I always though there was something dubious about Noel Edmonds, and now I know what it is,,,, not only has he been inflicting his beardy faced smugness on the great British public but for the past 3 months he's been in contract negotiations with Russian prime time TV bosses..... here's how the story goes:
One of my students came to me and said 'Rebecca, I need to know the language of negotiation and I hear you're the king of Business English'......'That's right' I said, pulling out my briefcase and slipping into my trouser suit. 'Shoot' I said. The student looked at me confused. 'Er, tell me what you need to know' I said.
'Well our bosses in Moscow have been approached by a beardy faced short man claiming to be the Messiah of TV game shows, and he has an idea that he wants to sell to the Russian TV company that I work for. It's a game based on chance, there's no skill involved, the contestants don't have to do anything other than open a box. And occasionally they get a phone call from an imaginary person calling himself a banker.... meanwhile it's the beardy faced man's job to create an atmosphere of tension and anticipation. But the beardy faced man will only sell it to us if he gets to present it; he mentioned something about world domination and then laughed like a madman. So, our bosses want the idea but don't think his image is suitable for the young Russian audiences, he wears his trousers too high.'
So off I went and taught the student to negotiate like a pro..... and now? Well we have our own Russian version of 'what's in the box' or whatever it's called. In the middle of their meeting I rang the tv company's office in Moscow and asked to speak to Mr Edmonds, 'Who?' said the receptionist. 'The beardy faced man' I said. 'Ah, I'll put you right through', she said.
'We'll offer you one million roubles' I said in my best bankers voice.... He took the money.
Meanwhile, back in reality, I took my new found friends to the summer cafe where the baltika is cheap and the barman knows my name (oh, no that's in my other local bar)... the Baltika was off, there was a fight between two young Russian men, and we got drenched in a summer storm... we could have moved indoors but we were showing our great British (and American) resillience. When we did eventually move indoors they said they weren't disappointed by my choice of venue, but I fear they were lying.
One of my students came to me and said 'Rebecca, I need to know the language of negotiation and I hear you're the king of Business English'......'That's right' I said, pulling out my briefcase and slipping into my trouser suit. 'Shoot' I said. The student looked at me confused. 'Er, tell me what you need to know' I said.
'Well our bosses in Moscow have been approached by a beardy faced short man claiming to be the Messiah of TV game shows, and he has an idea that he wants to sell to the Russian TV company that I work for. It's a game based on chance, there's no skill involved, the contestants don't have to do anything other than open a box. And occasionally they get a phone call from an imaginary person calling himself a banker.... meanwhile it's the beardy faced man's job to create an atmosphere of tension and anticipation. But the beardy faced man will only sell it to us if he gets to present it; he mentioned something about world domination and then laughed like a madman. So, our bosses want the idea but don't think his image is suitable for the young Russian audiences, he wears his trousers too high.'
So off I went and taught the student to negotiate like a pro..... and now? Well we have our own Russian version of 'what's in the box' or whatever it's called. In the middle of their meeting I rang the tv company's office in Moscow and asked to speak to Mr Edmonds, 'Who?' said the receptionist. 'The beardy faced man' I said. 'Ah, I'll put you right through', she said.
'We'll offer you one million roubles' I said in my best bankers voice.... He took the money.
Meanwhile, back in reality, I took my new found friends to the summer cafe where the baltika is cheap and the barman knows my name (oh, no that's in my other local bar)... the Baltika was off, there was a fight between two young Russian men, and we got drenched in a summer storm... we could have moved indoors but we were showing our great British (and American) resillience. When we did eventually move indoors they said they weren't disappointed by my choice of venue, but I fear they were lying.
posted by Girl Least Likely To at 11:17 AM
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