It was the afternoon that was going to change everything. The pitch would be the difference between our company surviving and dying. More than that it was a chance to take us into the league with the big boys and if this show took off in the way the head of the channel predicted, then we’d all be looking at a massive payday five years down the line.

We were attempting to convince the country’s biggest broadcaster that we had the next ‘Traitors’. We had come up with a nail-biting game show where turncoats and judases attempted to outwit the decent and honourable in order to take home the cash prize. A game of trust.

I closed my eyes and took a breath before I started outlining the proposal. As I began to talk about the concept and how we had arrived at it I stumbled over my words as they spilled out of my mouth. It wasn’t like me. I was word-perfect when we’d rehearsed this earlier. ‘Slow down’ I told myself over and over. My armpits felt craggy and wet and my breath got shallow. I was trying hard to keep an even tone to my voice and not squeak like a teenage choirboy whose voice is about to break.

Looking around the table I could see nods of approval and some fairly positive body language. I began to relax knowing I was winning them over.

I reminded myself that I didn’t have much winning over to do. The ace in my hand was Willie ‘Mitch’ Mitchell, head of commissioning and the man who was possibly my oldest friend. There was nothing dodgy about our relationship and we were definitely not two school pals greasing each others palms. Her was just a buddy willing to lend an ear to what I had to say.

Although he hadn’t dared put it in a an email, Mitch had pretty much told me after a few beers how much he loved our proposal and this pitching session really was a formality. We had it in the bag.

“ Thanks so much for bringing this to us,” Mitch said when I’d finished. “We’ve had a quick chat and feel this is not right for us. Not really our brand I’m afraid. Hope that’s not too disappointing?”

“But..I thought you…er…WOW!”

I struggled to get the words out. I looked up and met his gaze. I got nothing. Dead eyes and an experesionless face. He looked like he’d been pumped so full of Botox his face was incapable of showing how he felt.

“ Anyway, we should really move on to the next pitch.”

The prick was dead to me. I’be been had.

He’d made it clear there was nothign else to be said. I felt like we were back at school and in the headmaster’s office.

“ You’ve been a disappointment to the school boy, now pack up your things and leave.”

I gathered up the cards we had printed up for the game so we could show them how it would work. Right there on top was the first card out of the deck. It was the one that Mitch had dealt me during the mock up game. Framed inside a black border were the words “I’m not a traitor. I was never on your side.”