INT. LIVING ROOM - MID-AFTERNOON The living room is peacefully shady. Through the French windows behind is greenery and a sunny day. In a high-backed armchair is a NEWSREADER, still with a youthful air about him in his late forties. He is off-duty, he is wearing a maroon v necked jumper over an off-white open necked shirt. He is talking to an interviewer who is off-screen to our right. NEWSREADER I have this funny little thing, a sort of fantasy you might call it, but it's not really, it's not like I really want to do it - I think, wouldn't it be something if I didn't say anything, if I just looked at them, right into the camera, and they looked into my eyes, and the whole of the six was just me doing that - It's ridiculous! Obviously, there would be another newsreader, and they'd cut away from me very quickly, and - anyway, why would I want to? I don't know where it comes from, don't remember - I have a theory, when I was younger there was a time when I used to feel very sorry for myself at times, I was a bit foolish back then, part of why I think it comes from that time is that when it comes into my head it feels like it would be a very profound statement, but of course it's not, and I know it's not, you couldn't get more trite - and perhaps one night when I'd drank too much scotch my sozzled mind came up with this thing, and the state I was in, it made quite an impression on me, I probably thought "yeah, I'll show them!" or something ridiculous like that - but even so, I don't know why it still comes to mind sometimes nowadays - I'm very happy now. Curious thing, the mind.
Posted by Keir Hardie at 5:00 am