How to get a job in tv, part #3

So I've just told Legendary Bastard, the boss of this station I want a job with, that one of his show ideas was rubbish. Fatty and Skinny, his two deputies, are staring at me half-smiling. I realise all three of them are enjoying watching me squirm as Mr Bastard starts to speak.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(laughing and striding around the little room)
My idea eh? Really? Why the fuck did you listen to me? I’m a fat burnt-out old twat. I know nothing, you bloody arses. Not like your whizzkid ‘ere. I’ve leave him to you. And I do want that fat bitch off air today. If I see her vol-ooooo-minous arse pillows on my channel one more time, I’ll kick your arses right out of ‘ere and into a week next Thursday. Kapishe?

SKINNY
Yessssir. Done. And I’ll see you later about these interviews yeah?

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(going to leave)
No you fucking will not. [LOOKING AT ME] You’re hired my son. [SAD FACE] It’s the least we can do. Any poor soul who’s sat through their woefully inadequate programming deserves all we can do to help. When can ya start?

ME
(no idea what’s happening at all really)
I dunno… got to give a month’s notice-

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(opening door to leave, to Fatty and Skinny)
Get this regionally-challenged twat ‘ere in two weeks, no less. And for Christ’s sake, send ‘im down to Asda to buy a tie. Bloody telly types, I dunno. All fucking woofters…

LEGENDARY BASTARD WALKS OUT LEAVING THE DOOR OPEN.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(bellowing at massive volume)
Oi shit-for-brains. Come here. [A HASSLED-LOOKING BLOKE WALKS UP] I saw that sad excuse for a sports show you allegedly produce.

THE BLOKE IS LITERALLY QUAKING. UH-OH.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
That airhead bimbo presenter you’ve got referred to a certain footballing genuis as "Wayne Looney”. Anyone would think she was some tart you hired ‘cos of her pert buzooms and poutin’ lips, not a seasoned sports journalist-ette. I want a tape of that show NOW. I have to show it to ‘im upstairs, the [CROSSES HIMSELF] Lord Almighty Chief Exec.

THE HASSLED-LOOKING GUY DRAINS OF ALL COLOUR AS LEGENDARY BASTARD PAUSES FOR COMIC EFFECT.

LEGENDARY BASTARD
(smiling broadly)
He’ll piss his straightlaced little pants. Oh, and for fuck’s sake, make sure she wears low cut dresses. She was wearin’ some polo neck thing last night. [BIZARRE THRUSTING GESTURE] Fruit on the stall, that’s what she’s there for. Right, where’s that mingefaced news editor? I wanna word…

THE DOOR CLOSES. FATTY AND SKINNY LOOK AT EACH OTHER. I AM BOTH BEWILDERED AND DELIGHTED.

ME
So I s’pose we should talk money then.

FADE OUT

Try and decipher anything from that and win a cheese. Maybe the advice “ooh, get drunk and lippy” isn’t what they say in careers lessons at school, but in the real world it worked a treat. But what do I know?

Yes, that’s right, fuck all. See tv secret #001. Next time, secret #002 will tell you why the current phone-in fuss'n'furore has been an open secret in tv for years...