Compulsive readers (I know you're out there) will recall that Simon and Arthur are sitting in Nana Plaza reminiscing prior to visiting a gogo bar. The more beers they have the less likely it becomes. Suddenly...
"Arfer!!"
Oh no.
Two shaven headed, heavily tattooed young
men wearing full Arsenal regalia have threaded their way over to Arthur and
Simon and are preparing to sit down.
‘Well, well look who's here. Gav and Kev.' says Arthur tactfully. 'This is my friend Simon recently arrived from the UK. Simon knows everything
don’t you Si?’
‘Well, me and Martin Amis between us. I
certainly have an opinion on everything which is the same thing. You have to in
my business.’
‘Oh,’ says Gav, ‘What business are you in
then Simon? Not a copper I ’ope.’
‘TV.’
‘I knew it!’ says Gav, ‘you’re that bloke!’
‘Fraid so.’
‘Look Kev! It’s that bloke. Smashtalk.’
‘Hardfaceoff.’
‘Tough Shit actually,’ says Simon, ‘Channel
4. Thanks for watching.’
‘I’ll be buggered,’ says Kev. ‘I’ve got an
idea for a reality show. Bunch of blokes go to Thailand and meet some Thai
girls…’
‘And…?’
‘Well they interact like. Have a few
laughs. Never a dull moment. Lot’s of sex in it too…people will love it.’
‘Yes,’ says Simon, who has secretly
approached BBC2 about doing some kind of documentary of his visit to Thailand,
then thought better of it, ‘I can see a good audience for that. You might have
trouble selling the idea to the Beeb. Or maybe not. Everything’s fair game on
TV these days. People are hungry for diversion. Reality shows…so-called…the
public can’t get enough of that stuff. Did you hear about the Dutch TV show.
‘Swap A Kidney’ or something? Apparently there’s an alarming shortage of donor
organs in the Netherlands so someone at Endemol, big Dutch media production
company, had the bright idea of getting terminally ill people to donate their
organs. The audience got to vote on the most needy cases. I said something on
my show about getting Hannibal Lecter to host it. If no contestants were
suitable he could eat them. The actual operations could be done by naked Goth
girl surgeons. Without anaesthetic. And so on. Lots of controversy. Always
boosts the ratings. Turns out it was all a publicity stunt anyway. I’ve
suggested a cooking show where celebrity chefs hack away at each other with
meat cleavers. The winner gets to cook up whatever’s left. Hey this is just
like old times…’
Arthur wonders if Simon enjoys being
recognized. Simon senses Arthur wondering and considers elaborating on the
nature of fame but decides to save it for later.
‘Fuck me,’ interjects Kev, ‘are we still
doing dialogue? This sounds more like soliloquy.’
‘Sorry about that,’ says Simon, ‘I got a
bit carried away. Jet lag.’
‘Have another beer.’
‘Better not. You see Gav, and Kev, I’m a
communicator. That’s what I do. Communicate.
I don’t always say important and meaningful things but I do it in an
entertaining way. The hard part is keeping it going. You need to be motivated.
I do a show every week and I have a team of people working on it. I’m the
public face of it. I get my energy from the studio audience but mainly I get it
from the camera. Vanity? Sure that’s part of it but the thought of having my
face and thoughts in millions of living rooms is what tickles me. I know a lot
of people hate me too. They think I’m an arrogant prick but they keep coming
back. It’s all nonsense, I know that, but it’s fun too.’
‘That’s all right mate. Have a ramble if
you fancy it. Dialogue’s OK but after a while it’s hard to tell who’s talking
to who innit.’
‘Very true. If you leave out the he said,
said he bits it all tends to blend into an endless series of verbal exchanges.
It’s only the punctuation that gives it any meaning.’
‘Just a long drone interspersed with
inverted commas.’
‘It’s the author talking to himself half
the time.’
‘Total self indulgence.’
‘And so on.’
‘Quite.’
'Language is a virus.'
'But it's all we have.'
Kev mutters something about the BBC being
all poofters. Arthur looks a bit shocked.
‘Can we say things like that?’
‘Depends how it’s done. Ricky Gervais gets
away with it.’
‘Ricky who?’
‘You really are out of touch aren’t you Arthur.
Don’t worry about it.’
