The Pearly King of the Theatre

Walford Theatre, 1990

We pan down from a flickering sepia-toned street light to the black-and-white steps of the theatre. The theatre is a burnt out wreck, a mere shadow of its former self. There is an auction of various theatrical relics going on.

The auctioneer is standing at a battered looking podium. He has a small gavel in front of him and a notebook. "Lot 321. Here we have a poster of James Bowen's 'Bullseye' in its original condition." He declared "Am I bid 2 quid? Thank you. Three? Any more? Five pounds from the gentleman at the back. Any more? Ok. Going...Gone. " He slammed his gavel, "Sold to the dodgy looking bloke from the BBC."

The next item was brought in. "Lot 322. Here we have a music box in the shape of a barrel. Sitting on top is the figure of a Lemur in a Zoot Suit playing a washboard." He looked at it in disgust, "Yeack...Am I bid 50p?"

There was a hand raised at the back of the room. "Ah, the Viscount of Camberwick. Do I hear £1?"

Another hand rose. "Madame Beery, the bid is yours. Do I hear £2?"

The viscount raised his hand "£2 to the viscount. Do we have £3? Thank you Madame Beery. Any more? £4 to the viscount. Madame Beery?" she shook her head, "Ok. Going to the Viscount of Camberwick...Going...Gone!" He banged his gavel on the podium causing a bit of veneer to fall off the side. "Cheap crud," he muttered to himself, "Honestly, Why couldn't I get a gig in a Shakespeare novel?"

The Viscount looked at his new purchase, turning it so that it caught the light. "A collector's piece my foot. Every detail is exactly as she said. This really is an awful pile of rubbish."

The auctioneer had drifted off and was staring absently into space until an assistant poked his shoulder with a stick to snap him out of it, "Next lot guv," he whispered.

"Oh. Right, right. Next lot" stammered the auctioneer, "Lot 323. A ruined chandelier in quite a lot of bits. Rumour has it that this awful piece of art-deco junk was the very chandelier the figured in the infamous cock-up. We attempted to re-wire it to try to make it a bit less dangerous, but it caused another fire when we switched the blasted thing on, so it's even more dangerous now. So at the behest of the author we've called in some special effect guys with some smoke and clever lights and they are going to raise the crappy chandelier up in a wonderfully over-dramatic and theatrical fashion so that the director can put in some flashy effects and do a very nice transition to the theatre's days of glory. Maybe we can scare away the ghosts of the past with a little electrical illumination. Gentlemen." Thus he waved an expansive hand to signal to the effects bods that they may start their magic. With the marvel that is Hollywood, as the chandelier went up it cleverly reverted back to its pristine form and we smoothly change from grainy Black-and-white to colour and the hustle and bustle of theatre's heyday.