The time when Ben got told to F*ck off

The Big Sky had been commissioned to make a film about World War I film cameras for an internationally renowned British Museum. Not the British Museum but another of equal repute.

Within the very most impressive, musty chamber of the museum, drifting dust catching beams of light, the camera crew were set up, enveloped by antiquity, with Ben on an adjacent chair, attempting to look intelligent.

It was a thrilling moment when the man we were set to interview arrived on the scene. A grey haired, handsome fellow with a dash of style and the sort of confidence found only in those time-poor success-driven alphas. He oozed monumental intelligence; his poise, exquisite. He had it all; brains, looks and the old-school masculine dominance that makes one feel oppressed with a glance. He was absolutely the sort of person who might have set up a college at Cambridge and was bound to have appeared as keynote speaker at conferences around the world. It was an exciting moment to be interviewing this eminent boffin.

A silence fell as he shuffled into position. He didn’t say hello, he just said gruffly “where do I look”?

“At me please” said Ben, who went on to introduce himself as the director.

The don looked at Ben as if he were an ameba, cleared his throat and simply nodded in response, before running his fingers through his silver hair and positioning himself in his chair. He was ready for action.

Ben somewhat meekly asked his first question..

And what gravitas the answer had; what tone; what wonder! Impeccable English of the most refined sort. The crew had that twinkle in the eye commonly seen on-set when capturing gold.

But the film unit soon realised there was a problem: he was taking far too long to get to the point.

Ben looked at his watch. 5 mins had passed. He started to look for moments to interject, but the professor was still talking… This had become a podcast, but Ben, only needing a sound-bite, finally found a way in at a pause.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your flow…. and may I say that this is sounding fantastic - it’s exactly what we need - but this is just my first question and I have five more... This film will only be 2 mins. Erm, is there any way you could give me a condensed version?

He could not have been more delicate.

A bead of sweat wended its way through the creases of the soundman’s forehead.

The professor looked at Ben as if he had been struck by lightning. Nobody had ever dared interrupt him before. His eyes bulged slightly. He swallowed. Curiously, his face started to redden and a vein appeared on his neck. The tension rose, the mercury rocketed, and then, bang! The thermometer exploded and from that agonising silence came the words:

“You know what?”

He paused, he gulped. The crew lent back, bracing for what was coming. And then he screamed. He was up an octave. It felt a little more World War II than World War I.

“YOU… CAN JUST, FUCK OFF.”

He bellowed the words which rolled around the science of the museum like a clap of thunder.

The expletive echoed at least 10 times in the stillness, gradually growing more distant before departing though the ancient passageways forever.

Jaws fell in sync, but Ben clenched his and did his very best to look as though this kind of thing was everyday film making.

The strange brain-box was already standing up. Brushing off his lapels he extracted himself from his mic, and to the disbelief of his audience, exited the chamber, shoes clip clopping, fading away across that sea of marble, gifting the crew with a story for life and lots of information on World War I film cameras.
–
It was some weeks later that we received an official apology from the Museum. He had apparently been having a ‘bad day’.