Definitely The Face For Radio…

As we continue in lockdown, Radio Borsetshire launches a competition to find a new presenter for a daytime show, and who is prepared to work from home. The competition is first mentioned by Ben Archer, who prays that it won’t be his dad, as he couldn’t bear the thought of Disco Dave getting down with the kids. Don’t worry Ben, as I am sure that David is much too busy on the farm. To save listeners and our readers too much in the way of apprehension and anxiety, let me reveal now that the competition was won by Susan Carter, who just edged out Jolene Archer. My thoughts on this are perfectly expressed by the title of this week’s blog.

Perhaps Susan agrees, as she says to herself that she has all the qualities that make her ideal as a radio host, though she didn’t mention anything about having the ideal radio face. Her show begins with a reading from Jill’s memories of her life during the war - memories dictated to, and typed up by, Jill’s grandson Ben. Susan describes this as “sweet”, which makes Ben curl up with embarrassment.

So caught up in Jill’s stories was Susan, that she missed her cue to come back on air and had to be reminded by Danny, the show’s producer. Before beginning to broadcast, Susan had a quick swig to calm her nerves of Ron Miel (Honey Rum) that she brought back from holiday. This proved so efficacious that she had another swig or two. By this time her nerves were so calm that she was virtually flat-lining and she was - not drunk exactly - but had reached the stage where everybody was her best friend.

Susan then launches into a bit of a ramble about her role as shop manager and village Postmistress, and proceeds to thank all the essential workers in every possible role and profession until Danny cuts her short, presumably before she starts calling them by name. Not content with this, Susan then starts bigging up Neil, referring to him as “a pillar of the community” in his role as Chairman of the Parish Council and as an executive at Berrow Farm.

As part of this speech, she goes on about how she makes chilli to keep Neil happy and, as we learn later, she goes into excruciating details about the effect that certain spices in her recipe have upon her husband. Fortunately, we are spared the grisly details, but we are told later that Emma is acutely embarrassed and Ed was so shaken by what he heard that his sheep shearing was disrupted (“I was so shocked that I totally lost my mojo and couldn’t get it back”) and, as a result, Ed slipped way behind Jazzer in the contest that the two lads were having about who could shear the most sheep.

We shall return to Susan, but let’s look at what has been happening elsewhere. Ben is pondering on his future - it seems that A-Levels are off the agenda and he is wondering about whether or not to apply to the local Uni. Having said that, his immediate ambition appears to be staying in bed late and then binge-watching Netflix. One thing he doesn’t want to do is to keep taking notes of his Gran’s reminiscences and typing them up, so he is mildly alarmed when he learns (from Susan’s programme) that Jill is seriously considering turning her childhood memories into a book. However, it is an ill wind, as they say, and Ben recounts how he and Jill fell about laughing as Susan became more and more indiscreet about the aphrodisiac effects of her chilli on her Neil. Personally, I reckon she must lace it with Rohypnol.

Ben is not best pleased when Emma, who is making cakes in the Tearoom kitchen, runs out of eggs and Ben is the only person on the farm who can be spared to deliver a load to Emma. There is much moaning because the eggs are Josh’s business, so why can’t he take them?, but Ben is press-ganged into it. Ben muses upon how the doctors etc. are risking their lives daily and he says that he couldn’t do it. His thoughts then turn to junior doctor Chloe, with whom he had a brief, one-night stand after his 18^th birthday. On impulse, he sends her a text, wishing her luck and saying he’s thinking of her. To his surprise and delight, she replies instantly and says “see you when we’re out the other side x.” Ben is ecstatic, saying “Yes! Result” and then musing: “I wonder if she likes chilli?”

Meanwhile, Emma is wondering about whether the kids are doing their schoolwork properly at home - the way these lockdown episodes are structured, there is a lot of musing and talking to oneself - and she is alarmed when Helen reminds her by text that the class has a project to complete in four days, talking about how things were in the war. Emma is surprised, as Keira is usually so good at telling them about these things and deadlines (we learn at the end of the week that Keira was upset because Joe wasn’t around to ask about it). 

This sets Emma off on another train of thought - how come Helen always manages to cope so well with two children and running a business? “Helen does poise; I do banana skins” Emma sighs, and she is surprised to learn at the end of the week that Helen/Henry haven’t completed the project. Not only that, but it seems that Helen doesn’t  appear to give a toss about not doing it, while Emma was determined that Keira would submit something on time. No doubt about it, Emma thinks, Helen is definitely cool.

Having lost the sheep-shearing competition with Jazzer (there were 10 pints riding on it, which presumably would see Jazzer through an average lunchtime, were the pubs open and serving) Ed is not in the happiest of moods. His temper is not improved when he keeps tripping over Emma’s prized coffee table. It is prized by her because, when she sold off all her possessions when she and Ed split up, he approached brother William and gave him the money to secretly buy it back for her. The burning question is ’why?’ as all we know about it is that it is blue in colour and, instead of feet, it has dolphins. The word ’grotesque’ springs to mind.

Emma is in a bit of a tizzy, as, before going to work, Ed told her that he wants to discuss something with her when he comes home. She is concerned - perhaps he is having second thoughts about the family living together in the mobile home? Why should he have to make an appointment to talk to his wife? Whatever, she is on tenterhooks all day and, when Ed comes home and takes her outside for a talk, she is nervous. “Em, I don’t think this is working” her husband says” and she notices how pale he is looking. There is a pause and he adds: “I really can’t stand that coffee table” and bursts out laughing. Emma picks up said item of furniture and smacks him round the head with it. Actually, she doesn’t, but I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

As promised, we return to Susan, who is going through agonies of embarrassment. “What a prize idiot I am” she says, and there’s no argument from me. In a breathtaking moment of self-deception, she adds: “I can’t abide gossip” and goes on to say that the shame means that she and Neil will have to move out of Ambridge and Neil will have to resign from his posts as PC Chairman and Churchwarden, as well as resigning from Berrow Farm. 

Susan also says that she can tell that Emma is still in a mood with her and Neil says that it’s all forgiven and forgotten, and besides, it’s only all gossip. “As if I’d gossip!” Susan says indignantly (see earlier comment about self-deception) and says that she has forgiven him, which is very magnanimous of her. Nevertheless, some inkling of remorse must have percolated through her thick hide, as she says that she wishes that she had never opened her big mouth and five million listeners nod in eager agreement.

It takes her back to the time when she came out of prison 26 years ago (for aiding and abetting brother Clive) and everybody was talking about her. I reckon that she is now getting her revenge, by her talking about everyone, but she feels as if she has let everyone down and is convinced that Radio Borsetshire is going to sack her.

There is a knock on the door of her temporary radio studio (doubling as the broom cupboard) and it is Neil, bearing news of the reaction of listeners. Emma has already told us her thoughts - she thinks her mother’s talk “was a cross between a nature documentary and Love Island” - but it seems that she is in a minority. Far from calling for Susan to be flayed alive, burnt at the stake or hung, drawn and quartered, we are given an insight into how empty and joyless the lives of the inhabitants of Borsetshire must be, from the largely positive feedback that has resulted from her broadcast.

Danny says that people cannot get enough of it and Radio Borsetshire has offered Susan a regular slot. She is trending on Twitter and one comment was along the lines of ‘how good it was to hear someone talking so frankly about sex in later life’. Neil also has his own fan club and there are messages saying “When do we get to meet Neil?” (presumably to get a look at the man who has so patiently put up with Susan for so many decades). There is one letter that Susan reads out, “from a Mr. B. A., asking for the recipe for Susan’s chilli.”

Suffice it to say that Susan’s Olympian self-confidence has returned and she toasts herself with a tot of Honey Rum, saying “Here’s to you, Susan Carter and to your new career - they’ll be hanging on your every word!” Of her new career, she says, triumphantly: “I was born to be an anchorwoman!” What a bloody good idea - has anybody got a spare 50 yards of cast-iron chain that I can have?

[While we listeners appreciate that the cast, writers and producer are all doing their level best to sustain our interest in our favourite village, may I raise a note of complaint? Am I the only one to think that the new arrangement of the title music to the Sunday Omnibus is absolutely horrendous? I can only hope that it has replaced the usual theme for the duration of the pandemic only. Having said that, I was never a great fan of the old Sunday theme anyway (whenever I heard it, I always thought of the old joke: “welcome to Hell - here’s your accordion”) but I have to say that the old arrangement was infinitely preferable to the current offering.]