I, Partridge - Alan Partridge [42]
It was also he, with a trademark tuft of jet-black nasal hair hanging down from each nostril, who had rushed into my office one day to tell me that celebrated chanteuse Gina Langland had agreed to appear in show three.99
But there were quite a few others in the company too who I’m unable to name. I’ve not forgotten them, having not known what they were called in the first place. My management style was that of an estranged father. At times caring, at times distant and with little to no interest in the individuals under my charge. And believe me, it just works.
The show began and was an unmitigated success. Viewing figures collapsed as the series went on, but only because it was getting lighter in the evenings and more people were out rambling or sitting in beer gardens.
The fan mail came in by the sack-load. Jason suggested I save it until the end of the series so that I could maintain concentration, which I did.100
There were one or two hiccups, but that’s the nature of live television and I honestly don’t think people noticed. Again, some of the guests were a little surly, but that has to come down to the booker and at the end of the series Jason was duly dismissed. (He went on to make his name producing a certain Orwellian house-based reality show that demeans us all.)
Tony Hayers gave us a few notes after the first show, and repeated the same ones after the second, third and fourth, but crucially didn’t after the fifth or sixth, which suggests he was deeply satisfied with the trajectory of the series. We also bore in mind that he was only in the role to cover Georgia Harrison’s maternity leave, so we didn’t need to keep him onside for the long-term.
Success came very naturally to me. I’d go into a steakhouse or swimming pool and people would turn and exchange knowing glances. I was suddenly hot, appearing on Through the Keyhole and Points of View. I was also a guest on Clive Anderson’s chat show (see picture section), embarrassing my host by revealing to the audience that he had started out as a humble barista. (I remember he resorted to feigning bewilderment at one point when I yelled at him, ‘Now get me a mocha, baldy!’)
I could get tables101 at a moment’s notice. I was stopped on the street by people telling me how ‘unbelievable’ my show was. I was hot and it felt gooooooood.
And then, live on air in the sixth and final episode of my chat show, I shot a man through the heart with a gun.
97 Not the State Circus, another one.
98 But not me.
99 Better still, she would join me in singing an Abba medley live on air (see picture section). And what a medley it was! It was so in-tune it was almost out-of-tune!
Behind the scenes, though, it hadn’t been quite so easy. On the night Gina had chosen to wear one of those dresses that stops before the armpits. She looked amazing in it but odour-wise it was an error. So while my eyes were happy, my nose was anything but. I’d spotted the potential whiff prob in our dress rehearsal and had quietly asked my people to take the microphone I was going to use for our duet and spray it with aftershave or, failing that, some of that lovely air-freshener from the loos. And it really did the trick. Whenever I got a second to turn away from the audience I was able to raise the microphone upwards and give it a good, deep sniff. It was basically an improvised nose sorbet.
100 The sacks of letters were sadly destroyed in a fire before I could peruse them.
101 Restaurant or snooker.
Chapter 14
The Death of Forbes McAllister
CANTANKEROUS BON VIVEUR FORBES McAllister had brought with him two of Lord Byron’s duelling pistols, purchased in auction from under the considerable nose of Michael Winner. As I politely inspected them mid-interview, I discharged one and the bullet