For reasons to do with wanting a boat trip I am presently on the island of Ibiza, in a beachfront cafe having a coffee and watching the waifs and strays from last night's clubbing head home to bed. It is 0851, it doesn't qualify as a walk of shame as for most visitors that is the point.
We were booked into a hotel in the old town for three nights but left after one, a tawdry tale of unmet expectations, lack of sleep and unresolved rage at the referendum. No one comes out of it well, but I digress. Our new hotel is in the beach area, populated largely by the young with their Daisy Dukes, hippity hop music and casual attitudes to most things. They are essentially harmless to everyone but themselves and since we keep different hours we co-exist amicably.
Yesterday we decided that a late afternoon beer on the roof terrace was called for so we headed up to find three tv cameras, a sound engineer and various other technical types. We were welcome to go up but would have to sign a waiver as we might be in background shots. To what? we asked. A "The only way is Essex" special we were told. A very cheery assistant was slightly astonished when we actually read the forms before signing them (lawyers gonna lawyer) but in fairly short order we had a free drink and were disporting ourselves on the loungers watching Lewis (a well coiffed talent vacuum) and Lauren (needy, botoxed and anorexic) rehearse their lines for the show*. I have never watched this but am told it is modelled closely on Jersey Shore but with a cast from Lunnin, init. The other background artists (as I now think of myself) were a hen party from London in bikinis, so much more likely to actually be onscreen, and some random guests.
It was all terribly entertaining and our chances of actually being onscreen at any point are as likely as me watching any other episode of the show but at least we saw the magic happen. We chatted to one of the cameramen while Lewis tried to work out what normal human emotion looked like and the cameraman was quite open about how shit it was but "it pays my mortgage" so we commended him on his attitude and advised that he fill his boots.
The only sad part was how desperate some of the hen party were to be part of it, as non photogenic 50 somethings we have more realistic ideas of tv stardom but I suppose we should let others dream. Photos will be posted if we can work out this internet thing.
*It's reality tv, but not reality. Or something. Unscripted but they get told what to say and do.