Free I Never Fancied Him Anyway by Claudia Carroll Page B

idiot went and parked in the Director General’s space and now I have to pop outside to troubleshoot.’
    It’s pitch dark when we go into studio and Lisa whispers to me to watch out for the cables strewn all over the floor. A sound man with headphones strapped to him comes at me from nowhere and clips a tiny microphone to my shirt, silently giving me the thumbs up as if to say, ‘Good luck.’
    ‘They’re just wrapping up the last item, then we go to a quick commercial break, then you’re on,’ hisses Lisa, gently steering me over to a monitor so I can see what’s happening.
    Now, you mightn’t believe it, but I have occasionally been out of bed in time to see the
Breakfast Club
. Well, it’s kind of hard to avoid, as it goes out six days a week. Anyway, I’m able to recognize the two presenters immediately. One’s called Mary and the other is Maura and they operate kind of like Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Good cop/bad cop, that type of thing.
    Mary is comfortably settling into middle age, warm, welcoming and with an almost motherly manner, whereas Maura is younger, sharper, brittle and caustic, with a bone-dry sense of humour, usually at the poor hapless guest’s expense. You wouldn’t think it, but the combination of two such polar-opposite personality types actually works and the
Breakfast Club
is one of Channel Seven’s biggest audience-pullers.
    ‘So anyone watching who fancies giving their home a nice bit of an upgrade, just remember, it needn’t cost the earth,’ says Mary, beaming into the camera. ‘And what do you call this lovely piece we have here?’ she asks a tall, lanky guy with his hair in a ponytail, who I can only presume is an interior designer. He’s proudly swaggering around what looks like the Tardis from
Doctor Who
in the middle of the studio floor, but it turns out to be one of those stand-alone shower cubicle thingies, perched precariously on a granite-stone dais.
    ‘I call it
Flow
,’ says the designer, shoving his glasses up his nose and managing to look both affected and a complete eejit at the same time. ‘I’m trying to combine both yin and yang in terms of structure. I set out to create a concept where showering can become a uniquely spiritual experience.’
    ‘Mmm,’ says Maura, unimpressed, as she pokes her nose inside it. ‘It’s-raining-Zen-type vibe. That what you’re trying to get at?’
    ‘Lovely, lovely,’ says Mary a bit unenthusiastically. ‘Mind you, I have to confess I’m more of an Ikea woman myself. Have either of you seen this month’s catalogue? The outdoor lighting is only to die for. And don’t get me started on the sofas. Only beautiful. With machine-washable covers and all.’ Then, at a wind-it-up-quick hand signal from the floor manager, she turns to beam beatifically at the camera. ‘Well, thank you so much for coming along, and the best of luck with your . . . ehh . . . what did you call it again? Oh sorry, yes, with
Flow
.’
    ‘Stay with us,’ says Maura, looking bored and making no attempt to conceal it. ‘We have a real live psychic in studio with us this morning, which should be . . . emm . . . illuminating. Back after the break.’
    Before I know where I am, Lisa has ushered me on to the set, which is like a big, colourful living room, and plonked me down on a bright, canary-yellow, oversized comfy sofa. Mary and Maura are sitting opposite me, but only Mary introduces herself, shaking me warmly by the hand and wishing me luck. She’s just lovely close up, looks a dead ringer for Maeve Binchy.
    Maura just fiddles with her radio mike and completely blanks me.
    ‘No hard questions now,’ I whisper, attempting to make light of the situation.
    ‘Ah, relax, sure you’ll be fine,’ says Mary, patting my knee affectionately. ‘It’s only a bit of an aul’ chat, that’s all.’
    ‘We’re going to have to talk to Jack about the calibre of guests we’re getting,’ snaps Maura as a make-up girl hastily dusts powder on her