The production team had amassed a selection of objects they thought it would be amusing to make the contestants touch. They included: jelly, pinecones, live hedgehogs and the feet of minor celebrity Keith Ray. (I think he was in Eastenders in the nineties, or maybe Hollyoaks?)
The producer, Leon, came over to inspect our handiwork. He looked stressed.
‘What tartan is that?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked the art director.
‘Well, what kind of tartan have you used for those giant kilts? Is it Campbell, MacGregor, whatever? I got in shit yesterday for giving the MacLeods aprons made out of a rival clan’s tartan.’
‘Well, I just bought it from some fabric warehouse.’ The art director shrugged. ‘That one’s called “Green Tartan” and the other one’s “Tartan Nights with Beige”.’
‘Oh great, so they aren’t even real tartans, that’s even worse!’ Leon cried, throwing his clipboard down in frustration.
‘I’m sure no one will notice,’ I said, chipping in. ‘I’m Poppy, by the way.’
‘Leon,’ said Leon, his eyes darting about nervously, alert for another crisis that might need his attention. ‘Listen, Poppy, can you do me a favour?’
‘Sure!’ I said, happy to help.
‘Can you look after Keith Ray when he arrives? Just get him coffee and make him feel special, you know. Even though we’re only using his feet, he’ll expect to be treated like talent and all my researchers are busy. You can also look after that guy.’ He pointed to a middle-aged man dressed in full camouflage gear and high-visibility jacket. (Which struck me as an odd combination: an outfit designed to both blend in and stand out at the same time.)
‘Who’s he?’ I asked.
‘He’s the animal handler for the hedgehogs. Just check in with him every now and then. He shouldn’t be any trouble.’
‘No problem,’ I said, excited to be given a job that involved more than coffee collecting and cutting out Velcro strips.
‘Thanks a mill, Poppy.’ Leon gave me a panicked smile, patted his hair to make sure it was still slicked into place, and then charged off, hands aloft like he was about to break into the Charleston.
I decided to be proactive in my new role as ‘Warden of the Kilty Pleasures Game’ and set off to introduce myself to the animal handler.
‘Hi, I’m Poppy, one of the runners. Can I get you a coffee or anything?’ I asked.
‘Trevor Whittington,’ said the man. ‘I’m good, but your performers could do with some fresh water.’
‘Performers?’
‘The hedgehogs. People tend to think they drink warm cows’ milk. Never feed a hedgehog milk – causes havoc with their digestion.’
‘Ah, I see. So are you a hedgehog specialist then?’
‘Do you really think there’s that much demand for performing hedgehogs?’ he asked scornfully.
‘Er, I suppose not…’
‘I look after all yer animals on TV. You see an animal on telly, it’s probably mine,’ Trevor said proudly.
‘Ooh, that’s exciting. Did you look after that dog on Downton Abbey?’
‘Er, no.’ Trevor looked annoyed. ‘Dogs are different. Also, recurring animals are different. Les Barclay looks after that performer.’
‘Ooh, well what about the ones on that Pet Rescue show?’ I tried.
‘No. They’re real pets, aren’t they? They aren’t performance artists.’ Trevor was not warming to me. ‘Did you see Zelda’s Zoo on BBC4?’ he tried again.
‘Er, no, I’m afraid not.’
‘Well, there was a parrot and a cow in that. Those were mine.’
We stood in silence for a few minutes.
‘I’ll get a saucer of water, shall I, then?’
‘Tepid, please,’ said Trevor. ‘If in doubt, err on the side of warm.’
Just then my phone began to ring. It was my mother.
‘Hi, Mum, I’m afraid this isn’t the best time.’
‘Poppy, where are you, your reception is terrible?’
‘I’m in Scotland, Mum. I’m helping out on this TV show.’
‘Scotland? What on earth are you doing there?’
‘Mum, honestly, I’m at work, I can’t really chat. Is everything okay?’
‘Poppy, now you have called Ian back, haven’t you?’
‘Ian?’ My mind takes a moment to register. ‘Oh shit!’
‘Poppy! You must call him. I saw Lorraine for tea and she said to me… Well, she didn’t say, but she implied to me that you hadn’t been all that polite when he took the trouble to call you—’
‘Oh, I know, I was driving, and there were, well, it wasn’t the best time.’
‘Well, you need to find time, young lady. Poor old Ian!’
‘Mum, I will, I’ll call him. I don’t know why you gave him my number, but you’re right, it’s very rude of me, I’ll sort it out. Look, I’ve got to go and hydrate some hedgehogs. I’ll speak to you later.’
‘Is that some kind of drug speak?’ my mother asked nervously.
‘No, real hedgehogs. I don’t even know what kind of drug hydrated hedgehogs would be, Mum. I’ll call you later.’
Minor celebrity Keith Ray arrived in a velour tracksuit, chain-smoking, with an entourage of two rather suspect-looking girls. He hadn’t been told that he’d only been booked for his feet, and he was not happy about it.
Leon attempted to diffuse the situation.
‘Keith, it won’t just be your feet. Once the contestants guess, we’ll pull back the kilt and reveal you. Then I’m sure there’ll be a bit of chat with Valerie and Hamish.’
‘Do I ’ave a dressing room at least?’ Keith asked.
‘Poppy? Are you okay to take Keith to his dressing room?’ Leon asked me, looking relieved to offload a sulky celebrity onto someone else.
‘Sure.’
I took Keith and the two girls through to his dressing room in one of the cabins.
Keith sat down on a chair and pulled a bottle of vodka out of his bag. One of the giggling girls jumped into his lap.
‘Can I get you some tea or coffee?’ I asked nervously.
‘Nah, we’re good,’ said Keith, waving the vodka at me. ‘Mixers might be nice though, blondie.’
‘I’ll see what I can do…’
I was a bit worried about Keith drinking before he went on TV, but didn’t think I had the authority to confiscate booze. I supplied them with as many mixers as I could, hoping they would be sensible in their alcohol-to-mixer ratios.
*
Back at the Kilty Pleasures game, rehearsals were about to start.
‘Here, put this on,’ said Leon, handing me a headset. ‘We’re short of researchers, so we’re going to need you to prep this game tonight, okay?’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll be here to run it once we’re actually filming, but I just need you to get everything in place before we come to it. Hedgehogs, Keith et cetera.’
As I put the headset on, I could hear Shannon talking in the gallery.
‘Look, we’ve run out of time to do a full rehearsal,’ shouted Shannon. ‘We’ll just do a rough run-through for the cameras of Kilty Pleasures and Och Aye the Who? Okay, Nigel?’
‘Well, I guess it will have to be,’ the director sighed.
The camera crew practised the shots of the giant kilts being pulled back to reveal the pinecones, hedgehogs and me standing in for Keith Ray’s feet. Everyone thought the giant kilts looked very amusing, and there was a lot of laughter coming from the gallery. I thought I could hear JR laughing and felt nervous that he was watching me on camera. I subtly pulled my hair out of a hastily scraped-back ponytail; I could see myself on the monitor and realized I looked a bit scruffy.
‘Comedy visuals!’ said Shannon, at a relatively normal decibel level. ‘Well done, Art Team.’
In the break between rehearsals and filming the show, there was a quick dinner break in the catering tent. I finished my food quickly and made my excuses to go and check on K
eith.
‘Hi, Keith, just checking you’re all right,’ I said, knocking on his door and pushing it open. ‘We should be starting the recording in thirty minutes or so, so not…’
I trailed off. The room was awash with empty vodka bottles and fag ends, and one of the girls was walking around in her bra and knickers.
‘You!’ snarled Keith. ‘What are… YOU… in this jamboree of shit?’
Oh god. He was annihilated.
‘Can I get you all some food? I think I should get you some food.’
‘Fuck food! Bring us some more booze,’ one of the girls said. She had taken the taps off the sink and was holding them up to her face like earrings. ‘Look, pretty!’
Oh god, maybe they’d been doing more in here than just drinking.
I closed the door and ran off to find Leon. I eventually found him looking even more stressed than usual. His eyes darted around like a meercat sensing an imminent attack and his perfectly pomaded hair lay slightly askew.
‘Leon. I think we have a problem.’
‘What?’
‘Keith Ray is drunk.’
‘How drunk?’
‘Belligerent drunk.’
A female researcher ran up to us, looking for Leon.
‘Leon, one of the MacDonald clan says he’s not a confident swimmer, so he can’t do the Loch Mess game.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah, didn’t tell us that in rehearsals, did he?’ She shrugged.
‘Leon, Valerie wants you!’ Alan shouted across the field.
‘Right.’ Leon looked at me. ‘Just make him eat something and sober him up. We’re only using his feet so we’ll just try not to feature him for too long. You,’ he turned to the researcher, ‘walk and talk with me.’
They darted off in the direction of the studio.
For the next forty-five minutes I struggled to get Keith to eat something. I managed to get him to drink coffee, which was a start, and separate him from the two girls (who, I had concluded, were a very bad influence). I tried to tell other people on the production about the situation, but everyone appeared to be dealing with their own crisis.
Before I knew it, the show had started and I could hear Shannon Long over the talkback radio saying, ‘Ten minutes till we come to Kilty Pleasures. Everyone prep for positions!’
A stage manager helped me escort Keith from his dressing room and I tried to fend off his wandering hands as he steadied himself on my shoulder.
‘You smell of sunsh… ine and glockens… piels…’ slurred Keith.
Keith was soon safely deposited in his seat and the Art Department had prepared the pinecones and jelly. Trevor and the hedgehogs were nowhere to be seen.
The art director shrugged, ‘I dunno, they were here a minute ago.’
I raced around, panicking that I only had a few minutes until we were on. I finally saw Trevor’s jacket over by his van.
‘Trevor, quick, we need the hedgehogs back on set,’ I puffed, out of breath.
‘No, no, they’re on their break now I’m afraid,’ Trevor said, waving a stern finger at me.
‘What?’
‘I told them: animals hours are regulated the same way humans are. These performers have been out now for four hours. They are entitled to a break. Union rules.’
‘But they don’t have to do anything!’ I cried, exasperated. ‘They just need to sit there. Please, Trevor, we’re going to miss the item otherwise.’
I pleaded with Trevor, promising we could probably work out some sort of overtime payment for the hedgehogs, and managed to get him back to set with only minutes to spare. He reluctantly unpacked the hedgehogs onto their specially-designed podium.
‘Little spikers!’ shouted Keith from his chair next to the hedgehog podium.
‘Shhh…’ I said to him. ‘You have to be quiet now, Keith, they’re coming to this item in a few minutes. Just keep your feet still on that stool.’
Keith put a finger to his lips and did an exaggerated ‘Shhhhh’.
Everything was in place, just in time.
‘And coming to Kilty Pleasures in five, four, three, two…’ came Nigel’s voice over the radio.
I ducked out of sight, just as I heard Valerie, Hamish and the clan contestants arrive in front of the set.
Valerie introduced the game in her slow, languorous voice.
‘Right, MacDonald clan, who’s going to play from your team?’ asked Hamish.
The clan selected a player and a pair of hands came through the kilt to touch the jelly. The contestant guessed correctly and moved along to the next kilt: pinecones.
It was then that I saw what was happening further down the line. Keith had picked up one of the hedgehogs and was playing with it in his lap.
‘Keith!’ I hissed, but he wouldn’t look at me.
I was about to rush onto set to retrieve the hedgehog, when I realized I was too late: a contestant’s hands were already through the curtain, feeling the hedgehog that was left. I couldn’t get past without getting in the way.
‘He can’t touch the animals,’ growled Trevor, who’d also noticed what was going on.
‘I know, I know,’ I whispered back.
At this point, Leon arrived.
‘Sorry I’m late. Nightmare up on Loch Mess,’ he whispered to me. ‘Everything okay here?’
‘No!’ I hissed, pointing at Keith, who was now kissing the poor hedgehog and whispering, ‘Lovely little spiker.’
‘Fuck,’ said Leon. ‘Get it off him.’
‘Me?’ I hissed.
‘You know him, he’s more likely to listen to you.’
I was very dubious about this plan, but did as I was told, scooting across the set just as the curtain closed on the lone hedgehog.
‘And for our final kilt, let’s have a feel, what’s behind this one?’ said Valerie.
Hands appeared through the curtain, looking for something to feel, but Keith had moved his feet from the stool and was holding out the hedgehog instead. I grappled with his hands, trying to take it from him, spiking myself in the process.
‘Ow!’ I yelped.
‘I can’t feel anything?’ said the contestant.
Keith pushed me away, onto the stool, and I felt hands touching my back.
‘Ooh, we’ve got something,’ said the contestant. ‘I think it’s human.’
I jumped up just as a giggling Keith pulled his trousers down and lunged his groin towards the contestant’s outstretched hand.
‘No!’ I said firmly (the way you’re supposed to talk to a dog that’s jumping up).
‘What’s going on back there?’ came Shannon’s voice on talkback. ‘Who’s talking?’
‘Do not open the curtain, I repeat, do not open the curtain,’ Leon whispered urgently into his radio.
‘Any guesses?’ asked Valerie.
Keith had the hedgehog in both hands now. The contestant had one hand on the hedgehog and one on Keith’s right testicle.
‘Very strange!’ pondered the contestant. ‘Sort of a bit fleshy and warm, but on the other hand spiky…’
Trevor decided enough was enough and launched in to retrieve his performer.
‘Stop that!’ Trevor roared, grabbing a now half-naked Keith by the collar.
Keith threw the hedgehog in the air and I let out a squeal of concern for the poor creature.
Everything that came next happened in a bit of a blur.
Trevor punched Keith and then caught the airborne hedgehog in an expert rugby catch. Keith lunged into me and pushed me into the set; the giant kilted legs came crashing down, taking Valerie and the contestants down with them. Everything went very quiet and I looked up to see Trevor cradling his precious hedgehog and a naked-from-the-waist-down Keith straddling Valerie Decouz.
‘All right, treacle,’ he chuckled as he realized where he had landed.
Valerie screamed, voices from the gallery erupted in my ear, and I felt Leon’s hands pulling me out of the carnage.
Safe to s
ay, my very first television item had not gone very well.
STEP 16 – BE NICE TO THE PEOPLE BELOW YOU, THEY MIGHT BE ABOVE YOU ONE DAY
FROM: RHIDIAN
TO: POPPY
RHIDIAN POPPY
Winning JR’s quiz + 1 Losing JR’s quiz (pretty horrifically) -1
Getting to Scotland without killing anyone +1 Almost killing Valerie Decouz -1
Hedgehog-gate - 1
‘I WISH I had seen it,’ Helen laughed. ‘It sounds ’ilarious.’
‘Well, it wasn’t at the time, trust me,’ I said.
Helen, David and I were sitting in the post room having an early morning coffee and biscuits. Helen was attempting to disinfect her latest upper ear piercing with a cotton bud, which was putting me off my Jammie Dodger.
‘Well, I don’t think it was your fault,’ said David, flicking through a Total Film magazine. ‘Everyone knows Keith Ray is a notorious reprobate. They shouldn’t have booked him on a family show.’
‘So Valerie Decouz actually saw ’is cock?’ Helen was in fits of giggles now. ‘What did she do?’
‘Well, she kind of flapped at it, like it was a snake trying to attack her,’ I laughed.
‘Rhidian is going to be so annoyed ’e missed that,’ said Helen, throwing a cotton bud at the bin and missing.
‘Where is Rhidian anyway?’ I asked.
‘He’s been sent to work on Can Your Dog Do Your Job? for a few days. We haven’t seen him since he got back,’ said David.
Just as I thought Helen had composed herself, she started laughing again at the thought of the Valerie and Keith kilt sandwich. Her laughter was infectious, so we were both giggling as JR walked into the post room. He’d trimmed his stubble slightly to reveal a sharp, well-defined jaw line, and his thick dark hair looked perfectly tousled.
‘Something amusing?’ he asked.
‘Just hearing about your brilliant Scottish show.’ Helen grinned.
I blushed. I didn’t want JR to think I’d been laughing about it: he was probably furious about the whole thing.
‘Penfold, a word please,’ said JR, beckoning me with a stern finger.
I silently followed JR into the meeting room, annoyed with Helen for getting me into trouble. I hadn’t seen JR since Scotland, and suddenly realized how self-conscious I felt in his presence. Alan and Rhidian’s comments about my overly gushing praise for him popped into my head as I quickly wiped a finger beneath each eye to check my mascara hadn’t smudged.
How to Get Ahead in Television Page 7
