Reality TV as it should be |
" Right " said the boss, " we need some ideas The ratings are tumbling, or so it appears We need something different, intellectually enhancing No jungles or love islands, no singing or dancing No self-satisfied high-trousered judges and panels A show that can smash those other bastard channels " He eyeballs his lessers from behind his cigar They squirm in their seats muttering "erm" and "uh" Racking their brains and frozen with fear Seeking the lightbulb that saves their career Til a young skinny hand rises in gingerly fashion It's Quentin with his thin hair and strong Brut splash-on " Er, here's an idea, now just hear me out The public crave reality, but it needs extra clout So assemble some celebs, who each get voted off " Groans of derision, " It's been done " they all scoff The boss blows smoke, this is what he desired A chance to point and say the words "You're fired!" " Ah, but this one is different, it's no walk in the park Stick 'em on a plane and send 'em out to Iraq They can man all the checkpoints whilst on the phone to their agents Dodge all the bullets and dodge the insurgents It would test their resilience to far greater heights Take lunch with the Sunni's and tea with the Shiites A day trip to Baghdad to take in the sights Even switch on the Basra christmas lights " The Boss stares at Quentin, wide-eyed and in shock As he tries to imagine Barrymore at a Mosul Road-block " You're completely off yer rocker! You must have lost the plot And yet I can't deny that it might be worth a shot But who would be in it, who would possibly agree? They'd have to be desperate, or totally out of their tree " " Well Boss " said Quentin " I'm sure I can find Some washed-up celebs who've got comebacks in mind The types who bemoan their bad luck and oh-so-nears Will do pretty much anything to boost their flagging careers " " We'll get...er wotsisname off that... er thingymajig And that one who likes Beckham and molested a pig Disgraced comedians and ageing grey rockers And how about the weather girl with the gigantic knockers And the second cousin of the sister of some guy in a Soap I'm still waiting on the Vatican for a reply about the Pope Some pop singer bloke whose record sales are on the slide And that ex-Russian spy who.... oh no sorry, he died A Tory MP and an ex-Labour Peer And presented by Davina in full battle-gear " The boss spits out his pungent Cuban, breaks into a smile Beckons Quentin closer whilst dismissing others rank and file " Well bonk my bulging bank balance and take it out for dinner! I do believe you've cracked it, I think this one's a winner Of course we'll need our own man there to co-ordinate it all I'll book you on the first flight out and give 'Hotel Saddam' a call " Quentin starts to back away, holding up a hand " N-no sir, if you n-need me here I'd f-fully understand " " Nonsense boy, you'll be the genius behind this work of wonder I'd hate to see some other jerk go out and steal your thunder " " But boss I... I d-don't want to go... " " Of course you do, you're desperate I know " " No boss, honest! " " Oh you're far too modest But I can see you can't resist So I really must insist " Quentin stands in silent shock, his senses in a rut And tells himself in future to keep his big mouth shut " Now run along and pack your bags, let's get this thing in motion And please try not to get caught up in some suicide explosion! " |