Whores d’oeuvres

I’m not proud to admit it, but in and amongst today’s production nonsense Jake and I flirted with the dark side.

Yup. Today the impeccable artistic integrity that comes as standard at Charmed Central got briefly put on hold as we dipped a tentative toe into the murky pool of product placement.

I mean, it’s not like it was a quiet day in the office. We were out and about checking on a back-up location, chasing down dietary requirements and make-up allergies from the cast and crew, and getting our shit together for the camera test.

But somehow we also found a bit of time for whoring.

I blame that Sir Jim Eaves, who put the notion of company freebies into our heads when we met him back in April. Unable to immediately quash the thought at the time due to inadvertent group insobriety, the idea has since festered unchecked in the Charmed subconscious. Two months later, and it has burst like a pus-laden boil, flinging its necrotic payload all over our psyches.

How about a quick gander at productionprofiles.co.uk?

We were swift. In and out again in 30 seconds. And then we braced ourselves for the wrath of the God of Cinema to strike.

But nothing happened.

Now at this point we could have walked away if we had wanted to. Damn it, we should have walked away. But we were emboldened. Cocky. We got reckless.

How about a quick email?

I think it was the pictures of the delicious cars and shiny pies on the homepage that pulled us back in. So, we introduced ourselves, told them all about the movie, and directed them to the website. And, you know, maybe because, like, we’re shooting in a school, and all that, well, maybe there could be some scope to use, you know, some… snacks and soft drinks?

And a minibus?

A minibus? What the hell were we thinking? How are we going to get that into the film? If they do give us one, we’re going to need to torch it in a school car-park first to give it that post-apocalyptic vibe. And then somehow give it back without them noticing.

Idiots!

Email two was much easier to write – Grace Foods, home of Encona Hot Pepper Sauce. How about a crate of the bad-boys? We included a photo of the museum of emptied dreams, and a couple of paragraphs so pathetically gushing that they can only have been sincere.

Bollocks to the minibus. I know what’s going into my apocalypse-ready backpack. Divine.