Would I get less air time because they were more interesting than I was? Would I be painted as the weird creepy kinkster with an unexplained fetish for leather and latex?
I’d spent a lot of time with both Jess and Mobeen over the last few days, and they didn’t seem in any way intent on screwing me over, but even from as far back as day one there was always this little niggling piece of doubt at the back of my mind – a voice that kept reminding me, ‘these aren’t your friends Joey, they have a TV show to make’. However friendly they seemed, I knew that if I gave them a reason to dislike me, however petty, they had the power to make me look like a fool in the editing suite.
And I know that the large majority of the British public, or at least those that watch these kinds of shows, have a tendency to take everything at face value and not consider any of what goes on behind the scenes. I admit that I’ve been guilty of it myself in the past – we’re led to believe that what we see on screen is the whole truth, exactly as it happened, when in fact that isn’t always the case.
The credits rolled and I checked the time. 1.30am. Check out time was 11am but I had to be ready to leave with Jess and Mobeen by 10. The photo shoot was to take place at Matt’s that afternoon and I knew I had to be on top form for it.
I set my alarm for 9 so I had time to shower off my fake tan and smarten myself up in the morning. I then popped a couple of valium, and lay down in the centre of the bed until I fell asleep.
The next thing I knew, I was rudely awoken from whatever dream I was having by the shrill sound of my phone alarm, ringing in my ear.
‘No way’ I thought. ‘No fucking way can it be 9am already.’
But of course it bloody was. I could have quite happily slept for another 6 hours, but I had a schedule to adhere to, and like it or not, I had to be packed, ready and all checked out in the next 60 minutes.
I poured myself a strong cup of coffee, layered up and went and sat outside on the front steps by the entrance to the hotel to light up a cigarette. Unfortunately I’d been designated a ‘No Smoking’ room. Still, I never did anything in the morning without having had a coffee and a cigarette first, so if that meant I had to face the bitter cold outside then so be it!
After a quick cigarette, I dashed back to my hotel room, took a swift shower and made sure everything was all packed up nicely and that the room was as tidy (or as close as I could manage to tidy) as it had been when I’d arrived.
The next thing I knew it was 10am, and Mobeen was ringing to check on my whereabouts.
“I’ll be with you in a second,” I said. “I’m just checking out now.”
5 minutes later I’d handed in my key card at Reception and ventured outside once more to meet up with Mobeen and Jessica, who were parked just round the corner.
“Morning Joseph,” Mobeen said.
“Hey guys,” I said, still wiping the sleep from my eyes.
“How did you sleep?” Jess asked.
“Well,” I replied. “And you?”
“Great” they both said – almost, but not quite, in unison.
“So what I was thinking…” said Mobeen. “What might be really cool, because we haven’t done it yet, is if we call a black cab for you and Jess, and have her interview you in the back of that, whilst I follow behind in the car.”
“Sure,” I said.
I couldn’t help but wonder in that moment if perhaps Mobeen had watched that re-run of ‘The Apprentice’ himself, and was drawing inspiration from it, or if this had been the idea all along. Maybe Matt Spike would turn out to be Alan Sugar in disguise.
“Remember, today’s all about putting the past behind you and looking towards the future,” Mobeen clarified. “So try and let that come across in the interview.”
I nodded, taking it all in.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“Taxi’s here!” Jess called – she had an app on her phone to notify her of its arrival.
“Great, then I’ll see you guys in a bit.” Mobeen said.
Jess and I jumped into the taxi, she in the front passenger seat and me in the back seat with my rucksack to my left. She gave the driver the post code of our required destination, and clarified it was OK with him to film inside.
“I’m from the BBC,” she announced, confidently. “Is it fine with you if I film while we’re driving?”
“’slong as you don’t get me on cam love.”
With a face like hers how could any man refuse? If she’d have asked him if it was OK to release a crate of poisonous tarantulas inside his vehicle that she’d just smuggled back from a trip to the Australian outback he’d have probably obliged – so long as she made sure of it they didn’t bite him…
We hit the road.
“So Joseph, what’s happening today?”
“Today’s a really big day, ’cause today I’m going to be doing a photo shoot, my first ever photo shoot actually, so that’s gonna be in Soho with this guy called Matt Spike who does a lot of like, fetish photography.”
“And how are you looking forward to it? Are you nervous, excited?”
“A bit of both. Yeah, I’m a little bit nervous, but also pretty excited. Up until now I’ve been kind of operating as like a one man band – producing and editing all my content myself, or with the help of my boyfriend. So I think today’s a big step towards the future, and hopefully it’s gonna further my profile online and prove to be a positive thing.”
“Excellent.”
We’d arrived at our destination. Jess thanked the driver for letting her film in his car, and we both hopped out of it to regroup with Mobeen.
After taking a few standard ‘walking’ shots of me making my way to the ground floor entrance of the building, we headed inside.
Though he lived on the floor below it, Matt’s photography studio was right at the top of several flights of stairs, so it was a bit of a mission for the three of us to get all that we needed up there.
As with Steve, they wanted us to meet for the first time ‘on camera’, which meant I had to sit awkwardly on the stairwell just outside while they introduced themselves, got him to sign a few papers and mic’d him up.
Then Mobeen called out for me. I trotted up the final flight of stairs and into view to greet Matt, who was sitting at his desk with something between a smile and a smirk on his face.
“Alright?”
“Hey what’s up?” I said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Yeah, finally,” he said, as we both shook hands.
Awkward introductions out of the way, I unzipped my rucksack and emptied out the collection of fetish gear I’d brought along with me – all the way from Wales.
The first look he wanted to shoot, against a grungy backdrop he had set up, was of me dressed in leather. I had a harness, jock strap and boots packed with me, but was a little embarrassed to admit that I didn’t actually own a leather jacket of my own.
“Not to worry,” he said, loaning me one of his.
I could tell just from the feel of it that it was premium quality. It must have cost him a fair bit of money.
All geared up – with a few fairly heavy duty chains around my neck and fingerless leather gloves for that extra grungy sex appeal, I took my place in front of the backdrop. Matt fiddled around with the umbrella lighting till he was confident with the set up, and then starting snapping away at me with his camera.
For the first one or two frames I stood there rather awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do with myself.