We're introduced to our main man. If you still haven't figured out who it is yet, then this will reveal all.
Down a side street, however, there was a different kind of tension. Outside a locked-up building an excitable queue was beginning to form, one made up of mostly teenage girls, mostly in normal clothes but a fair few in purple, chatting on their phones, taking numerous photos, burbling excitedly about the next few hours…
Inside the building a tall man stood in front of a mirror, combing his hair. It was only a little while before he would be in front of the cameras and the cheers, and he wanted to look his absolute best. Pocketing the comb (and giving himself a cheeky wink), he walked slowly up to the doors, took a deep breath, and strode outside.
As the tidal wave of high-pitched screams washed over him, he paced slowly down the alley, giving a few waves, signing a few shirts here and there, and repeating his infectious wink. Soon the screams hushed to excited murmurs as he took his position in front of the cameras, ran everything through his head one last time, and switched on his microphone.
‘Each morning, thousands of hundreds of fans line up in order to secure their spot in the Really Really Ridiculously Good Looking Tour. How do the shows keep managing to sell out? Why do they all wear purple?’ The onlookers laughed happily as he gestured to a purple-clad girl. ‘And how do I manage to keep my skin looking so fresh and young?’ Another laugh arose.
‘Today we’ll find out. Join me, as I travel to the centre of this FIERY debate!’
And with those words the cameras stopped rolling, and Guy Ripley switched off his BBC microphone and stole away through the venue’s doors.