The Dating Show Audition
“Hello. Is this Jones?” said a London accent down the phone.
“Yes, it is.”
“Jones, this is Alec Pendleton from Fremantle Media. How are you?”
“I’m well. What’s crackin’?”
“I got your information from your Australian Idol audition. I saw the footage of you and thought you might be interested in a role we have for a pilot.”
“Really? What’s the role?”
“It’s a pilot for a dating show. Don’t worry though, we’re not going to be setting you up with anyone. Would you be interested?”
“Sure, sounds fun.”
“Excellent. Now the role is for the pilot, and if you’re selected for the pilot, and the show ends up being produced, that means you’ll have precedence to appear on the show. The audition is on x date at 8 pm in Crows Nest. Okay?”
“Not a problem.”
“I’ll email you the details and a form to fill out.”
I went back inside the call centre, got a drink of water, and went back to the phones to sell some insurance.
The next week, I got off at Crows Nest station after a three hour train trip. I didn’t really know where I was. I found the address, off the main road in a narrow street. Sitting on the steps were four 15 year old boys.
“Heyyy. G-String man!” I said.
“Hey, someone recognises me!” said the boy. G-string man was famous for performing at Australian Idol auditions, and, while still singing, stripping down to nothing but a leopard print G-string.
Inside, I took a seat and filled in one of those silly questionaires. What are you like as a person. What are your three greatest attributes. Name two people who would go on camera to talk about you.
I started making conversation with the other auditioners.
“So what’s the deal? They’re going to put us in a room and a panel of girls grills a guy?”
“I hope it’s not the other way around,” said a gorgeous brunette.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not even sure what I’m doing here. I came on Idol dressed in a skin-tight frog suit as a joke. Now they’re saying they want me to audition for this? I hope they don’t actually put me on a date with a girl… That would really piss off my girlfriend.”
I felt pretty good and in a social mood by the time they asked “Okay – who wants to go first?” I jumped out of my seat.
I shook hands with Alec and the other producer. They lead me down the hall and set up a camera on my face, with a bright light pointed directly into my eyes. Sitting on the panel were four beautiful girls. An alternative type with black and fuchsia dreadlocks. A button-down shorty who could be a receptionist. A snappy black girl with huge curls. And a redhead wearing pastels.
“Alright and we’re rolling. So Jones, what do you do?” Boring interview timez. That’s okay though. I’m about to go Brando on this. They won’t know what hit them.
“I’m a gangster.” I’m in the best state I’ve ever been in. Beams of light are shooting out of my mouth. The power of nimbus. The girls crack up. The guys look extremely puzzled.
“Okay, okay. But what do you really do?” said Alec.
“I’m an insurance salesman,” I say with a grin.
“Yes, okay. But what do you really do?” he asks, slightly frustrated.
I chuckle. “I really sell insurance.”
“You seem to have quite a sense of humour Jones, is that right?”
I smile. “Yes.” The girls burst into a fit of laughter again. I say to Alec as an aside: “They sure seem to think so.” The producers are currently having their minds blown. Guys don’t know what to do with chick crack. I don’t think they planned for this in their pre-production meeting.
“So Jones, what’s the least desirable quality for you in a woman?”
“Cowardice.” Silence.
“Can you explain that a bit further?”
“Sure. Once I had a girl who wouldn’t commit to me, because she was afraid of falling in love with me, of losing control. I can’t stand for that.”
After each question, they’d get the girls to put up their pieces of paper if they liked me, and put them down if they didn’t like me. They’re intending to narrow down the girls that like me. Thing is, question after question, the girls keep putting their signs up. Except for the last question, when the black girl put her sign down.
“Alright, it’s time to change things up a bit. Jones, now you can ask the girls some questions and choose which one you like.”
I asked them questions like “If you were, a colour, which colour would you be?” and “What character from Sex and the City are you most like?” The button down shorty sold herself to me for five minutes about why she would be Carrie. I chose her, picked her up from the seat and spun her around on camera.
Really though, I preferred the alternative girl. I think her name was Abby. She had a Polish last name.
The other producer said “Okay Jones, we’re done. So you’re free for the recording date, right?”
“Yep.”
“Brilliant. Okay, thanks for your time.” I went home.
They never called me back.
About a year later, a dating show produced by Fremantle came on the air. You might have seen it. It’s called Taken Out. I’ve never watched the show, but I’ve been told the premise is that they get some dateless wonder to appear before a panel of 30 women. one by one, they reject the guy, until finally one lucky lady is left with the douchebag whom no other woman could bring herself to love.
Obviously (to me at least) the show was doomed to be a failure. If a guy is attractive to a woman, he’s going to be attractive to all women, or at least most women. Instead they’ve got a show about boring loser rejects.
Also, what became apparent was how inappropriate my strategy was in coming into the audition. I thought I was supposed to be charming and fascinating. Instead I should have been just pathetic and cute enough that one woman would take pity on me. Then when I got onto the real show – BAM! Hit ‘em with the fireworks.
Anyway, the show was cancelled before the first season finished. Maybe it would have lasted longer if they’d let me on there. Ah well. Next time I’ll get my shot at ephemeral fame come through. In the meantime, I’ll just have to keep believing that I’m too brilliant for the world to ignore forever.
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Comments (3)
I don’t believe that ever happened.
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cool
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i’m really not good at making stuff up. thats why most of the stuff i write actually happened.
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