A Peek Behind the Showbiz Curtain

Or, more specifically, the time we were “lunchmates” on Steph’s Packed Lunch.

I was once at The Headingley Taps in Leeds, pre-midday on a weekday, and experienced something delightful. The pub was empty apart from a group of men in hi-vis jackets who were stood in a corner, huddled around a TV, drinking pints. I’d assumed they were watching a sporting event and astonished to discover their focus was on Trisha on ITV (this was pre-Channel 5’s unimaginatively titled Trisha Goddard reboot.)

Trisha was grilling a man in a cap who had allegedly slept with his girlfriend’s sister at Butlins. Or something like that.

“You’re a coward, nothing more nothing less!” Trisha shouted, to whoops from the crowd.

The group of men remained silent, glued.

I sat at the bar with a beer (why I was drinking alone pre-midday on a weekday is not relevant to this story, by the way) and kept a loose eye on the screen. After a few minutes, Trisha opened up the debate and picked out a man in the audience.

“What do you think about infidelity, sir?”

As the camera zoomed in on his face, the men in the pub stood up and started clapping and chanting, “Damo! Damo! Damo!”

“Shh…” said one of the men. “Listen!”

On the screen, the same man - Damo - was talking.

“It’s disgraceful, Trisha. If you don’t want to be in a relationship, you should have the guts to end it.”

“Spot on,” Trisha replied, nodding in solemn agreement before the camera panned to another audience member.

Meanwhile, in the Headingley Taps, there was unbridled hysteria as the men slapped Damo’s back, lifted him up on their shoulders and threw him in the air as though he were a manager who’d just won the Champion’s League. Seeing the joy and silliness that Damo’s seven seconds of fame had brought his friends it felt, for a little while, as though all was well in the world.

15-or-so years later, Louise and I had the chance to replicate Damo’s moment in the sun. Last summer, in a bid to “build my online platform” (urgh… I’ll probably write a full piece on this sometime), I started posting regularly on Instagram. As a greying civil servant in my late 30s, I felt both self-indulgent and self-conscious recording videos of myself to share with strangers but, if you’re trying to flog your blog beyond your immediate family, you should at least try and get with the times, I suppose.

My early efforts yielded few results. A handful of likes from friends, a few new follows from accounts with bikini-clad women in infinity pools as a profile picture but 0 followers, and occasional comments from men/robots trying to sell protein supplements.

I was, then, surprised to get a direct message one morning from a man called Jonathan who claimed he worked for Channel 4 and “liked my content.”

“Are you free for a chat sometime?” he asked.

The last time I was invited for “a chat” was when a manager wanted to sack me (such a bad chat), and I was initially dubious. However, on checking Jonathan’s profile, he appeared to be legit. I drew this conclusion after watching a video of him wearing flamboyant trousers and energetically dancing to “Friday” by Riton and Nightcrawlers in a Channel 4 studio.

I picked up the phone and he told me he was a casting producer for the daytime TV show Steph’s Packed Lunch and looking for “interesting local people” to participate.

I was flattered.

“Are you familiar with the show?” Jonathan asked.

“Um…”

“Don’t worry if you haven’t seen it, that just tells me that you’ve got a job.”

We had a good conversation – he was a lovely guy – and, by the end of it, I’d signed Louise and me up to be “lunchmates” (members of the audience who wear a name badge and may or may not be asked a question by Steph McGovern) a couple of weeks later. It was very exciting.

On the morning of the show, we were on the train into town when Jonathan called to give us a heads-up about the morning’s news.

“What are your thoughts on rising energy rates in the UK?”

“Um, anything else?”

“The health benefits of turmeric?”

“Can’t say I have an opinion one way or another, to be honest.”

“Sharing food?”

“Andy is terrible for this,” Louise said. “He always steals from our children’s plates.”

Jonathan started laughing.

“Perfect, I’ll try and get you talking about that.”

Perfect?

We arrived at the studio by Leeds Dock and went to a café across the road where Jonathan had arranged to meet us. Drinking coffee when I’m nervous is always, always a bad idea but I never learn, and started to feel jittery.

“What if I need the toilet midway through the show?”

“Grow up, Andy. It’s like having 3 children sometimes…”

I would estimate Louise has said this 3000+ times.

“What’s going on over there?” Louise asked, nodding towards a group of 20-odd children who were all wearing pointy white hats.

“Hmm, looks a bit sinister, doesn’t it?”

“Do you think they are part of a cult?” she said.

As the children got closer, we discovered my theory was wide of the mark. The pointy white hats were, in fact, Pizza Express little chef’s hats.

“Ah…”

With such a poor awareness of the world around us, perhaps we weren’t best qualified to appear on a TV show discussing current affairs? A few minutes later, a man - Jonathan - danced towards us holding a portable speaker playing “I Gotta Feeling” by Black Eyed Peas.

“Hello, new lunchmates!” he said.

He handed us our name badges and led us into the studio where none other than TV chef Simon Rimmer was standing in the kitchen, drinking a very small coffee. Steph McGovern and former Secretary of State Alan Johnson were sitting on the sofas, shuffling papers, a handsome TV doctor I half recognized was chatting to Simon Webbe from Blue, and DENISE VAN OUTEN was lying in a pretend bed. It felt like we had walked into the TV screen and, I’ll admit, it was thrilling. When Simon Rimmer said, “Morning, folks,” and gave me a little smile, my heart started to race. All those hours (at least 3 hours) churning out social media content had been worth it. This was it. This was living.

Jonathan showed us our seats and introduced us to our fellow lunchmates, an eclectic bunch including an artist, a coffee shop owner, and a writer. They were all very welcoming.

“So, what do you two do?” the writer asked.

“Um, I’m a probation officer in Bradford.”

“Ah, ok.”

“Why didn’t you say you’re a writer too?” Louise whispered.

“Because I’m a terrible, terrible networker.”

Also, for some reason, I just cannot bring myself to say, “I’m a writer.” Not yet.

A minute before the show started, Jonathan advised us to look straight ahead and “relax” in case the camera panned to us. I found his simple instructions unnecessarily difficult and, watching the show back later, whenever I appeared on screen, I was scowling, flitting my eyes from left to right and looking, quite a lot, like a psychopath.

The first segment of the show involved Denise Van Outen getting out of bed (I can’t remember why she was in bed), then Steph and former Secretary of State Alan Johnson discussing rising energy rates in the UK and the benefits of turmeric. The coffee shop owner was brought in to contribute and had some very strong opinions on this.

Rimmer then taught the handsome doctor how to poach an egg.

At the break, Jonathan came over and told us to be ready as Steph was "definitely" going to ask us a question at the start of the second half. I sprinted to the toilet, nearly tripped over a wire, and made it back just in time for action.

Rather than write about what happened, here is grainy footage of my wife throwing me under a bus on live TV:

With adrenaline pumping, the rest of the show passed by in a blur. All I can safely say is that Simon Rimmer cooked a chicken korma and, when he was leaving, Simon Webbe gave the lunchmates a double thumbs-up, which I will forever cherish.

After the show, Jonathan invited us to meet Steph and, I must say, she was very pleasant.

“Can we get a photo with you please, Steph?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Can we get a photo on the sofas please, Steph?”

“Sure.”

And patient. Very patient.

It was, genuinely, a great experience. As we were handing over our name badges to Jonathan, he said we’d “smashed it” (a phrase I don’t usually enjoy but, in this context, I really did) and we would be welcome to COME ON AGAIN. ANYTIME.

Wow.

Was this the start of a new chapter?

“This is great, isn’t it?” I told Louise as we shared a large Singha beer in a Thai restaurant after the show. “This could lead to all sorts of opportunities. One minute we’re lunchmates, next thing we could have our own podcast? A book? Our own show? Surely, that’s not too much of a leap? I think Simon Rimmer liked me…”

Exactly one week later it was announced that Steph’s Packed Lunch was being pulled from the air (hopefully our cameo had not been the final nail in the coffin.) Showbiz dreams shattered.

Unless Trisha Goddard is willing to have us on?

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