He’s taller than when I’d imagined him; maybe pushing 6’ 1”. He agrees with whatever the actor is saying and points to a spot on the floor, to which the actor moves. A man with a clapperboard steps in front of the camera.

‘Action!’ shouts Reuben. The actors begin their scene, though it barely has time to get started before he puts a stop to it. ‘Come on guys, give me more,’ he yells in the general direction of the actors, who move back to their starting positions and begin the scene again. Reuben watches the action, immediately looking agitated. He lets the cameras roll for about a minute before ending it again.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ he screams, pulling off his headphones. ‘George, you’re about to kill this woman and you’re holding her like a fucking antique! Like this!’ he roars, marching towards the woman.

Without warning, he grabs her by the throat and shoves her towards the castle wall. She bounces off it roughly with a cry before falling to her knees. She uses her hand to put pressure on the back of her head and when she releases it a moment later, her hand is covered in blood.

‘Jesus Christ, Reuben, that fucking hurt!’ the woman shouts. She gets to her feet and walks past Reuben off the set in the direction of the car park, presumably towards one of the trailers.

‘At least it looked fucking real!’ hisses Reuben, throwing his arms up in exasperation. There is a silence that no one seems willing to break. ‘Everyone take five,’ he shouts, as he walks towards his chair and throws himself into it. Liam and I take this lapse in action as our cue.

We approach Reuben and introduce ourselves, though he looks less than pleased. ‘How the fuck did you get on set?’ he spits, standing up. With that, he storms off.

‘Great first impression,’ whispers Liam. As we are about to follow him, a mountain of a man with a scowl on his face advances towards us.

‘Who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you on my set?’ he shouts in an American accent, pushing Liam on the shoulder and showering him with saliva. Liam pulls out his police badge and shows it to the man.

‘I suggest you keep your cool, sunshine,’ Liam replies, calmly. ‘We’re here to see Mr Amaro. As long as everything is in order, he’ll be back in no time. What’s your name?’

‘None of your fucking business,’ he growls, before stalking off.

5

I look around Reuben’s trailer and I am deeply unimpressed. I was expecting plush seats, polished wooden floors and a huge fridge chilling an expensive bottle of Cristal. This is not what Reuben has. His trailer is so cramped that Liam and I are sitting on the caravan-style seats at one end of it whilst he sits on the floor, glaring at us. The plastic covered walls are stained a colour similar to dehydrated urine and it smells like a teenage boy’s bedroom.