Things began to go downhill for Adrian Chiles just after he signed an exclusive deal with ITV – a move which is historically only slightly less damaging for a celebrity’s career than Kurt Cobaining themself in the face.
Despite Adrian still being the lovable little upright-pug dog he’d always been, people largely refused to watch his new programming – largely because ITV insist on pursuing design choices that look about eight years out of date. As a result, there is a certain seasick feeling associated with switching over to the channel – as if your brain has suddenly been dragged arse-over-tit through the past decade of time.
Oh – and adverts. They have adverts. And adverts are sh*t.
Like all former BBC bigshots, ITV eventually scrunched-up the spent presenter and threw him into the used-Kleenex bin of shame – his demise having been as protracted, boring, and unobserved as that tedious nobody who somehow got trapped in a cave.
Of course – just like the latter-day UKIP supporter Des Lynam – the horror of being chewed up by the ITV machine sent Chiles completely mad, and the ex-presenter retired to a gothic castle that he’d bought in Transylvania and had reassembled in Birmingham city centre.
Although Chiles went unseen for several years – other of course than the occasional sighting of his silhouette on a stormy evening – just recently word went out that the presenter was looking for guests to appear on his new talk show – Face to Face With Adrian Chiles.
The major networks denied having any knowledge of the show – making it very hard for Chiles to book anyone – most agents assuming that like Des Lynam before him, Adrian had gone feral and was trying to lure people into his naked murder/cannibalism lair.
Ironically (considering what would happen next), Chiles was eventually able to book Nicholas Cage – the actor suffering from a rare condition called Samuel L. Jackson syndrome – an ailment which prevents those affected from being able to refuse work.
Predictably, what happened next was that Chiles drugged Cage and dragged him back to his horror-castle – occasionally stopping to sign an autograph or assure police officers that Cage was simply tired, and that the syringe sticking out of his neck was simply some sort of L.A. fashion statement.
The next phase of Chiles’ plan involved swapping faces with the famous thespian, and when Cage woke up, he found himself on a studio set strapped into the presenter’s chair. He valiantly struggled against his restraints by quickly moving his face between every emotion that he could think of, but the wily Chiles had used acting-proof ropes, and Cage’s thespy-gurning was thwarted.
“What’s going on?” Cage shouted – doing his best to shout every word as weirdly as possible so that you could tell it was good acting.
“Well, I’m glad you ask, Adrian,” Chiles said – this being the point at which Cage turned round and realised that he was interviewing himself – or at least interviewing somebody who had stolen his face anyway.
“AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!” Cage screamed – recognising all of the signs immediately, and realising that he had become embroiled in yet another face/off (his third one already this year in fact).
“Can I just say that it’s great to see you in the hot-seat, Adrian,” Chiles told his grizzly doppelgänger. “I always thought that you were the logical replacement for Parkinson, and I’m glad to see that ITV has finally wised up and ditched that idiot Jonathan Ross.”
“You might be wrong about that,” said a voice from the shadows – a voice which Chiles quickly realised was Jonathan Ross himself – the way that he ignored the silent-W convention in ‘wrong’ being a dead giveaway.
“I should have known they’d send you,” Chiles said.
“It’s nothing personal,” Rossy said, “but as you know, most high-profile ITV contracts stipulate that you have to carry out the odd assassination or act of industrial espionage, and the bosses are worried that your descent into madness might sour their attempts to sign Michaela Strachan.”
Before Chiles had chance to respond, however, Ross shot Nicholas Cage in the face – not realising that he’d walked into a face/off situation – despite the fact that Adrian’s surgery skills were closer to that of a doner kebab merchant than a surgeon – and despite the fact that neither of the men were talking in anything like their actual voices.
Having completed his contractual obligation, Rossy carried out who he thought was Nicholas Cage – the weirdly small and portly man clutching Jonathan’s chest and saying, “I’m famous again!”
Jonathan wondered what that meant, but he didn’t question it, because Nicholas Cage is weird, and there’s not really any point in questioning anything that he does – even if he suddenly turns into a much shorter man, speaks with a brummy accent, or breaks out in horrific and possibly infected surgical scars.
Oh, and Chiles/Cage’s new film – Psycho Life Guard 2: This Time It’s Parasol, will be out on the 16th.
You probably shouldn’t watch it.
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