(A working-class lounge is arranged on the pavement. There are
no walls, just the furnishings: settee, two armchairs, sideboard,
table, standard lamp, a tiled fireplace with ornaments on it. There
is also a free-standing inside door. Mr. and Mrs. Potter come out of
the cinema and go straight to their chairs and sit down. Passers-by
have to skirt the living-room furniture.)
Mrs. Potter: (settling into her chair) Oh, it's
nice to be home.
Mr. Potter: (looking round) Builders haven't been
Mrs. Potter: No.
(A trendy interviewer with hand mike comes into shot.)
Interviewer: These two old people are typical of the
housing problem facing Britain's aged.
Mrs. Potter: Here! Don't you start doing a documentary on
us, young man.
Interviewer: Oh please ...
Mrs. Potter: No, you leave us alone!
Interviewer: Oh, just a little one about the appalling
conditions under which you live.
Mrs. Potter: No! Get out of our house! Go on!
(Interviewer turns, motions to his cameraman and soundman and
they all trail off miserably)
Cameraman: Oh all fight. Come on, George, pick it up.
Mrs. Potter: Why don't you do a documentary about the drug
problem round in Walton Street?
(Cut to the camera crew. They stop, turn and mutter 'a drug
problem!' and they dash off.)
Mrs. Potter: Oh, I'll go and have a bath.
(She goes to the free-standing door and opens it. Beyond it we
see the furnishings of a bathroom. In the bath is Alfred Lord
Tennyson, fully clad As she opens the door we hear him reading...