The Gigacull

By Terrence Rickard

This humorous mystery novel is an account of how TV journalist Mike Stanley and his girl friend Jill, who is a computer genius and works for the federal police, become entangled in a horrendous conspiracy.

Step by step they discovers that a group of frustrated United Nations ambassadors, sick of having issues vetoed and feeling stymied by the UN’s failure to resolve most major issues, has formed a secret organization called the Solution Society. This secret society has connections to like-minded and powerful people in governments, industry, and the military in almost every country. Their objective is to solve all the tough problems using clandestine methods. They think of themselves as the new unofficial world government with the ability to make the necessary decisions that no government could make, unhindered by the red tape of convoluted protocol, and the necessity to win votes to stay in power.

With global warming, dwindling oil and mineral resources, overpopulation, soil degradation and ecological vandalism threatening dramatic changes culminating in a disastrous future for this planet the Solution Society comes up with a radical plan they call the Asimov Project. (Inspired by the environment described in one of Isaac Asimov's novels.) They decide that the only realistic way to solve all the problems in one shot, and bring on a bright new future for a selected group of worthy people is by reducing the human population with a massive cull - what Mike refers to as a gigacull when he discovers that they are on the verge of releasing a manufactured, weapons grade, and extremely deadly virus that will reduce the world’s population to less than one billion.

Besides the prospect of being murdered, the main obstacle stopping Mike from telling the world about his discovery is his inability to decide if he wants to try to stop it.

What is so blood chillingly horrific about this novel is this – not only is it completely plausible, it reeks of the likelihood, and perhaps even the necessity of actually happening.

Although events described in this novel have not yet happened I don't think of it as a SF novel. There is no science in it that does not already exist. It’s a warning about what some selfish, worried, and perhaps powerful and paranoid people could be planning right now.

Please don’t let this solemn and depressing description of the novel put you off reading it. I have tried to incorporate a bucket of laughs into it, and to write it in an entertaining and interesting way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terrence Rickard
• Release date: Dec 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466172098

Terrence Rickard

I'm addicted to reading, and when I've got the time to dedicate myself to writing, to sit down and start writing and not stop until I’m finished, I find writing novels and screenplays a magnificent obsession. What else do you need to know about me? How about this: - I live in Brunswick, an inner suburb of Melbourne, Australia. I have finished five screenplays and four novels and built up an impressive pile of rejection responses. I intend to submit more novels for publication soon. Incidentally, while writing the IDbyET novel I was also writing a screenplay version of it. I have spent years writing, revising, and polishing both of them.

Book preview

The Gigacull

A Novel By

Terrence Rickard

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Thank you for downloading this free e-book. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Copyright 2011 Terrence Rickard

CHAPTER 1

I felt like sticking the microphone down his throat, or hitting him over the head with it. The pompous prick would not give a straight answer. He always ignored my questions and just continued making statements plucked from his own personal agenda. I decided to try one more time and asked him the same question I had already asked at least twice before. Do you, or don’t you believe that humans are responsible for global warning?

As I was saying, before you interrupted me – it’s probably already too late now to stop global warming. The Earth’s climate is changing, and now there is nothing we can do about it. And believe me, if things get as bad as it looks like they will, then it’s going to devastate our environment and inflict unimaginable misery on every person living on this planet.

He spoke with a self-confident disposition, slowly, patiently, like a jaded teacher disenchanted with his students for their inability to grasp the depth of his awesome intelligence.

Are you saying that our efforts to develop new sources of renewable energy are a complete waste of time? That it’s not going to have any effect?

He distorted his face in frustration. This behaviour triggered in me a memory of a television commercial that featured a dog breeder laying out the benefits of a brand of pet food. The professor wore the same dour, unyielding frown to show he was ready to consider anyone who had the audacity to disagree with him to be a fool, and that he was fully prepared for an argument. That it should be obvious that because he was saying it he was indisputably right.

What I’m saying is that there is probably not much we can do now that will make much difference. It’s too late. Far too late. The Earth is heating up, the glaziers are melting, and the oceans are rising. When the ice melts at both poles the ocean’s currents will stop flowing, and the oceans will become still and stagnant. What happens after that is anyone’s guess. It might trigger a new ice age, or perhaps escalate the release of more greenhouse gasses and bring on a sudden, runaway bout of rising temperatures beyond the limits of our tolerance.

So you’re saying there is absolutely nothing we can do about it?

Why do you keep on asking me the same question?

Just trying to make sure I understand what you’re saying. I like to make people get angry and show their true colours.

Listen to me - there’s nothing we can do - is that clear? We’re almost at the tipping point right now. Damn close to it. Okay, we may have about ten years, but that’s all, after that it will be too late. Game over. Look, it would take a major miracle to change things now. Everyone on the planet would have to voluntarily and completely change their life style and give up a lot of things they’re used to, things they believe they can’t live without. And I can’t see that happening. Humans are just too damn selfish and too Damn stupid to see the necessity. And politician, worried about being voted out of office, haven’t got the guts to force them.

I moved the microphone back in front of my mouth and Johno, my cameraman, swung his camera back on me. Thank you Professor Colman, I said, and putting on an expression of concern I turned and looked into the camera lens. That was Professor John Colman, summarizing the views he expressed earlier in today’s session of the Climate Change Conference being held here in Melbourne. I’m Mike Stanley, and you’re watching NewsFix.

After Johno lowered his camera and Alice, our sound-girl, took the microphone from me I turned back to the professor and thanked him for doing the interview, and shook his hand. From the tilt of his head and the smug, speculative expression on his face I knew he was waiting for me to ask, off the record, if he really believed all he had said, and if he was sure he had all his facts straight, or a similar question along those lines.

I was not interested in hearing any more from this egoist. I knew he had formulated a set of opinions that would make him stand out from the rest of his colleagues and that now he would strongly defend his position against all counter opinions. That’s the way these scientists, who sought to develop a well-defined public image, usually to help sell a book, always operated.

He waited a few seconds, shrugged, then turned and walked away.

I was standing on the footpath outside the recently built extension to the conference centre and I thought about some of the interviews we had done earlier with other scientists who were attending the conference. Later, back at the studio, we would review all the footage we’d shot and pick out the spicy bits and put them together to make a story. We would only use the juicy, emotionally distressing bits, because it was our job to sensationalize a story as much as possible to keep our viewers happy, because our viewers, bless their sour little hearts, were only interested in stupefying, shocking, astounding, and scandal-mongering stories. Professor Colman’s last few statements would make the cut, and he knew it, that’s why he’d made them, he was a pro. Controversial statements backed up by stubbornness in the face of criticism were his tools of trade. Suddenly, I felt like kicking myself for missing the opportunity of putting him on the spot by asking how well his latest book was doing. I’d heard it was not selling very well.

A half hour later we were in the city, on a busy sidewalk a couple of blocks away from the County Court House. We had just finished an interview with a middle-aged female teacher who had been charged with having sex with one of her students, a fifteen year old boy, who, she now claims to be madly in love with and is determined to marry as soon as he turns eighteen and she gets a divorce from her husband.

She knew we would be waiting here for her because her agent had made an agreement with our station to do an exclusive, extended interview with her on a show called Forty-Five Minutes which we run in a high rated slot on Sunday nights. Our television station likes to promote this show using the slogan, The show that always tells the truth. Our brief interview with the teacher would go on air tonight and was intended to be a teaser to promote the Sunday night show. She had been told to say nothing more than, no comment, to the flock of reporters who rushed her the instant she came out through the revolving doors of the court house and as she fought her way down the steps and headed off down the street to this spot two blocks away, where she knew we would be waiting.

Do you think she really is forty six? I asked Johno as we watched her walk away, with her head held high and her shoulders pinned back to accentuate her small, but nicely shaped breasts. She doesn’t look it.

Normally I didn’t ask a woman her age, but for this story it was a key issue. I studied what could still be seen of her as she merged with the crowd in the busy city street. She had a slim figure and the facial features of a teenager, and seemed to be just as carefree; always in a happy mood, always ready to smile, or to break out in a fit of giggles at the slightest provocation.

Yeah, she looks, and acts a lot younger, doesn’t she? said Johno. Maybe she doesn’t understand the consequences of losing her case. She could end up in prison.

I noticed Johno’s worried expression as he stood there studying my face. What’s going on in your little brain? he asked. Do you think she’s lying? That she’s exaggerating her age in order to sell her story to the network?

Well, could be, you never know.

Johno stood up straight and looked down on me, and seemed to be considering the merits of this idea. He was tall and lanky, and for someone who worked in the front lines of the news delivery industry he was a bit of an oddity - he was not the slightest bit interested in what was happening in the world of politics, sport, religion, science, or anything else currently making news headlines. He was always above all that crap - he was the super cool dude from his toes up to the top of his thick bright red hair. And thus he usually didn’t take the slightest interest in any of the stories we did. But this story was different – it was about a beautiful sexy teacher who was in trouble.

The third, temporary, member of our team, Alice, who was working as our sound technician today, stood back near Johno’s car and silently observed us. She was young, cute, strong and fit, and chronically shy. She had only been out with Johno and myself on a few odd occasions, and she was still trying to work us out, trying to decide how she should behave in our company.

So, you don’t think she knows that exaggerating her age, if she’s doing that, might adversely effect her case in court? Johno asked.

Will it? - Maybe it won’t. Maybe the judge will think she is just an innocent, simple minded little thing. Who knows?

Her lawyer would know, Johno said.

Yeah, but her agent might be telling her not to worry, it makes for a better story. And her lawyer might be telling her it won’t make much difference anyway, who knows?

Her lawyer should be telling her that being branded as a liar in court will undermine her case, Johno, my cameraman, should know, because he has a law degree. But I’ll tell you more about that later.

All women lie about their age, I said.

Yeah, but they always claim to be younger, not older.

I bet Alice doesn’t lie about her age. You don’t do that, do you Alice?

Alice seemed shocked that I should direct a question at her. She blushed, shrugged, and shook her head. I looked back at Johno. I’m just saying she doesn’t look like forty six. But, who knows – maybe she is. She looks after her skin, and it’s obvious she keeps herself fit.

Johno turned and tried to spot the teacher one last time in the crowd, but she was gone. Yeah, that’s for sure. She has a great little body. If any of my teachers looked like that when I was fifteen, and came on to me, I’m sure I wouldn’t have hesitated.

I believe it was the other way around – he came onto her, and she couldn’t resist. He’s a real charmer, a sweet talker, and good looking too. I believe he’s going to get up in court and admit it - that it was his idea, to try to get her off. He knows they can’t touch him. But, hey, didn’t you go to a Catholic school? You had nuns there, didn’t you?

That was primary school, you idiot. said Johno. But even in high school none of my teachers looked like her, well, except for one, an art teacher, but there was no way she would flirt with any of her students. She was happily married and had a few kids. But man, did she look hot? Would have made a great centrefold.

Yeah, I remember I had a teacher like that. Used to love going to her class just to spend time drooling over her.

I noticed Alice shaking her head in disgust.

So you think she is lying about her age to make her story more sensational so that she would have a better chance of getting on Forty Five minutes?

The idea crossed my mind, I said.

I don’t believe it.

So how about this – she deliberately had sex with the kid, in order to be arrested, so that she could get on Forty Five minutes?

Man, you’re twisted. That idea is just simply crazy. You must have the most perverted mind of anyone I know.

No, I think maybe she does. I didn’t believe it, but I enjoyed provoking Johno.

No man, you’re the perverted one. Right now, she must be going through just about the most traumatic period she has ever experience in her life. But you don’t understand that, do you? She must be going through hell. It’s possible she could end up in prison over this.

She doesn’t seem to be too worried about it. Every time I’ve seen her she seems to be in a happy mood.

It’s all just a big act, said Johno, his faced pleading for understanding. I bet she’s all broken up inside. But you can’t understand that, can you?

Don’t worry - she’ll get off. They only send ugly old guys to jail when they get caught screwing around with some sweet spunky little morsels of jail bait.

Johno’s right, you’re twisted, really twisted, said Alice.

Wow, she speaks, said Johno.

No, not me, I said. It’s the dumb jerk-off arseholes who get their kicks by watching shows like ours who are the twisted ones.

Then that makes you an arsehole too, because you’re the one who does the interviews, and writes the dialogue that sells the story, said Johno.

No, you’re the arsehole for not understanding that we simply supply crap designed to entertain the sick morons who watch our show, because they can’t think for themselves. We’re doing a public service – if they didn’t get their kicks by watching our show they would be out on the street getting them in other ways.

They do both, and it’s your interviews that inspire them.

I couldn’t do it without your fantastic camera work.

Hey don’t blame me. I just shoot them - I don’t decide what stories to do, or how they are presented. I’m just a cameraman.

Don’t take this the wrong way, we argue and call each other names all the time, it’s our way of letting off steam. We enjoy doing it. The fact is I love Johno like a brother, and if needs be I probably wouldn’t think twice before laying down my life in order to save his. He is a much better person than me. And if you believe that crap then you’re as crazy as the brain-dead zombies who watch our show.

Johno and I are complete opposites, and yet we have a wonderful working relationship. To pass the time while on the road to do an interview, particularly while stuck in traffic jams, we deliberately get into arguments about trivial matters, and we are forever trying to think up ways to bait and denigrate each other. Traffic jams – it use to be they only happened during peak hour, now, the whole fucking day out on the road is just one big slow moving traffic jam. What’s this world coming too?

Talking about our show, I guess now is a good time to tell you a bit about it – It’s called NewsFix – what a stupid name. Who ever thought up that crappy name should be sacked, or shot, or both. It’s on for half an hour every weeknight directly after the nightly news. It’s a newsmagazine show that mostly digs deeper into the current news items. We love stories that contain a great deal of unpleasantness. Stories that appeal to our viewer’s basic instincts, their sense of injustice being the main one. - It’s a release they use to direct their anger at someone. We do stories on shonky building contractors, despicable conmen that come in all shades of heartlessness and greed. We love embarrassing any of the vast variety of bludgers who rip of the social security system. We enjoy tracking down the sordid details of corrupt politicians and cops who use their position for financial gain, and sleazy CEOs who let the companies they control fall into receivership and then walk away with million dollar payouts. When I interview someone I always try to get them to reveal the usually guarded side of their personality. I always stare them straight in the eye and deliberately try to provoke them by asking questions that I hope will make them get angry. I try to put them on the spot and embarrass at every opportunity. I often ask the same question two, three, or more times if they are evasive and don’t give me the answer I want. I know my viewers like it when I make conmen and crooks squirm.

I’m reluctant to tell you we’re not always this ruthless – I guess I should admit we do have a positive side and every now and then do a fun story. We love the nuts who claim they were abducted by aliens and taken aboard a UFO where they were subjected to invasive medical procedures. And occasionally we do a feel good story – maybe one about a kid who lost both legs in a car accident and is now taking his first steps on his new prosthetic limbs, or maybe a story that shows a parent’s tears of delight, and the looks of wonderment on the face of a child who has been deaf since birth and who has just heard the very first amazing sounds coming from the cochlear implant they just received. You know the type of show I’m talking about. I bet wherever you live there’s a show just like it on your box.

By now the teacher was well and truly out of sight and forgotten and Johno and Alice were busy packing up their gear and I stood there not exactly watching, but simply daydreaming, and waiting for them to finish.

I would have helped - I have offered to help many times, but Johno has always spurned my offer. Not sure why –It’s probably because he doesn’t trust me, or anybody else with his equipment. I know he has a system. He has his own personal idiosyncratic systems for doing just about everything, and doesn’t like interference. Using those very words he has told me that millions of times. And I have joyfully thrown his words back at him on the few odd occasions when things have gone wrong, because he has screwed up in some way.

As I stood there absentmindedly watching the flow of pedestrian traffic a man stepped in front of me and blurted out, I need you to interview me. I have some important information that I want to tell the world about.

In quick succession I noticed that the guy was young, mid twenties, was dressed in neat casual gear, had a row of very small gold ear-rings running up the edge of his left ear, and that he seemed to be nervous and excited.

Oh really, and what would that be?

This is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. I noticed Johno casually reach for his camera, which was still sitting on the deck of his van, just inside the open back door. Without actually looking at the guy he nudged the camera in our direction and switched it on. He then bent down and set about pretending to be busy rearranging gear in a metal case which was sitting on the sidewalk. I unceremoniously took a little step to the left so that the young guy, in order to continue facing me, needed to take a step to his right, thus unknowingly putting himself at a better angle to the lens. This was a lot better than a shot of the back of his head. Naturally I didn’t want him to notice that the camera was on and pointing at him. Johno and I had been a team for quite a while now and were usually on the same wavelength about how certain situations needed to be handled.

I have some important information about a secret organization called the Solutions Society that the world needs to know about.

Ooooh, riiiight, the Solutions Society.

You know about the Solution Society?

No, never heard of it. But let me guess - they’re a satanic religious organization, or some hideous cult, that’s kidnapped and brainwashed your sister, and won’t let you see her?

The guy took a deep breath, and slowly shook his head, as if he knew all along that this would be my reaction.

Sure, you can laugh, but this is serious. You wouldn’t be so smug if you knew just how serious it is.

Okay, you can start by telling me your name.

I can’t tell you that yet.

All right, we’ll let that slide for a second. What type of work do you do? Who do you work for?

Look, I can’t tell you anything like that yet.

Fine – Goodbye!

No listen! The Solution Society is a very exclusive and secretive organization, and it’s very powerful, extremely powerful. Outside of the top government organizations it’s probably the most powerful organization on Earth.

Right, well, that’s good news. Thank you for that information. Okay, bye - see ya.

What I want to talk about is connected with climate change.

I see. In that case I suggest you go home and sleep it off, because - now don’t get excited, - this may come as a bit of a surprise to you, but we already know that green house gases are heating up the planet.

Will you please stop trying to be funny for a second and listen to me? The information I have is important.

I’m sorry, okay, fire away, I’m listening.

As I said, I won’t tell you anything about myself, at this point in time.

Right – So goodbye!

No, listen, you’ve got to hear me out. This is serious.

Okay! Tell me about something serious. Impress me. Tell me something that’s going to blow my boots off.

He took another deep breath, shook his head from side to side, then another big sigh, and then, as if just remembering something, he quickly looked around, scanning the area all around us. I guess to make sure that no one was close enough to overhear what he was about to say, what he so desperately wanted to tell the whole world about on TV.

The Solution Society is not a cult. It’s much worse than a cult. It’s more like a club, a very exclusive club that very few people know about. Its members are all rich and powerful people, and what they are planning to do will have some very severe consequences that will affect everyone on this planet. They call it their Asimov Project.

Wow, so that’s it? The big bad club gig. Do they have a big bad Godfather running the show? I heard Johno try to suppress a snicker and when I looked I saw that he was grinning. Hey, Johno, shut up, this is serious stuff - it’s going to affect everyone on this planet.

I’m sorry, said Johno trying to lose the smile. No, look, I really am sorry. I’ll try to be as quiet as a field mouse from now on.

I could tell that he really meant it. He was a professional. Together, over the years, we had heard some extremely bazaar stories from some extremely weird people. Some that had eventually turned out to be true and went on to become award winners that had sent the rating sky high, for a few days – and sometimes had stretched out, on and off for weeks, as we dug deeper and made the effort to suck it dry.

I noticed Alice standing at the back of Johno’s SUV under the shade of the raised back hatch, watching, with a stern face. I got the impression she was pissed at me for making fun of the guy and for not giving him a better chance to explain. I instantly decided that I would try to avoid working with her in the future. She was not my type - she didn’t have a sense of humour.

Okay, okay, you can laugh. But what I have discovered is serious. All I’m asking for is a fair chance to explain to you what is happening, so that you can put it on air, and tell the world about it. It’s important that people be told about this.

Okay, tell me about it. So far you haven’t told me anything.

Not now. I think I’m being followed. I think my life is in danger. Before I say another word I’ll need some guarantees. First I’ll need you to promise that what I reveal will be put on air, and not covered up. And as soon as I tell you everything I want to go into hiding. So, I want your station to use it influence to help me disappear.

You won’t be getting any guarantees until you’ve convince me you have something worthwhile.

I need to talk to your boss at the studio. Can you arrange that?

I could see this guy was really serious; maybe he did have something good. But was he sane? Then again sometimes even the insane had a good story up their sleeve.

I’ll need more information first.

I can’t talk here. It will take too long to explain it all, and I haven’t got enough time now. I’ve got to keep moving. I think I’m being followed. He quickly looked around and nervously scanned up and down the street, looking, I guess, for people who looked suspicious. Just tell me how I can get in contact with your boss. I tried ringing the studio but the girl on the switch wouldn’t put me through unless I told her what it was all about.

That’s the way the system works.

Judging by the mood he was in I doubted he would reveal much more to me here and now, so I decided to pass the buck. All right, here’s my card, ring me later this afternoon and I’ll set up a meeting with my producer at the studio.

He was still scanning the crowd. Suddenly he stopped, and stood as stiff as a kangaroo frozen in a car’s headlights, concentrating on one spot across the street. He took a step to the left, and then stood still again, looking at something of interest over there. Suddenly he turned back to me, snatched the business card I held extended, and without saying another word walked off as quickly as he could, constantly turning to look back across the street. The expression on his face and the way he was behaving convinced me that he was thoroughly terrified.

Johno stood up, and we both alternated between watching him go, and examining the crowd across the street, trying to spot the culprit who had put the fear of the devil into the strange young guy.

What do you think? asked Johno, a chronic basket case, or simply a basically normal guy who for some reason known only to himself, has suddenly turned paranoid skitzo?

Don’t know – His speech wasn’t slurred, didn’t seem to be on drugs. I got the impression he honestly believes he has something important to say.

Yeah right, something that the whole world needs to know about.

Yeah, anyway, I bet we never hear from him again. Many time in the past strange encounters like this just fizzled out.

Right! A bet - You’re on - how much? said Johno as Alice started shaking her head again in disgust.

Yeah, let’s do it. I wouldn’t mind taking Twenty bucks from you. I looked at Alice and said, What about you Alice, want to get in on a bit of the action?

Her mouth opened, her eyes widened and her face was covered with a mixed expression of surprise and disgust.

No thank you, she said in a very deep and serious tone.

I felt like baiting her a little more by asking for her opinion on the matter, and her reasons for not betting on it. But I decided not to - decided to just leave her be.

CHAPTER 2

The rest of the day was spent doing all the other necessary tasks associated with being a television reporter. When we returned to the studio I put in some time writing the dialogue that would be used by our presenter on air to introduced the stories, worked with video editors, and did the voice-overs, spent time on the phone checking facts and following up new leads, making appointment for future interviews, and also just shooting the breeze with other members of the staff who happened to be in the office and felt a need to catch up on the latest goss.

As usual, after calling it a day at about five thirty, I headed to my local watering hole, which was a pub called The Lomond. My girlfriend Jill was already there waiting for me. We always had a drink or two at the bar before going next door, into the Pub’s bistro for our evening meal.

Hey babe, how was your day? I said, as I sat down next to her on a stool and put some money on the bar and looked for Stan, the barman, to get a beer.

Same old - and yours?

About the same.

In front of her was her usual Gin and tonic. The glass was three quarters full, so she hadn’t been here long. I leaned towards her, moved her long blond hair aside and kissed her neck, just below her earlobe.

You are so beautiful. I can’t believe how lucky I am.

With a contented smile she purred and reached for her glass and took a sip.

When I sat back, Stan, the barman, without saying a word, was placing a glass of beer in front of me. I nodded my recognition and thanks and he nodded back. As he left, I turned my attention to one of the television sets strategically perched around the room. The one that suited me best was up high on the wall behind the drinkers sitting on the other side of the horseshoe shaped bar.

The Lomond is a small quiet pub sitting on a corner in a quite part of Brunswick, well away from the bustle of the main shopping, business, and entertainment area. I liked this pub because it rarely becomes crowded. Jill and I had become friends with most of the locals who regularly frequented the place, who were all now well passed the thrill of being in the company of a TV celebrity. Now they just thought of Jill and myself as drinking buddies.

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a relatively well known celebrity? Well I can’t tell you what it’s like for every celebrity, but I can tell you what it’s like for me. First you must understand that I’m a relatively small fry celeb. Although the show I work on is shown Australia wide, I’m based in Melbourne and very rarely travel interstate. My brand of fame must be completely different to that of an internationally known personality. I don’t get stalked and chased by the paparazzi the way movie stars do, and thus I’m in no danger of being hounded to death the way Princess Di was. Thank God for that. Okay, so what’s it like for me? On the lowest scale, the simplest head trip is being recognized just walking down the street or while doing some shopping in a supermarket. Strangers spot me and say, Hello Mike, as they walk passed as if they’ve known me all their life. I always say hello back, as if I’ve known them all my life, and sometimes I may even say, Hey, it’s good to see you again, and sometimes even ask, How you doing? and when they say, Good, I say, That’s great, and with a smile keep walking, as if they had just made my day. Sometimes I do actually get a bit of a buzz out of encounters like that, particularly when it’s an extraordinary attractive young woman.

Then there are restaurants. Often I’m having a meal with a friend or two, and out of the corner of my eye I notice people at near-by tables looking and nudging their friends, and soon all the people there are turning and looking, often smiling or even giggling with excitement at the novelty of the occasion. I usually ignore them completely, and they get the message. Sometime, if they are making a scene, I have no choice but to acknowledge them and smile, and then proceed to ignore them. What I really can’t stand is when someone gets up and comes over and wants to have a photo taken with me, and even worse, when they want to tell me something, and try to engage me in a conversation. When this happens I usually try to explain as politely as possible that I’m having a private night tonight, and I’m already having a conversation with my friends. When they are pissed and can’t seem to understand this I usually attract the attention of the manager and let the situation become his problem. I have worked out through experience which restaurants are the best at handling problems when they start getting out of hand.

I try to avoid places where it’s possible to find myself trapped. Quiet lonely streets where there is a chance I could run into and be recognized by a group of young bucks out on the town. Situations like that can sometimes turn nasty. I have a healthy desire to avoid getting into senseless fights. I’m about five foot ten, quite trim and fit – I have an exercise room at home and work out often and I have taken lessons in self-defence - boxing, and Tae Kwon Do, and I consider myself fairly proficient in these areas, but when hopelessly outnumbered I usually end up priding myself on being a pretty good runner.

For the same reason I rarely travel on public transport. I either drive myself or call a cab. I don’t go to the movies or the theatre very often. When I do it’s usually to a special event where I know there will be a herd of other celebrities who will attract most of the flack.

The biggest problem is when I casually meet someone who has not liked a story I did that was shown on TV. They stop me and want to tell me how wrong it was, and what an idiot I am for doing it. They want to express their opinions of me, and sometimes start using fowl languish and calling me filthy names. Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but there really are some strange people out there who have seen me on TV and really don’t like me, or even hate me. What can I say? What can you do? It’s a hazard that comes with the job. With every aspect of life there are always elements of the good and the bad.

When I go to watch a game of football, to feel safe, I usually wear my disguise, which consists of a coat with a high collar, (luckily football is played in winter,) sunglasses, and a broad brimmed hat. Some football fanatics enjoy the thrill of expressing violent emotions. I have thought about getting a false moustache and a beard made, and maybe even a wig that would stick out from under the hat - but, fortunately, being only a low level celeb things haven’t got that far out of hand, yet.

Here in the Lomond we always stayed in the bar long enough to watch the news, and then the current affair show that I work for, before going into the bistro. This routine had become so ingrained that it was starting to feel as if it has earned the status of a religious ritual.

We didn’t really watch the news, we just sort of watched it. As we sat at the bar talking I maintained an awareness of what was happening on the TV and if what they were showing seemed to be of interest we would stop talking and pay attention. Well at least I would.

Jill didn’t pay as much attention to the TV as I did - she just monitored my reaction during our conversation. She knows that I have an addiction to watching news and current affair shows. I have five VCRs set up at home programmed to record all the news shows I’m interested in. In my profession it is necessary to know to what extent other reporters have covered particular subjects, who they have interviewed, and the responses they received. A long time before I became a reporter, I had an acute interest in knowing what was happening locally and in the rest of the world. This was one of my two passions in life - the other being Australian rules football. That is if you don’t count a healthy obsession with meeting and having relationships with a variety of beautiful women, which was more like a physical necessity than a hobby. That is before I met Jill of course.

Let me tell you a little bit about Jill. First, she has the body of a model, the looks of a movie star, and the brains of a genius. If this sounds like she is just too perfect to be true, what can I say – I thank my lucky