Will Waspe
Radio watchdogs should keep an eye open for the new Spring schedules. Fresh rationalisation is on the cards. Minority programmes Scan, New Worlds and World of Books/Now Read On are likely to be lumped together into an unwieldy whole and put out at 11 o'clock at night when all solid citizens are in bed either asleep or otherwise engaged. When audiences drop off, in both senses, then so can the whole programme, in nice time for when Radio Four goes VHF and listening figures are of more concern than anything so footling as adult discussion of arts and sciences.
Never right
Thought for the week from Norway's greatest son: "The majority is never right. Never, I tell you. That's one of those community [sic] lies that free, thinking men have got to rebel against. Who form the majority — in any country? The wise or the fools? I think we'd all have to agree that the fools are in a terrifying, overwhelming majority all over the world. "The majority has the power — unfortunately — but the majority is not right. The ones who are right are a few isolated individuals like me. The minority is always right (Uproar)." — Ibsen, An Enemy of the People (trans. Michael Meyer).
Mermaid's butts
Nervous smokers had better avoid the Mermaid Theatre, where Sir Bernard Miles is instituting a one-man persecution of tobacco addicts. He has personally supervised the removal of cigarette machines from the foyer, and soon afterwards was seen carefully picking up fifty-four butts from the adjoining alley way. A memorandum was circulated to the staff asking "What are we going to do about this? ". No suggestions forthcoming yet, leastways none either constructive or printable. But all is not lost. Freedom fighters strike back. Scrawled across the posters covering the holes where the offending machines were are the words " So what's happened to the cigs, Bernie Baby?" Smokers of the world unite. You have nothing to lose but your butts.
Winning by a short hip
[Scene: the dressing room of Miss Rita Hunter, the dramatic soprano whose figure is, shall we say, extremely homely, after a triumphant performance in Trovatore at the Coliseum. Enter left, and probably right as well, Miss Jessye Norman, the dramatic soprano whose figure is more majestic, even, than Miss Hunter's by a short hip (so connoisseurs and harrassed wardrobe staff assure me), and who is currently filling the stage of Covent Garden in The Trojans.] Miss Norman: (cheerily, without a touch of envy) " Hi, skinny!"
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