Ape Shall Kill Ape

Regular readers of the blog will have no doubt encountered my updates on the trials and tribulations of life as a runner in the heart of Soho. These updates have been thin on the ground lately, mainly because I've been in the 'honeymoon period' that comes with a fresh start: new job, new girlfriend etc. life’s been well not too bad really. I’ve just got my head down and worked and ignored the bullshit that goes with it, just smiled and kept the coffee coming, but today that all changed.

The head runner Fiona (more on her in the future), calls me on the runner team mobile (yeah man, this place is so big I need a team mobile, which means I can't even take a shit in peace) and says;

“Alan we've got a new editor coming in today. Apparently he’s the next big thing; all the productions are clamoring to work with him and he’s booked up further in advance than the Ivy! Make sure you look after him properly, we want to impress him in case he can swing productions to bring work our way. Oh, and he’s bringing his assistant along as well if he’s learning from the best he obviously must be good - we must make them feel at home here, give them the VIP treatment. Ive been really impressed with your hard work lately so I think you’re the man for the job.They'll be in Edit 17."

So I go up to E-17 and get the suite ready. Its about 9am, I go downstairs to take the mornings deliveries and prepare the breakfast platter for the new edit (when they really want to impress someone they always get the danish pastries out). Thats when I heard the sound, like an air raid siren bleating through the night.

"Put your hands up!"

Where have I heard that before? I broke into a cold sweat, the nightmarish memories hitting me like a bad acid flashback.

"Put your hands up for Dixon! He loves this facility!!"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Cuntface fucking Dixon.

I hadn't seen Dixon since that fateful day at the last place. I hoped our paths would never again cross, especially after what he had said about Rudyard. But this was only the tip of the iceberg. I walked into reception and there he was, strutting around like a peacock with camouflage feathers.

"Oi oi!! Its only the Alman! Hows it fucking sequencing! So you my runner then! At least someone knows how I like my coffee!"

I was lost for words; a smile spread across my face faker than a Miliband endorsement.

"Well well well Alman your gonna be looking after me and my assistant then. I think you’ve met before!"

And then from behind Dixon appears Toby. "Alman your a runner here, that's well nang"

Trust fucking fund Toby, sporting the latest neon coloured wayfarers, designer goatee and the couture camouflage bathing ape t-shirt. They look like twins. I feel sick.

"Alright Alman! Sort us out some chaz will you, we're going on a edit binge!"

And so it begins.

Let battle commence.....