F- Showtime

"On air in ten........TEN"!
To the left of camera one, a bearded man wearing headphones and holding
a clipboard spreads his hands in the air as if someone had just stuck a
gun in the small of his back.
"NINE"! The bearded man effortlessly bends the little pinkie of his
left hand. EIGHT! He bends his left forefinger. SEVEN! Behind a small
desk in front of the cameras Stone Marconi straightens his tie and
coughs, trying to clear the dryness in his throat. SIX! He checks his
notes. FIVE! He turns to Abigail. "All right Abigail"? "Fine thanks"
she replies coldly. THREE! God! He hated show business. TWO! An angelic
expression comes over Stones face, as if he's remembering a fond memory
from childhood. ONE! "Titles rolling...Cue Abigail".
Stone always looked and acted as if he had just won a design your own
face competition. That is to say he looked as if he looked like he
wanted to look (if you see what I mean). He made no apologies for
considering himself one of the best looking men on the planet. I mean
he had always been a good looking guy but now he was a good looking guy
on the television and as Stone knew full well, a good looking guy on
the television was worth a thousand mortals on the street.
This was also an important time in Stone's life. He had finally been
offered his own show on regional television and although the network
had took their bloody time offering it, he nevertheless decided to
accept., quickly The exact format was still to be worked out but it was
generally agreed to be a kind of financial affairs/entertainment
programme with a Scottish tint. The network like Stone had big hopes
for it.
"Could go National" they said. The whole of Scotland. It was the break
Stone had been waiting for.
He had already become a media personality in west central Scotland
(which he knew full well wasn't exactly difficult). Feted for his wit
and at times even his intelligence, he made numerous radio and
television appearances to expound his well sought after opinions on all
sorts of diverse issues affecting the nation.
On his frequent radio appearances In the last week for example he had
been asked his views on 'The future of the British monarchy'? 'Feng
Shui fact or fiction'? And 'Star Trek the next generation, better than
the original'?
Not only celebrated for his wit and intelligence, Stone was also
delighted to see he had recently been listed in one of the Sunday
Supplements as one of Scotland's most eligible bachelors. Yep, his star
was definitely on the up, which was just as well since he had become
rather bored with his 'main' job, his business 'Stone Marconi
Investments'.
It now bored him to sit in an office dealing with the usually small and
pathetic amounts of money he was entrusted with by his rather small and
pathetic investors. Nevertheless he had to admit that due to his
exposure on television, the business had become quite profitable over
the last few years. But there was no doubt in his mind that Stone
Macron Investments now belonged to his past. His future belonged in
showbiz.
For the past year he had been the financial expert on Caledonia
Television's (a cable television company serving west central Scotland)
midday news programme called Lunchtime Caledonia. The small cable
company had brought in Stone to shore up their flagging lunchtime news
programme and to the producer's delight and slight surprise; audiences
had indeed risen significantly since the arrival of Stone.
The main news presenter was Abigail Andrews, a bright and bubbly blonde
who at the launch of her career had the original feature of reading the
news standing up, but with her confidence dented by the disappointing
viewing figures she went back to sitting down again.
Like most at the station, Stone had surmised that Abigail had landed
the job on the lunchtime news programme because of her looks rather
than her brains but in fact her beauty hid an astute intelligence which
had gained her a diploma in media studies from Motherwell
polytechnic.
The producers of the programme delighted in the pairing of Abigail and
Stone and were in no doubt it was the 'sexual chemistry' between the
two charismatic presenters which had salvaged the viewing figures.
However the real reason for any sexual tension which existed between
them was simple. They couldn't stand each other.
It was a hate, which resulted from an almost instant dislike. Abigail
taking an almost instant dislike to Stone when one day after the show
he asked her to go to bed with him "skip the dinner, like" and Stone
taking an almost immediate dislike to Abigail when she turned down his
generous offer to go to bed with him "skip the dinner like". From then
on their working relationship would be their only relationship and
their only relationship was nothing more than the odd icy stare,
silence or more often than not, a to and fro volley of verbal
detestation.
Today was no exception. Coming up to the segment where Abigail had to
introduce her nemesis co-presenter, she tried as always (for the sake
of her viewers) to the hide the grimace she felt like making. "Well,
she started, turning to camera two, "It's that time in the afternoon
again when we say hello to our financial 'wizard' Stone Marconi. Pause.
"to answer all your money questions on 01845 336 553.
She turns back to camera one. "Well let's get straight on down to
business with Jim from Greenock on line one. (Caption comes up with a
large red dot stuck anywhere on a very cheap looking map of Central
Scotland). "Hello Jim, you're through to Stone, what's your
problem"?
"Hello Abigail, hello Stone"
"Hi Jim" took up Stone, reassuringly "how can I help you"?
"Eh...well...I'm wanting to buy a house in Garthumlock, taking out a
mortgage like, but ah don't know whether to go for a fixed or variable
rate of interest, ah was just wondering what ye thought yersel"?
"No problem Jim" said Stone through a smile, which announced, no fear,
Stone's here "Can I just ask how much the mortgage is for"? He clasped
his hands together, a look of genuine concern on his face.
"Eh...26 thousand.
Pauper. "26 thousand over a..."?
"25 year period"
Hey big spender. "Right excellent, in the present climate as you're no
doubt aware Jim, interest rates are relatively low at present and look
to stay that way at least in the near future, but you never can tell in
the world of high finance so my advise to yourself Jim, like I advise
all my clients at Stone Marconi Investments is go for the fixed rate.
That way you're always sure of what you've got to pay, when you've got
to pay it. No questions asked. Because" Inexplicably he pointed to the
camera with bent fingers, gangster rap style " better safe than sorry,
remember always think clunk click every trip"
Abigail looked at him in despair, wishing him dead.
Stone ignored and continued smiling to camera three. "I hope that
answers your question Jim.
" Eh aye, thanks" After Jim from Larkhall, Charles from Renfrew wanted
to know about PEPS, Alisdair from Cumbernauld asked about small
investors investing in the stock market and Mohammed from Sighthill
enquired about hidden bank charges. Stone answered all the questions in
his usual competent and professional manner before moving on to the
financial markets.
"As for the financial markets, well at lunch the Dow was up an
encouraging 20 points at 6052 whilst the Nikkei was down 47 at 10465.
This morning the pound will get you 3.74 Deutschmarks and 1.72 dollars.
One other tip today is the 4:45 at Haydock, Regal Sunset steps up in
class but should still make it a hat - trick of wins, and with that
it's back to you Abigail.
" Thanks Stone, I'll certainly be rushing down the bookies to put my
money on that one" Stone forced his face into a strained grin.
Sarcastic bitch.
As Abigail tied up the end of the show with the weather forecast and
what to look forward to in the nightly edition of the programme, Stone
simmered under controlled rage. Miss blonde on the box had done it
again. He would have to have a word with the producer. He couldn't go
on working under these conditions. Just because she was anchorwoman on
some two - bit cable T. V. news programme, she always had to have the
last word. Stuck - up tart. The only reason the masses watch this
programme is for my financial reports, he thought. If she has a problem
with that, well then he would have to give the producer an Ultimatum.
It's either her or me. Let's see how smug she would be back on local
radio where she belongs.
"So with that it's goodbye from me and the team"
(Me and the team? The team and myself you grammatically incorrect
bitch)
" Have a good afternoon"
As the cameras pulled back and the end titles rolled, Stone continued
to wear the ever straining grin whilst keeping his eye on the camera
and replacing his pen in his top pocket with rehearsed ease. Off air.
Thank god.
He turned to Abigail the grin transforming into a more natural looking
grimace.
"Thanks"
Abigail's features wore an expression of innocence. " Sorry"?
" Thanks once again for undermining my financial reports"
Abigail waited for a more detailed explanation. Stone proceeded to do
so with an exaggerated and somewhat cruel impersonation of Abigail's
false televisual manner. " Oooh, I'll certainly be rushing down the
bookies to put my money on that one, thanks, thanks a lot"
" Well' replied Abigail completely non- plussed "if you actually
managed to pick a winner now and again, then perhaps I'd have a little
more respect for your 'Insider Knowledge' but as I recall the last time
one of your tips actually won must have been two months ago".
"Ah ha! So you do check to see if they win".
"Simply because I'm not sure if I'm happy having a born loser
encouraging my viewers to throw their money away in the bookmakers,
you're supposed to give financial advice, who said anything about
giving Horseracing tips anyway"
"Your viewers"! Your viewers!" Stone shouted finally losing control of
his under control rage. "Ha! We all know the only reason any viewers
watch this programme at all is to watch me"!
Abigail laughed what seemed to be a genuine laugh and then immediately
contradicted herself by saying "Don't make me laugh"!
The cameramen, director and crew looked on in amusement being used to
the constant bickering by the two presenters. Stone tried to push home
the advantage he felt he had gained over Abigail. " That's right" his
face turning crimson " we all know the facts. Since I started on 'your'
programme six months ago, viewing figures have gone up 12\%. He laughed
in the same manner as Abigail, more of a Ha, than a Ha, Ha.
Now he had her he thought. Now it was time to go in for the kill. "It
really bugs you doesn't it...it really, he searched for the right
word...but couldn't find it, Bugs you that if it wasn't for Mr Stone
Marconi, Abigail Andrews would be back on local radio doing traffic
reports!"
At the mention of traffic reports on local radio Abigail advanced
forwards, ready to pop Mr Marconi on the nose. Instead, however she
tried to regain her sang - froid. She sighed heavily and loudly. "If
you really want to know why I cannot stand the sight of you, Stone
Marconi, it's not your stupid name, it's not your stupid face, it's not
even the fact you're in all probability, no make that definitely the
dumbest man I have ever met, no it's not that, the real reason I hate
you so much is...em..(Why did she hate him so much?). it's..."
"Go on then" Stone goaded her "tell the truth why do you hate me so
much (If truth be told Stone was half waiting to hear that she was like
ever other woman in the land madly in love with him)...I hate you so
much because you smell"!
Smell? Where the hell did she get that one? "That's right you stink,
pong to high heaven and you don't even know it"
The technicians still standing around burst out laughing. Stone was so
taken aback by this his jaw was visibly seen to drop. He didn't
understand. Smell? What the hell? Bitch. It was quite amazing when you
thought about it. No matter how hard he tried, Stone couldn't get one
over on her. Somehow she always managed to get the last word. The last
laugh. For a moment he thought he actually had her, he hit her with the
traffic reports on local radio but it was all a cruel illusion. She was
just playing with him. Playing dead and then all of a sudden wham! A
knockout punch and before he knew it he was on the floor. All he could
do in response was mutter a childish " Smell? Who smells? I don't
smell, I have a bath every day"
" Where's that in a trough"?
The technicians laughed again. He knew he didn't smell by god the
amount he spent on deodorant and eau de cologne. The problem was she
would say anything in order to get the last word. How could he argue
with someone like that? It was impossible. Eventually the programme
editor came over and stood between them.
"O. K. you two lovebirds, break it up, some of us have work to
do"
Stone and Abigail continued however to glare at each other. Abigail in
the pose of a championship winner. Stone in the stance of another
championship loser. Eventually they turned away from each other. Stone
suddenly self - conscious about body odour took the long way out of the
studio avoiding close proximity with his other work colleagues. Walking
to his car, he regained some of his composure. There was no problem
that couldn't be solved. It was simple. He would have to kill her. As
he drove home through the light afternoon traffic though there was only
one thought, which remained in his head. "Please god, please please and
pretty please, let Regal sunset win the 4:45 at Haydock. If God was a
nice person he'd let Regal Sunset win.