A short, topical diversion on ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here.’

A few years ago, I was contacted by the Producer/Executive Producer/Top In Charge Thing Man of a new ITV show.

Was there any chance, he asked, of coming up with some sort of website for him? He didn’t really have any money – oh, and it would have to be done quite quickly as he was off to Australia in two weeks, for the opening show. But this internet thing looked an interesting development.

Things I should have done, following contact from the Producer/Executive Producer/Top In Charge Thing Man of a new ITV show:

Race over to see him to discuss it. Leave my job, taking the brightest and best people with me, paying them out of my overdraft, money raised on credit card cheques and the sale of my furniture and heirlooms. Agree to work day and night to build and run a brilliant website for nothing, in return for the online rights to the brand for a fixed period and a share of merchandising sold through the web. Retire to Barbados ten years later.

Things I should not have done, following contact from the Producer/Executive Producer/Top In Charge Thing Man of a new ITV show:

Write him a polite but firm email telling him to eff off and stop wasting my time. Write a further email to everybody in my entire company, explaining that some idiot was planning to take G-list celebrities to a jungle in Australia and make them do moronic tasks, for the sake of a TV show that was clearly going to embarrassingly and publicly bomb. Press ‘send’ (twice).

This thought crops up every year at about this time, as I traipse out into my small garden in Norfolk to offer the chickens some scraps.