A series of rants - No.9

Rant #09

On the 13th December 1998, an attaché case was accidentally left on the back seat of a London black cab. The missing case was overlooked by its owner for three days before a member of the public called my office to give me details of the "Scoop of the Century". Over four months on from that date I received a knock at my door.

Upon opening it, I was met by an agitated courier who promptly handed me a black attaché case and small envelope before fleeing. Inside the envelope was the following message: View the contents of this case with caution. What could the case possibly contain?

I pushed away any thoughts of telephoning the Anti-Terrorist Squad - if it is a bomb, perhaps I will achieve fame from the resulting explosion; no bomb equals scoops. The case had a security lock on both fasteners. Having watched Pulp Fiction I knew the code was probably 666. How right I was to suspect a lack of originality from the owner (previous) of said attaché case. I expect their bicycle lock is also easy to override, along with their, until now, state-of-the-art anti-theft car alarm system.

With the fasteners clicked back I slowly lifted the lid and peered inside. The next audible sound was that of my jaw falling through the floor. It was not a bomb, the contents of the attaché case heralded a video cassette. As you can imagine, I waited for my video player to begin with feverish anticipation. Within minutes a warning message had flashed across the screen, reminding the viewer of the strictly confidential content of the programme which followed.

As the screen faded to black my anticipation reached boiling point. To the blast of a fanfare the opening scene was sprung upon me; Fern Britten was being tied-up by Brian Harvey and Anthony Worrell-Thompson. Intrigued, I watched on.

A voice-over introduced the video with "THIS IS A PILOT", which at least confirmed the confidentiality of the programme. With Ms. Britten compromised by rope and gag, Messrs. Harvey and Worrell-Thompson explained the nature of this new show, to be titled "Robin 'Steady' Cook".

Hosted by the Foreign Secretary himself, working with his own personal recipes, the two chefs have to provide a meal for thousands of refugees in only twenty minutes.
As with all of Mr. Cook's plans, they are doomed to failure. The report which accompanies the programme reveals that the ingredients for the dishes were not consolidated within the first week, thus refugees remained hungry after trekking hundreds of miles to safety.

Thankfully, there is a solution: broadcast Mr. Cook being roasted; the programme shall be called Spitting Image.