Your Media

“I’m Brian Derkin and this is TV-Three.”, I say it like I mean it. Hard hitting. I give a pause of about 5 seconds and then I say, “The world is ever changing. We’re here to tell you how.” Then, I release myself from the black leather seat. It’s time for lunch.

Later, the boys in after-effects will add in the ‘crisis’ montage and a big swirling TV-Three logo, there’ll also be these, like, revamped drum beats and a flash-through with images of Myself and my Newsreaders, and even the weather people will be in it as well.
The world is ever changing. That’s why we have to make harder hitting sequences and flashier intros. As your award winning media hub, it’s important not to be bested by rival networks.

Myself, my co-anchor Claire and Martin, the weather boy, are in the canteen at the newsreaders table. Claire and I are discussing a Wine and Cheese event we were both invited to for Celebrities supporting The African Children’s Right to Read Foundation.
Martin tries to get involved in our conversation, but I don’t speak Bray. Being polite, I pretend not to hear him rather than just outright telling him he’s not invited. His wandering attention span turns him to the table behind him, to talk to the Ireland AM crowd.

I smile to Claire and glance at my watch for presentational purposes. I look up, with poise, about to say something really funny, when Alan appears.
“Claire,” he says teasingly, “your recording earlier was just lovely. Well, everything after the ninth take.” Claire thinks it’s hysterical and beckons Alan to sit with us. Alan refused to do any recording for the new sequence. At the editorial meeting last Wednesday, he said “It’s plastic, theatrical and disheartening in its motives”.

Alan is fat. And smug. He’s just one of these… smug, fat people that just don’t seem to realise the world grimaces behind their back. Like, the man is almost obese. The ladies seem to like him, probably because of his status as a co-anchor or maybe because he makes them feel at ease. Fat people are non threatening to women.

Alan sits with us, giving us both a nod of salute. He is carrying a plate full of steamed vegetables. I gaze at his plate and  smile. Like, who is he kidding?
“Are those to lure an unsuspecting animal?” I quip. I look at Claire then back to Alan, but it seems nobody heard me, so I’m sitting up in my chair and, pulling my head back I begin to repeat it.

Suddenly, there’s a shout from beside us. It’s Martin. He’s shoutting  ‘Zidane, Zidane’ to Aidan over at the Ireland AM table, he’s flapping his arms around and nods his head about the place. He starts laughing. Aidan is smiling but doesn’t seem to find it as funny. I feel stunned by the interuption. Trying to recover, I look back to my co-anchor, Claire but now She’s totally mollycoddling the pie victim. “Ah now Alan, we can’t have it every way”. She performs that smile of hers, the one that makes her look so intelligent. “The price we pay.”, he says back.

He smiles, and there’s a layer of sweat on his forehead, I suddenly feel nauseous at the thought of the buttery flaps of flesh hidden beneath his suit. They’re both totally immersed in their chat. Talking about dramatisation. I’m fully aware I am not in this conversation.

I try for attention but I can’t get a good chance to interupt. Instead I decide to act like I’m listening. I furrow my brow and tilt my head to an attentive-looking angle. They don’t notice.
I ‘mm’, twice. Nothing.
I lean forward a little, legs folded. They carry on between themselves without a flicker of recognition.

Alan is saying, “ terrorists, as they’re being referrred to? And we feel propaganda isn’t alive and kicking in the West.” He looks like putty when he’s trying to be poignant.
I hear another laugh from Martin. My head spins and a dry hard lump builds in my throat. My eyes burn. I feel a sudden urge to leave the table. I excuse myself and rush to the bathroom.

I fall through the door of a cubical.
Bracing myself against the snot covered, chipboard walls, I vomit through a blur of tears.

I should have worn my navy tie.