The Editors — The Style Guide

Here's a new radio script featuring the editors. I might get people far more skilled behind a microphone than me to perform them. These editors are unusual...

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, slightly eccentric
• Dr PENELOPE ROSE : Creative writing expert and a Northern lass

---

FX: Studio room-tone. Three people shuffle around a single hanging microphone.

ARTHUR:
Is this thing on?

PENHALIGON:
No, I believe we are recording. 

PENELOPE:
Aye, it’s on, Arthur. Prof, happen yer got confused there. 

ARTHUR:
Right, let’s get this over with. What are we here for? 

PENHALIGON:
To discuss the correct use of linguistics in the modem world! 

(BEAT)

ARTHUR:
What? 

PENELOPE:
Aw reet, I see what ‘appened there, prof. Yer read the script notes wrong, yer did. 

PENHALIGON:
(CONFUSED)
I did?

PENELOPE:
Aye, ‘appen yer did.

ARTHUR:
Well, this has not been a good start, has it?

PENHALIGON:
(CONFUSED)
What have we started? 

ARTHUR:
Bugger knows. But it feels off already. 

PENELOPE:
We’ll be reet. Just need to get our bearings, like. No problem. 

PENHALIGON:
Ah yes, bearings! I got those wrong once and sailed into a cave. 

(BEAT)

ARTHUR:
What? Are you a little on the side of bloody tapped? 

PENHALIGON:
Not at all. I didn’t tap the compass. I merely read it wrong, set the sails incorrectly and sailed into the cave—

ARTHUR:
Fer fuck’s sake! We are supposed to be editors. Sort yerself out. 

PENELOPE:
Aye, reet, let’s make a start. We ‘ave been tasked to make a style guide. For folks what like to do the blogging. 

ARTHUR:
What? Your diction was all wrong there, Penelope. 

PENELOPE:
Were it, like? 

ARTHUR:
Aye, I mean, yes. Bugger, you’ve got me at it now. Yes. “For folks what like to do the blogging.” Incorrect. Bloody awful!

PENELOPE:
I’m reet offended by that. There’s nowt wrong wi’ colloquialisms. 

PENHALIGON:
I agree with Pineapple. She is quite right. Colloquiums work very well in common— 

ARTHUR:
Any more of this crap and I’m going home. 

PENHALIGON:
Whatever is wrong, Arthur? 

ARTHUR:
(SIGHING)
If yer don’t know, I’m not explaining it. 

PENELOPE:
Aw reet, Arthur, I get yer, I do. But happen yer calm down a bit. Let us get used to ‘ow we like to work. 

PENHALIGON:
Yes! Quite right. Pinnacle, couldn’t agree–

ARTHUR:
(ANGRY)
Professor? That’s twice. Her NAME IS P-E-N-E-L-O-P-E!

PENHALIGON:
Why, of course it is! You think I don’t know that? Tsk! You newspaper people. 

PENELOPE:
Any road, enough nonsense. I’ve got rule number 1. Never use a long word when a shorter one is available. 

ARTHUR:
Agreed. 

FX: Loud rustling of paper and chalk being used to write on a chalkboard. 

PENHALIGON:
(HAPPY)
HURRAH! We have established our first rule for the editors Mile Glide! 

PENELOPE:
Arthur? Leave it. We know what he meant. 

ARTHUR:
I’ve got the next one. No throat clearing. Get on with the bloody article. 

PENHALIGON:
Hmmm. 

ARTHUR:
What? 

PENHALIGON:
I almost agree wholeheartedly with that one. But there are occasions where I’ve had an extra strong mint, I do like an extra strong mint. I’m quite partial to them. Anyway, they do tend to make me need to clear my throat. 

(BEAT)

ARTHUR:
Oh, fer fu—

PENELOPE:
It’s aw reet, Arthur. I’ll sort it. John? Arthur meant when yer start a piece of writing, leave out the preamble. Get straight into it, like. 

PENHALIGON:
Er, okay. Yes. But, I do like a little warm-up before the main effort. 

(BEAT)

ARTHUR:
(ANGRY)
What the fuck? Penelope? 

PENELOPE:
(CONFUSED)
‘Appen yer’ve lost us there, John? 

PENHALIGON:
I like a preamble before the actual main amble. Especially if it’s going to be a hilly walk—

FX: Loud crash from the sound of a clipboard being thrown to the floor 

ARTHUR:
(ANGRY)
Fuck this. I’m going home. 

PENELOPE:
Aye, happen we’ll leave it there for today. Try again tomorrow. 

PENHALIGON:
Excellent. Great progress has been made! 

FX: Sudden hollow thump of an open mic, high-pitched feedback whining briefly through monitor speakers, then a sharp cut to total silence.