Work Text
THE SCREEN DISPLAYS THE STANDARD IMAGE OF THE TELEVISION FOR SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES ONE-MINUTE COUNTDOWN CLOCK. GUITAR MUSIC PLAYS. AN ACCOMPANYING PERCUSSIONIST IS RINGING SLEIGH-BELLS IN A RHYTHM WHICH DOESN'T QUITE MATCH THE TUNE PLAYED ON GUITAR. THE TEXT BENEATH THE CLOCK READS: LOOK AROUND YOU [ line break ] follows shortly THE CAMERA SHOWS US FINGERS TYPING ON A KEYBOARD, THEN RISES TO A SHOT OF THE COMPUTER SCREEN. THE PROGRAMMER HAS TYPED THE FOLLOWING LINES OF BASIC, AND WE OBSERVE IT BEING ADDED TO FROM THE LINE BEGINNING 160 110 REPEAT120 PRINT “LOOK AROUND YOU”;130 UNTIL CLOCK$ =CHRISTMAS$140 COLOUR 0150 COLOUR 129160 PRINT “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”;170 GOTO 160RUN WE SEE THE PROGRAMMER HIT RETURN. THE SCREEN FILLS UP WITH WALL OF TEXT , AND THEN ABRUPTLY THE COLOUR INVERTS AND THE TEXT CHANGES FROM LOOK AROUND YOU TO MERRY CHRISTMAS. FAKE SNOWFLAKES ARE SUPERIMPOSED ON THE SCREEN AS THE LOOK AROUND YOU TITLE TEXT SCROLLS IN FIRST FROM LEFT AND RIGHT, THEN EXPANDING INTO VIEW FROM THE CENTRE.
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“...and tell Professor Whitmarsh that we'll sell the RI Lectures to Channel bloody Four before he ever gets a slot on his minims.”The door slammed shut in the scientist's face, setting off a brief standing wave of rippling around the hem of his best labcoat.“Memims!” the student beside him shouted. “They're called MEMIMS! Don't you know ANYTHING?”The scientist rolled his eyes. “Perhaps if you used your wrinklewartle finishing the bloody paper instead of messing around with the Harrington 1200, we might not be in this mess.”“Hey, it wasn't my fault Jack spent all the Little Mouse royalties on a dodgy synthesiser. And besides, we both know that's not the problem.”Well, a pop career was one route out of a life in academia, the scientist supposed, though not one that he'd choose for himself. It rarely worked well. Just look at poor Brian! Should've stuck to zodiacal light. He paced away down the curving corridor of Television Centre, vaguely irritated by the obviously crooked patches of brown hessian wallpaper, and tried to decide on a course of action. Professor Whitmarsh's research council funding had dried up two years back, and as pitiful as the Beeb's science budget was, it had kept the team supplied with just enough raw podium and marzipan chloride to keep the Radcliffe Device functioning. Maybe they should just go back to bemins, like the French, instead of wasting time on public outreach projects, attempting to educate the masses. But they'd invested so much time already, and this time, surely, the subliminal education would work properly instead of just making people vomit. The background memim quotient was much better balanced, and besides, it had worked okay on the cat. Sort of – Pete was no longer convinced that a highly intelligent cat was a good thing to have in one's household.But it did work – and the days of ignorant fumbling in the dark at the coalface of science were surely, surely, drawing to a close. A new age of enlightenment beckoned!If only they could find some way to broadcast the episode. But if the Beeb wouldn't take it, what were they to do?“C'mon Jimmy,” the scientist called over his shoulder. “Let's grab a pint.”
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THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON A WIDE SHOT OF A FACTORY. SMOKE IS POURING FORTH FROM ITS MANY CHIMNEYS, AND THE SKYLIGHTS ARE GREY WITH DUST. A LINE OF WORKERS IS HEADING TOWARDS THE MAIN ENTRANCE: IT'S COMING UP TO SHIFT CHANGE.Voice Over (Nige):
LOOK AROUND YOU
WE SEE THE WORKFORCE CHATTING HAPPILY TOGETHER AS THEY WALK THROUGH THE FACTORY DOORS. THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON ONE WORKER, A MAN, AS HE COLLECTS HIS PUNCH-CARD FROM THE WALL UNIT AND CLOCKS IN.V/O:
LOOK AROUND YOU
HE PULLS A FUR-TRIMMED RED HAT FROM A BAG HANGING FROM A HOOK ON THE WALL AND PUTS IT ON. THE NEXT WORKER, A WOMAN, ALSO PROCEEDS TO CLOCK IN. V/O:
JUST LOOK AROUND YOU.
THE FEMALE WORKER GOES TO THE BAG, AND REACHES INSIDE, SMILING. V/O:
HAVE YOU WORKED OUT WHAT WE'RE LOOKING FOR?THE FEMALE WORKER PULLS OUT A PAIR OF REINDEER EARS/ANTLERS ATTACHED TO AN ALICE-BAND.V/O:
CORRECT! THE ANSWER IS:
CHRISTMAS
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Jim stared glumly into the bottom of his glass. “What about more field trials, Pete? We could package the memims up... like puppies, or sea monkeys or something. 'Perfect gift for Christmas! - no cleaning or feeding required!' You know, like in that film I told you about.”Pete shook his head. “That's not how we do science. And even if we could get the public to take proper notes and send them back to us, there's simply not enough cress in the average household kitchen to stop the memims flaking before they bred. No, we have to do this properly, and that means funding.”“We could rent an ad with the Cinema?”“Won't work – there's not enough of an audience at any one time. This is all or nothing, you know that.”“Nothing. Good old element 23. So we're shafted then?”“Not necessarily.” Pete poked his ubiquitous pencil through one of the many holes he'd made in one of the beer mats, and set it spinning like a top on the table. “Get me some 7 and 52, and I'll tell you. It's your round”When Jim got back to their table with their drinks, he saw that Pete had started scratching out what looked like a shopping list on a fresh beer mat. Jim sat down, and shoved his supervisor's scotch across the slippery table. “Wife got you getting the groceries now too?”“Hardly. She's still at her sister's place. Take a look.” He chucked the beer mat at Jim.Jim caught it in mid-air, and twisted it round to read the list. “Three tins of dog food, a bag of iron filings, two pints sulphuric acid – what do we need Bumcivillian for, Pete?”“Later. Keep reading.”“A pack of Staedtler 4H... thought you said this wasn't your weekly groceries?”“Shut it. We'll need them.”“Eggnog, seventy-nine pence, two balaclavas, black hair dye... what's the point of that? Neither of us is going grey yet.”“For the labcoats. They stand out too much.”“...and a synthesiser.” Jimmy grinned at him as the penny finally dropped. “We're breaking in to Jack's place, aren't we? Christmas number one, here we come!”Pete downed his scotch. “Something like that.”
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THE CAMERA PANS DOWN THE LABORATORY SHELVES AS USUAL. TODAY, THEY'RE DECORATED WITH RATHER RATTY SILVER TINSEL. WE BYPASS THE JARS USED IN PREVIOUS EPISODES. THE SCIENTIST'S HAND COLLECTS A JAR OF IRON FILINGS, BOTTLES OF SULPHURIC ACID AND EGGNOG, AND A TUB OF BRANDY BUTTER, AND PLACES THEM OUT OF SIGHT. HIS HAND PAUSES OVER 'ESSENCE OF REINDEER' THEN MOVES ALONG ONCE MORE, FINALLY SETTLING ON A JAR FEATURING A DYMO-EMBOSSED LABEL WHICH READS: 'CHRISTMAS'.V/O:
THIS PROGRAMME, 'CHRISTMAS', IS NOT COVERED BY THE STANDARD TEXTBOOK WHICH ACCOMPANIES THIS SERIES. THE APPROPRIATE WORKSHEET CAN INSTEAD BE FOUND ON CEEFAX PAGE 125, AND ALL EXPERIMENTS MAY BE READILY PERFORMED IN THE COMFORT OF YOUR HOME LABORATORY – OR KITCHEN!SHOT OF THE STUDENT, AKA JIMMY, WEARING MUFTI – JEANS, A FESTIVE KNITTED SWEATER WITH SNOWFLAKE AND MOLECULE DESIGNS IN RED AND GREEN, AND A FUR-TRIMMED RED HAT. THERE IS MORE SILVER TINSEL ON THE CLASSROOM WALL, BUT ASIDE FROM THAT THE STANDARD SETTING IS UNCHANGED.V/O:
PLEASE ENSURE YOU HAVE YOUR COPYBOOK AT HAND, AS YOU WILL BE ASKED TO TAKE DOWN NOTES FROM THE SCREEN AT VARIOUS POINTS THROUGHOUT THE PROGRAMME.THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON THE REGION OF THE PERIODIC TABLE IN WHICH THE ELEMENT CHRISTMAS CAN BE FOUND – IT'S THE GROUP IV ELEMENT BENEATH SILICON.V/O:
CHRISTMAS. ELEMENT NUMBER 32. AS THE DILIGENT STUDENT KNOWS, EACH ATOM OF CHRISTMAS CONSISTS OF 12 PROTONS, 12 ANTI-HIGGSIUM PROTONS (WHICH WE INVESTIGATED DURING THE EARLIER MODULE ON 'CAVORITE') AND A SINGLE NEUTRON. THE NEUTRON'S NAME IS NICK. SAY IT ALOUD NOW. SINGLE NEUTRON NICK. SN-NICK. WRITE THAT DOWN IN YOUR COPYBOOK.THE CAMERA DISPLAYS A LARGE STEAMING CRATER OF INDETERMINATE SIZE, THEN PULLS BACK TO REVEAL THAT WE ARE OBSERVING A SATELLITE IMAGE OF EARTH, VIEWED FROM LOW ORBIT. THE CRATER COVERS MOST OF EUROPE.V/O:
ORIGINALLY MINED IN GERMANY, CHRISTMAS HAS BEEN IN SHORT SUPPLY EVER SINCE THE OBLITERATION OF LARGE SWATHES OF THE EUROPEAN MAINLAND IN THE GREAT ANTI-MATTER DISASTER OF 1973. ON THE PLUS SIDE, AT LEAST WE DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT GERMS. OR GERMANS. OR THE SWISS. DURING THE SEVENTIES, THE GENERAL POPULACE USUALLY MADE DO WITH THE LESS AMUSING ALTERNATIVES OF XMAS AND YULE, WHILE IN AMERICA, KWANZAA GREW IN POPULARITY.SHOT OF A KITCHEN. THERE IS A HALF-STUFFED TURKEY ON THE COUNTER. BESIDE IT STANDS A WOMAN WEARING A FESTIVE APRON AND TINSEL ABOVE HER USUAL CLOTHES, SWIGGING FROM A BOTTLE OF SHERRY. SHE TUCKS IT SWIFTLY OUT OF SIGHT, AND CONTINUES TO STUFF THE TURKEY.V/O:
HOWEVER, NEW TECHNIQUES NOW MEAN THAT WITH THE RIGHT INGREDIENTS, CHRISTMAS CHEER CAN BE MANUFACTURED WITHIN AN AVERAGE HOME!THE CAMERA RETURNS TO THE LAB, AND A SPRING-AND-BALL MODEL OF A CHRISTMAS MOLECULE. THE HAND OF THE SCIENTIST, WIELDING A YELLOW PENCIL, POKES IT AND MAKES IT WOBBLE REPETITIVELY.V/O:
HERE IS A MODEL OF THE MOST COMMON MOLECULAR STRUCTURE OF THE ELEMENT CHRISTMAS. IT'S IN THE SHAPE OF A CHRISTMAS TREE. NOTE THE SPIKES, INCREASING IN SIZE TOWARDS THE BASE. THE SAME SHAPE IS OFTEN SEEN IN TODAY'S MOST MODISH FASHIONS, AS WELL AS BEING DEPICTED ON THE COAT OF ARMS FOR THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SANTAS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT OTHER FORM THE CHRISTMAS MOLECULE TAKES? MOST PEOPLE WOULD GUESS THAT SNOWFLAKES ARE ALSO MADE OF CHRISTMAS.V/O:
THEY'RE WRONG.THE SCIENTIST'S HAND APPEARS AGAIN, THIS TIME HOLDING WHAT LOOKS REMARKABLY LIKE A SALT CELLAR. HE SPRINKLES IT, AND PROFUSE AMOUNTS OF GLITTER COME OUT. RED AND GREEN SMOKE RISES FROM THE MODEL, OBSCURING IT FROM OUR VIEW. THE SMOKE SLOWLY CLEARS, REVEALING...V/O: THE CORRECT ANSWER IS THE STANDARD CARDBOARD BOX.… A CARDBOARD BOX.
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“Look, I swear all you said was 'three tins of dog food'. I told you I could get some off my Nan, and you said 'great'. You never said...”Pete glared him into a silence normally only bettered by the chemicals they'd brought with them. At least there were some things you could rely on in life. “Three dobermans,” he hissed. “How, in the name of little yellow... agh! And you bring, what, Pedigree Micro? What sort of dog does your Nan have anyway, a Jack Russell?”“Yorkshire Terrier. It's premium food, Pete, and I brought all three flavours.”“All three flavours. Right. Okay, you've got two minutes to get in there and get them outside the gates... or I'm pulling out the eggnog.”Jimmy winced. “I'm good with animals. No need to go that far!”“One minute forty-five...” Pete tapped his watch for emphasis, but Jimmy had already pulled his balaclava down over his face and turned to scale the wall. Precisely one hundred seconds later, he reappeared through a side gate, leading two of the dogs by their collars while the third bounded playfully behind. How the hell does he do that? Pete wondered. And in the nick of time, too! He gave his student a thumbs up gesture, and pulled on his own balaclava. Next job was the bumcivillian. He pulled out two large plastic bottles from his bag, and taped them together. Next came the Frederick Funnel, and more tape. Two sharpened pencils to pierce holes in each of the bottles, and that was the job done. Time to move.“ ," he said. “ !"“ ?” Jim asked.Pete gestured frantically and started jogging for the side entrance, checking the flow of bumcivillian from his hastily cobbled together Heller apparatus as he went. It wouldn't last forever, but they had a good five minutes before they needed to be on their way out again. Time enough to break the front window, get up the stairs, grab the synthesiser... and it all worked perfectly right up until the moment they opened the door into Jack's so-called 'composition suite'.Jack wasn't sleeping.And he didn't look very happy, either.
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V/O: EXPERIMENT 1. AN EXPERIMENT WAS CARRIED OUT TO DEMONSTRATE THE EFFECTS OF CHRISTMAS UPON LARGE FOUR-FOOTED MAMMALS. THE SCIENTIST WE KNOW AS PETE WALKS IN LEADING A GOAT. BOTH MAN AND GOAT ARE WEARING LAB COATS. WE KNOW IT IS A REAL GOAT, AND NOT A MAN IN A GOAT COSTUME WEARING A LABCOAT, BECAUSE THE LABCOAT IS LABELLED 'GOAT' IN THE SAME MANNER AS ALL THE OTHER LABORATORY EQUIPMENT. A COLLEAGUE OPENS A BOTTLE, LABELLED AS CONTAINING 'EGGNOG' – WE SAW THIS BEING COLLECTED FROM THE SHELVES EARLIER ON. V/O: EGGNOG IS A HIGHLY CONCENTRATED DISTILLATION OF CHRISTMAS. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, ATTEMPT TO CONSUME THIS NOXIOUS BEVERAGE YOURSELF. WATCH AS THE SCIENTIST, IN THESE CAREFULLY CONTROLLED CONDITIONS, ADMINISTERS THE EGGNOG TO A GOAT.WE OBSERVE THE EXPERIMENT PROCEEDING AS DESCRIBED. V/O: AT FIRST GLANCE IT APPEARS THAT NOTHING UNUSUAL HAS OCCURRED. BUT WAIT!THE SCIENTIST WAVES HIS HAND IN FRONT OF THE GOAT. THE ANIMAL DOES NOT REACT. HE GOES OVER TO THE NEARBY LAB BENCH, AND POINTS AT AN ITEM SITTING ON THE SURFACE WITH HIS PENCIL. THE ITEM IN QUESTION IS ANOTHER PENCIL. HE PICKS IT UP, RETURNS TO THE GOAT, AND POKES THE ANIMAL WITH IT. IT DISINTEGRATES INTO A SUDDEN CASCADE OF PINE NEEDLES, WHILE THE GOAT-SPECIFIC LAB COAT FLUTTERS EMPTY ONTO THE GROUND. V/O: THERE. THAT GOT HIS GOAT.THE CAMERA PANS AROUND THE LABORATORY. THE PALE BLUE FLOOR IS DOTTED WITH MOUNDS OF PINE NEEDLES. THEY FORM RECOGNISABLE SHAPES: A HORSE, A COW, AN ELEPHANT. V/O: NOT GOOD FOR THE ANIMAL, AND NOT GOOD FOR THE SCIENTIST EITHER. PETE PULLS OUT A HANDY POCKET GEIGER COUNTER. HE SCANS IT OVER THE MOUND OF GOAT-NEEDLES. THE GEIGER COUNTER CLICKS RAPIDLY, REGISTERING A STRONG SOURCE OF RADIOACTIVITY IN ITS VICINITY. V/O: THE RADIOACTIVITY LEVELS PRESENT IN THIS X-GOAT COULD BE VERY HARMFUL INDEED, HAD OUR SCIENTISTS NOT ALREADY TAKEN THE PRECAUTION OF WEARING LEAD-LINED LABCOATS. NOTE THAT DOWN IN YOUR COPYBOOK.CAMERA FOCUSES ON PETE LOOKING WORRIEDLY AT HIS COLLEAGUE. PETE MOUTHS THE WORD 'SHIT' UNDER HIS BREATH, BUT IT'S OKAY, BECAUSE LIP-READING HAS BEEN BANNED SINCE THE LAST GENERAL ELECTION. WE ALL KNOW WHY.... HIS COLLEAGUE GESTURES, CLEARLY SUGGESTING THAT THEY HURRY THE EXPERIMENT UP, AND PETE QUICKLY TURNS AWAY AND TUGS ON A RED VELVET ROPE. ON THE OTHER END IS A REINDEER. V/O: THE ONE EXCEPTION TO THIS REACTION IS THE NORDIC REINDEER. WRITE THAT DOWN IN YOUR COPYBOOK, TOO. OBSERVE THE EFFECTS OF EGGNOG UPON THIS MARVELLOUS CREATURE!PETE FEEDS THE REINDEER A SPOONFUL OF EGGNOG, AND POKES IT WITH A PENCIL. THE REINDEER GIVES A STARTLED SNORT AS IT ABRUPTLY LEVITATES FOUR AND A HALF FEET OFF THE GROUND. THERE IS A RUSH OF AIR, AND IT'S GONE FROM VIEW, LEAVING A STEAMING PILE OF DUNG BEHIND ON THE FLOOR. V/O: PRECISELY. THROUGHOUT THE MONTH OF DECEMBER, THE APPLICATION OF EGGNOG TO A FEMALE REINDEER SIMULTANEOUSLY GIVES HER THE POWER OF FLIGHT AND... V/O: ...LOOSENS HER BOWELS.
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“I hate this thing.” Jack glared sullenly at the gleaming bulk of the Harrington 2500, then back across the room at his erstwhile colleagues. “The least you could do in return for breaking in is to get me a decent cup of tea. All the execs will give me is fags and booze. They say I need to 'get into the zone', and then they send me out clubbing all night, and still expect a new record every morning. But nothing's even half as good as Little Mouse was, and whenever I try and program in something suitably charitable or festive all I get is some dreadful wailing about wine and mistletoe and undersized carollers. Ugh! I'm too smart for this industry. Or people are too stupid. Or something.”Pete and Jimmy exchanged a speculative look. “Funny you should say that,” Pete said, “because we may just have an answer to that problem.”“People being stupid?” Jack laughed morosely, and rubbed at his eyes. “Got a song about that, have you?”“No. But the memims do.”“The memims. You mean... they work? They actually make people smarter?” Jack frowned, as the obvious contradiction resolved in his mind. “No, I can't believe it. If anything, the two of you have got dumber”“There's a critical mass,” Pete said. “And a reversal effect in low doses at high exposure. Poor Jim's barely written another page of his thesis since the first breakthrough. But if we can flood the country, and trigger them all at once...”“...no-one will care about sodding Christmas number ones anymore!” Jack finished.“We'll be too busy solving cold fusion,” Jimmy added. “And world peace, and famine too I suppose. And pre-sliced bread!”Jack smiled blissfully. “Sliced bread. Oh my.”
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THE OPENING SHOT OF THIS SCENE IS OF A BOY SEARCHING AN ADVENT CALENDAR FOR THE RIGHT DOOR FOR THAT DAY - THE 12TH OF DECEMBER, AS IT HAPPENS.V/O:
ALL ACROSS THE LAND CHILDREN PREPARE FOR CHRISTMAS DAY. ADVENT CALENDARS ARE OPENED, AND THE BRIGHT GREEN BRUSSEL SPROUTS CONCEALED WITHIN ARE WEIGHED, MEASURED, CATALOGUED AND FINALLY CONSUMED WITH GLEE. WE OBSERVE THIS TAKING PLACE.V/O:
THIS LUCKY CHAP HAS FOUND AN ESPECIALLY LARGE ONE TODAY. WHAT A HAPPY BOY HE WILL BE! ESPECIALLY AS HIS SISTER'S CALENDAR IS ALSO WAITING TO BE PLUNDERED. THAT'LL TEACH HER TO SLEEP IN.THE BOY LOOKS ASKANCE AT THE DOOR, THEN GRABS A SECOND CALENDAR FROM ITS POSITION ON THE MANTLEPIECE ABOVE THE FIRE. HE FINDS AND OPENS THE APPROPRIATE DOOR.V/O:
BUT WAIT, WHAT IS THIS? NO SPROUT BEHIND THIS GAILY PAINTED DOOR, BUT RATHER A SMALL LUMP OF COAL. AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.WITHIN THE FIREPLACE, WE OBSERVE A SMALL SHOWER OF DEBRIS, FOLLOWED BY TWO BLACK BOOTS. A DIRTY RED-CLOTHED FIGURE, WITH A DROOPING PAUNCH AND JOWLS, SLITHERS OUT FROM THE FIREPLACE, GRINNING WICKEDLY. HE PURSUES THE BOY, WHO IS FLEEING AS FAST AS HIS SLIPPERED FEET CAN CARRY HIM, A TRAIL OF SPROUT-SCALES, GREEN LEAVES AND THE FLUTTERING PAGES OF A SPROUT CATALOGUE FOLLOWING IN HIS WAKE.V/O:
JOLLY OLD SANTA CLAWS! DON'T WORRY ABOUT HIM. HE'LL BE AS ROTUND AND HAPPY AS NORMAL AFTER A FEW MORE MEALS... WE SEE THE SISTER APPEAR IN THE DOORWAY. SHE RUSHES OVER TO TAKE HER BROTHER'S CALENDAR. SHE HOLDS IT UP TO HER EAR AND SHAKES IT, THEN SMILES – THERE'S NO TELL-TALE RATTLING OF COAL IN THAT ONE! V/O:
AND THIS YOUNG LADY REMEMBERED THE FIRST RULE OF CHRISTMAS. SHAKE EVERYTHING FIRST,
THEN
OPEN THEM. NOTE THAT DOWN IN YOUR COPYBOOK.THE CAMERA TRACKS DOWN TO HER HANDS AS SHE OPENS DOOR AFTER DOOR, AND FOLLOWS EACH DELICIOUS MORSEL INTO HER MOUTH.
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“Hank? You there?”A rather shifty-looking security guard sidled around the corner, looking furtively over his shoulder and back and forth across the car park.“Yeah. It's me. Gotta rush though – Blue Peter Christmas Special's being filmed right now, and they're trying to break the World Record for paperclip stacking. You would not believe the number of spectators we're herding back here! But if you've got the synth...”
Jack and Jimmy stepped forward, carrying a bulky shape swathed in an old curtain between them. Hank's eyes lit up greedily.
“Oh, wow. The 2000 model?”“2500,” Jack answered. “Your boy'll love it!”
Hank reached out to lift the edge of the curtain, but Pete stopped his hand just shy of the fabric.
“The reel's in there too. You know what you have to do?”“Yeah. S'only a skeleton crew in here on the big day, and I've got no problem booting Liz to one side. She'll get her air-time later on the other channels anyway. “And you're sure you won't get caught?”“Not my name on the credits, is it? Nah, I'll be the one describing you lot to the police, just like you said. Then back home to the kids. And this beauty!” Hank leaned over and kissed the bundle, then wrestled it free from the scientists. “A Harrington 2500! Bloody marvellous!”Pete waited until Hank was out of sight before opening up his rucksack and releasing the last clutch of memims. The way the prevailing winds were blowing, this lot would cover most of Greater London by lunchtime...
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V/O:
CAROL SINGING.
CLIP OF A SMALL CHOIR SINGING 'GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN'. THEY WEAR FESTIVE KNITTED SWEATERS AND CARRY HANDBELLS, WHILE THE BEARDED MAN IN THE GROUP IS PLAYING GUITAR. BADLY. THEY ARE APPROACHING THE FRONT DOOR OF AN AVERAGE-LOOKING SEMI.
V/O:
COULD THERE POSSIBLY BE A MORE EAR-RENDINGLY AWFUL RACKET? WELL, PERHAPS BIRDSONG MIGHT COUNT, THOUGH AT LEAST THE BIRDS DON'T KNOCK ON PEOPLE'S DOORS. DESPISED UP AND DOWN THE COUNTRY, WHAT TO DO WHEN A GANG OF THESE NOISY LOUTS COMES WAILING UP TO YOUR DOORSTEP REMAINS A PERENNIAL DILEMMA.
ONE OF THE SINGERS PRESSES THE DOORBELL. IT OPENS, TO REVEAL A SCIENTIST, WEARING A LABCOAT. HE GRIMACES, AND SLAMS THE DOOR SHUT.
V/O:
ONE COULD SIMPLY SLAM THE DOOR IN THEIR FACES, BUT THAT RARELY ENDS WELL.
THE CAROL SINGERS GO INTO A HUDDLE. ONE OF THEM PULLS OUT A SPRAY CAN, AND BEGINS TO SPRAY AN INSULTING MESSAGE ON THE DOOR. CUT TO THE LABORATORY.
V/O:
EXPERIMENT 2. AN EXPERIMENT WAS CARRIED OUT TO DEMONSTRATE THE EFFECTS OF VARIOUS FESTIVE SUBSTANCES UPON CAROL SINGERS.
THE SCIENTIST'S COLLEAGUE IS NOW DRESSED AS A CAROL SINGER, AND CARRIES A GUITAR. THERE IS A MOCK DOORWAY SET UP IN THE LABORATORY.
V/O: BUMCIVILLIAN WOULD CERTAINLLY SHUT HIM UP, BUT IT WOULD ALSO KILL HIM, INCITING A WHOLE MOB OF CAROLLERS TO DESCEND ON THE HOUSEHOLD IN VENGEANCE. LESS LETHAL METHODS ARE REQUIRED. FIRST, EGGNOG.
WE OBSERVE SCIENTIST PETE OFFERING A SMALL GLASS TO HIS COLLEAGUE. HE DRINKS, THEN STARTS TO SING. PETE POKES HIM WITH A PENCIL. THE SINGING ABRUPTLY GETS MUCH, MUCH LOUDER.
V/O:
EGGNOG. THE FAILURE OF THIS PARTICULAR EXPERIMENT CAN BE HEARD CLEARLY WITHIN A FIVE MILE RADIUS. NOTE THAT DOWN.
CUT TO A FRESH SHOT OF THE LABORATORY'S PROP-DOOR. CAROLLER AND SCIENTIST ARE POSIED READY ON EITHER SIDE. THE DOORBELL IS PRESSED, THE DOOR OPENED, AND PETE PRESENTS HIS COLLEAGUE WITH A SMALL GLASS OF A DEEP RED LIQUID AND A LUMP OF MOULDY CHEESE.
V/O: AFTER THE EFFECTS OF THE EGGNOG HAVE WORN OFF WE TRY AGAIN WITH A GLASS OF PORT WINE – THOUGH ONE COULD ALSO USE CHEAP MADEIRA – AND SOME STILTON CHEESE.
WE OBSERVE PETE'S COLLEAGUE CONSUMING THESE OFFERINGS, THEN HE BEGINS TO PLAY HIS GUITAR. THE TEMPO OF HIS STRUMING INCREASES, AND SMOKE BEHINS TO RISE FROM THE GUITAR.
V/O: HARDLY AN IMPROVEMENT.
THE NEXT SHOT SHOWS PETE'S COLLEAGUE WITH BANDAGED FINGERS ON ONE HAND.
V/O:
FINALLY, A PLATE OF MINCE PIES, AND A FRAGRANT SQUIRT OF
ESSENCE OF REINDEER
.
THE DOOR OPENS ONCE AGAIN. PETE'S COLLEAGUE STANDS STILL MUNCHING ON A PIE, COMPLETE WITH A DOLLOP OF BRANDY BUTTER, WHILE HE GETS SQUIRTED WITH A FINE MIST. HE STARTS TO SING, BUT WE HEAR NOTHING. THEN HE APPEARS TO GROW BORED, AND CLOSES HIS MOUTH. PETE HOLDS UP HIS POCKET GEIGER COUNTER, WHICH TICKS SOFTLY.
V/O: MINCE PIES. MIES. ONCE A CAROLLER FEELS SUFFICIENTLY MISERLY, HE'LL STOP SINGING OF HIS OWN ACCORD. AND DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE RADIATION. THAT'LL WASH OFF. BUT WHERE DID THE SOUND GO?
CAMERA PANS UP TO THE CEILING.
V/O: THAT'S RIGHT. UP HERE.
WE SEE PETE WIELDING A MICROPHONE ON A LONG POLE. AS IT NEARS THE CEILING, WE HEAR THE SOUND OF HIS COLLEAGUE'S SINGING.
V/O:
THE
ESSENCE OF REINDEER
HAS LIFTED HIS HIGH NOTES –AND LOW NOTES! – ALL THE WAY UP TO THE CEILING. AND IF THE CEILING WASN'T THERE, THEY'D FINALLY END UP IN THE STRATOSPHERE.
CUT TO FOOTAGE OF A RATHER BEDRAGGLED FAMILY SITTING AT A BUS SHELTER IN THE RAIN.
V/O:
BUT BE WARNED! THE MIXTURE ITSELF IS HIGHLY SENSITIVE TO BOTH LIGHT AND VIBRATION, AND MANY A FAMILY HAS FOUND ITSELF HOMELESS AT CHRISTMAS FOR FAILING TO TAKE EVEN THE MOST BASIC PRECAUTIONS WITH THEIR
ESSENCE.
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The Turkey had been attacked with gusto, and likewise the roasts, the bread sauce and the wine. Pete's yellow paper hat was slightly lacking in structural integrity, but his cracker-joke and novelty festive cuff-links more than made up for it. Jimmy had ended up with the black plastic moustache and the pink hat, ha! Muon had been offered a plate full of dripping to dissuade her from jumping on the table, and it seemed to be working. Only thing left now was the pudding, already doused in brandy and flaming away prettily. Best part of Christmas, as far as he was concerned, and there was just enough time to serve up before switching on for their special broadcast, which would soon be appearing on television screens up and down the nation during the slot normally reserved for Her Maj. Good old Hank!. Jim caught his wistful look and grinned back at him. “Not the usual message to the nation. Think she'll mind?”“Probably send the Beefeaters after us.He had the knife poised, ready to slice into the pudding, when the doorbell rang. There was a clattering at the letterbox, and then... Oh hell! Carol singers!Jimmy was already on his feet. “Where's the Essence of Reindeer, Pete?”“Got a perfume spritzer full of it locked in the Boîte.” He fished in his pocket for his keys, gave up on disentangling the smallest one from the metal ring, and tossed the whole bunch in Jimmy's direction as the student made a dash for the piano. “Little one. I'll get the mince pies”“Small one, right.” Jimmy stooped at one end of the piano, opened the Boîte Diabolique, and carefully lifted the vial of Essence free from its safe home beside the forbidden keys. “You get the door, and I'll be right with you.”Wishing he'd thought to grab a pair of earplugs first, Pete opened his front door. “While Shepherds Watched...” was being, perhaps appropriately, crucified at high volume. At least there wasn't a guitar in sight... but there were two recorders. Two! Hurry up with that Essence of Reindeer, Jimmy, hurry up! Scowling, Pete realised he had no choice but to engage them with conversation for as long as it took. “Ah... hello. Happy Christmas. Nice... um... nice singing.”And then relief, blessed relief, as Jimmy stepped past him and squirted Essence of Reindeer wildly at the gathered singers, with extra doses for the recorder-players. Every last note was carried up skywards, where it might perhaps bother a shining throng of angels, but not, thank God, him. He shoved the plate of mince pies into the arms of the oldest caroller as Jimmy retreated back inside, and then closed the door gently but firmly on the singers. “Right. Pudding time! And there'd better not be any more interruptions; we're cutting things fine as it is.” He turned the corner into the dining room. There, standing impertinently on the table beside the pudding, face-deep in the jug of single cream, was Muon. “Oi! Cat! Off!”Muon looked round, flicked her tail once, and licked her lips. In the periphery of his vision, Pete saw Jimmy's arm arcing back as he took aim with the empty vial of Essence of Reindeer. OH BUGGER! Pete thought, praying desperately that stupid, stupid Jimmy had emptied the entire vial.Muon clearly saw it too and, being far smarter than she used to be, interpreted the vial's intended trajectory with ease. With a graceful bound she leapt off the table and onto her usual spot on the Piano.Said usual spot being the closed and locked Boîte.Which wasn't locked. Or even closed.Pete slapped his hands to his ears fractionally too late, as four soft paws made contact with a particularly awful combination of forbidden keys...
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V/O: NOW HAND IN YOUR COPYBOOK TO YOUR TEACHER OR HEAD OF CLASS. AT THIS TIME OF YEAR, YOU WILL FIND THEM IN THEIR USUAL WORKPLACE, PREPARING FOR FUTURE EXPERIMENTS.CAMERA SHOWS JIMMY IN THE SAME MUFTI AS EARLIER, RINGING PETE'S DOORBELL. V/O: IN THE NEXT PROGRAM, WE WILL LOOK AT SAILS.
THE CAMERA PANS ACROSS ONTO A LARGE GLASS LAB-VAT CONTAINING WATER, IN WHICH A TOY BOAT IS FLOATING.
V/O: SALES.
CAMERA ZOOMS IN. ATTACHED TO THE BOAT IS A LABEL WHICH READS: '50% OFF! ALL STOCK MUST GO!'
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Pete pulled his hands away from his ears, and opened his eyes. He was standing in a deserted shopping street, facing a tired-looking festive display in a shop window. A large red banner was affixed to the glass, advertising an imminent sale beginning on Boxing Day. His first thought was annoyance at missing his broadcast, but that soon faded as the implication of what had actually happened slowly sank in to his wrinklewartle.Teleportation! I've only gone and bloody teleported to... where?He spun round, looking for landmarks. This wasn't a town centre he recognised - certainly not Winchester, at any rate - nor could he see Jimmy anywhere in sight. A street-sign read 'Broad Street' – not that that narrowed things down very much. But there! A newspaper, fluttering down the street! If he was lucky, it'd be a local rag. If not, well, he'd just keep heading this way until he spotted a Radio Rentals, or some other shop with a television display in the front window. Pete chased the paper down, finally catching it with a stamp of his foot just shy of a wet gutter beside a bus stop. Bus stop! That was an even better idea. He folded the paper up just in case the bus top didn't have any timetables posted, and ducked inside.That was when he caught sight of the advert for a greatest hits album. The band name was vaguely familiar – he remembered the two flops they'd put out before abruptly folding and dying away into obscurity, sending his old friend fleeing back to the dizzy heights of Teacher Training College.“Bloody hell, Brian!” Pete sank down onto the bus shelter seat, feeling a dull sensation of panic boiling up into his belly. He wished he hadn't drunk so much wine. Those bloody carol singers! The cat! The boîte!And he hadn't even got to try this year's Christmas Pudding.Around a corner behind him, twelve of the sixteen TV screens sitting in the display window of the local branch of Radio Rentals flickered briefly before displaying the BBC's opening sequence for The Queen's Speech. The monarch's annual message to the nation played through, quite undisturbed, and quite unnoticed by the despondent scientist sitting at the bus stop.Pete pulled off his festive paper hat, screwed it into a ball, and turned round to look for a dustbin. And there, sitting beside him at the bus stop, was a very familiar looking cat."Mraow," she said. "Trust me. The science is much more fun in this world!"