You See Me In Whatever Light That You Choose...

Sid, my agent, calls me from his office at seven am. “Christopher!” he announces cheerfully.

“This better be good,” I mumble, my brain sending out surveillance probes to assess the extent of my hangover.

“Oh, is it early again?” he says. “Sorry mate, don’t mean to keep waking you up.”

“Why are you always at work so early anyway?”

“Well, I share hot water with the other flats in my building and a couple of times it’s run out in the middle of my shower so I’ve started getting up before anyone else to beat them to it. Unfortunately a few of them are road sweepers. So I’m up at four every day now.”

“Jesus. No more nights out then? You must be going to bed at nine.”

“Nah. The good news is I’m out of the office at one every day and I just sleep in the afternoon. The other good news is that I get to see all the filthy foreign cleaners. I tell you, there’re some beautiful, sad-looking Latino women knocking about before the sun comes up. There’s one on my industrial estate with a waist the size of a can of Pringles and tits like Zeppelins but she looks painfully damaged. Seems like easy pickings except every time I drive past her there’s always some older man shouting and threatening to hit her. Surely I can offer her a better life than that?”

“So you’d let her give up the job?”

“Oh, I see. No. No, I wouldn’t. Maybe I could stop the threats at least.”

“What the fuck does he want?” Cheryl hisses from next to me.

“Yes, what the fuck do you want?”

“Let’s do a meeting. I’ll be round at noon.”



He sits on the couch while I make him a toasted cheese and ham sandwich. Cheryl hides in the bedroom. Sid changes the channel to QVC and I try not to take it as some kind of mockery.

I hand him his sandwich and he points at Julia Roberts selling Diamonique. “Is this stuff actually any good?”

“I’m not a jewellery expert, Sid. I don’t know.”

“Huh.” He leans forward, scrutinising the merchandise.

“So what’s this meeting about? Any good news for me?”

“Maybe. You mentioned you’d written your first song in ages?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve found someone who wants to record it.”

“Who?”

“Some kid with a studio in his flat.”

“So this is a change of career? You’ve given up on me as a writer?”

“Just keeping our options open, Christopher.”

“I’m too old, Sid. I’ve done the band thing. No one wants to hear what a thirty-two year old man has to say.”

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right.”

“Jesus. You’re not supposed to agree.”

“I’m not, I’m just telling you what I thought you wanted to hear. I’m all about an easy life.”

“What about my second novel? Have you been shopping me around? Any feedback, and leads?”

“I’m trying, Christopher,” Sid says, blowing on the steaming sandwich. “But that part of things isn’t really my strong suit, to be honest.”

“But… That’s what an agent does, for Christ’s sake. What have you been doing? What is your strong suit?”

“Just being supportive. Having a laugh. Going out for drinks. Just being a mate.”

“No, that is a mate. That’s what my friends do. My agent is supposed to fulfil certain other functions.”

Sid shakes his head, his mouth full of hot cheese. “No one really needs an agent. It’s just perceived that you do. So you do need one, I suppose, but only because that’s the perception.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing an agent can do that you can’t. It’s just an unofficial rule that you have to have one.”

“Sid, I’m pretty sure that’s just you. I think other agents are actually out there working for their clients, selling their work.”

He looks at me blankly, slowly munching his lunch. “Trust me,” he says finally. He finishes and puts the plate down. “Right, I’ll take a nap and then we’ll go round this bloke’s house. Can I use the bedroom?”

“Not really. Cheryl’s in there…working.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. As long as I’m on a bed I can sleep through anything.”

“Why don’t I see if she can take a break?”

So Cheryl and I sit in the living room while Sid snores in our bedroom.

“He’s on my side of the bed,” Cheryl says through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry,” I say for the seventh time. It is almost ten minutes before it occurs to either of us that we are still watching QVC.

Two hours later, Sid wakes up and we go to a stranger’s house where I record all the instruments in one take and a friend makes a video that causes mild brain damage.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxSRChS793U