e (60 page)

I’ve got a snapper to brief, ten press ads to draw up and accounts are screaming for my time sheets . . . see you in thirty seconds.

	Rachel Stevenson – 1/12/00, 10:49am
to:	Susi Judge-Davis
cc:
re:	Lorraine Pallister

A variety of people from David Crutton down have informed me that Lorraine seems to be fitting in exceptionally well on
your
floor.

Perhaps
you
should come and speak to me about
your
alternatives. My door is always open.

	[email protected] 1/12/00, 10:55am
to:	[email protected]
cc:
re:	I need you

Darling, I know you’re in “Do Not Disturb” mode right now, but the moment you wake,
please, please
call me. I can’t go on.

	Liam O’Keefe – 1/12/00, 11:05am
to:	Lorraine Pallister
cc:
re:	BIOLOGY EXPLAINED, PART I

before:  

after:    

	Lorraine Pallister – 1/12/00, 11:11am
to:	Liam O’Keefe
cc:
re:	BIOLOGY EXPLAINED, PART II

(you weren’t wearing a johnny, were you?)

	[email protected] 1/12/00, 11:13am (3:13pm local)
to:	[email protected]
cc:
re:	DATELINE MAURITIUS, DAY 3

We’re truly in the shit now. This morning we had four girls. Now we have two. A jet ski disaster worthy of
The Boy’s Own Bumper Video of Jet Ski Disasters.
Nathan got 2 of our birds to climb astride and shake their stuff. They did a few rehearsals and apart from the fact that Despina (your favourite on the casting tape) didn’t know her left from her right, it was looking dandy. Our marine girls roared off for
their first run. They crouched low like buxom panthers over their handlebars. Fearlessly they accelerated towards each other, preparing to turn at the very last second. We looked on from the beach, struck dumb by their power and beauty. Nathan yelled, “Turn!” They turned. Nathan yelled, “Left, Despina, left!” The dozy tart went right.

Nathan shouted, “Cut!”

The two jet skis sank without trace. Despina had a broken femur and tibia (leg to you). Kerri (the other one) got two lungs full of the Indian Ocean and a vicious laceration (cut to you) above her eye. After that the weather turned lovely again. Cloudless. Sea like a mirror. But nobody was in the mood and Nathan wrapped. Anyway, we don’t have a script to shoot any more, being as we are four babes short of a full bevy.

It’s not all bad news. Fat Frank is helping the local plod with their inquiries into the Trump Affair – the traumatised beauty decided to make a complaint.

Mel is struggling to persuade the two remaining girls to stay with the movie. Vin and me are on our 2nd (3rd? 4th? 5th?) sodding rewrite. The last time I saw Desperate Dan he was sobbing into a Singapore Sling. Where the fuck is Horne? You tell me.

A word of advice from a mate to a mate: never, ever under any circumstances, even if a seven-foot psycho is pressing a ten-inch butcher’s knife to your jugular, write a TV commercial that begins, “Open on a palm fringed beach . . .”

	Lorraine Pallister – 1/12/00, 11:27am
to:	Katie Philpott
cc:
re:	warning

Liam has been trying to convince me you’re some kind of serious nutter. You’re a fucking amateur. I’ll show you what mad is – just go within spitting distance of him again.

	David Crutton – 1/12/00, 11:27am
to:	Ravi Basnital
cc:
re:	IT skills

Think of this as a test, both of my new-found e-mail skills and of your prospects of still having a job at the day’s end: