Paul Fletcher, chief comedy writer for The Bradley Mackintosh Show at the BBC, strolled into the packed production office. He scouted the room, looking for best mate Luke and the girls, namely Kerry, Natasha, Isy and Vanessa. They were gathered in the far corner, so in order to join them he had no choice but to circumnavigate the entire room, the rest of the team and their bags.
‘’Scuse me, sorry, thanks … sorry … Right, breathe in then, Kerry,’ he instructed until Kerry was the last thing left between him and a bit of empty floor space.
‘Bloody hell,’ she gasped as Paul squeezed himself past her enormous bosoms, wedging them both against the wall in the process. ‘Don’t mind me or anything.’
‘You love it,’ joked Luke. ‘That’s more action than you’ve had in ages, isn’t it?’
‘Paul should be so lucky,’ interjected Natasha, a pretty blonde who had once had a bit of a thing with Paul.
‘If it makes you feel any better, Kezza, I’m wearing a condom so you’re definitely not pregnant,’ said Paul, unabashed.
Natasha, Isy and Vanessa giggled.
‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ said Kerry ruefully. ‘Pregnant is one thing I know I’m not. The way my love life’s going, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d sealed up completely.’
‘Sealed up?’ asked dark-haired Isy, looking worried. The junior researcher was sitting on the floor near Kerry’s feet and was wearing more accessories than Mr T, even managing to carry off a strange, boater-style hat, which was no mean feat. ‘That can’t actually happen, can it?’
‘Christ,’ said Paul indulgently. ‘No, Isy, it can’t. Now, where’s that penis Mike? He’s even later than usual, isn’t he?’
‘I went to give him a nudge,’ replied Kerry, plaiting the front of her curly dark hair and going boss-eyed as she did so, ‘but he was busy on his computer.’
‘Oh, I forgot. Mike’s such a busy man,’ said Paul, deadpan. ‘He was probably ordering some slacks from the Next catalogue, rearranging his nostril hair or chatting on the phone to his pals, arranging a bit of buggering for the weekend.’
‘You’ve really got it in for him, haven’t you?’ said Vanessa, her strong Liverpool accent as pronounced as ever. ‘What’s he ever done to you?’
‘Bored me rigid. Kept me waiting when I could be writing links. Reminded me at least fifty times that he went to university and I didn’t. Been crap at his job but never been pulled up on it because he’s married to the boss’s daughter,’ fired back Paul rapidly.
‘You’re mean,’ said Natasha slyly. ‘Mike’s all right and at least he’s easy on the eye.’
Paul glanced at Natasha as nonchalantly as possible, trying to glean if this comment was for his benefit or not. The two of them had been an item for a few months last winter until Natasha had dumped him cruelly, with no warning and by text (the part that had really stung). For a while (though he would rather have died than admit it), Paul had been fairly cut up.
Now, Natasha’s heart-shaped face and big green eyes were the picture of innocence, and though Paul knew he’d appear jealous if he said anything, he felt compelled to do so anyway. ‘Well, I’ll never get what you girls see in Mike. He’s been driving me mad ever since he got back from paternity leave. I’ve never known so many pointless script changes and, frankly, I can’t wait for him to piss off on holiday so we can have a break from him again. The man’s an arse.’
None of the group paid much attention. The way they saw it, as far as Paul was concerned, Mike had never been able to do right and it didn’t take a genius to work out why. Paul fancied Natasha, Natasha fancied Mike, Mike fancied himself.
‘Who’s on seven minutes?’ called out Luke suddenly.
‘I am,’ yelled Penny, the production assistant, her unmistakeable gin-soaked voice booming across from the other side of the office. ‘Who’s on seven and a half?’
Robbie, head of make-up, perused the sheet he was clutching as he paced around, stepping over people’s legs and bags. ‘Oooh, that’s me! Right, come on, Mike, let’s be having you.’
‘Well, I think if you heard what Mike has to put up with at home, you might be a bit more understanding,’ said Kerry darkly, fishing a bottle of nail varnish out of her bag and giving it a good shake. ‘Honestly, his wife’s always moaning at him. In fact, I’d say she phones pretty much daily to check he’s not going to the pub and the other day –’
But she never got to finish what she was saying because just at that moment Mike himself finally walked into the room. Twenty heads immediately turned to look at the clock on the wall, which said eight minutes past two. Robbie stopped pacing, glanced from the clock back to his notes and up again to be met by a sea of expectant faces, at which point he mouthed for all to see, ‘Congratulations, Hassan.’ Hassan puffed up with pleasure, but everyone else looked pretty fed up. The production accountant always seemed to win the sweepstake.
‘Hi, guys,’ said Mike, trying to sound as flustered as possible. ‘Sorry I’m late. It’s been so bloody frantic this week that at one point I thought I wasn’t going to get away. But somehow I’ve managed it, so let’s crack on.’
Paul rolled his eyes so witheringly, it made Isy giggle out loud.
‘Right, first on the agenda,’ Mike began. ‘Tomorrow I’ve got a meeting with David Bridlington to talk about our ratings. So, Kerry, remind me who we’ve got booked for the next few weeks, please?’
‘Oh, right,’ she said dolefully, starting to look through her notes. The subject of ratings never boded well for her. ‘OK, so this week we’ve got Jamie Oliver …’
‘Great,’ said Mike.
‘Jane McDonald.’
‘Mmmnah,’ said Mike.
‘And Juliette Binoche. However, I am having a bit of a mare with the week after. Hopefully I’ve got Michael Sheen, but the other guests I had booked have pulled out.’
‘Well, that’s a major worry,’ said Mike, looking furious. ‘I hope you’ve got a back-up plan.’
Kerry wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have bothered trying to defend Mike earlier. She stared back at him defiantly. His rumpled white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves displaying tanned forearms and, with one button too many undone, it was easy for her to tell that his chest must be brown and smooth with just a suggestion of hair. She’d probably fancy him if it weren’t for the fact that A/ he was married and B/ would never be interested in her in a million years. Still, his attractiveness was diluted somewhat by his rather ‘Boden’ dress sense and his front teeth, which had an unfortunate tendency to rest on his bottom lip whenever he was deep in thought or cross. Like now.
‘My “back-up plan” is to book the best guests I can get,’ she answered. ‘I’ve put feelers out everywhere so I’m hoping that –’
‘So you’re telling me I have to convince David that ratings aren’t going to be a problem, and yet in a fortnight’s time we haven’t got anyone confirmed,’ stated Mike.
‘Sure “Daddyo” will understand,’ muttered Paul to Luke, earning himself a frown from Mike, who could tell he was being talked about.
‘Well, yes, but only because of unforeseen cancellations. It’s not easy finding people week in week out, you know,’ said Kerry. Sometimes her job felt like a thankless task. ‘I may have one of the best sets of contacts in the business, but I don’t have a magic wand, plus I do all the booking myself, which is practically unheard of on a show this size.’
‘Woooooh,’ crowed Luke.
‘Oh, don’t be such a tit, Luke,’ Kerry snapped.
‘All right, all right,’ said Mike. ‘Look, I get where you’re coming from, Kerry, but at the same time we have to have big names every single week or we’re doomed. So if you really think you need help in order to make that happen, well then, let’s have a meeting and talk about getting you an assistant. Although I can tell you now, there won’t be much in the budget for it.’
‘There definitely won’t,’ piped up Hassan. ‘There are bigger priorities that need paying for at the moment.’
Something inside Kerry snapped. She’d been busting her gut for this show for a year and a half now and when ratings were sky high and the guests were amazing, no one seemed to thank her or give her any credit. Yet when things weren’t going so well, it always seemed to be her who was hauled over the coals and she was sick of it. To her horror she realized she was about to burst into tears, not a nice feeling when you’re at work, so she grabbed her bag and bolted from the meeting. The team gazed open-mouthed at her departure.
‘I was only saying,’ said Hassan, shrugging defensively.
‘Mm, that’s not like her, is it?’ said Mike, gathering his wits. ‘Maybe it’s the time of the month?’ he suggested, pausing to give everybody the opportunity to laugh out loud at his hilarious gag. ‘You know, perhaps she’s got the painters in?’
An eerie silence greeted him, however, and slowly the grin slipped off Mike’s face as he realized no one was laughing. Maybe he’d got that one a bit wrong.
‘Shall I go after her?’ offered Isy.
‘Er, yes please, Isabel, if you wouldn’t mind,’ said Mike, clearing his throat. ‘Right … moving on.’
In the ladies’ loos, Isy hugged a tear-stained Kerry.
‘Are you all right now, babe?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ said Kerry, who did feel like a cry had got a lot out of her system. ‘And if Mike’s serious about me getting an assistant then I’m going to bloody well take him up on the offer. I’ve been asking him for one for the last year.’
‘Yeah,’ mused Isy, idly examining her split ends. ‘Hey, when you legged it, Mike made a joke about you having your period. How out of order is that?’
‘Sexist idiot,’ sniffed Kerry.
‘I know,’ said Isy indignantly. ‘Have you though?’
‘Er … obviously. Now, let’s get out of here. I need to find Hassan and once I’ve forced him to stop being such a tight bastard I shall be telling Mike that I am having an assistant, whether he likes it or not.’