On Tuesday night (er… three o’clock Wednesday morning) I was bored with a script I was subbing down for studio, and wrote, following the introduction of a particular piece of accurate but implausible-treknology-sounding jargon:
Now, I know what you’re thinking – but no.
…then I inserted a scene on the endash that threw Michael, my presenter, into a spaceship, blurbing on for about a dozen seconds. Right in the middle of the line. It was a way of keeping myself amused. The director of this particular item is the exact antithesis of a Star Trek fan, so I was confident she’d say ‘I’m just not going to do that bit, you’re taking the piss,’ and we’d move on. Fine.
Today we filmed the item.
Not only did we shoot the line, but there was a bloody spaceship set to shoot it in. Quite how that got built in a day, I’ve no idea. Who’s idea it was, I’ve even less of a clue. Was I surprised? Hell, yeah. Was it funny? Hell, yeah.
Do I like my colleagues?
Hell, yeah. They turn childish whims into ruddy marvellous children’s TV.