why we have to attack bigotry and stupidity everywhere!’ I blustered. ‘If we stop now they’ll be left thinking the last lot we went after were the definitive bad guys.’
‘ What ?’ Debbie said, looking over her glasses at me again. (Fair enough; this last assertion didn’t make much sense even to me.)
‘I think that is a fair point,’ Phil said, nodding.
‘Well, here are another two points, gentlemen,’ Debbie said, sticking her glasses back up her face and pulling herself closer in towards her desk. ‘There’s such a thing as this station’s licence and the Broadcasting Standards Authority. There are also such things as our advertisers. They pay all the fucking bills and they can pull their ads even faster than the BSA can pull our licence. Several already have.’
‘But they’ve been replaced,’ Phil said, looking just a little red in the face now. He took his glasses off.
‘For now, at lesser rates,’ Debbie said steelily.
‘Rates have been going down everywhere for the whole year!’ Phil protested. He started polishing his glasses with a clean hanky. ‘New ones are always going to be lower than old ones in the current climate! It’s—’
‘Some very important people, some very vital advertisers, have been having words with Sir Jamie,’ Debbie said through clenched teeth. (To our credit, I thought, at this point not one of the three of us even glanced towards the Dear Owner’s portrait on the wall.) ‘At cocktail parties. In his club. At board meetings. On the grouse moors. At charity events. Over his mobile and his home phone. He is not happy. He is not happy to the extent that he is seriously weighing up which he needs most: your show or his good name. Which do you think he will choose?’ She sat back, letting this sink in. ‘Guys, you run a reasonably successful programme for us, but in the end it’s only ten hours of air time per week out of one hundred and sixty-eight. Sir Jamie’s backed you until now, Ken, Phil, but he can’t let you jeopardise the station, let alone the reputation of the Mouth Corporation or the goodwill he’s built up from nothing over the last thirty years.’
Phil and I looked at each other.
‘Jesus Christ, Debs,’ Phil said shakily. ‘Are you telling us to tone it down, or are we sacked? I mean, what?’ He put his glasses back on.
‘You’re not sacked. But it’s not just tone it down, it’s make amends.’
‘Make amends ?’ I squawked.
‘This attacking Islam and Judaism, in particular, has to be reversed.’
‘So we can attack Christianity?’ I suggested. Debbie glared at me. ‘What?’ I said, holding out both hands.
‘We’ve got the perfect thing,’ Phil announced, just like that.
I did probably the first genuine double-take I’d ever done in my entire life. ‘We have?’
Phil nodded. ‘Ken doesn’t know about this yet,’ he told Debbie.
‘I don’t?’
‘Suggestion came in just yesterday from the Breaking News people.’
(I just managed to prevent myself saying, ‘It did?’)
‘The new Channel Four thing?’ Debbie asked, eyes narrowed.
‘Yeah; their competitor for Newsnight ,’ Phil said.
‘Weren’t they trying to poach Paxman for that?’
‘I think so, but he wasn’t having it. Last rumour I heard was their main presenters would be Cavan Lutton-James and Beth Laing.’
‘She’s on Sky, isn’t she?’
‘Contract coming up for renewal.’
‘Anyway,’ Debbie said, waving one hand.
‘Anyway,’ Phil said. ‘They’re still doing dummy programmes at the moment but they start for real on Monday and they want something hard-hitting and controversial; something that’ll get them headlines.’
‘I thought they just wanted me to practise on in one of these dummy programmes,’ I said. (Stupidly, I realised, as soon as I’d closed my mouth again; it was entirely possible Phil was winging it here.)
‘They did, at first,’ Phil said. ‘I persuaded them otherwise.’
‘They want Ken for the
‘ What ?’ Debbie said, looking over her glasses at me again. (Fair enough; this last assertion didn’t make much sense even to me.)
‘I think that is a fair point,’ Phil said, nodding.
‘Well, here are another two points, gentlemen,’ Debbie said, sticking her glasses back up her face and pulling herself closer in towards her desk. ‘There’s such a thing as this station’s licence and the Broadcasting Standards Authority. There are also such things as our advertisers. They pay all the fucking bills and they can pull their ads even faster than the BSA can pull our licence. Several already have.’
‘But they’ve been replaced,’ Phil said, looking just a little red in the face now. He took his glasses off.
‘For now, at lesser rates,’ Debbie said steelily.
‘Rates have been going down everywhere for the whole year!’ Phil protested. He started polishing his glasses with a clean hanky. ‘New ones are always going to be lower than old ones in the current climate! It’s—’
‘Some very important people, some very vital advertisers, have been having words with Sir Jamie,’ Debbie said through clenched teeth. (To our credit, I thought, at this point not one of the three of us even glanced towards the Dear Owner’s portrait on the wall.) ‘At cocktail parties. In his club. At board meetings. On the grouse moors. At charity events. Over his mobile and his home phone. He is not happy. He is not happy to the extent that he is seriously weighing up which he needs most: your show or his good name. Which do you think he will choose?’ She sat back, letting this sink in. ‘Guys, you run a reasonably successful programme for us, but in the end it’s only ten hours of air time per week out of one hundred and sixty-eight. Sir Jamie’s backed you until now, Ken, Phil, but he can’t let you jeopardise the station, let alone the reputation of the Mouth Corporation or the goodwill he’s built up from nothing over the last thirty years.’
Phil and I looked at each other.
‘Jesus Christ, Debs,’ Phil said shakily. ‘Are you telling us to tone it down, or are we sacked? I mean, what?’ He put his glasses back on.
‘You’re not sacked. But it’s not just tone it down, it’s make amends.’
‘Make amends ?’ I squawked.
‘This attacking Islam and Judaism, in particular, has to be reversed.’
‘So we can attack Christianity?’ I suggested. Debbie glared at me. ‘What?’ I said, holding out both hands.
‘We’ve got the perfect thing,’ Phil announced, just like that.
I did probably the first genuine double-take I’d ever done in my entire life. ‘We have?’
Phil nodded. ‘Ken doesn’t know about this yet,’ he told Debbie.
‘I don’t?’
‘Suggestion came in just yesterday from the Breaking News people.’
(I just managed to prevent myself saying, ‘It did?’)
‘The new Channel Four thing?’ Debbie asked, eyes narrowed.
‘Yeah; their competitor for Newsnight ,’ Phil said.
‘Weren’t they trying to poach Paxman for that?’
‘I think so, but he wasn’t having it. Last rumour I heard was their main presenters would be Cavan Lutton-James and Beth Laing.’
‘She’s on Sky, isn’t she?’
‘Contract coming up for renewal.’
‘Anyway,’ Debbie said, waving one hand.
‘Anyway,’ Phil said. ‘They’re still doing dummy programmes at the moment but they start for real on Monday and they want something hard-hitting and controversial; something that’ll get them headlines.’
‘I thought they just wanted me to practise on in one of these dummy programmes,’ I said. (Stupidly, I realised, as soon as I’d closed my mouth again; it was entirely possible Phil was winging it here.)
‘They did, at first,’ Phil said. ‘I persuaded them otherwise.’
‘They want Ken for the
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