Oscar breakthrough

Following my appearance on provincial television in March 2008, a few weeks ago I was asked to take part in a 25-minute discussion programme about female university students wanting to be the mistresses and "er nai" (private prostitutes) of rich men. And following that, I was phoned up by different people from the same channel who wanted to make another programme. It's just this sort of random interesting opportunity that crops up now and then that retains my interest in living in this overcrowded country.

Every night on Shaanxi TV 2 there's a 30-minute mini-soap, different every night, all made by amateurs. Collectively they are known as bai shi. I took part in one back in 2007. Everyone speaks in local dialect, which varies from being very similar to standard Mandarin to completely unintelligible, especially to me. The point is that the stories reflect the lives of the average person, or laobaoixing (old hundred names). The programme I was to take part in was a mock Oscars-style awards ceremony, and there were to be six judges, with me being one of the judges by virtue of the fact that I am a foreigner who can speak some Chinese and was available for filming.

When I met two of the station personnel in Starbucks two weeks before to discuss it, they told me that Furong Jiejie (The Lily Sister) would be one of the other judges. She is the equivalent of a Z-list celebrity, somebody from this province who became famous via the internet for being ugly, wearing tight horrible clothes and performing a series of poses and dances ranging between silly and vomit-inducing. The show was to be filmed over three afternoons, with three awards per day, and will be broadcast over three different days over Chinese New Year on Shaanxi TV 2 - potential audience, 60 million (likely audience, much, much lower).

I turned up on Tuesday morning for rehearsals, which involved me watching the opening performance and doing nothing else. For each of the three days there was a fairly elaborate act involving the presenters, nominees for the awards and various dancers. There was also an in-house band, complete with electric drumkit, keyboard for making amusing noises when something funny was said and an array of interesting outfits, my favourite being on day two when they dressed up like Viennese aristocrats. The judges - myself, Furong, a film director, a comedian, a professor of arts and a representative from the show's sponsor – got to sit back and watch the on-site director getting in a flap when the nominees, all amateur actors, stood in the wrong place and didn't move when they were supposed to.

For most of the awards, the actors would introduce themselves, then we the judges would vote for who to get rid of. Then the audience (30 or so people on either side behind each of the two rows of judges) would have their say. Some of the awards included some secretly filmed clips where the nominees had been set up and covertly filmed, Jeremy Beadle style. Then the actors and presenters and judges would have some easy back-and-forth light-hearted banter about who should win and why, then we would have the final vote and present the awards (a clear plastic Oscar-like trophy and a piece of tarted up A4 masquerading as a certificate).

The most entertaining category was the Male Impersonating A Woman, which involved some humorous alternative uses for mantou (steamed buns). Some of the other categories, though, failed to get the atmosphere going, particularly when for one prize only one nominee turned up. It's also evident that amateur actors doing comedy is much more successful than amateur actors doing serious acting. With the overall nature of the show being a cross between a variety show, talk show and prize-giving ceremony, it was quite difficult to really get into it. I replied when asked, made a few light-hearted comments (most of which were drowned out by the accompanying keyboard sounds), but didn't 'shine' as I think I would have liked to. My career in provincial television hangs in the balance.

I didn't do myself any favours after filming on the final day, either. I was talking slightly nervously to the male presenter, Shitou (a very big cheese in Shaanxi province), and some other people outside in the car park. I have a tremendous habit of missing a key sentence at a key time. He said something about going to dinner with the other guys. However, I didn't really catch it, and assumed he was talking to the other people, which looking back on it is unlikely. So that was another chance missed. Although at least I did get a phone number, so we live and hope.