I arrived at work after having my hair coloured at Jo's to be greeted by the most devastatingly crushing news: my deputy prefect has defected to a well know Broadcaster (gasp!)...
No!
Marsha had all the attributes to make a great Executive Producer but why has she abandoned me? Yes I know I might have turned up a teensy-weensy bit late at her wedding last year but I thought she had forgiven me? How could I predict she would betray me like this?
Who's going to edit my proposals now and do all the work that I don't have time for?
There was a dreadful silence in my morning editorial chit-chat with the team. Still desperately trying to understand her jump, I accosted Arthur, my head of Proper Documentaries to get his take on things.
For those of you who don't know him, dear readers, Arthur is a darling man and legend in the television industry. I hired him especially to add kudos and muscle to my factual output for all those snobs who think I can only do makeover shows. Heaven knows what Arthur actually does all day when I'm out pitching to important people, but that's another story.
Anyway, Arthur said "relax my dear" and adjusted his crotch nonchalantly. "Remember, you've a good 'in' now to Horseferry Road."
I gave him a sharp, withering look - as if I need another commissioning editor contact at Channel 4 when I can simply take Julian out for lunch and pitch to him directly! Anyway, what can that Scottish chap who runs the History department really and truly offer me that a dozen other commissioning editors can't??
And how can I seriously be expected to sit across a table from Marsha and pitch her my slate?! This is terribly fabulously unexpected.
Dear readers, I'm feeling dreadfully unloved, I hope you can sympathise with my situation?
With much love,
The TV Headmistress xxx
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