Dear Hugh 3
DEAR HUGH,
Well, that was a good start; I’ve been fired from the TV company. Well, kind of laid-off; not exactly Clear Your Desk, more of a We’ll Call You When Money Grows On Trees sort of thing. Apparently it had something to do with me calling ITV Commissioning Editors “cretins”. The office politic said that I should show more respect and I argued that it was somewhat difficult to respect people who believed that Celebrity Wrestling was the way of the future and then they said I wasn’t being a team player and it all spiralled downhill from there. I think the word “dickhead” may have come into play somewhere in the shouted confusion.
Anyway, for the second time in less than a year I’m back in the thrift shops and on the bread and potatoes diet again as I bemoan the lack of “high-paid writers wanted” in Marlborough’s situations vacant. I’m told that there is work to be found in a new factory in Devizes that prepares filled panini for an Italian food chain. Somebody suggested that I should work there for a while and then write about it but somehow I don’t have the confidence that there is a best-seller entitled A Year In Provolone.
Somebody else suggested that I try ringing around all my old contacts in the music biz to see if they had any work that they could toss my way but I’ve already tried that. It is quite astonishing to discover the widespread lack of interest from people who were ever-so chummy when they knew that I was close to My Ex. Still, to look on the bright side at least I know now that nobody will have to hire in outside caterers when it gets to my funeral; a couple of aunts buttering half a loaf of sliced Hovis should be sufficient.
A third benefactor from Bright Ideas Inc. urged me to try get back into journalism but I fear that much has changed there since the days when I got psoriasis on my hands from the newsprint, not least my willingness to knock at the gates of footballers’ gaudy mansions to enquire after the chances of a quote about what name Jordan should give to her forthcoming baby. Somehow I cannot find the conviction that there is merit in such celebrity obsession, but then what do I know? As has been already pointed out, I’m the trouble-maker who fails to appreciate Celebrity Wrestling’s entitlement to rank alongside Fawlty Towers and Roots. I don’t know what’s the matter with me but obviously I was off sick the day that the lobotomies were done at school.
GB