Fifteen minutes to meeting
Sigh! I ain't got time for this. They said it wouldn't take 15 mins but I've been here ages. Not the best day for my 'careers advice' meeting either. I clearly don't need careers advice, I've got a Woolys ad to do at six, and a massive pile of lemons to autograph for this new face of Happy Shopper thing. I need to have a word with my agent though. I told him I wanted to get my hands on celebrity melons.
No one is talking here. Well, Journey South are, but then they've got each other. The rest of us are solo and there's a distinct whiff of sour grapes in the room. I reckon it's Andy the bin man meself, or it could be Brookstein. He looks like he's been here a while. He's got good taste in sleeping bags though.
Obviously I wouldn't say all this stuff out loud. Unless I thought one of them was judging me. I hate being judged! Bunch of smug wotists in celebrity hair going on about how I was rubbish, or could do better, or how amazing I was. What do they know about performing to an audience of millions, eh?
Ten minutes to meeting
Ugh! My stomach's doing backflips. Will Young just came out of the advisor's room and I've never seen him smile like that before. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen him smile. South (from Journey South) asked him what happened (obviously they're both really nervous) and Will just put his finger to his smiling lips and went on his way. Damn him and his enigmatic ways! Note to self: be more like Will Young, only with a girlfriend.
Ach! I can't do this. It's like finals night all over again. Good job I wore the special pull up pants today. No way am I getting caught short like that again. Oh, hang on. Something's happening.
Andy's going in. The sour grapes smell is still here though, so it must be Brookstein. I try to look over Andy's back, but I can't see inside the office. It's all smokey. I can just about make out a pair of shoes resting on the desk though. This is nerve racking. Keep it together, Shayne. Just breathe... and clench.
Five minutes to meeting
Andy's been in there five minutes now. I look over and Journey and South are holding each other and shivering. They look like Scooby and Shaggy, after a makeover. It's not making me feel any safer. I start to think about what I could have done recently that has made the headlines.
Ladies. Check.
Talking about state of pop music. Check.
Talking about ladies. Check.
Scratched bum. Check.
Oh and got to No.1. Phew! Musn't forget that one!
Not too shabby I reckon. Charlotte Church has done a lot worse. Oh, hang on, what's this? Andy's coming out.
Weird. He waited for the door to close behind him and while punching the air, said: "Yes! Six more months!" And then looked at Journey South and laughed. They're sobbing quietly now.
Looks like I'm next. Good job I've got some suggestions for what I want to do next. Films, TV presenting... Justin Timberlake look-a-like (look-a-lake I say. Ha!), bit part in EastEnders. Derren Brown could sew my eyes shut, or something.
Oh God! Here goes. I wonder if I should add 'Second Album' to this list.
Gulp!
