Gossiping Heads

	Beautifully shot in video, like the Talking Heads programmes, we see a 
	northern front room. Stephen is sitting there, in drag, a cup of tea 
	and a biscuit in one hand, a family album in the other. He looks 
	through some photographs.


Stephen		Oh, yes ... yes ... well, I'll never forget this one. That was
		before they pulled down the gasworks and built that Netto
		Superstore. Oh, he looks good in his Littlewood's Keynote
		cardie, does our Alan. I said at the time, I said "Alan, if you
		want to get on in the world, you'd be wise to write down
		everything I say, because it's gold, is what I say. And don't
		hog the Peak Freenes, lad. Pass them round." Lovely boy he was.
		Teeth weren't his strong feature, of course, and his hair
		wasn't what you'd call Leslie Howard, but I always say, "Teeth
		is teeth, what does it matter so long as you've got your
		wealth?" He said, "I can't wait to get out of here, Auntie Ivy,
		and make my fortune down south." I said to him, straight, I
		said, "Alan," I said, "I may not be as cabbage looking as my
		tongue is a fisherman's doiley, but what's London got that you
		won't find in the Arndale Centre in Todmodern?" Well, he was
		stuck for a reply. I said, "You want sophistication, you stick
		with us up here, love." He knew I was right, bless him. I mean
		we've got a Body Shop in the parade now and you can't move for
		Volvo's in the autumn months. But then he's always had his head
		in the clouds has our Alan. Caught him trying to scour a milk
		pan with a tea bag once. I said "It's all very well knowing
		long words, but if you can't tell the difference between a box
		of brillo pad and a packet of Typhoo One-Cup, you'll never get
		on." I'll go to the back of our fridge.
		   He did leave, though. Got a scholarship to Oxford. I said,
		"You make sure as there's somewhere as you can buy Kendall Mint
		Cake, and a good bar of Wright's coal tar soap, because they've
		no idea, down there." Well, I mean fancy ideas and tropical mix
		croutons are all very well, but they don't get the Vimto
		buttered, do they? For all your fine Italian red lettuce, which
		to my mind tastes as bitter as a Skipton wind. He said "Auntie
		Ivy, I'll be fine." Well of course I didn't know him when he
		came back. Green corduroy jacket and duffle coat, horn-rimmed
		spectacles you could eat parsley out of and a head crammed with
		I don't know what. And books, you've never seen so many. Some
		of them that dirty I blushed to the roots of my Playtex. I
		said, "Alan," I said, "those books are going straight into the
		Hotpoint and no buts." Came up lovely they did. Amazing what a
		bit of Lenor can do if you've a mind. No, but that Oxford and
		his smart friends, they've changed him. Ideas, that's what it
		is. I said, "What use is ideas when you've a capon to baste and
		the tally-man's due any minute? Name an idea," I said, "that
		can get the front steps scrubbed, the sausages pricked and the
		navel oranges squeezed in time for a meat tea and finger
		buffet." Well, he didn't know which way to look. These Oxford
		types, they're all apricot facial scrub and yesterday's suet
		turnover: to look at them you'd think a packet of Bachelor's
		Savoury Rice wouldn't melt in their Vosene Medicated, but
		they've no savvy. I could take a Black and Decker nose drill to
		the pack of them and still have change left over for a bag of
		peanut brittle.
		  Left home of course, got involved with the BBC, all party
		eggs and tomato chutney. Next thing I know he's got a damehood
		and a brand new hostess trolley to show for it. They'll fall
		for anything them Londoners. Well, I'm off down to Morrison's
		for a jar of melon lip balm and a four-pack of interuterine
		devices. Got that Pat Routledge round for elocution lessons at
		twelve. Tarra.

Hugh		Okay, so the woman was mad. She was mad, she was paranoid, she
		was megalomaniac and she was completely deluded. But somehow
		when she was in charge, you know, Blue Peter was Blue Peter.