Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband (12 page)
Read Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband Online
Authors: Sam Holden
Thursday 13 March
8.30 a.m.
Just phoned the children, and spoke to Halet. She was
tremendously reassuring, and said that they had eaten
good breakfasts, and that she was just about to take
them to school. I spoke briefly to Peter, who sounded
on top form, and said that Halet had a really cool way of
brushing his teeth, and that he now wanted to brush his
teeth the whole time because the germs were baddy
aliens and he wanted to kill all baddy aliens because he
was a brave spaceman and yes I miss you very much as
well.
11 p.m.
Can't possibly write about today as am too drained and
emotionally wrecked, but suffice to say, it's a wrap, as us
TV types call it. Will write about it all tomorrow.
Friday 14 March
Home at last. Not just any old home, but our clean and
tidy home, with just its one reasonable-sized TV and its
nice sofas and chairs and things that sort of coordinate.
Yesterday was unbelievable, and I still can't believe
that Dom has enough footage, but he swears he has.
Anyway, the day went something like this. I'm going to
present it in appointment-diary form, as that seems
easier.
| 8.00: | Turn up with crew. Knock on door repeatedly. No signs of life. We fear the family may have legged it. |
| 8.15: | Still nothing. We try calling their number, but 'We're sorry, this telephone number is unavailable'. |
| 8.30: | Eventually door is opened by a bleary-eyed Debbie. 'Sorry, got a bit pissed last night.' In we go. We explain that the children need to be on their best behaviour today, in order to show just how effective the Holden Childcare Programme has been. |
| 8.35: | Ask Debbie and Little Ted if they can change into their nice clothes. Little Ted explains, quite matter-of-factly, that he's sold them down the pub, 'for a bit of whizz'. Gofer dispatched into town to buy more clothes. |
| 8.45: | Big Ted emerges, says he's got to go to work today. 'Work?' we ask. We were rather counting on him being around. 'What sort of work?' Never you mind, we are told, but he should be back by lunch after 'the job is done'. Debbie asks if she'll get a new kitchen out of it. Ted explains that he was thinking of getting a nice new plasma for their bedroom. Debbie thinks he's joking. He's not. |
| 8.48: | Big Ted leaves. Little Ted asks if he can go. Big Ted says no, mutters something about 'health and safety'. |
| 8.50: | Big Ted returns. Goes upstairs and comes back down with a small toolbox. Grins at us and leaves again. |
| 9.00: | Film remaining three members of the family having an orderly breakfast. This time I manage to get in my 'a family that eats together, synergises together' without a fight breaking out. |
| 9.30: | Little Ted and Epernay help clean the kitchen, with much sulking and 'accidental' dropping of plates. |
| 9.35: | New clothes arrive. They're the same as the ones we bought yesterday, which causes much disappointment. |
| 9.45: | Debbie asks Little Ted to finish clearing up after breakfast, and he tells her to fuck off. She hits him over the head. He throws a plate at her; which just misses and smashes the (already cracked) kitchen window. During all this, we film Epernay stealing money from Debbie's purse. |
| 9.50: | I ask Dom why he did not stop Epernay. 'The observer should never react with the system,' he said. What crap. We've made up this system. 'Besides,' he adds, 'I can sell the outtakes of this to Britain's Biggest Chavs on Channel Six.' Dom is merciless. |
| Noon: | A good morning's work, all in. We even bribe Little Ted with a packet of fags to make a Airfix Spitfire. Naturally he doesn't make it himself, and when it's finished he inserts a lit banger in its fuselage and throws it out the upstairs window. I have to admit, I rather share in the fun, although it feels a little treacherous blowing up a Spitfire and not a Focke-Wulf. |
| 12.45: | Big Ted stumbles back in, with cuts and bruises to his face and hands. He looks both terrified and angry. 'Get that fucking camera out my face!' 'Language!' hisses Debbie. 'Shut it fucking off!' The cameraman drops it to his side, although I later learn he left it running. 'Where yer been?' shouts Debbie. ' 'Ave you been thieving again?' 'Mind your business,' hollers Big Ted as he heaves himself up stairs clutching his little toolbox. Little Ted runs up after him. Epernay just looks bored and sighs a lot. Debbie is fuming. 'What do you think he's been up to?' I whisper. 'Thieving, just like I said.' 'Thieving what?' 'Cars mostly.' |
| 12.52: | High drama! The Teds reappear. Both look white as sheets (although not their sheets). 'The law! It's here! Outside!' They bolt to the back door, but there was the unmistakable silhouette of a policeman through the opaque glass. 'Fuck! Fuck!' 'Language!' Both the front and back doors smash open. 'Are you getting all this?' Dom whispers to the cameraman, who winks. In burst four policemen, and the place fills with a seething mass of fists, bodies, screams and expletives as the Teds try to wrestle with the many arms of the law. After a few minutes, the Teds are in handcuffs. 'Edward Lampert?' Big Ted grimaces. 'I'm arresting you for theft of a motor vehicle . . .' 'Oh Ted, for fucking idiot!' Debbie moans. The policeman reads Big Ted his rights, and then turns to Little Ted. 'Edward Lampert?' A surly nod. 'I'm arresting you for breaking the terms of your Anti-Social Behaviour Order . . .' The policeman's words are interrupted by a gentle knock on what was left of the front door. 'Excuse me? Is this a bad time?' |
| 13.02: | Standing there is a ridiculous character in a purple velvet suit and a frilly shirt. His hair is luxuriantly long, and he sports a large rough trade moustache. Behind him stands a cameraman. All of us, including the police, are utterly nonplussed. 'My name is Rupert Steptoe,' he says. 'I'm here, to, um, Pimp Your Lounge . . .' The rest of his sentence is drowned out by our laughter. Even Big Ted laughs. |
| 14.00: | We comfort Debbie and Epernay and decide to call it a wrap. Dom seems genuinely sincere in his offers to help. I make some noises as well, but know better than to make empty promises. |
| 15.05: | As we shake hands goodbye, I ask Dom if he really thinks we have a show. 'We've got plenty in the can,' he says. 'Remember, we've only got to fill 48 minutes – that's how long an hour of TV is because of the adverts. And some of that 48 minutes is intro and credits, and some more is that annoying reintro we've now got to do after each advert break, as people's memories are so shit. That'll bring us down to around 43 minutes. Twelve minutes of that will be introducing you and the concept, another 15 will be the family in nightmare mode, which leaves 16 minutes to show them getting better, and we've got more than enough of that.' 'Really?' 'Trust me.' 'Not a chance!' |
Sunday 16 March
So the great embarrassment I've been enduring all
weekend is that Peter and Daisy are SO MUCH
BETTER behaved. Sally can't stop going on about it,
especially at lunch today.
'I just can't BELIEVE that Daisy is almost potty-trained,'
she said, as soon as I had sat down after
cooking a magnificent leg of lamb.
'It's brilliant, isn't it?' I said. 'Halet obviously came at
just the right time.'
Sally laughed as I carved.
'So you're saying she kind of came in at a late stage
and took all the glory?'
'That's right. I did all the hard work, and she scooped
up the prize.'
'You are joking aren't you?'
'Not at all.'
We looked at each other and smiled, although mine
was through rather clenched teeth.
'OK, OK,' I said. 'I admit, it seems as though Halet
has done a great job, and . . .'
At this point, Peter put his hand up.
'Yes?'
'Daddy, please may I interrupt?'
Blimey, I thought, what else had Halet achieved
during the week? Normally Peter just shouts over the
top of our conversation until we give way to him. I could
see Sally was thinking the same thing as well.
'Yes Peter,' I said, my gob well and truly smacked.
'What would you like to say?'
'Ah, I just want to say that Halet is very nice.'
'I'm glad to hear it,' I said. 'Why is she so nice?'
'Halet nice,' echoed Daisy with an enormous smile.
'She's nice because we do lots of things with her and
she is very funny and makes me laugh because she is
very funny.'
'How is she funny?'
'She likes doing funny faces and funny voices.'
''unny 'oices'' went Daisy. (Lower labial-dentals are
clearly an issue for her.)
'What sort of funny voices?' asked Sally.
Peter then made a growling noise and burbled in
some unintelligible language. He and Daisy fell about
laughing.
'What does that mean?' Sally asked.
'I don't know,' said Peter, 'but I think it is very
funny.'
Sally and I looked at each other, a little mystified.
'I don't know about you,' I said, 'but I'm feeling a bit
jealous.'
'So am I,' said Sally. 'Here's to your programme not
being commissioned so we don't feel jealous, and then
again here's to your programme being commissioned
so we benefit from more of the excellent Halet.'
I half-raised my glass.
Monday 17 March
I had a long chat with Halet this morning, and congratulated
her on how well behaved the children are. I
asked her about the secret of her success.
'Just good old-fashioned parenting,' she said. 'It's not
magic.'
'It bloody seems that way.'
Halet laughed.
'Not at all. I use what you British call carrot and stick.
It worked for my children, and it seems to work very well
for yours. In my country we call it
fghddskjhf
and
asdhkksdfh
, but it is very hard to translate.'
'It sounds impossible.'
Halet laughed again. There was something serene
about her, and it was infectious. Just being around her
makes my shoulders slump slightly, and all my muscles
relax.
'You know, they are lovely children you have, Mr
Holden.'
'Call me Sam, please.'
'I prefer Mr Holden. I am a different generation to
you and I like the formality. I am, after all, your
employee.'
'But I call you Halet.'
'That is OK – I am your servant, you can call me what
you wish.'
Gosh, I thought, I've got a servant. I'd never really
thought of au pairs, nannies etc. as 'servants'. Somehow
I imagine servants to be dressed in maids' costumes, the
type of clothes I always want Sally to wear.
'Anyway,' I said. 'I'm glad you like Peter and Daisy.
They seem to like you very much already. Sally – sorry,
Mrs Holden – and I could not be happier with you.'
'Thank you, Mr Holden. I am happy that you are
happy. And may I ask how your television programme
went last week?'
'Extremely well thanks.'
'Oh good. I cannot wait to see it. Perhaps I shall learn
a few tips?'
Wednesday 19 March
Dom rang to say that some of the material was better
than he had hoped, and he wanted me to come in on
Monday and Tuesday to do the voice-over. I'm going to
be narrating the programme, apparently, which I'm
happy about, because it makes me more of a star. Or
something.
Sally back late again this evening. Once again she was
shattered, and looked utterly depressed. She went
straight upstairs, and she was up there for so long I
thought she had fallen asleep. I went up to find her
kneeling next to Peter's bed, stroking his sleeping head.
I eventually dragged her back downstairs.
'Is there anything I can do?' I asked.
'Yes. Pour me a glass of wine, cook me a nice dinner
and then a great shag.'
'In that order?'
'Hmmm. Wine, shag, dinner.'
It was a command I was happy to obey. After the
second bit I tried to instigate a long chat about work,
but Sally asked me not to ruin the evening. Fair enough,
but I am still worried about her.
Thursday 21 March
I bumped into Emily today, who was her normal bouncy
self. She was dying to hear about the filming, and she
twisted my arm to go to her for lunch, and so, cravenly
enough, I did.
She asked me how it went, and I told her it couldn't
have gone worse. She fell about when she heard
about the arrests and the arrival of the
Pimp Your
Lounge
man. She then wondered if I had seen her
scenes yet.
'I should see them on Monday,' I said, suddenly
feeling uneasy. It wasn't that I had forgotten about
THAT kiss, it's just that I'd put it to one side, and was
kind of still hoping that it wouldn't get used.
'I can't wait to see it,' she replied, handing me a bottle
of wine and a corkscrew. 'I did so enjoy filming it.'
Here we go again, I thought. Another one of Emily's
thundering passes. What was she trying to do? Her
flirting was as subtle as that of a drunk teenager.
I didn't really reply and just made a few 'hmmph'
sounds, which she seemed to find amusing.
'What will Sally say when she sees it?' she asked.
'She will probably kill me,' I said. And I meant it.
Emily giggled and drained the penne.
'By the way, it's Ned Holland's fifth birthday party
tomorrow. Has Peter been invited?'
'Of course – they're great mates. In fact, the whole
family's been invited, as Sally's parents know Ned's
grandparents.'
'Oh good,' she replied. 'It will be nice to see you
again so soon.'
And she meant it.
