The thing is, it’s a sensible decision for anyone to make, but coming from Lockie – someone who works in TV – you know it’s probably true. We’re probably screwed.
‘Well, that’s it then,’ Tony says. ‘Show’s over. We go home.’
‘How?’ Camilla asks. ‘How do we get home? Because I want to go home right now. This isn’t fun any more. I’m not sure it was fun to begin with – but it paid enough to clear my tax bill.’
‘You’re getting paid in money?’ Honey blurts.
‘You guys are getting paid?’ Tony adds.
Oh boy, oh boy.
Normally, contestants are paid a flat fee for each week they’re on the show, but these guys are reality TV stars, so each one negotiated something different with the production company. Or nothing at all, in Tony’s case. I have nothing to do with that side of things.
Tony stares into the crate where we keep our fruit.
‘Is this it? We’re meant to survive on cocktail garnish?’
‘I’m happy to keep fishing,’ Ozzy says.
‘I appreciate that, mate, but I’d murder you for a bag of crisps,’ Tony replies.
‘You’d try,’ Ozzy corrects him, deadly serious.
‘Even if we just had, like, some sauces or something,’ Tony continues pointlessly. ‘Bit of ketchup, spot of hollandaise.’
‘Yes, brunch would fix everything,’ Camilla says with a roll of her eyes.
Tensions are building. I can’t believe we’re scrapping over food already.
‘All right, let’s play a game, break the tension,’ Lockie suggests. ‘If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?’
‘Pizza,’ I answer immediately. ‘And I wouldn’t say no to a bit of the island pineapple on it.’
‘I’m with you there,’ Lockie says. ‘Maybe a bit of pepperoni too. A fancy Hawaiian.’
‘I’d have pasta,’ Honey says. ‘The round one, from?—’
‘From a tin?’ Camilla chimes in. We all shoot her a look. ‘Come on, we all know she’s talking about spaghetti hoops and not orecchiette puttanesca.’
‘It all sounds good right now,’ Honey says with a shrug, either not detecting or not caring that Camilla is making fun of her.
‘I miss protein,’ Ozzy says, with all the sadness you’d reserve for a dead relative. ‘I’d do anything for a protein shake.’
Words I never thought I’d hear, and words I’d absolutely never say. You ever hear me say that and you need to call someone, because it’s a covert cry for help.
‘Vanilla whey with peanut butter, banana, oats…’ Ozzy fantasies out loud.
‘Blended beige slop,’ Camilla says, turning up her nose.
‘I want a full roast,’ Tony says, cutting to the chase. ‘Roast beef, horseradish, mash and roasts, Yorkshire puddings the size of your head. And gravy so thick you could slice it.’
Well, that does sound good. Apart from the choppable gravy, maybe.
‘I could go for a Greggs,’ Lockie says. ‘That’s all I need, to be happy.’
‘Well, while you’re all drinking brown paste, lumpy gravy and sausage rolls, I’d like to be dining on steak tartare and truffle fries with a nice, crisp glass of champagne,’ Camilla says with a dreamy sigh.
‘The only part of that I fancy is the “crisp”,’ Tony jokes.
