A lone guitarist on the battlements of Edinburgh castle is playing the end section of Norwegian Wood – possibly upon the steam-powered bagpipes.
Announcer:
That was Norwegian Wood by that 1960s pop-combo The Beatles, from their 1967 long-playing album, Rubber Soul, side 1, track 2 written by George Lennon and Ringo McCartney.
… and now…
GRAMS strange noises and curious words randomly placed in the time and space available.
Ann 1: And now we have for your delectation : Glen Miller in the nude
Ann 2: in the ‘Mood!’ You donk!
Grams (a poor kazoo version of In The Mood starts up, initially it’s soft and subtle; but, then…)
SD 1 (just after it starts; before it goes bad) Ah, nice.
SD After a few moments Ann 2 states
Ann 2: That’s not Glenn Miller.
Ann 1: But, he is in the nude. Hey, mate; give it a rest, that’s fair doing my ears in… and it’s not doing much for my eyes, either. Get some togs on, will ya?
Ann 2: Did you book him?
Ann 1: If I was a cop I’d book him for something. I thought he was a sure winner; Glen Miller is very popular.
Ann 2: He died in 1945.
Ann 1: I thought he was younger. Just goes to show.
Ann 2: Show ‘what’ Exactly?
Ann 1: That you can’t judge a book by its cover.
Ann 2: Fair enough. Glenn?
Glen: It’s ‘Glen’ not ‘Glenn’.
Ann 2: Whatever. How old are you?
Glen: Forty-three, give or take.
Ann 2: Okay. I’ll ‘give’ you some advice; then you can ‘take’ it away with you. Sound fair?
Glen: Sounds fair to me.
Ann 2: Don’t give up the day job – and please don’t tell me that ‘this’ is it.
Glen: Certainly not, Madam. I am a qualified chartered accountant.
Ann 2: Figures.
Glen: Precisely.
Ann 2: Oh, well; good luck with that. And back to the show. Craig?
Ann 1: Thank you: and now ‘You can leave your hat on…’
Me: Yes, he would break into ‘Reveille Or ‘Retreat’ at all hours of the morning and as he refused to stop it, they thought that the best thing to do was to lock him up and throw away the key of C.
You: The key of C?
Me: Yes, seems that was what the trumpet was tuned to.
You: Did it do any good?
Me: Well, his neighbours certainly thought so.
You: And now they’ve let him out?
Me: Yes, he was getting too big for his cell.
Yes: Does that joke work?
Me: Not in this universe, dear friend; but, it had to be said.
You: Why?
Me: It’s in the script.
You: It is. How did that get that through the censors?
Me:Have you heard of bribery? Using large sums of money for the means of… crime?
Narr: “And now we present for your informative needs… (big and echoing) The Ying Tong Theory!
SFX music / noises from the Silurian Swamps
Narr: It is a commonly held belief (by those that believe in it) that the World, as we know it, was created by a ‘Big’ ‘Bang!’ That is an ‘interesting’ theory (for those who are interested in that sort of thing) but, maybe there is another possibility…
SFX Intriguing music.
Narr: Today, we may find out the amazing truth.
SFX Dramatic Chords over Narr.
Narr: Or we may not.
Narr: Firstly, we must return to where and when it all began – the year… dot!
SFX Dripping.
Narr: Obviously, we cannot actually be there at the year dot! As mankind had not yet been invented. This is just our idea of the possible scenario as it may have ‘possibly’ been. Possibly.
SFX Continue
Eccles: That tap’s dripping again.
Bluebottle: Again! I didn’t hear you say that the first time.
Eccles: That’s because I didn’t say it the first time.
Blue: Oh.
Eccles: No. I only thought it the ‘first’ time. I said it… the ‘second’ time.
Blue: That it is what it is what it was and what it shall be.
Eccles: A-men!
Blue: Where?
Eccles: Not yet; but, if you stick around a few billion years…
Blue: Y-es?
Eccles: You’ll be very old.
Blue: I will?
Eccles: Yes. Or very dead.
Blue; I don’t want to be very deaded!
Eccles: Nobody does. But (and here I get all serious, folks) everybody has gotta die sometime. (possible music chords to ‘Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime’ by The Korgis)
SFX those three music chords
Eccles: What was that?
Blue (Pause): What? Eccles, can I be deaded at three clocks in the morning. I’ll be asleep then, and won’t know a thing about it.
Eccles: Yes, my little chum; I’ll write that down.
Blue: What on?
Eccles: Ah. We’ve got no paper to write upon.
Blue: And I can’t use my super Boy Scouts propelling pencil, either.
Eccles: No?
Blue: No. (Sadly and escalating) Because, it hasn’t been inventorated yet.
Eccles: Shame on those inventorator-types.
Blue: ‘They’ haven’t been inventorated yet, either.
Eccles: Bother!
Blue: Has anyone inventorated Max Geldray and Ray Ellington yet.
Eccles: No. Those two fine gentleman are yet to be inventorated.
Blue: So, no music.
Eccles: Just the dripping of the tap.
Blue: Can we inventorate a song to the rhythm of the drips, Eccles?
Eccles: Well, if we can’t… there’s nobody else who can do it.
SFX Dripping and added E & B
Blue: Yippee!
Eccles: If only we could inventorate a round of applause.
Blue: What! Like this one?
SFX: huge applause.
Eccles: No! (Applause stops abruptly) Like this one. (sparse and sporadic clapping).
Blue: I thought mine was better.
Eccles: We shall work up to yours, little Scouting fellow; firstly we shall hone our craft.
My hands are sweating, my throat is dry, There’s a quickened breathing, then a softened sigh, I’m in love, and in this matter I have no choice, I have been smitten by… Charlotte Green’s Voice
Beside the radio, from dusk till dawn I listen avidly; all forlorn If She’s not there. I list again from dawn till dusk To hear Her voice becomes a must. Shipping forecast! “Dogger, Bite!” Oh, what might, happen, oh, what might! (W. Shakespeare, The Tempest) The silky tone, the fluent word; Her voice, in my head, must be heard. I check the website for Her name, I need to hear Her, which is my shame, I’m fixated by Her speaking; In Radio Times, I am now seeking: Where can She be? Where is the One; Who will set my heart free, or leave my soul undone?
“And now on Radio Four…” I hear that She is to go This was spoken on ‘Her’ radio And soon no more shall She be heard Her voice in my head, Her every word Entering and possessing me will pass and fade And, I must admit I am dismayed For She has helped me through the night With Her silken pronouncements and links so bright I do not know what I shall do When She speaks no more to me, – or you.
Perhaps we will run aground upon the Isle of Wight!