Episode 3 Morgana Robinson's The Agency

This programme contains some strong language.

Oh...butterfingers!

EastEnders star Natalie Cassidy has come up with a plan

to give something back to the local community

by setting up a fame school.

Well, I've learned a lot from my career in showbiz on EastEnders

from 1993 to 1998,

2002 to 2005,

and 2011 to the present day.

And I would like to leave a legacy so that young, talented people

from around here also have the opportunity

to live the life that I've got.

-Nat, where's my bollock cream?

-I told ya.

It's in the biscuit drawer.

The first thing I need to do is drum up some business.

This is toothpaste.

No, it ain't, it just looks like toothpaste, Dad.

Don't put it in your mouth.

This is Mann Management,

one of the UK's foremost celebrity talent agencies.

Their illustrious client base is managed by agent to the stars

Vincent Mann.

What does it take to be a great agent?

The capacity to see talented, often fragile human beings as livestock.

In an unprecedented move, he's given our documentary crew

unlimited access to both his agency and his superstar clients,

one of whom is EastEnders star and sometime fitness guru

Natalie Cassidy.

-What's all this crap over the floor?

-It's not crap. It's me future.

I'm doing me fame school, ain't I?

You can't just set up a fame school, Natalie, you ain't got no pupils.

That's what these flyers are for, silly.

They're queueing round the block for Joe Swash's pooch parlour.

Gie's a look.

Mind my nails.

-Who's Natalie Cassipy?

-Oh, you're double-joking!

Oh, bloody hell!

I've just done 3,000 of these and a giant banner.

I've just done all the traffic lights.

Is that why you're dressed as a lollipop lady?

No, you doughnut, I've been sticking laminated posters on the lampposts

-from here to the trunk road.

-Why, Nat?

Well, the traffic's a nightmare, ain't it?

It's a captive audience, Kat.

Oh, bloody hell, what are we going to do?

I ain't got time for reprints, and the first class is in four hours.

Don't look at me. It's Fat Karen's hen-do tonight.

Do they do red Tippex?

Dad? Can you Google red Tippex?

I'm doing me bollocks.

After that, can you Google red Tippex?

No?

Oh, dear, dear, dear.

With a burgeoning roster of celebrity clients,

the operation of Mann Management requires some careful planning.

A job that is the sole responsibility

of Vincent's assistant Rachel.

This is my new schedule.

It's a block system because time is made from blocks,

I saw that on Brian Cox.

Anyway, today is a good test of the new system

because today is my birthday.

So I'm hoping to knock off a bit early

-and go out for a meal with my family.

-Who?

This is your family, Rach.

It is, Vin, but I'm talking about my real family.

Well, this family pays your wages. How's that for real?

I'll level with you, it's not an ideal day to try and get away early.

I'm looking after Adele.

Hello.

It's me.

I mean, it is Rachel's birthday

and I would look after Adele myself, but, you know...

I'm having a nightmare day, right?

Colette, who looks after my dog when I'm working,

has been called up the school because her Jackson

has been throwing Lil-Lets around in double French.

He reckons he thought they were devil bangers,

but Miss Taylor's gone all feminist since she's seen Suffragettes

and sent him out. He's crawled out underneath the maths hut

and now Colette's trying to coax him out with a king-size Snickers.

Well, all we've got today is the press junket for the new album.

Yeah, I do feel for Colette, but her sister Lauren is

proper going through it, yeah, cos Chinese Barry is standing

outside her house for an hour every lunchtime.

And the police won't move him on cos he's always eating

a sandwich and wearing aviators,

so you can't actually prove he's watching her illegally.

The junket's in half an hour, so the quicker we get going...

Yeah, I just need one quick stop-off before we get there, though,

-cos me nan always has a knuckle of pork on a Friday.

-Yeah.

She'll only have pork from Tony's in Tottenham cos she feels sorry

for him ever since his wife fell off that ladder and onto them twins.

You can always do it after.

And I would do it after, but I've got to go Supervets to pick up

dog paracetamol cos Bruce is having his balls cut off on Monday.

Oh, have I told you about Leanne's sunburn?

Can you tell me in the car?

All she wanted was a base tan before her and Carl go Thailand.

He does that Krav Maga, but he hasn't had a fight since he was 11

when he killed a postman by accident.

I'm not even joking. One punch, straight out.

But Geordie Kevin got hold of some proper strong skunk...

In an attempt to salvage her fame school promotion,

Natalie Cassidy has found a solution to her printing predicament.

That's come up lovely, that has.

That's a relief.

Anyone would think that was a D and not a P now, wouldn't they?

-Ooh!

-PHONE RINGS

Business head on.

Hello.

Yes, the classes will go on for two hours with a break in the middle

for crisps, tea and parental smoking.

Sorry, I can't hear you, you're going to have to shout.

Hello?

Hey, Sonia, where's the trumpet?

Well, you'll find out if you come to me class, won't ya?

CAR HORN TOOTS

Excuse me, sorry, I'm on the trunk road.

No, we've not got a Facebook page.

No, we've not got a Twitter page.

CAR HORNS BLARE

No, we've not got a website.

They're coming round again.

Yes, I am very excited.

We've got a venue up the Centre, we've already had three inquiries.

One was Kat asking for me to bring the car back,

but that's still two, ain't it?

I know it don't seem much, but what's it people say?

From tiny acorns massive trees do grow. Don't they?

It's a rare day off for TV's Gregg Wallace.

But even in his downtime,

the renowned presenter finds it hard to truly switch off.

I like it.

I like it.

-I don't like it.

-Excuse me?

-Hello.

Are you that Gregg who eats other people's food off the telly?

-Yes, I am, love.

-Do you think I could have a selfie?

Of course you can, my love.

My friends will never believe I met that bloke who eats

other people's food off the telly.

-My phone's in here somewhere.

-No rush.

You got two minutes!

-Here it is.

-Right.

-Yes!

-I've got to tell you, I really like the way you like some things

and you don't like other things.

I like that you like that.

I like your boots, but I do not like your hair.

-Classic.

-Your time's up!

-Time to start plating up.

-Legend.

With an open door to Vincent's clients, we were able

to ask the stars some more pertinent questions about their celebrity.

Who would I ask to a fancy dinner party?

Well, I'd probably have to invite Dad,

so it would be Dad, Duncan from Blue and my hero, Sally Gunnell.

Mega.

Ben Shephard, Reggie Yates,

Caroline Flack, Gino D'Acampo,

Scott Mills, Grimmy, of course,

Alexa Chung and Stephen Mulhern.

How good does that sound?

Bobby Moore, Hitler and Gandhi.

We'd have vegetarian sushi served up on a naked Playboy bunny.

Gandhi'd love that.

If I was being pushed,

it would have to be all 20 of the Chippendales

drunk and out of their tiny minds.

I'll have a fantasy lock-in and I'll invite my pals -

Bagels, Tommo and a few birds from me manor.

And ET, I'd love to get right on it with ET.

Well, there's me, darling Binky, Boo-Boo, Corky,

Dame P, Buffy, Duffy, Stuffy,

Mags, Gentry and a Gurkha or three.

Fabulous.

That's a no-brainer.

I'd invite all me best girls - Kimberly, Nicola, Sarah...

and that sour-faced Irish cow whose name escapes me.

Like all revolutionary ideas,

Russell Brand's dream to build the perfect society needs financing.

So Russell has gathered some potential investors

via a classified advert in the local newspaper.

It is time to show our omnipresent overlords

that if the people sing with one voice and invest heavily,

that anything is possible.

Behold Utopia!

-Yes, my liege?

-It looks like Center Parcs.

To the unenlightened, maybe.

But to the enlightened, it looks like a Shangri-La

of wonderment and hope with absolutely no affiliation

with any roofed holiday resort whatsoever.

Any other questions?

Any questions not related to Center Parcs?

As a staunch proletarian, Russell has come up with

an ingenious method to make living in Utopia affordable for everyone.

I'm offering a once-in-a-lifetime deal

where multiple parties can purchase

allotted time periods in the same home,

so that everyone can get to live in Utopia for a few weeks a year.

Like a time-share?

It is not a time-share.

No.

It's a time-share.

This is a unique and bespoke system by which several families

can use chalet dwellings at different seasonal intervals.

-Well, that's a time-share.

-It is not a time-share.

Time-share, time-share...

A-ha! Time-share.

"The arrangement whereby several joint owners..."

OK, it might be a time-share.

So, how much is it to invest?

Not much, just got to cover the overheads -

the mucking out of the zoo animals,

pay for the upkeep of the chocolate fountain,

meditation patio and whatnot.

So, how much?

£1.2 million each.

ALL GASP

Well, it's a small price to pay for harmony.

Here, Trevor, you're a normal person. Is that too much?

At Tony's butcher's in Tottenham,

global megastar Adele is buying a knuckle of pork for her nan.

For Rachel, this is a serious threat to her birthday celebrations.

She wasn't there because she was actually on a blind date

with Johnny who does haircuts at Hobbs.

He does them muscleman competitions even though he's

only got four fingers on his cutting hand.

He says it actually makes him faster, but it don't - gutted.

Adele, I'm just going to say, we're two hours late now,

so maybe just order your nan's meat.

Yeah, cos meat is the only thing Johnny can eat now apart from

oatcakes and boiled sweets,

-cos them protein shakes have proper blocked up his arsehole.

-Oh.

He has to do Pilates before he craps so his intestines relax,

-which is no good at work cos they ain't got the floor space.

-Please.

Everyone thinks Pilates is just like yoga,

but Debbie can't do yoga cos she borrowed her brother's

football boots for hockey and now her knees point together.

Knuckle of pork, Tony!

She wants a knuckle of pork.

Sorry. I'm just quite conscious of time.

Gutted.

The big moment has finally arrived for Natalie Cassidy's Fame School.

And with her students due at any moment,

Nat has come prepared to impart her showbiz wisdom.

I just hope I've brought enough snacks.

I've got red and orange squash, mini quiches, Bacon Fries,

oh, and some Quavers for veggies on the side

and for the ones with the religious diets.

Well, diversity is part of our Fame School's remit, ain't it?

Right, so, a little birdie tells me that you lot want to be famous.

Am I right?

Well, let me tell you - acting, dancing, singing,

fitness videos, presenting the health lottery, it ain't easy.

And I didn't become lesbian Sonia out of EastEnders overnight,

I can tell you.

DOOR OPENS

Excuse me, we've got this room booked

for Kimberley Walsh's Fame Academy of Excellence.

Blimey, that's a good name.

No, you can't, Kimberley, there must be a mistake.

Nat Cassidy's Fame School is on Thursdays in the main hall now.

-Says who?

-Says me, I sorted it with Jill.

Well, they've double-booked, then.

You'd better go and find Jill and get your money back, eh, love?

Oh, you're mega-joking!

Can't we come to some sort of arrangement?

Maybe we could split the hall in half.

What, mix Kimberley Walsh's Fame Academy of Excellence

with Natalie Cassipy's Fame School?

I don't think so, do you?

You've got to ask yourself, Nat, what really qualifies you

to be giving fame lessons anyway?

EastEnders.

Girls Aloud.

-The Health Lottery.

-Shrek Musical.

Strictly.

Strictly.

-Where did you come, then?

-Fifth out of 16.

Second. That's runner-up.

I win.

The Kimberley Walsh Fame Academy of Excellence is now welcoming

new students at a discount fee. For today only.

I guess that's show business, ain't it, Nat?

She's right actually, kids, that is show business.

You could learn a lot from her.

Here, have a sausage roll, anyway.

Go on, then, fill your boots.

'Turns out, teaching people to be famous'

is even more cut-throat than being famous.

Ooh, I'd better get that banner off the trunk road.

I can't leave it there now there's no Fame School.

It's basically litter with my name on it.

Well, Natalie Cassipy's name on it.

At Mann Management,

Vincent has been called in to an emergency meeting with Danny Dyer.

Danny has bad news. He's been the victim of a cyber crime.

-Well, how bad is it?

-It's a sex tape thing, it ain't good.

-But who's in it?

-Me.

-I know, but who's the other person?

-Well, it ain't that simple, Vin.

-Don't tell me it's persons. Plural.

-No.

-What is it, a bloke?

-No, it's just me.

-It's a sex tape with just you in it?

Yeah.

-Having a Barclays, banging one out.

-But who filmed it?

Done it on my selfie stick.

One-handed.

Someone's nicked it off my iCloud.

All right. Give me the details and I'll sort it.

If this blows up, you're going to need to clean your image up a bit.

You need a political issue.

Russell Brand, Charlotte Church, done them all right.

Anything you're passionate about?

I think there's too many disabled parking spaces everywhere.

Yeah, don't tell people that. What about...

..BADGERS?!

People love badgers.

Done wonders for Brian May.

Get involved with the badger cull. Make yourself look caring.

And film yourself doing it.

Sweet. I'll get me selfie stick.

WHISTLING

My advice to someone trying to make it in showbiz would be this.

If you want something you've never had,

just go out there,

grab it with both hands,

and stick it in your mouth!

Job done! Lovely!

One piece of advice.

Teeth.

They're your passport to success, darling.

Look after them,

treat them like your best friend,

and take them out occasionally.

Get your boat out there.

Earn yourself a bit of bees and honey,

but when it gets right on top,

look after your swede,

and your swede will look after you. I can't put it plainer than that.

Easy, mate. Just be fricking amazingness.

Think of an idea, anything will do.

Tweet it, Instagram it,

get it on your Facebook, Vine it,

Snapchat it, bit of Pinterest,

and then make shed loads of wonga.

Just came to me, mate. Ha!

Easy peasy.

Get yourself a catchphrase. Mm-hm!

Go on, Sue, give them what they want.

And baaaaaaake.

Classic! Again?

And baaaaaaake.

Top Of The Pops!

And baaaaaaake.

Never gets boring!

And baaaaaaake.

One piece of advice for someone trying to make it into showbiz...

Your safest bet is probably Kate Moss.

This is where I'm going to have a meditation...

Having failed with the classified advert,

Russell Brand's last hope is a couple of would-be investors

that he's found via a Twitter appeal.

I love Russell Brand.

He's so funny.

I love it when he talks about his winkle.

He doesn't talk about his winkle enough any more.

While Stuart is clearly sold,

wife Hannah is going to take a little more persuasion.

So, what do you think?

Wow, it's amazing, Russell!

Is this it?

This virgin slice of Albion land is a barren canvas of possibility.

No, it's a shithole.

HE GUFFAWS

Are you a heckler, Hannah?

Cos I will have you removed!

She's not a heckler, Russell.

Then on with the tour.

(What does he mean by that?)

You're heckling him.

I myself will teach each child an array of different subjects,

and at the age of 16,

the child will be released into the wild to fend for itself

with just a small packet of seeds

and a Krishna statue.

What do you reckon?

It sounds like total bullshit.

Will you just excuse me for a minute?

Trevor, I want her removed.

There is no room in our egalitarian society for any form of dissent.

That's not the spirit of Utopia, is it, Russell?

I refer you to my previous statement.

'Scuse me, love.

Would you like to have a look at the holistic ball pool

that Russell's got me digging?

Depends how far away it is.

-It's the other side of the field.

-From him?

-Mm.

-Yeah.

I just came up with holistic ball pool.

I don't even know what that is.

It's up to you, Stu.

But do you know who else lets his wife

help decide important life matters like this?

Robert Mugabe.

Really?

And do you know who forgets all of the negativity

and just goes with his heart?

Bono.

So the question you need to ask yourself is,

do you want to be Robert Mugabe

or Bono?

I want to be Bono, Russell.

Course you do.

So what do you say? Do we have a deal?

I'll have to talk to Hannah.

Can I be honest with you, Stu?

Hannah is not on the same spiritual plane as you, and as a result...

..is not welcome here.

Can I be honest with you, Russell?

I haven't got a pot to piss in.

She's the one with the money.

Hold up, Trevor!

I need an Arcadian confab with Hannah!

Do you think he'll sign my T-shirt if I ask him?

Having finally delivered Adele to the press junket,

Rachel is clinging to the hope

that she might still make it to her birthday celebrations.

She only finished with him when he met that Bulgarian pole dancer,

who ended up going on Love Island with that Arsenal defender

with the dreadlocks. Gutted.

Lovely. Thank you.

-Not sure that's strictly what I was asking, but...

-Yes.

The answer's yes.

She did play some drums in the single.

Last couple of questions now, please. We're a bit pushed for time.

What's your favourite memory?

No memories! No.

Sorry, we'll be here all day.

OK.

Would you say this album is as autobiographical

as its predecessors?

Let's answer this with a quick yes or no, shall we? Yes.

Yes. It is.

(Last question.)

Seriously? That's my answer?

Seriously. It is.

Last question.

How's your sister-in-law, Adele?

Lindsay? Yeah, mate.

I seen her on Tuesday.

She can only do Tuesdays now cos Andy's moved back in with his mum

after the baby was born with acid reflux.

He can't do with the screaming,

she can't do with the attitude, and now she reckons

he's been banging that skinny Bex from Ryman's.

He only likes her cos she gets a 20% discount off lever arch files,

and rubbers, and protractors.

The stupidest of the stupid questions we're asked is do you...

..Mel and Sue...

BOTH: ..actually live together?

And the answer to that is a resounding yes, my love.

There's us, Mel and Sue.

My cat, Arthur C Clarke.

Our two goldfish, Mel and Sue.

No relation. ROFL.

LAUGHTER

Oh, and Tim!

My husband.

Hello. I'm Tim.

I'm Mel's husband.

And I live with Mel.

And Sue.

Tonight is a big night out for Mel and Tim,

but for Tim,

getting ready is easier said than done.

You haven't seen my phone charger, have you, Mel?

-No, sorry, love.

-Oh.

How about my Oyster card? That's gone missing as well.

Have you seen that?

No, silly, it's the Pride Of Britain awards, we'll get a cab.

Not without my left shoe, we won't.

-Oh! Your stuff keeps going missing at the moment.

-I know.

-It's very unlike me, isn't it?

-Yeah. Sue looks good, though.

Come here, hunky hubs.

DOOR OPENS

Whoa! My eyes!

Matron, take them away!

Hello, Sue!

Here, you couldn't help our dear Tim, could you?

He seems to have misplaced a few things.

No, really, don't worry about it.

No, go on, Tim. What have you lost?

You can tell your old mate, Sue.

Hmm? Timbo?

Tim-bot?

Timothy Cricket?

Tim Jong Il?

I would so love to help you find your things.

No, really, I'm good, thanks.

This...

is what she's got me reduced to.

She hides my stuff.

So...what's with the whistle and toot, Timbles?

Going to court? Lol.

Crimes against women, isn't it? You great big lady-killer!

LAUGHTER

Yeah, you old dirty sex pest.

MEL LAUGHS

Anyway, Sue, me old comedy life partner,

we've only been invited to the Pride Of BRITAIN awards!

Well, la-di-dah!

I'll polish my dancing trainers

and give my famous quiff a little bit of a buff.

Actually, Sue, Mel's taking me.

What?

Thing is, great mate, they only gave me a plus one,

so I really should take the old husband. El husberino!

Him indoors.

Tim indoors! Eh-eh?

Sure! Sure! Yeah.

Course, chumble-bum!

Going to have to find that...

left shoe, though, aren't you, Tim?

You really should let me help you.

You're never going to find that shoe on your own.

Oh, I will.

-I don't think you will.

-I'll find it.

Well, you'll have to find it soon, buddy lad,

I think the Pride Of Britain like attendees in two shoes.

Actually, do you know what? You're right.

No-one wants to see boring old Mel and Tim.

You two should go!

Oh, that is just so sweet of you, Tim!

'She's not going to win.

'I'm not going to give her the satisfaction.'

While they're out, I'm going to turn this place upside down.

Badgers.

What are they?

British pandas?

Big black and white rats?

Underground dogs?

Nobody really knows.

Have that, you black and white wrong'un!

PHONE RINGS

-How's it going, Danny?

-Good, thanks, Vin.

I've done about 15 badgers already.

What?

You're shooting them?!

You're meant to be on their side!

Hold up.

GROANING

Oh, shit!

That last one was Brian May.

That better be rhyming slang for something.

Nah.

I just shot Brian May out of Queen.

I done him with me shooter.

His barnet looks like a badger.

He's been getting in the way all night.

You've shot a national treasure?

Get out of there, now!

Is Brian May a national treasure?

Right, I'm having it on me Marilyns.

Marilyn Monroes, toes.

Oh, me neck, me neck!

Yeah, that's it.

While Mel and Sue have been busy at the Pride Of Britain awards,

Tim has been even busier back at the house.

No, me old bubbleship matey, you're the Pride of Britain!

No, me old lady chatterbox, you're the...

Pride of Britain.

Good evening, ladies.

How was your night?

Actually, before you tell me about your night,

why don't I tell you about my night?

I had a great night.

Tonight, I found my shoe,

and I found my Oyster card,

and I found my phone charger.

And can you guess where I found them, Sue?

I found them...

-CARTOON VOICE:

-in de tumbledwyer.

HE LAUGHS

Oh, Tim. Poor love.

Has work been getting on top of you again?

HE ALMOST FORCES A LAUGH

HE SIGHS

For Rachel, her day assisting Adele has finally come to an end.

Too late, unfortunately,

to make her own birthday celebrations.

"Happy birthday, Rachel!"

"Oh, thanks, Adele. Thanks."

PHONE RINGS

(Oh, please...)

No more!

Vinnie, I've had a really long day.

Yeah, well, it's about to get a bit longer.

Danny Dyer's gone into hiding.

I don't know where he is,

but apparently there's press all over his house.

Why's he got press all over his house?

Well, it's either for his one-man sex tape

or shooting Brian May out of Queen.

Course. What else would it be?

Well, either way, we need to find him, now.

So, between you and me,

he has a second, emergency mobile.

Call him on that. The number's on my Rolodex,

under Ham Sandwich.

How the hell do you make a one-man sex tape, anyway?

Ohh... Sorry, sweetheart.

There's no need to answer that.

'Ere, Rach?

Did I hear you say it's your birthday?

(Oh, my God.)

# I'll go it alone

# That's how it must be

# I can't be right for somebody else

# If I'm not right for me

# I gotta be free

# Oh, I've just gotta be free

# Daring to try and to do it or die-e-e-e

# I gotta be me! #