent an email with ‘hazardous content' enclosed? The Outlook server filters emails for bad language/suspicious content and automatically flags it to IT. So I'm giving you a heads up – basically, don't swear in anything you're sending from your RealiTV address. Comprende?

Yours

Dominic Green

Office Manager

RealiTV

Because a real workforce makes real TV!

TO
: <
[email protected]
>

FROM
: <
[email protected]
>

SUBJECT
: RE: IT

Hi Dominic,

Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I don't know how that can have happened. Perhaps a typo that came up as a swear word by mistake? I'll be extra vigilant from now on. Apologies again.

Yours

Poppy Penfold

RealiTV

Because we really don't give a shit about making quality drama

TO
: <
[email protected]
>

FROM
: <
[email protected]
>

SUBJECT
: RE: RE: IT

Poppy

I don't think your new signature is very appropriate.

Please amend before sending any more emails…

Dominic Green

Office Manager

RealiTV

Because a real workforce makes real TV!

(Because quality drama is too expensive…)

STEP 9 – VOLUNTEER ENTHUSIASTICALLY

FROM
: POPPY

TO
: NATALIE

NAT, DON'T EMAIL MY WORK EMAIL, LINE NOT SAFE, BLOODY BUGGED OR SOMETHING, WILL EXPLAIN TONIGHT. NARROW ESCAPE ON POTENTIAL ALMIGHTY IT COCK UP. LUCKILY BOSS APPEARS TO HAVE SENSE OF HUMOUR… X P

H
ELEN, RHIDIAN AND
I were all sitting in the post room having a tea break.

‘So do we get any choice on which productions we're sent on?' Rhidian asked Helen.

‘No, they'll just send you wherever they're short. I think the new series o'
Changing Grooms
is startin' up next week,' said Helen. ‘Or
Last Clan Standin'
is massive, so they always need extra runners on that.'

Just as I was about to ask a question, James Ravenstone, one of the big-shot entertainment producers who worked upstairs, poked his head around the post room door. In his mid-thirties, James was referred to by everyone as JR. He was quite stocky with brown hair, deep-set eyes and three-week-old stubble. He was attractive in a shorter-more-modern-version-of-Poldark sort of way. He was the kind of man who slightly
intimidated me; he always looked serious and brooding when I saw him in the corridor. He wasn't one for pleasantries.

‘Right, runners, who's free to help with an office run-through? I need two of you, it'll be an hour, max,' he said.

‘James, you know how much I love bein' a guinea pig in your evil games, but sadly someone 'as to keep the cogs of this corporation turnin',' said Helen, without looking up from her computer.

‘What about these two, the new kids?' JR pointed at us both. ‘Rhidian, isn't it?' JR said, shaking Rhidian's hand. ‘I'm James. I've got a new quiz show idea I'm piloting and I need a couple of contestants to stand in. You up for it?'

‘Absolutely,' said Rhidian, jumping up in a flurry of keenness and taking the pen out of his mouth.

‘You, you free?' JR turned to me.

Why did he know Rhidian's name and not mine? We'd been here exactly the same amount of time!

‘Poppy,' I said, holding out my hand, but I was half hidden behind Rhidian so had to slowly retract it, hoping nobody had noticed.

‘Helen?' I looked to Helen to see if it was okay if we both went.

‘Sure,' said Helen. ‘David will be back in a bit, so we should be all right 'ere for an hour or so.'

JR led us both down to the basement where there was a basic studio used for run-throughs, low-budget pilots and Christmas parties.

‘Thanks for doing this, guys,' said JR. ‘We had two contestants drop out at the last minute, so it's great you're up for it.'

‘Can I just say, I loved the revival of all those old panel shows you did last year,' Rhidian said.

‘Oh, you saw those?' JR looked impressed. ‘Yeah, it was a shame we couldn't do more, they were really well received. They totally cut through demographic-wise.'

Rhidian and JR started chatting away about shows JR had produced. How did Rhidian know so much about everything? I bet he'd been doing research on all the producers here, ready
to suck up to them at the first opportunity. Damn, maybe I should have done that?

The corridor in the basement was too narrow for us to walk three abreast, so I trotted along behind, struggling to keep up with their conversation. I resolved to be more thorough in my television watching; I evidently needed to do my homework and take note of who was producing what. It wouldn't be enough to just watch TV for fun any more.

The basement studio was set up for a quiz show. There was a makeshift presenter's desk and two mismatched podiums borrowed from old quiz show sets. Magnus Jerome was seated behind the presenter's desk, a scarily intelligent political heavyweight who hosted late-night shows for the BBC on boring things like Syria and stamp duty.

There were two middle-aged men standing behind the podiums on either side of Magnus. A crew of cameramen and production team milled about the studio, poised to begin. I suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed that we'd walked into such an elaborate set-up. JR hadn't mentioned anything about cameras, or a presenter with formidably scary eyebrows.

‘Right, I found some more recruits,' JR announced to the room. ‘Rhidian, why don't you join Arnold's team, Pam, you join Chris's team.'

He pointed to the two men standing behind the podiums and I identified Chris, wearing a big ‘Chris' badge, waving at me.

‘Um, it's Poppy,' I quietly corrected him, but it was too late, he'd already stalked off to talk to Magnus.

Jude, an assistant producer I recognized, ran over to me. She was a tall, waif-like brunette who looked as though she should have been on camera rather than working behind it. Jude handed me a name badge on which she'd hurriedly scrawled ‘Pam'.

‘I'm sorry, it's actually Poppy, not Pam,' I told her.

‘Oh, well, I don't have any more of these self-adhesive badges… Do you mind just being Pam?' Jude asked.

‘Sure,' I shrugged, not wanting to make a fuss.

I looked over at Rhidian, who silently mouthed ‘Pam' at me. He stretched his arms out against the podium as though limbering up for a marathon.

‘So Pam and Chris will play Rhidian and Arnold. It's pretty self-explanatory; basically, you have to win control of the board,' JR said, indicating a flip-chart behind Magnus, ‘which will obviously be a bit more high-tech than this in the real thing. We hope. You never know with BBC budgets.'

There were a few knowing laughs from the production team.

‘Once you have control of a topic you get five related questions, which
only your teammate
will get a go at. For every one you get wrong, your
opponents
will get a point. It's all about predicting which subjects your teammate might be good at.'

Rhidian, Arnold and Chris were all nodding.

‘Don't worry, Pam, you'll pick it up once we get going,' JR said to me.

Someone dimmed the lights and the production team all sat down to watch and take notes. Magnus started reading from his cue cards in that distinctive booming voice of his.

‘Good evening, and welcome to
What Do They Know?
, the new game show for BBC2 that
isn't
all about you! Now, most people know if they can answer a question or not, but this game isn't just about knowing the answers yourself, it's about predicting what your
teammate
knows. Let's meet the teams.'

Magnus walked over to Rhidian and Arnold's podium.

‘Hello, Rhidian, hello, Arnold. So how do you two know each other?'

‘We play bridge together,' Rhidian improvised.

Magnus launched into a conversation about whether their knowledge of each other's bridge-playing techniques was going to help them win the game.

‘What shall we say?' Chris whispered to me, the smell of cheese and onion crisps lingering in the air as he spoke. I noticed he had very dry skin, that type of flaky red eczema that looks raw and painful.

‘I don't know. Do we have to make something up?' I whispered.

‘Let's say we're married?' Chris whispered back.

‘No, no, let's say we're tennis partners or something…' I hissed back, but I was too late. Magnus was already standing next to our podium, asking how Chris and I knew each other.

‘Pam's my wife,' said Chris.

The production team all laughed at the idea (Chris being a good thirty years older than me) and Chris puffed his chest out, pleased at having made a good joke.

‘Ah, a spousal team,' said Magnus. ‘Well, let's see if your intimate knowledge of each other as a couple will help you in the quiz show arena. Now, without further ado, let's get on with the game.'

Magnus turned over the first page on the flip chart to reveal the words ‘Round One – The Middle East'. I started to feel hot under the bright studio lights. I hadn't considered what this quiz might entail and I was starting to worry that this run-through might not go well for me. General knowledge was not my strong point. Current affairs were definitely not my strong point.

‘For control of the first round: which city is the capital of Lebanon?' Magnus asked.

Chris's hand shot up.

‘Chris,' said Magnus.

‘Beirut.'

‘Correct.'

Oh, thank god Chris knew what he was doing. Hopefully I could just stand here and let him win this for us.

‘Which means your team has won control of the round.' Magnus went on, ‘I'll now ask five questions on the Middle East, but
only
Pam will be able to answer.'

Oh crap.

‘Pam, who is the prime minister of Israel?' asked Magnus. His huge grey eyebrows directed towards me, pressuring me with their bushiness.

‘Um…'

I have absolutely no idea.

‘Just take a guess,' Magnus prompted me.

‘Um…'

‘I need some kind of answer,' said Magnus. ‘I'm afraid you can't pass.'

I really have no idea. I search my brain for a foreign-sounding name…

‘Salman Rushdie?'

There were peals of laughter from the crew.

‘I'm afraid that's not right, Pam, it's Benjamin Netanyahu. That's one point to Arnold and Rhidian's team. Question two: name one of the key disputed territories in the Israel–Palestine dispute.'

I wondered if I could fake a sudden illness or fainting fit? I had never wanted to be somewhere less in my life. Everyone would think I was an idiot for not knowing this stuff and I'd never work in TV again. It's not that I'm really ill-informed, I'm just hopeless under pressure with anything involving fact retention.

‘Um…'

‘I'm going to need a guess, Pam, just one area…'

I racked my brain for things I'd heard on the news. I was sure I must know this.

‘Er, the South Bank?'

There were more gleeful giggles from the crew.

‘I think that would put the conflict quite close to home, Pam.' Magnus looked at me as though I was a moronic child inhabiting a grown-up's body.

‘You could have had the Gaza Strip or the
West
Bank. That's another point for Arnold and Rhidian's team. Question three: name two of the five countries that currently share a border with Jordan?'

Please, world, swallow me. Or just send a power-cut to help me. I'd be happy to accept a very minor heart attack to get me out of this.

‘I'm going to have to hurry you,' Magnus prompted me.

‘Um, Iran?'

‘No, I'm afraid not.'

‘Afghanistan?'

‘No.'

‘Morocco?'

More yelps of delight from the crew.

‘Yemen?'

Magnus sighed and turned to ask JR a question.

‘In this kind of situation would we have a limit on how many guesses the contestant would get? I don't think this kind of open-ended question really works.'

JR was pacing up and down the studio, rubbing his stubble between thumb and forefinger.

‘Yes, I agree,' he said. ‘Take that as an incorrect answer and we'll have to relook at any questions with multiple answers.'

JR clicked his fingers at Jude, who started scribbling on a notepad. Chris groaned in frustration that I was losing our team so many points.

‘I'm sorry, this isn't really my topic,' I whispered. ‘As soon as
Hollyoaks
comes up, I am all set.' I gave Chris a weak smile.

Unfortunately for me,
Hollyoaks
did not come up. It transpired that the whole quiz was incredibly high-brow and I was saddled with answering questions on: ‘The Policies of Margaret Thatcher', ‘American Presidents' and ‘The EU, 1993 – present'. Suffice to say, the game did not go well for Chris and me.

The final scores stood at fifty-one points to Arnold and Rhidian's team, five points to ours (all won by Chris for gaining control of the board). I was a nervous wreck by the time the game was over and Chris had lost a large quantity of skin in the scratch-inducing stress of defeat.

‘Thanks to both our teams for their sterling efforts,' said Magnus, finally putting an end to the torture. With proceedings concluded, the production team huddled around for a debrief with Magnus and JR, while we contestants were left standing awkwardly at our podiums.

‘All right, Pam?' said Rhidian, walking over to our podium and raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Well played there.'

‘Hardly,' I muttered. ‘I had no idea it was going to be so… so, well, niche.'

‘Didn't you do a history degree?' asked Rhidian.

‘Yes, but, well, but I didn't study those bits.'

The crew dispersed and Jude ushered Arnold and Chris out. Rhidian received a hearty handshake and back slap from Arnold, while Chris purposely ignored me.

‘Well played, guys,' said JR on his way out. ‘Thanks for helping out.'

‘No problem,' said Rhidian.

‘Oh, and it's Poppy, right, not Pam?' JR smiled at me. ‘Great call on playing it dumb – it really helped expose a few structural issues with the game. Really funny too!' He laughed. ‘Salman Rushdie. Ha ha. Brilliant.'