First up was my accountant. Nothing to set the pulse racing, although the company did make a profit – the first for several years. I noticed that the accountancy fees equated to almost exactly a fifth of the company profit, so it is fairly obvious who is really making money. On the other hand, I would not want their job. We pay for the right to be creative.
At the end of that meeting, Punk used his best roadie instincts to speed across town in the ageing Vicarmobile to Film Finance, for the meeting with Huw, which was delayed several weeks ago, due to his dental work. On the way to their office, I walked past the Star Alliance travel agent, which, diary readers will recall, dealt so unsatisfactorily with my air miles concerns. These are still unresolved. Boo, hiss and much gnashing of teeth.
I shall not bore you with the details of the meeting with Huw – who explained the ins and outs of funding independent TV productions. He is an honourable man, who knows his stuff. He also gave me a coaster to accompany my pathetic cup of camomile tea. In the small things, we perceive the large things.
The third meeting in our action packed day was with Samantha Tiffany, the UK agent for the Hutchence agency. She clearly enjoyed Punk’s book, and was interested to hear about current multimedia developments. She is keen to set Punk to work on the re writes of the first book, to which I was happy to agree, so long as he continues to be available in the studio when needed.
Samantha recently left the US office to found the UK operation. I sense there may have been a 'history' between her and Luke at some time in the past. Punk will no doubt know more as he invited her out to dinner. Having read the book, she will at least be forewarned about his customary lecherous behaviour. There really is no excuse for him.
On the other hand, if the poor boy cannot dine with his literary agent, then who else will take pity on him? Have no fear. Samantha is one of the sharpest people I have met in a long while, and she will chew him up and spit out the pieces. The dog will be home tomorrow with his tail between his legs.
My final meeting was a dinner with Roger Borer, the black suited, pony tailed beast of terror. What this man does not know about intellectual property rights is not worth knowing. Much as I abhor mixing dinner with business, this was a pleasant end to the day.
Roger asked some pointed questions about my reasons for launching the book and the TV series – beyond my obvious over riding greed and egotism. He asked for three words to define my vision. I have asked to sleep on that one. This needs careful thought.
"A discipline that does not lead to a compassionate practice may be said to have failed."
