Behind the glamour

Yesterday I had a taste of real showbiz working on the Children In Need telethon extravaganza. I was given the enviable task of ‘looking after’ John Barrowman for the day (for all you Australians/Swedes - he's sometimes in Doctor Who and stars in Doctor Who spinoff Torchwood.) Although onscreen you could be forgiven for thinking that John waltzed in replete with suit and coiffed hair and casually belted out a tune, in reality he had had a hell of a day, running from interviews to signings at HMV through several rehearsals and a game of musical dressing rooms fuelled only by a couple of extra hot lattes as far as I could tell.

The day wasn't quite like I thought it would be though - I pictured myself hanging out with John, sharing a joke, being his loyal companion and being his first request for next time he needed an assistant. As it was I very much doubt he knows my name, and I spent a lot of time either loitering outside his dressing room feeling like a bit of an idiot or sprinting down the hallways of Television Centre on surreal errands borrowing a CD player from Boyzone or trying to get into Lee Mead's dressing room to locate someone's lost pair of sunglasses. I don't think poor John realises the lengths I went to to make sure he had a nice dressing room and wasn't moved out halfway through to one with no bathroom. But such is the life behind the glamour.

I lived in fear of getting John lost in the maze-like hallways of Television Centre, but he had a couple of sympathetic souls in his entourage who pondered if perhaps half the people in the studios had been there since last year's show and just never found their way out.

Backstage at the media corporation is almost like a giant school concert, albeit one where you are quite likely to bump into Ronan Keating outside the toilets (‘Was that a Westlife?’ I whispered to my friend incredulously. ‘Um, that was Ronan!’ she said scornfully. He’s much smaller and stubblier in real life – that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. I just didn't expect to have to direct Mr Keating to the toilets, but as I have learnt in this industry, anything can happen).

Meanwhile, feeling very unqualified, I was given a crash course in key tv production techniques such as improvising air conditioning (prop dressing room door open with large bottle of springwater and/or suitcase), getting a decent coffee for talent (borrow ten quid off the front desk guys and go to Costa – avoid the instant machines at all costs), getting talent into the studio when their face is not enough (beg/borrow/steal a wristband off someone else – something Pudsey bear would do well to learn since the security team was jokingly asking him why he didn’t have an invite to the charity party), and how to get Boyzone to give John Barrowman his CD back (they denied having a CD player at all but the loud music coming from their dressing room was a bit of a giveaway).

Sadly, I didn’t get to meet my fellow Antipodean Kylie or give her my planned gift of a Caramello Koala (don’t ask - she would have appreciated it), but she did smile at me in the hallway - she turned to look at me as she passed and we smiled at exactly the same time. Maybe she could sense that little Caramello. I also bumped into Dannii Minogue although she was struggling with her giant heels at the time and didn't really acknowledge my existence, and I SWEAR Simon Cowell gave me a very flirty look as he passed in the hallway.

All in all it was an exhausting but exhilarating day, although I have to say I really needed my drink at the end. Unfortunately, I had more than 'a' drink and now I have to drag myself to the airport for my holiday to China where I may be called upon to teach some small Chinese kids English. More soon if this blog is not censored there, and I actually make it onto the flight!