LIVING ROOM ON PAVEMENT/ POETS/ A CHOICE OF VIEWING
The front of a cinema. A working-class lounge is arranged on the pavement. There are no walls,
just the furnishings: settee, two armchairs, sideboard, table, standard lamp, a
tiled fireplace with ornaments on it. There is also a free-standing inside door.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter come out of the cinema and go straight to their chairs and
sit down. Passers-by have to skirt the living-room furniture.
Mrs. Potter: (G.C.)
(settling into her chair) Oh, it's nice to be home.
Mr. Potter: (M.P.)
(looking round) Builders
haven't been then.
Mrs. Potter: No.
A trendy interviewer with hand mike
comes into shot.
Interviewer: (E.I.)
These two old people are
typical of the housing problem facing Britain's aged.
Mrs. Potter: Here! Don't you start
doing a documentary on us, young man.
Interviewer: Oh please ...
Mrs. Potter: No, you leave us alone!
Interviewer: Oh, just a little one
about the appalling conditions under which you live.
Mrs. Potter: No! Get out of our
house! Go on!
Interviewer turns, motions to his
cameraman and soundman and they all trail off miserably.
Mrs. Potter: Why don't you do a
documentary about the drug problem round in Walton Street?
Cut to the camera crew. They
brighten up and dash off.
Mrs. Potter: Oh, I'll go and have a
bath.
She goes to the free-standing door
and opens it. Beyond it we see the furnishings of a bathroom. In the bath is
Alfred Lord Tennyson, fully clad. As she opens the door we hear him reciting:
Tennyson: (T.J.)
The splendour fans on
castle walls
And snowy summits old in story...
She slams the door.
Mrs. Potter: 'Ere, there's Alfred
Lord Tennyson in the bathroom.
Mr. Potter: Well, at least the poet's
been installed, then.
Cut to an officious-looking man in
Gas Board type uniform and peaked cap.
Caption: 'SALES MANAGER EAST MIDLANDS
POET BOARD'
Sales Manager: (J.C.)
Yes, a poet is
essential for complete home comfort, and all-year round reliability at low cost.
We in the East Midlands Poet Board hope to have a poet in every home by the end
of next year.
Animation: an advertisement.
Voices: (singing) Poets are both
clean and warm
And most are far above the norm
Whether here, or on the roam
Have a poet in every home.
Cut to middle-class hall. The front
doorbell rings. Housewife opens door to Gas Board type inspector with bicycle
clips, rubber mac and cap and notebook. In the background we can hear muffled
Wordsworth.
Voice: I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high...
Inspector: (M.P.)
Morning, madam, I've come
to read your poet.
She: (T.J.)
Oh yes, he's in the cupboard
under the stairs.
Inspector: What is it, a Swinburne?
Shelley?
She: No, it's a Wordsworth.
Inspector: Oh, bloody daffodils.
He opens the door of the cupboard
under the stairs. Inside is Wordsworth crouching and reciting.
Wordsworth: (E.I.)
A host of golden daffodils
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
All this while the inspector is
shining his torch over him and noting things on his clip board.
Wordsworth: Continuous as the stars
that shine
And twinkle in the Milky Way
They stretch in...
The inspector shuts the door in the
middle of this and we hear Wordsworth reading on, though muffled, throughout the
remainder of the sketch.
Inspector: Right. Thank you, madam.
He makes as if to go, but she seems
anxious to detain him and bars his way.
She: Oh, not at all. Thank you...
It's a nice day, isn't it?
Inspector: Yes, yes, the weather
situation is generally favourable. There's a ridge of high pressure centred over
Ireland which is moving steadily eastward bringing cloudy weather to parts of
the West Country, Wales and areas west of the Pennines. On tomorrow's chart ...
(he reaches up and pulls down a big weather chart from the wall) the picture is
much the same. With this occluded front bringing drier, warmer weather.
Temperatures about average for the time of year. That's three degrees
centigrade, forty-four degrees Fahrenheit, so don't forget to wrap up well.
That's all from me. Goodnight.
Continuity Voice: (E.I.)
Now on BBC
television a choice of viewing. On BBC 2 - a discussion on censorship between
Derek Hart, The Bishop of Woolwich and a nude man. And on BBC 1 - me telling you
this. And now...
Sound of TV set bring switched off.
The picture reduces to a spot and we pull out to see that it was actually on a
TV set which has just been switched off by the housewife. She and the gas man
are now sitting in her living room. He is perched awkwardly on the edge of the
sofa. He holds a cup of tea with a cherry on a stick in it.
She: We don't want that, do we. Do
you really want that cherry in your tea? Do you like doing this job?
Inspector: Well, it's a living, isn't
it?
She: I mean, don't you get bored
reading people's poets all day?
Inspector: Well, you know, sometimes
... yeah. Anyway, I think I'd better be going.
As he gets up she comes quickly to
his side.
She: (seductively) You've got a nice
torch, haven't you?
Inspector: (looking at it rather
baffled) Er, yeah, yeah, it er... it er ... it goes on and off.
He demonstrates.
She: (drawing closer becoming
breathy) How many volts is it?
Inspector: Er ... um... well, I'll
have a look at the batteries. (he starts unscrewing the end)
She: Oh yes, yes.
Inspector: It's four and a half
volts.
She: (rubbing up against
him) Mmmm.
That's wonderful. Do you want another look at the poet?
Inspector: No, no, I must be off,
really.
She: I've got Thomas Hardy in the
bedroom. I'd like you to look at him.
Inspector: Ah well, I can't touch
him. He's a novelist.
She: Oh, he keeps mumbling all night.
Inspector: Oh well, novelists do, you
see.
She: (dragging him on to the
sofa) Oh
forget him! What's your name, deary?
Inspector: Harness.
She: No, no! Your first name, silly!
Inspector: Wombat.
She: Oh, Wombat. Wombat Harness! Take
me to the place where eternity knows no bounds, where the garden of love
encloses us round. Oh Harness!
Inspector: All right, I'll have a
quick look at yer Thomas Hardy.
Cut to studio discussion.
Caption: 'DEREK HART'
Derek: (J.C.) Nude man, what did you make of
that?
Nude Man: (G.C.)
Well, don't you see, that
was exactly the kind of explicit sexual reference I'm objecting to. It's
titillation for the sake of it. A deliberate attempt at cheap sensationalism. I
don't care what the so-called avant-garde, left-wing, intellectual namby-pambies
say... It is filth!
Derek: Bishop.
Cut to crook hitting desk in Devious's office.
Bishop: Okay, don't anybody move!
Titles for 'The Bishop' start and
then stop abruptly.
Caption: 'AN APOLOGY'
Voice Over: The BBC would like to
apologize for the constant repetition in this show.
Different caption: 'AN
APOLOGY'
Voice Over: The BBC would like to
apologize for the constant repetition in this show.
Animation: the 'five frog curse'.