Sticky Beak by Morris Gleitzman Page B

and Dad to go over to slash weeds at the other side of the orchard so you can do the introduction in the old shed without being sprung.
    No wonder it costs millions when the networks do it.
    We didn’t get started till nearly lunchtime.
    â€˜OK,’ I said when the mail plane had finally disappeared and all we could hear was Dad murdering weeds in the distance, ‘camera going, take one.’
    Amanda stepped forward onto the spot I’d marked on the floor in front of Sticky’s cage.
    â€˜This poor mistreated bird,’ she said in a loud clear voice, ‘has suffered some of the crookest treatment you could imagine.’
    â€˜Pig’s bum,’ said Sticky.
    Amanda collapsed into giggles.
    â€˜It’s just his way of agreeing with you,’ I said.
    Amanda collapsed into more giggles.
    Some reporters have no respect for their director.
    â€˜Camera going, take two,’ I said.
    â€˜This poor neglected bird . . .’ said Amanda.
    â€˜Andy’s been sick in the fridge,’ said Sticky.
    Amanda laughed so hard she had to bite her clipboard.
    I could see it wasn’t going to be easy.
    I calmed myself down by telling myself that every TV current affairs show has a few of these sort of problems on the first day.
    An hour later I wasn’t so sure.
    â€˜Take thirty-two,’ I said, my hand aching.
    â€˜This poor neglected . . .’ said Amanda.
    â€˜Turnip,’ said Sticky.
    â€˜I can’t do it,’ screamed Amanda. ‘Not with him interrupting. That’s it. I resign.’
    I sat Amanda down and got her a drink and while she was having it I showed Sticky the pictures again to remind him how important it was that he keep his beak shut.
    Then I held up four fingers to remind him that Ms Dunning’s having a baby in four days so we can’t afford to waste time.
    He stared at my fingers, tongue darting about in his beak.
    I knew how he felt. Thinking about it makes my mouth go dry too.
    Amanda came over and had a look at the pictures.
    She spent a long time staring at the people who had planned to abandon cockies and hampsters and kids but were changing their minds.
    Then she looked at me and I could see her eyes getting moister.
    â€˜Sorry,’ she said. ‘Let’s try it again.’
    I didn’t say ‘Take thirty-three’ because I didn’t want to depress her. I just started the camera and waved.
    â€˜This poor mistreated bird,’ said Amanda, ‘has suffered some of the crookest treatment you could imagine.’ She glanced down at her clipboard like a professional. ‘In tonight’s programme we talk to the boy who did it and doesn’t care. A boy who . . .’
    That’s when the battery ran out.
    I put the camera down so I’d have two hands to swear with, and Amanda explained that the camera had only come with one battery, and that it takes twelve hours to recharge.
    We didn’t waste the afternoon though.
    We spent it teaching Sticky some nice things to say to Dad and Ms Dunning when they invite him to join the family.
    It was hard work, but by the end of the afternoon he could say ‘G’day’ and ‘Pig’s bottom’.
    The battery should be charged in another six hours.
    It would be less, but Ms Dunning’s using heaps of electricity in the kitchen. She’s had the food processor going all evening, making a lemon and lime Jelly Custard Surprise for the Cake And Pudding section in the Agricultural Show on Saturday.
    I hope she wins because then she and Dad will be in the right frame of mind to watch a moving and thought-provoking in-depth current affairs report.

 
    OK, I admit it, filming Sticky up the tree was my idea, but if we hadn’t tried it we’d never have seen Darryn Peck drowning his parents in the creek.
    I had the idea this morning while I was doing the eggs.
    Why not have Amanda do the introduction in front of the tree where Darryn abandoned