Picture the scene: last week's production meeting for The Late Late Show, somewhere in the bowls of RTE HQ...
Producer A: "Here, how about sexing things up this week? How about some satanic sluts swaying out of time to dodgy electro? THAT'S what the Irish license payers want to see of a Friday evening. And I hear there's actually a dance troupe who go by that very name - what are the chances! They've been in the news recently, I'm not entirely sure why... but it wasn't about being attention seeking or utterly talentless, that's for sure.
Producer B: "I dunno... can we programme Pat to say 'satanic sluts'? Whenever we input "Sinead O'Conner", or "ad lib", sparks fly out his ears and singe his rehearsing jumper. I, for one, can do without the smell."
Producer A: "It'll be cool, trust me. It's girls in their pants with something resembling a robot, what's not to like?! Listen, we'll take the microphones away so they can't say anything untoward.
Producer B: "Won't they need the mics to, you know, sing or something?"
Producer A: "Nah."
Producer B: "So, it's just four sluts swaying out of time onstage in their pants?"
Producer A: "Yep."
Producer B: "Make it happen. MAN, we're so frickin cool. WE RAWK! SUCK ON THAT BBC BIGWIGS!"
*Producers A and B chestbump out of room and set about bringing the viewing public this*
(Some time later...)
Producer B: *sighs* "I TOLD you it'd be too much for him - he's after ripping up tickets for the Toy Show and going on a rant about some car winner in front of Charlie Bird... On the upside, he did mention quitting the show."
