just comes across as surly. Manners are now seen as totally out of date, a shameful hangover from our class-ridden pre- meritocracy past. There’s a terrible modern orthodoxy that has developed which says that to be polite and show respect to other people is in fact to diminish your own status. Therefore people assert themselves by being rude. I think it’s sad.
Anyway after the prawny things disaster the half-naked waitress gave me the wine list. Well, I couldn’t face a wine list, not after the prawny mauling I’d just taken. I’d probably have ordered a dessert wine to start and been tarred and feathered and thrown out for being uncool. So I said I’d just have a mineral water and she gave me the mineral water list! I mean, for God’s sake! An actual leatherbound water list! I’ve never seen that before. The world is now officially raving tonto.
Anyway, as I was saying, I’d been hoping to draw the others out on sperm, but before I could even bring the subject up (which takes delicate handling in itself) we got into this terrible row about our job descriptions, amazing but true. It all came up because Trevor was talking about some script or other that he wanted to commission and he said…
‘I don’t want to throw my weight around here, but as the BBC Head of Comedy, Television Group South, I feel that…’
Well, he didn’t get any further because George and I both protested that we were the BBC Head of Comedy, Television Group South. I knew that George wasn’t because I knew for a fact that he was Chief Coordinator, BBC Entertainment Group, Television. I’d seen it on an invitation to a party. I also knew that he was angling for the post of Network Regional Channel Controller because I’d read it in the Independent only the previous morning. George insisted that he didn’t care what it said on his invites, or what I’d read in the Independent , that he was BBC Head of Comedy, Television Group South.
‘Well, what are you angling for, then?’ Trevor asked, and George said that he was very excited about his current position and had no plans to move, which of course means he’s angling for something juicy at Channel Four.
That got us thinking. Because if George did go to Channel Four, and if he is, as he insists, BBC Head of Comedy, Television Group South, then either I or Trevor will be able to take over his job (which we both thought we already had anyway). Now, if one of us takes over George’s job it would leave whatever job that person currently held vacant for the other. We could all move on and hence would all be guaranteed that precious mention in the media pages of the Independent so vital to the profile of us usually anonymous execs.
Trevor insisted that he knew what my job was because he’d been offered it ahead of me (slightly disheartening). Apparently, I’m BBC Controller, Broken Comedy and Variety, which if true is disappointing because only last year I was BBC Entertainment Chief, Comedy Group, London and South East. Which would mean I’ve taken a step down without realizing it and am further away from becoming a Network Channel Controller than ever.
Anyway, at this point a bike arrived with a package for Trevor addressed to him as Independent Commissioning Editor, BBC Worldwide, which is a post none of us had heard of. Most confusing.
We all agreed that at this year’s Christmas drinks we really would pluck up the courage to ask the Deputy Director General what our jobs are.
After that the talk drifted on to other things. Trevor and George had their usual row about booze. Trevor no longer drinks, which George strongly disapproves of, particularly since Trevor has been through ‘recovery’ (another thing of which George disapproves) and feels the need to mention his ‘problem’ on a regular basis.
‘As an alcoholic in recovery I have no problem with the alcohol on this table,’ said Trevor. ‘In fact I can enjoy the fact that you’re enjoying it.’
‘That’s