Number Two (14 page)

Joining me on the panel were two local comedians. Arthur Simeon was just starting out in the business as a stand-up, and Emma Hunter was mostly focused on sketch work but was now also branching into stand-up, having recently appeared on a City/Much game show about pop culture. Cute and bubbly, she seemed destined to play the romantic love interest on a future CBC workplace sitcom. Both Arthur and Emma were friendly and laid-back, but I noticed something distinctly different about the way they prepared for the segment. They
prepared
for the segment. Steven had been in contact with both of them about the proposed discussion points, including the recent breaking news about Mayor McCrackhead. Both comedians were armed with a page full of potential one-liners and jokes to say during the discussion.

I had nothing but my bag of apple chips.

I hoped I wasn't going to make a fool of myself out there, unless it was on purpose like I usually did when I appeared on shows like this.

The “exciting guest” on the show that day was former Canadian prime minister Joe Clark. I guess if you have to be bumped, then getting bumped by a former head of state is nothing to be ashamed of. (You've probably noticed that I am great at justifying reasons for being bumped from interviews at this point in my career.) I had basically been following Joe around town for two days from interview to interview. It began the previous morning when we met in the green room at
Canada AM
, and then I followed him over to CTV News Channel, at which point he was clearly becoming uncomfortable trying to make small talk with me since he had absolutely no idea who I was. I tried the “we're both from Alberta” angle, but that can only take you so far. Joe was nice though and a consummate politician, asking me about my book and what life was like in Los Angeles. I'd lost touch with
the former PM after my appearance on
The Social
, but now was back in contact with him as I watched George stare straight into his thick glasses and jowly jaws from the green room monitor at the CBC. George had Mr. Clark on for
two
full segments to discuss his new book, and although I could only hear bits and pieces of it in between Steven, Arthur, and Emma talking about their plans for our upcoming segment, I have no doubt that the former prime minister would have been a fascinating interview.

A few minutes later, another staffer appeared in the green room doorway to let us know that the PM's interview was finished and we were on next. We were led to the main studio past another gaggle of employees, many of whom were just standing around idly and chatting. All of my darkest thoughts about the CBC suddenly came bubbling up to the surface of my brain. Why were my taxpayer dollars funding this bloated talk show that seemed to lack direction and—if the recent Nielsen ratings were to be believed—viewers? I decided then and there that it was time for me to stir up some shit . . .

I took my seat around an elevated table in the middle of a large studio. The audience surrounding us were sitting “in the round” like it was a stop on Def Leppard's
Hysteria
tour in 1989. George and I greeted each other warmly—he had clearly not read the book, but again, I couldn't really blame the guy. He had just finished interviewing Joe Clark for eight minutes; I would have spent the previous evening cramming for that too. Arthur and Emma had appeared on the show before and so we were off and running as soon as the red light went on.

George opened the segment by stating how nice it was to have Helen Fielding on that day, the author of
Bridget Jones's Diary
, “that book that you read that makes you say ‘Oh my God if my life is like this
I have to change it.'” I had never read
Bridget Jones's Diary
but I wondered how many people had read
my
book and thought the same thing. Also, Helen Fielding was on? I didn't see her anywhere. Clearly our segment would be paired with an interview George had done a different day. This whole production was certainly strange.

“I have to take bigger risks,” George continued. “I need to explore the concept of risks because we all need a little nudging in that direction.” Was George talking about me? Or was he talking about himself? George had just completed a ten-episode run of a new interview show for CNN. George's show was put in a pretty tough ratings position right from the start. CNN had placed it on Sunday nights when people in their 30s, 40s, and 50s who might want to watch it were probably preoccupied with
Mad Men
,
Game of Thrones
, and the other premium cable gems of the day. His U.S. television run had already ended by the time I visited his CBC show that day, and as he made no mention of it, I didn't think it was appropriate to bring it up. I knew firsthand how hard it was to launch something new on U.S. television, especially in this day and age, and I felt genuinely gutted that the CNN show hadn't worked out for George—especially since I knew he kept a place in Los Angeles and really wanted to make the leap.

George introduced me warmly, welcomed me back from the States, and mentioned my book, ticking all the boxes, while asking how I was. I had been given a peel-off sticker that said “Visitor #3-7452” to place on my suit jacket while walking through the CBC and I mentioned that I was “happy my taxpayer dollars had allowed me the privilege to wear such a sticker.” The joke fell flatter than George's ratings at CNN. Why was everyone at the CBC so afraid to talk about the millions of dollars we Canadians were spending to fund this national network? I guess I just answered my own question.

George turned over to Emma and asked her about the last time she took a big risk. I guess this was the theme of our segment today, and there was no doubt I had a good angle to bring to the discussion. Emma launched into a joke about how during the past Thanksgiving she decided to “attack her uncle from Alaska across the Bering Strait to Asia, and held North America. That's why they call it Risk!” That joke fell flatter than my taxpayer joke. The afternoon crowd at the CBC had clearly spent too much time exploring the Hockey Hall of Fame earlier in the day, or maybe we were all just terrible—either way this was bad TV. As it turns out, we were just getting started with the whole “bad TV” thing.

“What's one risk you would never take?” George asked me after we had all bantered back and forth for a few minutes.

I looked down at the flimsy, cheap plastic red water cups on the table.

“I'll tell you one risk I would never take: using thermos tops as mugs on the George Stroumboulopoulos show.”
Zing!

“I don't want to make you feel badly about your choices, dude,” said George as he moved in closer to my face. Why did he insist on doing that? “but the World Food Program ‘Fill the Cup' campaign, that's what these mugs are for.”

“But that's just what you did, you made me feel bad!” I replied. “You did the exact opposite of what you said you were going to do! You said ‘I don't want to make you feel bad,' and then you made me feel bad about it!'” This was met with actual laughter and applause from the audience, which meant we had something resembling a fun exchange going on. At that point, George had to go to commercial break, just as we were gaining a little momentum. Still, the whole panel segment wasn't actually that bad. So I didn't get my one-on-one close-proximity face-to-
face time on a nationally broadcasted Canadian talk show that drew the same number of viewers as reruns of poker on TSN—it didn't matter. I showed up ready to play and I was holding my own with these comedians. This really wasn't a waste of time after all.

During the commercial break, the floor director told me everything was going well. I was feeling very happy about the entire proceedings, but against all odds, this bizarre and bewildering couple of days spent promoting my little book was about to get even weirder.

After we returned from the break George addressed me once again. I was feeling a little bad about George asking me all the questions during the roundtable and leaving Emma and Arthur out in the cold.

“Justin Trudeau recently admitted he smokes weed. A lot of people said, ‘That's so progressive,' but then others said, ‘Hey, I think that's illegal.' Do you think that was a reasonable risk?”

Why was George coming to me with this one and not the two comedians?
I wondered? Didn't it stand to reason that comedians would be better versed on marijuana than a sportscaster? Then again, maybe not.

“Actually, I do,” I said. “Politically, it separates him from the other candidates, and it makes his views stand out. And it's not crack.” Good ol' Rob Ford had provided me the ammunition I needed to make a timely joke.

George continued: “Speaking of taking risks, I know you loved old-school wrestling. Did you ever want to take a risk and become a pro wrestler?”

Where the hell was this going?

“Yes, George,” I replied, “just look at my physique. Clearly.”

“What I used to love about wrestling was how controversial and
risk taking it was in terms of politics. Talking to different parts of the world, introducing us to Middle Eastern cultures . . .”

“Yeah, that's right!” I chimed in. “The Iron Sheik and Nikolai Volkoff.”

“You did love the Iron Sheik, right?” asked George.

“Big-time fan of the Iron Sheik,” I replied.

Where was this going? What the hell was wrong with George? Fidgeting in his seat, eyes darting around the room. Suddenly I turned around—and there he was.

“Oh, my gosh,” I said like some yokel.

The Iron Sheik himself, draped in Iranian desert robes and keffiyeh, with a big gold medallion around his neck. He walked up to our table trailed by a heavyset younger dude wearing a green and red plaid jacket and sideways ball cap with some sort of makeshift championship wrestling belt over his shoulder. All I could think to do was stare into the camera.
Straight into the camera.
It all made sense to me now, about as much sense as an appearance by the Iron Sheik on a Canadian talk show in 2013 could make.

The Iron Sheik was a legendary old grappler who rode the wave of pro-wrestling popularity in the World Wrestling Federation throughout the '80s and early 1990s as a villainous “heel” who terrorized good guys like Hulk Hogan and Sgt. Slaughter (Hogan won his first ever WWF title from the Sheik in 1984). The Sheik memorably teamed up with Russian tough guy Nikolai Volkoff to form one of the most memorable tag teams in wrestling history. They would get booed mercilessly by crowds when they entered the ring, as Volkoff insisted on singing the Russian national anthem before matches while the Sheik stood by holding an Iranian flag. The Cold War was alive and well in the squared circle in those days.

I hadn't heard much about the Sheik during the past couple
of decades, but Twitter was a lifeline to him and he embraced the medium with a fervour and craziness the likes of which may only have been seen by those who were lucky enough to witness Rob Ford attack a pipe. The Iron Sheik may not have actually been running his own Twitter account, but whoever was running it was not afraid to offend. Nothing was off-limits, and one of the Sheik's most frequently used insults involved telling people that he was going to “fuck them in the ass and make them humble.” Gay jokes, racist jokes—you name it, the Sheik did it, and a surprising number of people embraced it. People got a kick out of the Sheik following them on Twitter or, better yet, insulting them on Twitter, as was the case with me.

But why the hell was the Iron Sheik's hairy hand squeezing the life out of me that afternoon at the CBC? Turns out Steven Kerzner had read the one chapter in
Anchorboy
where I mentioned that I liked wrestling as a kid, and from there he deduced that it would be a hilarious segment to set me up by having the Sheik surprise me on set. Hey, it was no more crazy than anything else that had happened to me over those two days.

The Sheik shook a delighted George's hand and then shook mine. “Hello, Iron Sheik,” I deadpanned.

“Fine,” he replied. Okay, then.

“Okay, listen, listen man. I follow you on Twitter and you say all kinds of controversial things. Did you ever take a risk where you think you've gone too far?” asked George, keeping the risk-taking subject going with a determined focus. Say what you will about the guy, but he's a real pro.

And the Sheik replied as only he could:

“I AM TORONTO. AND TODAY I BEEN IN THE MAYOR OFFICE. TODAY THE MISTER MAYOR, YOU SUPPOSED TO BE ROLE MODEL FOR THE TORONTO, CANADA. BUT I
WANT TO SAY, MR. FORD . . . OR MISTER WHATEVER ROB FORD, I WISH YOU CAN COME CHALLENGE . . . WITH ME . . . ARM WRESTLING. OR WRESTLING . . . YEAH! YEAH!”

The Sheik wanted to go on, but George was already getting the “wrap it up” signal from his floor director. He kindly mentioned Emma's upcoming pop culture show, Arthur's upcoming stand-up gigs, and my book, and then the segment was over. The most bizarre television segment in history had come to a close. The Sheik was always up for publicity, but a recent stunt in which Hulk Hogan had arm-wrestled Mayor Ford (and lost) had given him fuel for this ridiculous debacle.

I bid George goodbye, an innocent bystander in all of this, and shook Steven Kerzner's hand and said, “That was weird.”

“What, you didn't like it? I thought you'd like it!” he replied.

“It was great! Thanks for having me,” I lied. I didn't care anymore. I was done. I was finished with all of this madness.

As we were leaving the CBC in a cab in the pouring rain, one of my publicists told us a story about taking my old Fox Sports 1 pal Regis Philbin around town on a book tour a few years before.

They were in the back of a town car and Regis was on the phone with his wife, Joy. At one point, while listening to Joy talk as he rolled his eyes repeatedly, Regis apparently blurted out: “Baby, we're going into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose you! I'm sorry!” and hung up. There was no tunnel. I laughed pretty hard at that story. There was nothing left to do but laugh at everything that had happened that day.