At home on their own

This was originally published in 2006

This is a story that is funny in hindsight but wasn’t at all funny when it happened.

When we were living in New Zealand, Hannah and Sam (then aged 13 and 11) were happy enough, going to school and enjoying the Kiwi way of life. They attended drama lessons at a local community centre, and one evening came home with a flyer from a TV company asking for volunteers for a new TV show.

If only we’d thrown the accursed thing out! But no, that would have been too sensible for a proud dad like me!

We thought it might be exciting and educational for the kids to be involved in a TV programme and I contacted the company to find out more. I was told that the show was about the children redecorating parts of the house in fun themes. This sounded like it could be interesting. I remembered seeing some such programme where the family ended up with some great improvements to their house, so said sure, we were interested.

Our house was a pretty spectacular timber building with lots of balconies located in the Lynfield/Blockhouse Bay area of Auckland, overlooking the Manakau Harbour. We all loved it.


Inside, it had been carefully decorated (by the previous owners) with neutral colours that were used throughout the house. We had what in New Zealand was known as a ‘Rumpus Room’ and this large, mainly pine-clad room was used by the children as a space to muck around, use their computer or watch TV.

Downstairs was a spacious open plan living area that incorporated our kitchen and dining table. This area was the hub of the house, and Donna and I really liked this space.


Not long after the phone calls and email contact with the TV company, we were visited by a very pleasant researcher, who spoke to Donna and I and the children. She wanted the children to generate some ideas for redecorating parts of the house. Donna and I told her we were happy for them to do use the rumpus room, their bedrooms and outside, but under no circumstances do anything to the living area. The ideas that the children came up with were supposed to be kept from Donna and I but the children told us that they had planned a space theme for the rumpus room and a tropical beach theme for outside.

The TV company were evidently taken with the children and our house and before too long came to do some initial filming, where they interviewed us all, and then Donna and I and the children separately. We got to meet the presenter, the interior designer, the producer and director, and of course the cameraman and sound man. They all seemed great people, friendly and interested in us as a family. The presenter talked to the children about their ideas and they all seemed very excited about the prospect of making their ideas come to life.

A few weeks later, the weekend arrived. Donna and I were to be whisked off to a luxury hotel for the weekend, whilst the children got to work with the team. The first indication that things weren’t quite right was when Sam locked himself in a cupboard not long after the team arrived. I spent quite a while trying to persuade him to come out, but he was adamant that he did not want to be involved. I thought he had cold feet and tried harder to convince him that it would be a lot of fun for him. Sam said ‘They aren’t going to do what we planned’ but I didn’t register his concern or distress. I thought he was just being awkward. How wrong I was.

Donna and I were filmed saying goodbye to the children, and then getting into the luxury car provided by the TV company, to be driven off to the hotel. Within seconds, however, the car stopped and we were asked to drive ourselves in our car to the hotel. We were somewhat perplexed by this, but went along with the request. We drove into Auckland, and checked in at the hotel, and spent much of the day wandering around the city. We had been asked to be at the hotel for 6pm for more filming and duly waited in our room, when the director arrived with a small video camera. We were filmed watching two snips of video showing what looked like our kitchen being painted with a dark blue and some sand being tipped somewhere. Donna and I were quite concerned at this point, but didn’t say much. Later we phoned the house and spoke to Bharti, our friend who was looking after the children. Bharti sounded concerned. She told us that Sam wasn’t feeling too well (he had a cold) but both of the children were really worried about what was happening to the house and how we’d react.

The next day, we were asked to be ready to return home at six in the evening. During the day the luxury car arrived and we were filmed both getting in and out of it. After editing, it really did look as though we had been driven to and from the hotel by the TV company. We set off to be back home for six, but received a phone call asking us to be there by seven instead, so Donna and I hung around our local supermarket, feeling more and more apprehensive. When we finally arrived home, we were asked to go straight to the garage and wait there. We waited in the garage for two hours. Much of the equipment the crew had used in our garage was covered in black cloth, but I could see polystyrene packing from what looked like a kitchen appliance poking out from behind some cloth. The smell of paint was very strong.

Finally, the team were ready to film the reveal. We were asked to keep our eyes closed and led up the back stairs to the rumpus room. Upon opening our eyes, we discovered a bizarre scene of a spaceship, floating spaceman and smoke. The presenter was evidently quite excited by this spectacle and crowed about how marvellous it all was. I wasn’t too impressed, but thought that seeing as it was the rumpus room, there was no harm done.

Next we were led into our bedroom, where I was asked to lie on the bed and pretend to snore. I was immediately drenched by a jet of water from a small pipe that had been tacked to the door frame, and this jet continued to squirt haphazardly despite the fact that I had leapt off the bed. I watched the bed slowly becoming drenched with a heavy heart.

Following this discomfiture, Donna and I were led through the upper floor of the house and down the stairs to our living area. It sounded ominously hollow as we made our way down the stairs with our eyes shut.

The final reveal was presumably the highlight of the evening – at least as far as the team was concerned. What we saw was unbelievable. Our kitchen and dining area had been turned into an undersea world, complete with a mural of a killer whale on the wall, a boat built around the work surface and around two tons of sand deposited on the dining area floor. To cap it all, a rusty 'treasure chest’ sat on top of the sand to complete the effect.


The presenter by this time was squealing with pleasure, but Donna and I were stony faced and unable to say much. We were really angry. The director, realising how upset we were, made some comment about how these programmes affect real people, but the producer curtly told her to do her job of directing and shut up.

The team promptly packed up and left. That was it, as far as they were concerned.

They had left the house virtually uninhabitable. Sam became really distressed at this point, and his anguish was punctuated by the house fire alarm suddenly going off. A smoke machine had been accidentally left on in the rumpus room for over an hour. I was devastated. It was one in the morning, my son was in tears, we couldn’t even make a coffee and I was due to present a key lecture at nine in the morning. To cap it all, the bed was soaking wet.

Whilst we were naive in letting this happen, the situation revealed that 'reality TV' has its dark side. All of us were misled by the team, but the extent to which the children were manipulated only became evident in the following days. Not only had their wishes been disregarded, but they had also been put in a position where they were directed to do things that they knew would upset their parents and were actually directed in what to say on camera too.

The contract I had signed (under the mistaken assumption the TV company were decent people) was watertight. If I took any action against them or made any public mention of our experience, I would be held responsible for any losses if the programme was not transmitted - up to NZ$100,000. I had never felt so angry, nor so impotent.