The Editors - Show Don't Tell
Here's a new radio script featuring the editors. I wonder if professor Penhaligon will manage to avoid Arthur's wrath...
SCENE BRIEFING
SETTING: A soundproofed recording studio booth. A single ribbon microphone hangs between three people.CHARACTERS:
- ARTHUR: Old school Fleet Street newspaper editor
- PROFESSOR JOHN PENHALIGON: Professor of English
- Dr PENELOPE ROSE : Creative writing expert and a Northern lass
FX: Studio room-tone. Three people shuffle around a single hanging microphone.
ARTHUR:
Right, you pair. An important one for the guide today.
PENELOPE:
Ooh, flipping ‘eck Arthur, yer sound like a man on a mission.
PENHALIGON:
Well, he is right to be. I have a lot of ambition for this one as well.
(BEAT)
PENELOPE:
Aye, that was a mission, Professor, not an ambition.
PENHALIGON:
Oh, silly me. Indeed. Let’s crack on.
ARTHUR:
Yep. Dead simple one. Even the professor can’t mess this one up. Show, don’t tell.
PENELOPE:
Oh Aye, ‘appen I like that one. Important in all writing, is that, Arthur.
FX: THE SOUND OF SOMETHING HEAVY BEING DRAGGED ACROSS THE FLOOR OF THE SOUND BOOTH
PENHALIGON:
(LOUD VOICE)
BEHOLD! I am indeed showing. As you said, Arthur! A fine idea.
ARTHUR:
(ANGRY)
Can yer spot yer obvious fucking error, professor ?
PENELOPE:
Aw reet, Arthur. Calm down. The professor is confused is all.
PENHALIGON:
I’m not at all defused. I’m showing the chest of drawers from outside the booth!
(BEAT)
ARTHUR:
(SIGHING)
Have yer spotted this is a RADIO recording?
PENELOPE:
Aye, wait though. There’s a good example here. Look: Arthur looks angry. That’s telling. Arthur threw his arms in the air and yelled at the microphone. That’s showing.
PENHALIGON:
(CONFUSED)
Er, but the chest of drawers is right here?
PENELOPE:
Aw reet, I see what ‘appened there, prof. Yer read the script notes wrong, yer did. We are on the radio, not the telly. Listeners can’t see the chest of drawers.
PENHALIGON:
(CHUCKLING)
Ooh yes, how silly of me! I do have an example I can use!
ARTHUR:
Oh fuck. I fear the worse…
PENHALIGON:
I predict that Arthur will have a mug of strong tea after we finish recording. That is in fact, me smelling.
(BEAT)
PENELOPE:
Hold up, there, Professor. ‘Appen yer’ve confused us there.
PENHALIGON:
Ah, of course. Let me explain. I acted as a fortune teller and predicted Arthur will—
ARTHUR:
(ANNOYED)
Ah, fer fuck’s sake! NOT THAT SORT OF TELLING, YER BLOODY IDIOT!
PENHALIGON:
(CHUCKLING)
Aha! Arthur now has a red face with veins appearing. See? I showed.
PENELOPE:
Aye, ‘appen yer did there, a little bit, Professor. But the trick to it is, not to tell the reader, but to show them what is happening. Yer describe the action not just say it.
FX: A LOUD BANG AS ARTHUR SLAPS THE MICROPHONE
ARTHUR:
BOOM!. There it is. Spot on that, Penelope. I reckon we can leave it there. We’ve got a new one for the Style Guide.
PENHALIGON:
Ah yes, we must put snow don’t spell in the Mile Glide. Excellent idea!
ARTHUR:
Penelope? Help me with this fucking muppet will you?
PENELOPE:
Aye, nay bother Arthur. Professor? Yer tripped over yer words, again there.
PENHALIGON:
(CONFUSED)
I did? I merely pointed out that Arthur made a good choice, Petunia, didn’t I?
PENELOPE:
Me name is Penelope, Professor.
PENHALIGON:
Well done, my dear! I forget my own name sometimes. You’ve remembered yours with circumvention.
(BEAT)
ARTHUR:
(DEEP SIGH)
I’ve had enough of this. I’m gonna belt the bugger in a minute.
PENELOPE:
(CALMING TONE)
‘Appen yer need to calm it, Arthur. I think we can stop recording now.
ARTHUR:
Good. Fuck this, I’m off.
PENHALIGON:
(HAPPY)
How marvellous! We have managed another recording for the File Inside.
PENELOPE:
Yer mean Style Guide, professor.
PENHALIGON:
That’s what I said.
FX: A LOUD SLAM OF THE BOOTH DOOR.
PENELOPE:
Cut.
FX: Sudden hollow thump of an open mic, high-pitched feedback whining briefly through monitor speakers, then a sharp cut to total silence.