Itchy my arse

Kleiny has pitched me what he called his 'itchiest' project yet. I like the way he's getting into the spirit of things and embracing my new buzzword de jour, but it somehow did not sound right coming from his old-school Tory lips.

He wants to take a group of disabled Iraqi refugees on an amazing journey around the country in (and this is where he lost me a bit) a fucking converted old London routemaster bus. With Rod Stewart and his band.

"What, are they roadies or something?" I ask him.

No, Kleiny says, this is the Youth Channel's way of doing the Iraq war - very contemporary, very now, but with some cool music too.

I shut my eyes and tried to picture a scene. Rod belting out "Maggie May" as the bus pulls into Runcorn, before deliberately decamping the refugees into a 2* hotel that isn't 'fit for purpose' (i.e. not enough disabled ramps, lifts, etc). Lots of tears, raw emotion. Great soundtrack too.

"Okay Richard, I like it. Have you thought about casting yet?"

Kleiny says that he was 'definitely onto it', but was waiting on a greenlight from me before getting his lackies too involved in the project.

I stand up. "Fair enough. Right, this is what I want you to do. Produce for me a 3 minute taster of the 10 characters we'll use. I want the possibility of disabled sex on the bus so ensure we get the right mix of Iraqis. They must also ALL speak English. And I want some blind people too. There is something strangely compelling about watching them fumble about."

Kleiny looks gobsmackingly delirious that he had got this one away with me. "I will not let you down," he stutters, and tries to high-five me.

How fucking embarrassing, especially coming from a man of his age.

What a twat.