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Authors: Ben Elton

BOOK: Chart Throb
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Ignoring Beryl, who continued to smoulder, Rodney made an effort to pull himself together.
‘Right, Iona. What are you going to sing for us today?’
‘I’d like to sing “You Raise Me Up” by Westlife.’
‘Off you go then, babes.’
Iona sang the song very sweetly, her pretty green eyes even growing wet with tears as she got to the big bit. When it was over Beryl and Calvin applauded with some enthusiasm.
‘Go, girl!’ shouted Beryl. ‘You
owned
that song!’
‘Yes. Congratulations,’ said Calvin, who seemed to have scarcely been listening, perhaps still preoccupied with the growing tension between his fellow judges and how best to exploit it. ‘You’ve come a long way since last year.’
‘Yes, yes,’ Beryl agreed before giving Iona her vote on the grounds that she had obviously listened carefully to all her comments. ‘I really feel you’ve taken on board everything we said last year. I told you to go away and to learn and grow, and that’s exactly what you’ve done.’
Calvin agreed and put her through also.
‘Rodney?’ he asked.
Rodney knew what was expected of him, he had read the script. His eyes made one last appeal to Calvin but Calvin simply tapped the relevant page with his pencil.
‘No need for my vote,’ Rodney said, with forced jollity. ‘Iona already has your votes, she’s through to the next round anyway.’
Calvin was having none of it.
‘Rodney,’ he said quietly, ‘what’s your vote?’
Rodney had no choice. For all the pretence about independent celebrity judges, he was an employee of CALonic TV, a creature of Calvin’s, every ounce of fame and status that he had he owed to Calvin. He did what he was told.
‘I’m sorry, Iona,’ he stammered. ‘I just don’t think you can cut it without the band. I don’t think you’re good enough. It’s a “no” from me.’
It was a truly terrific moment of television. Even the senior members of the crew who had known what was coming gulped at the cruelty and the audacity of it. As for the runners and the juniors who were not in on the script loop, they simply gasped. It was incredible: Rodney Root, Iona’s great public champion of the previous year, the ex-boyfriend who had promised her the world, was knocking her back in the first round. It was amazing, incredible. Everybody knew that they were present at a watershed moment in popular culture, like the moon landings or Kennedy’s assassination or the first shag on
Big Brother.
Understandably the person in the room who was most taken aback was Iona herself. Clearly, whatever she had expected from Rodney, it wasn’t this. The camera, which had crept up to within an inch of her soul, captured the stunned pain of a woman utterly betrayed.
‘Well, Rodney,’ she said icily, ‘funny thing that. I was good enough for you before, wasn’t I? In public and in private.’
Without another word she turned and left the room.
Watch Out, She’s Mad
Calvin announced a five-minute break. It wasn’t that there was time to spare but he just
had
to ring Emma. Clearing the camera team out of the hospitality room where they had been hoovering up the vol-au-vents, he lit a cigarette and prepared to luxuriate in the music of her voice.
‘You didn’t make him reject her?’ Emma gasped when Calvin had explained the exquisite tension and embarrassment of Iona’s confrontation with Rodney.
‘Of course I did and I’m going to bring her back round after round and make him do it again and it’s going to get better and better.’
‘Fictional drama’s fine but real drama’s TV gold, eh?’ Emma quoted.
‘Of course. Can’t beat the real thing.’
‘He should have stood up to you though, he really should. I mean his
ex-girlfriend
, that is pathetic.’
‘Third judge syndrome. They
are
pathetic. It’s their job.’
‘Speaking of drama,’ Emma said, changing the subject, ‘have you seen that girl Shaiana yet?’
‘No. She’s in the batch up next. Why do you ask?’
‘I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose.’
But Calvin was not having that. He knew Emma was a terrific researcher, her instincts had never let her down, and if she chose to enquire about one of the thousands of names that she had processed in the long months of pre-production he wanted to know why.
‘Come on,’ he insisted. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Well, it’s just I’ve never forgotten her,’ Emma replied quietly. ‘I say not forgotten, I
had
forgotten her but she sort of came back to me. I remember her application form,
I am me
, and the way she wanted it so much.’
‘They all want it so much.’
‘Of course, I know that, but this girl wrote it
twice.
On her form. I’ve never seen that before.’
‘Emma, you’ve seen them written in blood. Didn’t you tell me you got one in spunk last year?’
‘I don’t think it actually
was
spunk. I think it was flour and water glue meant to
look
like spunk.’
‘Well whatever, it isn’t as if you haven’t seen enough weirdos.’
‘Of course. All the same, I think Shaiana is in a bit of a different class. I remember her selection day in Birmingham. She was so
desperate.
So
intense.
Like she really, really had something to prove,
to herself’
‘That’s how I like them, Emma. The more they believe, the harder they cling and Clingers are great TV.’
‘All the same, don’t let her near Hair and Costume, they have a lot of scissors. What story did you end up assigning her? You’re not putting her in the final, are you?’
‘No. We’ll drop her after Pop School. Usual thing, taunt her to improve then tell her she hasn’t.’
‘I think you should drop her sooner. I think you should drop her now.’
‘Which is exactly why I’m not going to.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Emma, you were brilliant at your job. If you didn’t have morals and a conscience you could have ended up a junior partner in CALonic . . .’
‘No, thank you.’
‘And if you think some saddo is so on the edge that I should avoid them, then that means we have a classic Clinger on our hands which I have a public duty to milk for all she’s worth.’
‘I’m telling you, Calvin, she’s too intense. There’s too much going on there.’
‘There is
never
too much going on for me, Emma. I
love
it, you know that. Don’t worry, these people don’t scare me. Never have. Never will. Look, I’ve got to go. We’re miles behind. Love you, Emma. Love you lots.’
‘
Might
love you. Bye.’
As Calvin put away his phone he glanced up and realized he was being watched. It was Shaiana. He recognized her immediately. She had wandered up from the holding area. Perhaps to go to the ladies, or perhaps just to stare.
‘Hello there,’ said Calvin, looking her up and down. ‘Be with you in a minute.’
She looked ordinary enough to him. Bit of a Goth. Too much make-up perhaps, and wearing an entirely inappropriate bustier because she had no bust to speak of. Just one more dull nobody to be made briefly interesting in the edit. Calvin could not see what Emma was going on about. Perhaps for once her instincts had failed her?
Just Doing It for the Kids
The Prince entered the audition room, leaving his two detectives hovering in the wings. Calvin had not informed his two colleagues of the Prince of Wales’s decision to try his luck on
Chart Throb.
As always, he preferred real drama and genuine reactions to those that had to be faked and he was curious to see how Beryl and Rodney would respond.
‘Oh my
God
!’ Beryl exclaimed. ‘That’s brilliant! You look exactly like him!’
‘Extraordinary,’ Rodney agreed. ‘Can you do the voice?’
The Prince seemed rather taken aback at this and was clearly not sure what they meant. He therefore politely ignored it, as he was so often forced to do when confronted by gawping strangers who babbled nonsense at him.
‘
Hello!
How
are
you? Are you
well
?’ he said.
Beryl and Rodney cheered.
‘That’s
fantastic
,’ Beryl exclaimed.
‘Amazing. Can you do anybody else?’ Rodney enquired, after which there was a brief and slightly uncomfortable silence, the Prince still having no idea what they were talking about.
‘Are you the judges?’ he said finally, years of experience of making small talk kicking in.
‘Well done.
I do think that must be an awfully difficult job. Is it
hard
? I
bet
it’s hard. Poor
you
.’
‘This bloke’s amazing,’ Rodney said, turning to Calvin, who smiled and indicated that he wanted Rodney to lead the interview.
‘So, tell us a bit about yourself,’ Rodney asked the Prince. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m the Prince of Wales, for my
sins
,’ the Prince replied, at which Beryl shrieked with laughter.
‘Brilliant!’ she said.
‘I
see
,’ Rodney replied. ‘And how should we refer to you?’
‘Well,’ the Prince replied,
‘Your Royal Highness
is customary but really
sir
will be absolutely fine. No really, I do think too much formality can
get in the way
sometimes, don’t you?’
‘All right then . . . sir. What brings you here?’
‘Well, do you know, I’ve come here to
learn
,’ the Prince explained. ‘A great many people seem to see
muggins here
as a bit of an
old fogey.
And who knows, perhaps they’re right, perhaps I have lost touch with young people but, unlike
some
, I refuse to
rail against
them, condemning their culture as
empty
and
worthless
while knowing nothing whatsoever about it. That’s why I’m here to
learn.
To learn about this vibrant, new, impatient generation, and also about
myself.
Because if I don’t know myself then how can I expect people to
know me
and I suppose I’m vain enough to hope that some day they might.’
As the Prince spoke, the cameras focused on the faces of the judges and it was clear that for Beryl and Rodney the shocking reality was beginning to dawn. Calvin, playing his part beautifully, also allowed his jaw to drop open as it became more and more obvious that this was no lookalike.
‘Excuse me?’ Beryl said when the Prince had finished speaking. ‘
Are
you the Prince of Wales?’
‘Yes. Didn’t I
say
? Goodness gracious, I’d forget my own
head
if it wasn’t
screwed on!’
‘The
actual
Prince of Wales?’ Beryl continued.
‘Yes,
absolutely
, Knight of this, Companion of that. All a lot of nonsense really, although I do think that some tradition is
important
, don’t you? Otherwise in pursuit of the
ephemeral
we lose sight of the
eternal.
We disenfranchise the next generation from their own
history.
We have no right to do that, surely? We have to pass on the means by which people in future times can understand their own past.
History matters.
Don’t you agree? Or am I just
banging on
? I do that, you know.’
When the Prince had finished once more there was a pause. Even Beryl was stunned into silence.
‘Uhm, well, sir,’ Calvin said, ‘what would you like to sing for us?’
‘I should like to sing “Rockin’ All Over The World” by Status Quo,’ the Prince replied.
‘Good choice,’ said Rodney, as if on autopilot. ‘That is a great choice of song.’
‘That’s rockin’, not rocking,’ the Prince added. ‘The “g” is silent. Sacrificed for dramatic effect and in order to make the lyric
swing.
I do think that’s acceptable, don’t you? Proper English does matter but one must avoid being
overly rigid.
Do you agree?’
The three judges indicated that they most certainly did agree and the Prince duly performed the old Quo classic. When he had finished, the three judges applauded enthusiastically.
‘Your Royal Highness,’ said Calvin, putting on his serious face.
‘Please,
do
call me
sir
,’ the Prince interrupted. ‘Really, honestly, a simple sir is absolutely
fine.’
‘Well then, sir,’ Calvin continued, once more assuming his serious voice. ‘I am very pleasantly surprised. When I realized that it really was you wanting to audition for us, quite frankly I was horrified.’
A flicker of confusion passed across the Prince’s face. Clearly Calvin had not made him a party to the fact that he intended to deny any foreknowledge of the royal appearance. Calvin pressed on quickly before the Prince could point out that Calvin had in fact invited him to audition.

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