Here's a taste of *Pills and Presidents*:
I should have suspected something when I saw all the dents on the side of the maroon Renault 5. I should have paid attention as he fumbled with the key. It was only as we hurtled over the cobbles at bone-shaking speeds, veering very close and personal to unyielding Roman walls that I realised: Manolo was drunk.
But the restaurant was beautiful — or perhaps it was just the relief of arriving in one piece. Blue and yellow local ceramics caught the light on the white walls around the enclosed central patio, when Manolo finally found the light switches. There were flowers everywhere. The kitchen looked clean too — a bonus. We worked out a menu selection for a fixed-price meal and I began to relax — Christmas Eve would be fine and my group would be ecstatic. But then I made a stupid, fatal mistake. Wishing to make it "a night to remember", wishing to go the extra mile, I said, "We'd like a guitarist." Silly me...
★ ★ ★
The two nurses turned into my room on their morning rounds. Their faces dropped; they looked suddenly terrified, one grasped the door post. Did I look that bad, I wondered? Then I noticed the glass of water on my bedside table shaking. I almost breathed a sigh of relief — it was only another earthquake...
★ ★ ★
The Outside Broadcast truck was where the Director performed. With two engineers she called the shots. She would speak directly to the camera crews and presenters during the show in order to guide them and to keep the pace and activity entertaining. At certain points she would cut to an insert that had been created from the daily footage after calling up and preparing Mr Voice-of-God in his chilly hideout.
The scary thing was that the show had to start absolutely on the second as it went straight out onto S4C's network via Rob.
There were three hours to go to the show when the Director let me into the plan for that evening. The Celebs had been learning the Welsh names for the parts of the body — so tonight's live surprise was a group of three male strippers up from London. A driver had been dispatched to Bangor railway station to collect the gentlemen in question.
Then the driver rang. The strippers had missed the train. They were apparently on a later train. He was confident he could still get them back before the show.
It was not easy to find enough things to do for the live shows with hours of airtime to fill.
Our producer had already used some game show formats — such as memorising items, Celebs doing individual party pieces and so on. There were meetings during the day to plan the details – but they had to do a lot of thinking on their feet.
The driver rang again: no strippers on the second train either. In fact, they were not on any train and one was in a police cell. The evening show was vanishing before our eyes as the director turned to me with an appealing look.
"Would you mind? I mean, it would be quite easy..."
★ ★ ★
Cameras, mics, lights, motherboards, cables and books littered my spare room. I had decided to put together a media company with the help of this loan and a set of screwdrivers.
Before too long I had a secretary, Maria, and a phone. The phone was ringing. Someone wanted a quote for webcasting. There were not many companies webcasting back then, which is how we must have got the business. The voice was extremely plummy.
"Where?" I asked. The contact couldn't say. "How can I quote if I don't know where?" I asked Maria.
"Or when," she said.
The contact, let us call him "M", was not very forthcoming with the details. In fact it took weeks.
"London", "M" eventually confided, then "Westminster", then, finally, "Downing Street".
By this stage I was pressing the panic buttons, but there was no backing out: the quote had been agreed. I was to interview the PM and members of the Cabinet in Number 10. It was time to re-read the camera instruction manual...