Chart Throb (39 page)

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Authors: Ben Elton

BOOK: Chart Throb
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‘All right,’ said Calvin, playing it tough. ‘You’re through. You get another shot and all I can say is this, Millicent: you had better work, young lady. You had better work like you’ve never worked before. You had better work and learn and grow and grow and learn and work because it’s down to you, young lady. You are what is standing in Graham’s way, his career is in your hands and if you don’t get your act together you will bring this boy down.’
With that Graham and Millicent were escorted, shaking, from the room.
‘God, you’re good,’ said Beryl after they had left. ‘That was brilliant.’
‘The problem surely,’ said Rodney, ‘is that in fact she’s the singer, not him.’
‘Yes, yes, I
know
she’s the better singer, Rodney! For God’s sake, this is our third series together, haven’t you worked it out yet? These people are whatever we
say
they are, however we
edit
them to be. If we look at this little blind chap with his phlegmy, throaty, crappy little voice and say that he has the voice of a young James Brown then the voice of a young James Brown is what he’s got. God knows, I’ve lost count of the times Beryl has told some saggy-boobed barmaid who’s covered “My Heart Will Go On” that actually she preferred her version to Céline’s. Sometimes even I cringe. How many times do I have to tell you,
the singing doesn’t matter! Please
try to remember.’
Outside the audition room Keely met Graham and Millicent, breathless with anticipation.
‘Did you make it? Are you through?’ she asked.
‘Yes, we’re through,’ Millicent said before bursting into tears.
‘Babes, babes,
babes
,’ said Keely. ‘
Babes!
’
Keely hugged Millicent and Millicent told Keely what had happened. ‘I’ll drop out now!’ she protested. ‘I would
never
stand in Graham’s way. Calvin might as well have said that I don’t want Graham to succeed without me.’
Watching from behind the camera which was hovering inches from Millicent’s distraught face, Chelsie noted down the time code. That last sentence, if taken out of context, was dynamite.
I don’t want Graham to succeed without me.
If ever a girl was condemned from her own mouth . . . That sentence played before, after and if possible during the commercial breaks would hang that little goody two-shoes choirgirl high.
Congratulations, You’re Through to the Next Round: Bloke
Next came Bloke, a weddings and parties rock ’n’ roll band. Four pleasant-faced lads in their early thirties who humbly explained that they had paid their rockin’ dues up and down the Ml and the M6 (just them and their battered old guitars) and they reckoned that this was their last chance at the big time.
‘This is our last best shot, Calvin,’ explained one Bloke.
‘We came here to rock,’ another Bloke added. ‘And that’s what we’re going to do.’
‘So hey, why don’t we quit talking,’ said the first Bloke, ‘and do this thing!’
Beryl whooped, Calvin smiled and Bloke sang ‘Stand By Me’ in gut-wrenching, throat-tearing four-part harmony, by the end of which their faces were so contorted with pain and emotion that they might easily have been enduring a hedgehog enema rather than singing a song.
When it was over, Beryl was the first to speak.
‘Guys,’ she said, ‘that was awesome. You know me, I’m just a rock chick from way back and all I can say is you
rock!
You
rock
, GUYS! You
owned
that song. It was awesome.’
‘That is a tough song too,’ Rodney added, trying to look intelligent and hard to please. ‘“Stand By Me” is a very tough song to cover. That is not an easy song at all. It’s a tough song, but you owned it.’
Rodney was sitting in the middle seat, having temporarily assumed the role of team leader. Occasionally he and Beryl were instructed to do so as part of Calvin’s effort to create the illusion of equality between the judges.
‘I’m putting you guys through,’ Rodney said. ‘Beryl?’
‘Yes!’ Beryl agreed. ‘Yes, yes, yes, the guys rock.’
‘Calvin?’ asked Rodney, absolutely loving his moment in the middle.
‘I hated it,’ said Calvin.
Beryl and Rodney howled in protest and then the three of them went through the exhausting motions of playing out their fictional conflict.
‘You’ve gone mad, Calvin!’ Beryl protested woodenly. ‘Behave! What are you like? I don’t
believe you
. Behave!’
‘That was a very tough song,’ Rodney added, and if Beryl’s performance had been wooden Rodney’s was hewn from solid mahogany. ‘I think you owe these fellas an apology.’
‘Just because you wouldn’t personally have the range to cover a song like that, Rodney, does not make it a tough song,’ Calvin quipped. ‘I thought the guys were boring.’
In fact Calvin was not in a position to consider Bloke’s performance either boring or otherwise because he had been standing in the corner speaking to America on his mobile while they were performing.
‘Sorry, guys,’ said Calvin, ‘but I’ve seen a hundred bands like you paying their dues in every down-and-dirty rock pub in the country.’
Bloke in fact played mainly hotels and party halls and Calvin would not have entered a down-and-dirty rock pub if Britney Spears had been on stage going down on Madonna, but it sounded good. Tough and professional.
‘Yeah, Calvin,’ one of the Blokes replied. ‘Maybe you’re right, maybe there are a lot of guys like us out there paying their rock ’n’ roll dues. And maybe we’re playing for them.’
‘Yes!’ shrieked Beryl. ‘YES!
Good
answer! You go, guys.’
‘Well said!’ Rodney nodded.
Calvin, his face a picture of honest good humour, pretended to be swayed.
‘Yes, Beryl’s right, that was a good answer,’ he conceded. ‘I like your attitude. Maybe you guys are as good as you think you are. Damn it, maybe I should take a risk . . .’
Once more Calvin paused, as if wrestling with every ounce of his instinct and his intellect.
‘This is a life-changing moment for you guys,’ he said, stringing it out. ‘If I make a mistake and you can’t cut it, I’m going to look a fool.’
‘Hey, we won’t let you down, Calvin,’ said one of the Blokes.
‘You’d better not. OK. You’re through.’
Congratulations, You’re Through to the Next Round: Iona
Iona had been having an uncomfortable time in the holding area. Unlike the Prince of Wales, she had been recognized by all the other contestants in the room, who had witnessed the humiliation that had been dealt out to her and her bandmates the previous year. They had also all seen Rodney Root publicly declare his affection for Iona and predict that Shetland Mist would become enormous stars. They were also aware that this prediction had been followed by an entire absence of stardom, enormous or otherwise.
‘I can’t believe you’re back here having another go,’ one of the girls sitting nearby said.
‘So you’ve dumped the band then, Iona?’ another remarked. ‘I think that’s a shame.’
Iona could not tell them that she had in fact been invited to reapply. This was one of the
Chart Throb
rules by which she must abide and which, as Chelsie had reminded her when she had called, could change at any time.
Eventually a researcher arrived with Keely and a camera team.
‘Just look who I’ve found lurking in the holding area,’ Keely shouted at the camera, feigning surprise. ‘Yay, it’s Iona, out of Shetland Mist from last year!!! How cool is that? Come and say hello, missus.’
Iona made her way forward.
‘Hello!’ said Keely. ‘Fantastic to see you, girlfriend. So you’ve come back for another bash, eh?’
‘Yes, that’s right, Keely. I’m starting right from the bottom again,’ Iona explained.
‘But without the rest of the band?’
‘Well, you know, I miss them heaps, Keely, but we all talked about it and we reckoned there was no point just repeating what we did last time, so . . . well, here I am.’
‘Yay, babes! Go, girl! How cool is that?’ Keely gushed. ‘Now it’s no secret to anyone that you and our very own pop Svengali, Rodney Root, were an item way back last year. He was a big fan as I recall.’
‘That’s right, Keely, he was a very big fan.’
‘So you’re looking forward to seeing him again?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Iona, her pale eyes narrowing. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Rodney Root again.’
‘No time like the present, missus! Let’s do this thing!’
Keely and Iona, accompanied by the camera team, made their way towards the audition room.
For a moment Rodney had been enjoying himself. He always loved the times when he got to sit in the middle and he had almost forgotten about what Calvin had planned for him. Therefore the look of shock and horror on his face when Iona entered the room was entirely genuine.
‘Hi, Iona!’ shrieked Beryl, as if surprised. ‘You came back! Good on you, girl, for having the sheer freakin’ balls to get back into the ring and face us again. That takes guts.
I like that.
You go, girl!’
‘Hello, Iona,’ said Calvin, smiling. Then, turning to Rodney, ‘Just look who’s turned up for another shot at the title, Mr Root.’
It is never easy to bump into ex-girlfriends, particularly ex-girlfriends whom one has let down in public and been avoiding ever since. It’s even harder when doing so in front of television cameras. Rodney conspicuously failed to rise to the occasion.
‘Uhgh . . . uhm . . . right. Yes,’ he said.
Calvin had Rodney covered from every angle. As the master creator of fictional drama he knew that nothing beat the real thing, and ever since Rodney had dumped Iona the previous year he had been planning this moment and looking forward keenly to exploiting Rodney’s genuine discomfort.
‘Hello, Iona,’ Rodney said eventually, his voice weak.
‘Hello, Rodney,’ Iona replied sweetly but with a tinge of wistful sadness. ‘Haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘That’s right, no. Absolutely. No band with you today then?’
‘No, Rodney,’ Iona replied. ‘We had to call it a day. We never did hit the big time,
as you know
, and you can’t wait for ever, can you?’
‘No, that’s right,’ said Rodney, swallowing hard. ‘You can’t.’
‘Wait for
you
, she means!’ Beryl shrieked while Rodney squirmed. ‘We all remember what you said last year, mate! It’s about time one of the acts you promised a career to turned up again and chucked it in your face. You’re always doing it.’
‘Yes, Rodney,’ Calvin added. ‘You mentioned apologies a moment ago. I rather think you owe Iona one. After all, you did promise that Shetland Mist would be stars.’
‘Yes, well, I thought that the band had talent,’ Rodney stammered. ‘I still do, of course.’
‘But not enough for you to get them a deal?’ Beryl pointed out.
Suddenly Rodney saw red and for a brief moment the worm turned.
‘Well, I’d rather see them fail
before
they got a deal than have the embarrassment of public failure afterwards like your precious daughter Priscilla, Beryl! How
is
her album doing, by the way?’
For a moment Beryl was stunned, unable to believe that Rodney had dared to diss her family.
Her family.
That thing to which she was publicly known to be utterly and slavishly devoted. Was he not aware that she was the world’s greatest mum?
‘What the FUCK did you say?’ Beryl shouted.
‘You heard what I said,’ Rodney replied, but he was already losing his nerve.
‘Yes, I did, mate. And I shan’t forget it either.’ Beryl turned to Calvin. ‘You won’t keep it in, will you?’ she enquired. ‘What this
cunt
just said?’
‘No, of course not,’ Calvin replied. ‘Certainly not. I doubt it. Probably wouldn’t work anyway. We’ll see. I mean I’ll have to
look
at it, we look at everything, but I doubt we’ll use it. Probably not anyway.’
Calvin glanced at Chelsie, who gave a tiny nod to indicate that the time code had been noted.
‘Well, let me tell you now, Calvin,’ Beryl said, continuing to speak across Rodney as if he was not there. ‘If this little shit
ever
disses my daughter again, or
any
member of my family, I walk. Got it? You can do without him but you can’t do without me. So remember that.’
There was another pause while Calvin stared back at Beryl, like her, entirely ignoring Rodney. Calvin smiled but it was a cold smile.
‘You know I’d
hate
to lose you, darling,’ he said with the tiniest touch of menace. ‘But in the long run these decisions are mine. I have told you, Beryl, I
doubt
we’ll use it.’
Leaving Beryl to fume impotently, Calvin turned to Rodney, smiling pleasantly.
‘Rodney,’ he said, ‘we can’t leave Iona standing here all day, she’s here for an audition. You’re in the middle, get on with it.’

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