CAPTION: 'A COAL MINE IN LLANDDAROG CARMARTHEN'
(A nice photograph of a typical pit head. Music over this:
'All Through the Night' being sung in Welsh.)
Voice Over: The coal miners of Wales have long been famed
for their tough rugged life hewing the black gold from the
uncompromising hell of one mile under. This is (at this moment
across the bottom of the screen comes the following message in
urgent teleprinter style, moving right to left, superimposed 'HM THE
QUEEN STILL WATCHING 'THE VIRGINIAN) the story of such men,
battling gallantly against floods, roof falls, the English criminal
law, the hidden killer carbon monoxide and the ever-present threat
of pneumoconiosis which is... a disease miners get.
(Cut to coal face below ground where some miners are engaged
at their work. They hew away fir a bit, grunting and talking amongst
themselves. Suddenly two of them square up to one another.)
First Miner: Don't you talk to me like that, you lying
bastard.
(He hits the second miner and a fight starts.)
Second Miner: You bleeding pig. You're not fit to be down
a mine.
First Miner: Typical bleeding Rhondda, isn't it. You think
you're so bloody clever.
(They writhe around on the floor pummeling each other. The
foreman comes in.)
Foreman: You bloody fighting again. Break it up or I'll
put this pick through your head. Now what's it all about?
First Miner: He started it.
Second Miner: Oh, you bleeding pig, you started it.
Foreman: I don't care who bloody started it. What's it
about?
Second Miner: Well ... he said the bloody Treaty of
Utrecht was I713.
First Miner: So it bloody is.
Second Miner: No it bloody isn't. It wasn't ratified 'til
February 17 14.
First Miner: He's bluffing. You're mind's gone, Jenkins.
You're rubbish.
Foreman: He's right, Jenkins. It was ratified September
1713. The whole bloody pit knows that. Look in Trevelyan, page 468.
Third Miner: He's thinking of the Treaty of bloody
Westphalia.
Second Miner: Are you saying I don't know the difference
between the War of the bloody Spanish Succession and the Thirty
bloody Years War?
Third Miner: You don't know the difference between the
Battle of Borodino and a tiger's bum.
(They start to fight.)
Foreman: Break it up, break it up. (he hits them with
his pickaxe) I'm sick of all this bloody fighting. If it's not
the bloody Treaty of Utrecht it's the bloody binomial theorem. This
isn't the senior common room at All Souls, it's the bloody coal
face.
(A fourth miner runs up.)
Fourth Miner: Hey, gaffer, can you settle something?
Morgan here says you find the abacus between the triglyphs in the
frieze section of the entablature of classical Greek Doric temples.
Foreman: You bloody fool, Morgan, that's the metope. The
abacus is between the architrave and the aechinus in the capital.
Morgan: You stinking liar.
(Another fight breaks out. A management man arrives carried in
sedan chair by two black flunkies. He wears a colonial governor's
helmet and a large sign reading frightfully important. All the
miners prostrate themselves on the floor.)
Foreman: Oh, most magnificent and merciful majesty, master
of the universe, protector of the meek, whose nose we are not worthy
to pick and whose very feces are an untrammelled delight, and whose
peacocks keep us awake all hours of the night with their noisy
lovemaking, we beseech thee, tell thy humble servants the name of
the section between the triglyphs in the frieze section of a
classical Doric entablature.
Management Man: No idea. Sorry.
Foreman: Right. Everybody out.
(They all walk off throwing down took. Cut to a newsreader's
desk.)
Newsreader: Still no settlement in the coal mine dispute
at Llanddarog. Miners refused to return to work until the management
define a metope. Meanwhile, at Dagenham the unofficial strike
committee at Fords have increased their demands to thirteen reasons
why Henry III was a bad king. And finally, in the disgusting objects
international at Wembley tonight, England beat Spain by a plate of
braised pus to a putrid heron. And now, the Toad Elevating Moment.