How to Get Famous (10 page)

'No, thank you. I've had a great time
chatting to you and I've missed lessons as
well. What's not to like?'

She laughed again. 'I'm here with the
irrepressible Tobey Tyler – now, back to
the studio.'

Then she gulped down a cup of coffee
and she and the camera crew rushed away.
But I still had this electric excitement
pulsing away inside me. I'd just loved
being interviewed.

Then, full of happiness and joy, I turned
to Mum who was looking highly puzzled.
'Do you really think they will broadcast
that?' she said.

I can always rely on my parents to give
me a shot of confidence.

6.55 p.m.

At precisely 6.51 I hit the television screen
on the local news. I hovered by the TV (I
was far too nervous to sit down). My
parents were perched right on the edge of
the couch, as if it was red hot, both of them
looking so apprehensive. 'Don't be disappointed
if you're only on for a couple of
seconds,' said Dad.

In fact, I was on screen for three whole
glorious minutes and forty-one seconds. It
is highly bizarre watching yourself,
though. I can only say it's a bit like receiving
a massive electric shock. They ended
with my rap song and when they went
back to the studio one of the presenters
said about me: 'What a character that boy
is.'

As for my parents, they didn't say a
word when I was on. 'So what did you
think then?' I asked at the end. One of
those ghastly silences that lasted several
lifetimes followed.

'You spoke very clearly,' said Mum. 'I
could hear every word.'

'So could I,' agreed Dad. 'I don't think
you needed that little song at the end
though. Felt that was unnecessary. But
the young people watching might feel
differently.' Then he looked at Mum for a
moment before saying to me, 'Now we
have some news for you. The theatre at
which you showed such bravery rang us,
and they wish to make a presentation to
you.'

'Cool, cool – so what are they going to
present to me?'

'I have no idea,' replied Dad. 'Maybe a
clock?'

'A clock?' I repeated contemptuously.
'I'm not retiring; well, actually I wouldn't
mind retiring from school.'

Mum said, 'The theatre is going to fix up
a date for your presentation soon and I
don't think it will be a clock actually. But
your father and I would like to make a
small presentation of our own.'

Then she handed me a card. I ripped it
open. It said 'CONGRATULATIONS' and
inside: 'We're very proud, love Mum
and Dad.'And a twenty-pound note flew out.

'Hey, I'm rich. I really wasn't expecting
this; Dad giving me money voluntarily.
I ought to have this note framed. But I
won't, I'll spend it with the greatest of ease.'

'I thought you might,' said Dad dryly.

9.30 p.m.

Phone's been ringing all evening and even
some of my neighbours have come
round . . . all because of my TV appearance.
Georgia said, 'Mum and me couldn't
believe it. You on the telly – it totally blew
our minds. You were fantastic, by the way:
sitting back in your school uniform being
all sparky.'

Sparky. I liked that.

'And you just seemed so totally at ease,'
she went on.

'I was, because that was where I
belonged – not in double maths.'

'Why didn't you tell me about catching
those robbers though?'

'Well it was your big night,' I said.

'Oh, don't be silly.'

'No, I thought if I start spouting about
my bit of action, you'll only think I'm
showing off. And that's something I never
ever do.'

'No, never,' she laughed.

'Anyway, enough about me. Let's spend
five seconds talking about you. How did
you get on with that talent-spotting
producer woman?'

'Well, I'd just started talking when her
head suddenly fell forward right into
her soup.'

'What?'

'No, I'm exaggerating now. But she
seemed very tired and not terribly
interested in anything I had to say. I think
she was just there as a favour to Alicia.'

'Oh, it's first-name terms now, is it?'

'Oh yeah. But even she was a bit
depressing. She said acting's nowhere
near as glamorous as people think and lots
of actors stagger on understudying for
years without getting that big break. She
also said you shouldn't go into acting just
because you want to be famous. That's the
worst possible reason.'

'Sounds like a great night out,' I said.

'I think she was trying to help me by
giving me all the facts. But anyway, I
taped you tonight, so that tape should be
worth a thousand or two one day, because
you were fantastic,' said Georgia. 'A star
was born tonight, all right.'

10.30 p.m.

The only trouble with such a historymaking
day like today is that you know
tomorrow can only be a big anti-climax.

THURSDAY APRIL 22ND

4.15 p.m.

WARNING: make sure you are sitting
down when you read this next announcement,
otherwise you will faint with sheer
happiness.

CLOUD NINE
HAS JUST CALLED.
THEY WANT ME TO BE ON THE SHOW.

5.12 p.m.

After writing down that sensational piece
of news I had to stop as my hands were
shaking all over the place. So I rang
Georgia instead. When she heard, she
immediately let out this ear-piercing
shriek down the phone. And I screamed
right back at her.

But hold on – I've just realized something.
I haven't given you all the
earth-shattering details . . .

When I got in from school, Mum was
talking away on the phone. I didn't eavesdrop
as she's usually saying stuff like: 'I
had a go at the kitchen cupboards today.'
(Don't ask me what that means.) But
today as I hurried past her into the
kitchen I did catch two words of Mum's
conversation which held me spellbound:
'
Cloud Nine
.'

Then she went on, 'Well, I'll write that
down on my pad now so I shan't forget it.
Thank you for calling. Goodbye.'

By the time she'd put the phone down I
was standing a millimetre away from her
about to explode with curiosity.

'Mum, you haven't just been talking to
the TV show
Cloud Nine
, have you?'

'Yes, that's right; they left a message for
you.' She was saying this in such a casual
everyday way it made everything even
more dream-like. 'They're looking for a
surprise extra contestant for tomorrow's
show and wonder if you'd be interested.'

'Me . . . they actually spoke my name?'

'Apparently they saw you on the news
yesterday and heard how you auditioned
for their show and think you should be
given another chance. They'd like you to
perform
The Secret Garden
rap.'

'But that's incredible, especially as they
only saw a tiny part of it on the news.'

'Yes, I was rather surprised myself. But
the gentleman was quite insistent; they
want that on their Friday evening show.
They will send a car for you at four o'clock
on Friday . . . '

'A car . . . ? Mum, this is outstandingly
brilliant!'

'I'm to ring them back if you're interested
and if your father and I give our
permission.'

I stared at her. 'But you do, don't you?'

Mum patted my hand. 'When your
father comes in we'll discuss it.'

'But we can't hang about that long. Dad
takes about a month to decide what toothpaste
he wants.'

'I told the researcher I'd call him back at
seven o'clock and he said that was quite
convenient,' said Mum.

'Well, when you have this discussion,
may I be there too?'

Mum nodded. 'Of course. The three of us
will talk it through then. And don't forget,
your father and I have your best interests
in mind.'

I'm not reassured. In fact, I'm in agony.
I'm so close to everything my life was
meant to be coming true. But my parents
could still mess things up. Up to now
I've been highly patient and tolerant of
them.

But this is my future, my destiny . . .
and I can't let them sabotage it.

5.35 p.m.

Dad is home at last. Mum must have
mentioned to him about
Cloud Nine
calling
because he exclaimed, 'What? Has the
whole world gone mad?' This doesn't sound
very promising so I'm piling down the
stairs now.

6.15 p.m.

The verdict is in.

I strolled into the kitchen trying to
appear carefree and nonchalant. 'Great
news about
Cloud Nine
wanting me, isn't
it?' I said, grinning at my old pilchard of a
dad. And fair play to him – he did try and
smile back at me. But his face really isn't
designed for such alien activities. And he
just looked even more alarming than
usual.

Then he said, 'You utter a few lines of
nonsense on a news broadcast and now a
talent show wants you to repeat the whole
thing.' He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
'Why do you think that is?'

Talk about daft questions.

I replied as patiently as I could.
'Because, oh disbelieving Dad,
Cloud Nine
knows star quality when they come across
it. And what I said yesterday, just for your
information, wasn't nonsense – it was rap.'

'Same thing,' muttered Dad. Then he
went on, 'You don't think there's something
suspicious about this programme
suddenly contacting you like this?'

'Suspicious . . . ? I've been asked to go on
a talent show, not take part in a bank
raid.' I got angry then. And I burst out,
'You can't believe any show would want me
to appear on it without there being something
suspicious . . .'

'That's not what your father said,'
murmured Mum.

'Yes it is. I am quoting the very word he
used –
suspicious
.'

'All right, sorry,' said Dad unexpectedly,
then he twisted his face about and asked,
'Why exactly do you wish to appear on this
talent show?'

'Why . . . ?' Then I burst out, 'Because my
dream is to have people come up and say:
"Can I shake your hand, and thank you for
cheering me up so much." In fact, I can't
think of anything better happening to me
than that – well, unless they asked me for
my autograph as well. So TV is where my
future lies and the sooner I get started on
there – the better.'

Dad looked at me and frowned.

'Yes, all right, Dad, you can frown all
you like . . . but some people do make a
living out of entertaining people on TV
and I'm going to be one of them. Because
something inside me tells me that this is
my destiny. And now
Cloud Nine
has
singled me out for the greatest chance of
my whole life. Don't mess it up for
me . . .
please
.'

There was a silence for a moment, and
then Dad lifted his head like an old, old
tortoise and said quietly, 'I'm living, Tobey,
in a world I don't understand any more.
It's changed too fast for me – and mainly
for the worse; while television seems
nothing more than a parade of
lunatics . . . none of whom have got anything
to say except "Look at me", and—'

But Mum suddenly interrupted.
'Television didn't matter very much to us
when we were growing up. But times
change and I suppose we have to try
and change with it.'

'Why do we have to?' retorted Dad at
once. Mum didn't answer; she just smiled
at Dad as if she felt a bit sorry for him.

He turned away and shook his head in a
tired sort of way before declaring, 'I'm
going to hand over the decision-making on
this one to your mother, Tobey. And she
obviously thinks you should be given the
chance to attend this very strange programme.'
He was suddenly looking right
at her: 'Don't you?' And Mum nodded, but
very slowly. Dad walked out then,
obviously thinking Mum had gone over to
the dark side.

I shrieked, 'Hey, Mum, you're a legend,
and I promise when I'm rich and famous I
shan't forget you! In fact, you can start
making up your wish-list this very second.
But shouldn't you be ringing someone at
Cloud Nine
– like this very instant?'

And she has now made that call. So it's
all arranged. I've got the rap poem to go
through in a minute – I want to learn it off
by heart again.

But right now, I'm just sitting here
thinking how totally incredible tonight
has been. Overnight my life seems to have
turned into this great, giddy adventure
where anything can happen.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

FRIDAY APRIL 23RD

4.25 p.m.

At last life is catching up with my dreams.

A few minutes ago a white stretch limo
(well practically, it was a big, black, gleaming
taxi if you want to be boringly accurate)
sailed majestically down my road and
stopped bang outside my humble abode.

I let my mum get inside first. Then I
opened the door and said cheerily, 'Yonder
to TV land please,' to my personal
chauffeur (for the next hour he was,
anyhow).

I jumped into the taxi, then immediately
shot out again. I pretended I'd forgotten
something and tore back into my house. I
hung about for a few moments. Then once
again I had the special joy of briskly walking
down the drive and opening the door to
my chauffeur-driven limo, waving to a
gaping neighbour down the road and saying,
as I got in: 'All photos from my left
side please.'

I waved to quite a few other people as
we purred smoothly along. Then Mum
hissed, 'Tobey, stop drawing attention to
yourself.'

This made me laugh a lot, as I'm off to a
TV studio where I'm going to be seen by
millions. 'Come on, Mum,' I said, 'you've
got to get into the fame vibe.'

Instead she asked me if I'd memorized
all the words to my rap story (as she calls
it) yet. I said I thought I had. But actually,
as Georgia pointed out to me just a few
minutes ago when she was ringing me to
wish me luck, no one knows what the real
words are, so it won't matter if I change
them a tiny bit.

That reassured me, because between
you and me I am highly nervous. In fact,
right now I feel as if I've got the gripes.
But once I'm in front of the cameras I'm
sure my natural star quality will take
over. Meanwhile I'm going to ignore my
mum and do a bit more waving.

5.08 p.m.

At the studio Mum and I were given a pass
(I'll definitely keep mine as a souvenir of
such a momentous night) and then were
whisked down this long and surprisingly
dark corridor. People scurried past us
looking tense and important, but I don't
think any of them were famous.

Then we were shown into my dressing
room. What a disappointment that was – a
small, glum room with a brown carpet and
a musty smell. Two other people were in
there too: a large, sweaty man in a blue
tracksuit bawling into a phone about how
his son must have another sound check
immediately. And his son, David, who I
remember from the show I watched. He
told me gravely that he couldn't talk much
right now as he was busy visualizing his
magic tricks.

Mum stood in the doorway watching all
this carry-on with wide-eyed amazement.
'Welcome to show business,' I said to her.

5.35 p.m.

Just seen the studio where I'm going to be
performing – and like my dressing room, it
was much smaller than I'd expected. They
did a sound check with me, while I recited
what I was going to say. No one reacted
much to it – they just timed me and then
Stew Davis, the host, appeared. He is
famous for his great enthusiasm and . . .
well, that's about all really.

'Hey there,' he said, shaking my hand as
if I were his long-lost brother. 'How's it
going down? I've heard great things about
you.'

This sounded good. 'Oh, who from?' I
asked.

'Lots of people,' he said vaguely. 'Listen,
we're going to show a clip from your
appearance on the news first, big you up a
bit.'

'Cool, cool,' I murmured.

'I'll have a quick chat with you and then
you go into your rap song.'

'Well, it's not actually a song,' I said,
'more a poem, really.'

'Even better: now, until then, just take it
easy, all right?' Before I could reply I was
being ushered off to make-up.

The girl who worked on me was lovely,
dead friendly. I said, 'I want you to make
me look handsome, so we might be here
some time.'

Do you know what she replied? – and
this is no lie. 'Oh, I don't think you'll need
much make-up at all.' She just put some
sweet-smelling cream on my face and told
me that everyone who appears on
television has some make-up on.

'Even newsreaders?' I said.

'Especially newsreaders,' she replied.

After she'd finished, Mum, who was
hovering nearby, said, 'Now, that wasn't
too bad, was it?' That's exactly what she
says after I've been to the dentist.

5.50 p.m.

David and I are waiting to be summoned
by
Cloud Nine
. We're both sitting in front
of huge mirrors surrounded by light bulbs.
David's back is slowly being rubbed by his
dad. Mum is hovering behind my chair
and smiling tensely. Feel as if I'm about to
go into the boxing ring for the fight of my
life. And I just want to get out onto that
stage now. It's this waiting about I really
hate.

Hang on, I can hear someone outside. I
think this could be the call for
Cloud Nine
.

It is.

6.45 p.m.

What an experience.

I was the third contestant and I stood in
the wings watching the first two
contestants. First of all, David. I remembered
his magic tricks as being incredibly
clever and they were again tonight. And
the three judges were all impressed, even
Merv. He's the mean one, who looks like a
bullfrog with a perm. But he said,
'David, you're what this competition is all
about. You've really blossomed.'

Next contestant was Celia. I heard her
mum hiss, 'Remember, the second you're
out there tonight, you've got to smile at
the judges and radiate.'

Celia went out and sang 'Dancing
Queen' by Abba, and she certainly
radiated some amazing volume, I thought.
Two of the judges also thought so, saying
she 'owned' that song. But Merv said,
'Celia was good but not great,' and as the
other judges started arguing with him he
snapped, 'When Celia sang some of the top
notes she almost dislodged one of my fillings.
So I repeat, Celia, you were good but
definitely not great.'

'That man knows nothing,' hissed Celia's
mum beside me, her eyes nearly popping
out with fury as the judges gave their
scores with the audience cheering or
booing in the background. I hadn't listened
to David's scores and I didn't listen now
either – I was too nervous to hear anything
right then.

Then it was my turn. Mum whispered,
'Good luck, love' and I didn't tell her it's
bad luck to wish someone in show
business 'good luck'. And in those last
seconds just before I went on – well, there
was terror in my heart and everywhere
else in my body.

But as soon as I was led forward my
fears instantly melted away. In fact, I was
so excited I nearly jumped onto that stage.
And Stew said, 'We promised you a great
surprise tonight. And here it is: an extra
contestant. Here's why we think Tobey
deserves his chance to join the competition
at such a late stage.'

Then up on the screen came that clip of
me being interviewed on the local news.
They showed the bit where I was nattering
away about stopping the robbery. A great
roar of appreciation from the audience after
that . . . and from Stew: 'Let me shake you
by the hand, dude. You're a brave guy.'

Quick as a flash I replied, 'Oh, brave is
one of my middle names – the other
is "great big coward".'

Stew nearly fell over from laughing at
this. 'It's an honour to have you on the
show, Tobey. Now we hear you performed a
rap piece when you auditioned to be in
a local production of that classic story,
The
Secret Garde
n. Sadly you didn't get the
part but you have earned your chance to
be this week's surprise contestant on
Cloud Nine
. . . so, over to you, Tobey.'

The audience clapped and then there
was a deathly hush. I could hear myself
breathing. I had everyone's attention. And
this two minutes meant everything:

'Yo, pray listen to Colin . . . '

And then I was away. No worry at all
about remembering my lines, the words
just flowed out of me. And the audience,
well they were with me from the start.
Some of them were killing themselves
laughing. And that was a joyous sound to
my ears.

They were having such a fabulous time
that many of them were even laughing
over my last lines which were highly
serious.

But I know exactly what it's like when
you're really laughing – it's very hard to
suddenly turn all solemn again.

When I'd finished, this great wave of
applause just erupted over me.

Stew had to raise his hand for the
audience to stop. Then he said, 'Well,
the audience clearly loved it, but what do
our judges think? Right, Merv, we'll start
with you.'

Merv threw himself back against his
chair, while I smiled hopefully at him. 'So
here we have Tobey, hero and rap star . . .
well, hero anyway.' He closed his eyes for a
moment and then snapped, 'Tobey, your
piece inspired by
The Secret Garden
should have stayed secret. You know,
sometimes at night when you're halfasleep
and you hear a cat throwing up
outside your house – that's exactly what
your rap piece sounded like to me.'

Some of the audience started to boo him.
But I somehow kept a smile plastered on
my face.

'My advice to you, Tobey – and you seem
like a nice guy,' he went on, 'is to forget
show business and get yourself another
dream.'

More boos from the audience until Stew
put a hand round my shoulder. 'Very
strong words from Merv there. Anything
you want to say in reply?'

I thought for a second and then
launched into my impression of a cat being
sick. Now as you know, I'm pretty good at
doing animal impressions. And I gave this
one the full works. I began with the
retching sounds and movements a cat
makes and then built up to the final
explosion. Then I cried, 'Merv, that's a cat
throwing up. And if you think I sounded
like that then you're still half-asleep.'

The audience whooped and cheered and
so did Stew. 'Now that was a truly great
moment of television,' he said.

'I agree,' called out Merv. 'In fact, the
impression was much better than his bit of
so-called rap.'

'All right, Merv, we've heard enough
from you,' said Stew.

'You certainly have,' said Grace, another
of the judges, a woman with bright red
hair and eyes that seemed to be forever
brimming with tears. 'I want to applaud
Tobey's courage last week and his courage
coming here tonight too.'

The audience roared their approval.
'And I love the way he came out on this
stage tonight and said something right
from his heart.' Then she turned to Merv.
'And how dare you tell him to get another
dream. You go on believing, Tobey. And you
know something else, you sizzled tonight
with energy. In fact, you're my little
sizzler.'

I was very touched by her words. I just
wish she'd said I was cool and brill too.
Then came the third judge, Jackie: she's
probably the most famous of the judges, as
she's also a weathergirl on breakfast
television. She said, 'Look, Tobey's enjoyed
himself, so have the audience. I don't see
the problem.'

'Great,' cried Stew. 'And now we have
those all-important scores. Dare I ask
Merv first?'

'Because I enjoyed his cat impression:
two.' The audience murmured their
disapproval.

'Grace?' asked Stew.
Her face shook with emotion. 'Keep on
dreaming my little sizzler:
four
.'

That's what Jackie gave me too: four.

'But remember,' said Stew, 'the judges
only give half the marks. The others come
from you at home. So if you want to see
brave Tobey rapping for you again' – he
grinned – 'and maybe doing some more of
his unique animal impressions, ring us at
the end of the show.'

I went off stage to be met by Mum.
'Those scores were out of five, weren't
they?'

'No, Mum,' I replied very sadly. 'Ten, I'm
afraid.'

7.15 p.m.

All six of us contestants have just been
filmed sitting on this big, snug sofa.
We were supposed to be chatting
spontaneously and wishing each other
'Good Luck' while we wait for the public
votes to be counted, but as soon as the
cameras stopped, the smiles instantly
vanished. There was a real atmosphere of
tension, far worse than the vibes you get
when you're doing exams. On
Cloud Nine
,
one contestant was voted off every week,
and we all wanted the chance to come back
again.

So I said, 'I don't know why you're all
looking so worried. I came bottom with the
judges, in fact, I believe I got the lowest
score of the entire series.'

'That's right, you did,' said David,
perking up considerably.

I continued, 'And my mum definitely
thinks I'm going to be out as she told me I
can have steak and kidney pie tomorrow –
my favourite meal in the whole world. And
I'm usually only allowed to have that on
my birthday or when I've been ill.'