Daytime TV

The branches curled and lifted, contorting themselves into horribly human shapes against the window and he half expected them to knock against the glass, crash through or at least point him out knowingly. Inside all was bright. The studio lights spat individual pools beneath which young girls in hoodies and headphones were rushing, checking light levels with meters and notepads and being nodded at by older men who sat half slumped against their cameras as though each were his own private bar.
One of the young girls appeared then at the door to the green room. Latte Mr Clarke? It wasn't a latte he wanted. Yes he said. She took two long strides across the room and placed the cardboard cup dramatically upon the plastic table-top as if laying rare jewels at the feet of a king. We'll be ready to go in 4 minutes yeah? He nodded and she left. He could see two boys stood awkwardly on the studio floor. New interns he thought. Someone was marching across to scream at them. Do they get paid for this? You pay them in experience he thought. Ignoring the latte he took a long swig on the bottle of JB he kept in the makeup draw.
He walked out onto the set and noticed people looking desperately busy, their eyes fixed on some minor last minute detail, real or imagined. It doesn't require a shit load of intellect to work as part of a television production team he thought. Two minutes Mr Clarke. And then he tried to think of other jobs that required intellect. Real learning. Science and.. One minute Mr Clarke... You know today's issues don't you? today's issues? Someone handed him a sheet of paper. He nodded as he skim read over the large emboldened type. It's on the auto-cue anyway. A hand patted his shoulder. And then they began to count backwards from ten and when they got the three the room fell silent and he watched the camera operator mouth three-two-one and saw a glimer of hope or excitement flash upon audience's eyes. Just then the wind was raised for a moment and he was aware of the branches curled and lifted, contorting themselves into horribly human shapes against the window and he half expected them to knock against the glass, crash through or at least point him out knowingly.