Chart Throb by Ben Elton Read Free Book Online Page A

hopefuls might be numbered, badged and registered at the long trestle tables.
    And after the crowds came the moody and dramatic shots of the three judges, dressed in black, arms folded, staring into the cameras with those grim, unsmiling faces. Faces which said ‘We will see you, we will judge you fairly, you will get your chance. But do not fuck with us because we will not be taking any shit and only the best and the toughest will survive our ruthless selection process.’
    Ninety-five thousand people .
    Three judges .
    That was it, the whole show in a nutshell. The connection made loud and clear to the meanest intelligence.
    Ninety-five thousand hopefuls. The mad and the sad. The sublime and the ridiculous. The tragic and the gifted. The beautiful and the damned. The good. The bad. And the very, very ugly. And then the ruthless Politburo of Pop. Calvin, Beryl and the other bloke, who would after an exhaustive audition process choose twelve finalists to be offered up to the nation.
    It was all very simple. And it was all complete fiction.
    ‘Sir,’ Calvin explained, ‘when most of those ninety-five thousand hopefuls get rejected they won’t even be in the same country as Beryl, Rodney and me, let alone the same room.’
    ‘Really? That’s extraordinary ! Have I been terribly naïve?’
    ‘Don’t you read the celebrity magazines?’
    ‘I sometimes find them in the loo when my lads’ girlfriends have stayed.’
    ‘I thought you considered yourself a man of the people, sir? Anyway, if you did read them you’d know that I spend half the year in LA! I am a huge star over there. Chart Throb USA is the biggest show in the world.’
    ‘Goodness, well done .’
    ‘So how could I possibly find the time to wander around provincial Britain personally considering the star quality of ninety-five thousand nobodies?’
    ‘Well, perhaps not you, but . . .’
    ‘Maybe the other two, you think? Beryl lives in America full time! It’s public knowledge that she looks after the entertainment ventures of the vast Blenheim family business. Rodney’s around, of course, but even he has a life of some sort. How could you, how could anyone possibly imagine that the three of us could arrange to meet up and conduct ninety-five thousand auditions?’
    ‘Well, I suppose I hadn’t imagined that you actually auditioned them all .’
    ‘Maybe you think we open the envelopes? Maybe you think we read ninety-five thousand of these?’
    Calvin handed the Prince a copy of the Chart Throb entrance form. In that carefully worded document the applicant was required to promise to abide by the rules of the competition no matter how often they might be changed and never, on pain of criminal prosecution, to discuss any aspect of their experience with the press.
    ‘Every single person who fills in one of these,’ Calvin continued, ‘does so because they want to prove to me, Beryl and Rodney that they have what it takes – that X, that It, that Pow! which will propel them from the humdrum inadequacy of their current existence towards that mythical nirvana called the “celebrity lifestyle”. They all think they have a chance. That once they get themselves in front of those three famous judges they have a genuine chance , no matter how small, of all their dreams coming true.’
    ‘Well, I’m sure they do.’
    ‘But they’re not going to get in front of us, are they, sir? At least about ninety-four thousand of them won’t. The chances of any of them actually getting to perform for me, Beryl and Rodney are tiny.’
    ‘Goodness gracious,’ the Prince said, genuinely surprised, ‘so it’s all a lie ?’
    ‘Of course it isn’t a lie, sir! It’s show business. It’s entertainment. We don’t deceive anybody. The information is there for people if they want to see it, they only have to do the maths. Ninety-five thousand contestants, three judges. How could we possibly consider even a fraction of that number? Say we did ten an hour,