So another week of The Archers crashes in with Bellowhead’s folk-rock version of Arthur Woods’ Barwick Green. Not a pleasant way to start a Sunday if like me you prefer to rise late and in near-silence. I never thought I’d be nostalgic for the previous accordion arrangement (by The Yetties if you must know) but I’ve been listening to the new theme for so long now it’s become to define lockdown for me and let’s just say I’ve not warmed to it. By the way, I’ve got nothing against Bellowhead or folk-rock per se and I’m sure there’s a time and a place for it - just not at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning.
Harrison’s in the middle of turning Woodbine Cottage into a European all-inclusive staycation destination something-or-other for Fallon when he gets a message on his phone from a courier, Duane, about to deliver a parcel he’s expecting. “Handsome fella” he says. Is that a thing - getting a photo of your courier? I had a parcel delivered today and my courier’s name was apparently Igor. It would have been useful to have a photo of Igor, as the image that first sprung to mind was Marty Feldman in Young Frankenstein and I couldn’t wait to see what he really looked like (perfectly normal as it happens).
I didn’t realise the gardens at Woodbine Cottage were so extensive as Harrison talks us through what Fallon’s going to experience. Cocktails under the pergola, nibbles in the games zone whilst playing Twister and Mega Jenga, followed by lounging and a massage by the pool, before dinner on the patio.”She’ll be stoked” apparently!
Meanwhile Fallon’s at the tea room clearing up after a day’s baking and all she’s worried about is whether Harrison’s remembered to make something for dinner. She’s quite liking the attention he’s getting through his radio appearances and that people are appreciating what he does, and feels guilty that she was so miserable about it in the beginning. She sounds quite loved-up and doesn’t even mind that he’s asked her to make her own way home.
We fast forward to Fallon enjoying a cocktail having previously been ‘frisked’ by Harrison dressed as an airline pilot. She’s lying on a sun lounger idly fiddling with her hair wondering where he’s got to and whether he’s changing into another costume, and realises she’s got icing in her hair (you sure it’s icing Fallon?). Harrison’s upstairs in the bathroom adding those truly authentic holiday touches like mini bottle of toiletries, adjusting the shower so it either runs scaldingly hot or ice cold, and hanging up the ‘help us save the planet’ sign (ok I made some of that up).
Paradise is interrupted when Harrison’s brother Marcus calls for an urgent request for them to look after his 2 year old daughter, Daisy. Out goes an evening watching Reservoir Dogs (in which a policeman is tortured and gets his ear cut off with a razor - good choice Harrison that won’t give Fallon nightmares will it) and in comes Rupunzal on repeat. We’re not told the exact nature of the emergency, but Harrison says it sounded really bad (we hear later that Marcus’ wife is in hospital having gone into labour early).
Over at Bridge Farm Tony’s been ordered to clear out the attic. He comes over all nostalgic when he finds an old model of the Flying Scotsman that he and Pat had bought for John. As if Tony couldn’t get any more boring he starts reminiscing about model railways - life in miniature as he calls it - including little models of Friesian cows and presumably a 1/76 scale grumpy farmer being crushed by a Bull. Next thing you know he’s set it up in the sitting room and is trying to get it to work. The only thing he does seem certain about is that his grandson Henry’s not getting it! Apparently “it’s not just about little engines going round in circles”. Yes it is Tony, it really is.
Joy Horville however is obsessed with a Spaniard’s R’s. She loves the way Eduardo, her Spanish teacher, rolls his R’s during their webcam sessions. It’s a wonder she can stop talking long enough for him to do any teaching but it sounds like she probably just sits there open mouthed and drooling. She is feeling lonely though and is even ordering vegetables she doesn’t need just so she can grab a few words with Tony.
Johnny makes the next delivery though and is forced to listen to Joy reading him is horoscope. We don’t hear what it says, but Johnny does have a bit of good news - he’s got over his hair complex and has decided against a transplant in favour of a buzz-cut - which means he can put the money he saved up to much better use, such as buying a car. And no Johnny, your idea of buying a load of scratch cards is not a good idea. But he doesn’t listen to me and goes ahead anyway blowing £50 in the process - turns out his horoscope said he was going to be lucky. Don’t worry Johnny, Tony’s going to give you cash for your birthday. Oh hang on, he’s just said you're getting that train set instead - the one that was your Dad’s. Never mind, if it’s in as good condition as Tony says it should fetch good money on eBay.
Johnny turns it down, which is just as well as the train set seems to be Tony’s Rosebud (see Citizen Kane - do I have to explain every film reference to you?). We leave Tony in his workshop with his beloved car, tractor and the sounds of little engines going round in circles…
Johnny’s about to phone Tony to say he doesn’t want the train set when he finds another scratch card in his pocket. He gets 3 cars and a flower and checks to see whether 3 cars win him anything. It doesn’t but that flower’s not a flower it’s a clover, and he remembers he had 4 clovers yesterday - if only he could remember what he did with it. Cue Johnny tipping out his wheelie bin all over the green to try and find it. Joy sees this as she was on the green helping to look after Daisy. Joy’s been angst-ridden about being accused of fly-tipping, so the sight of Johnny allowing his rubbish to blow all over the place is too much so she goes over to him and pointedly picks up and returns some.
Finally Joy sees her chance to make amends when Tim Oatey (the real fly tipper) calls on her again to see if she needs any more rubbish disposing. She decides to launch her own sting operation by inviting him back and letting Harrison know when he’ll be there. Harrison goes straight over, calling for backup on the way, and they end up arresting him for fly tipping, intimidation and false number plates. The week ends like an episode of Dixon of Dock Green with Harrison leaving the listeners with a few nuggets of philosophical police wisdom.
So now we look forward to next week, when the theme tune will change to something more calming - a rendition of Barwick Green performed on the recorder by a three year-old.
Thanks for this update. I imagine like a lot of others, I’ve given up listening as I can’t stand this continuous monologue stuff. It was quirky for the first week or so, whilst they got there head around lockdown, but it’s just annoying now.
ReplyDeleteThere’s nothing special about the Archers. If anything, their format lends itself perfectly to multi-party virtual recording. So, I guess they’ve made a conscious decision to stick with it.
It’s a pity. I’ve listened to the archers More or less continuously since the 60’s (my dad was a ministry adviser in the early days). Now that I’ve broken the habit, I doubt I’ll go back.
I'm sticking with it. It is like being on a Methadone project: no substitute for the real thing, but if that is all that is going, well then, that is better than nothing.
ReplyDeleteThe story has advanced in its various areas, the reins of the drama proper can still be picked up in due course and if nothing else we have learned the answer to the question; is it possible to write a successful radio soap set in a village where there is no direct interaction between the characters, only their internal monologues?
The answer is no.