Brenty Four 2013 - Chapter 4

[Lissa]

For the first time in some weeks Francois Devine and I were in complete agreement. The person responsible for my having two broken legs, him having two broken arms and Melba having a broken face was Lola Whitecastle and we didn’t care who knew it. The nurse goggled as if unable to take in the fact that three sensible gentlemen such as us would mingle with stars of such magnitude as Lola Whitecastle. It seemed almost inconceivable that we would lower ourselves to the vulgar world of “show business” and she was, quite reasonably, beginning to lose respect for us.

“Who?” she asked. I wasn’t expecting that. It was almost as if the feeble minded girl hadn’t a clue who Lola Whitecastle was.

“Lola Whitecastle” we repeated.

“I haven’t got a clue who she is” she added.

“Lola Whitecastle” we said again. The nurse shook her empty head.

“Surely you remember her in the 1960s BBC series “Adventures into Space”?” I prompted, though why I should help a nurse out of an embarrassing situation I don’t know.

“I wasn’t born in the 60s” she told us as if we were simple.

“Then you must recall her performance as Draculara – the female vampire – in the 1973 and 1974 films which combined female flesh and artificial blood to some modest commercial effect” suggested Francois Devine.

“I wasn’t born in the 70s either” she explained. We squinted at her. Fresh faced, certainly, but surely not as young as all that.

“Clearly you must remember her in the long running 1980s situation comedy on ITV called “I Live in a Bungalow”. She made seven series of that between 1980 and 1985 before Thames Television foolishly tried to revamp the programme by changing the premise from an aging lady and her daughter living in a bungalow and becoming involved in humorous incidents to the daughter being married to Jim Davidson and him being exasperated by his mother-in-law’s weekly interference. “My Mother-in-Law Lives in a Bungalow” only ran for three series, albeit series two had a Christmas special which was watched by a record 17.2 million cretins.”

“I wasn’t born in the 80s either” she said between chews of her bubble producing gum.

“Don’t be absurd – only children weren’t born in the 1980s. How old are you?”

“Twenty Three, nearly twenty four.”

We blenched visibly. How time flies. Why, it seems like only yesterday that Little Dennis Junior…

“What was “Adventures into Space”?” she asked. “I like space stuff. I’ve got all of Star Trek on blu-ray except for Voyager which was a bit pants.”

“Star Trek?” I queried.

“An American entertainment” explained Francois Devine.

“Yes I know what it is” I snapped. “You will recall I negotiated the détente between our Club and the Firkinside Trekkos back in ’97 and all that involved.”

“I do, Dennis Brent, I remember the carnage before your wiser head prevailed. They tore up one of our posters advertising the song and dance evening with Frazer Hines.”

“Barbarians” I swore. “There was nothing else for it but to tear up their poster promoting the opportunity to stroke a genuine Tribble.”

“Justified, proportionate and fair” nodded Francois Devine.

“I’ve never seen any Adventures into Space DVDs on Amazon” said the nurse.

“Nor will you ever” I said wisely. “The BBC destroyed every single episode, often wiping the tapes minutes after the transmission concluded. It was monstrous. Absolutely monstrous. At least with Doctor Who they only believed they had destroyed every copy, thus allowing connected gentlemen such as ourselves…”

Francois Devine coughed loudly and I realised what I was saying. I quickly and imperceptibly changed the meaning of my sentence.

“…ACHOOO. Where was I? Ah yes – they destroyed Adventures into Space and so none of us can see it, much like 97 episodes of Doctor Who which also no longer exist.”

“Bless you” said a belated Francois Devine.

“My pleasure” I replied nonsensically. The pretend sneeze had been a little too convincing and my head wasn’t up to such a violent shake in its present drugged-up state. “It was set on board the SS Pioneer and featured a crew of human astronauts that are blasted over to the other side of the universe. They have a number of adventures. It’s pretty self-explanatory really.”

“That sounds like Star Trek Voyager” she said with disappointment.

“Well Adventures into Space got there first” I said sharply.

“And was British” added Francois Devine.

“And although we’ve never seen it or heard off air sound recordings because they don’t exist” I continued through gritted teeth, “it almost certainly wasn’t underpants.”

“Just pants” she corrected.

“Whatever” I snapped. “Lola Whitecastle played space policeman Penny Danger from series two onwards and is one of only three original cast members still alive. No one has heard from Stanley Heritage, who played Fingers the alien engineer, in many years and the other female moved to New Zealand so Lola Whitecastle is the only one left with any first-hand information.”

“Furthermore” continued Francois Devine, “it is well known in certain circles that Lola Whitecastle kept all her original scripts and a lot of other original paperwork from the series. Not wishing to accuse her of theft as that would be reprehensible but it is widely believed that she took a lot of souvenirs from her time on the programme including models, schematic drawings, contracts, memos, files, photographs, press cuttings and at least one original pay cheque made out to a guest artist. Her archive is all that remains of Adventures into Space as the BBC foolishly mislaid what remained of their files when the archives were transferred to their current location. Thousands of man hours have been spent trying to locate them but all has come to nought.”

“Francois Devine is right – even I, Doctor Dennis Brent, have been unable to find anything in the written records archive beyond a fan letter asking for a pair of Stanley Heritage’s y-fronts and a bill for twenty six pounds, ten shillings and fourpence from the 1966 Adventures into Space Christmas party at Luigi’s in the Haymarket.”

“So you can see why Lola Whitecastle is so important” clarified Francois Devine.

“Not if she hasn’t got any DVDs” said the nurse obtusely.

We both sighed fiercely and meant her notice. We were exasperated and it was her fault.

“Did you come in here for a particular reason?” asked Francois Devine haughtily. His dander was up and everyone could see it.

“Just to make sure you’re all ok. Oh and to move your arms Mr Devine.”

She took a piece of paper out of her tunic and manoeuvred Francois Devine’s arms into a new position. Every hour or so he had to have his arms repositioned to prevent muscle atrophy and even though some of the positions were a little inconvenient, Francois Devine appreciated the attention to detail. Not only had the positions been worked out in advance and printed out on a sheet of paper, the person moving his arms made sure to take a photograph of him just to prove that the work had been done. You don’t get such professionalism much in this country anymore and I for one enjoyed it.

“If you’re all ok I’ll leave you to it” she said, arm manipulation having been done. “Thanks for telling me all about Lola Whatshername. I’ll google her.

“Lola Whitecastle” corrected Francois Devine. “My ticket to telehistorical fame and glory. While my rivals…”

He looked at me with smug determination.

“…will have to waste their time writing about Knight of Temperus.”

He laughed heartily to himself.

As if I’d write about Knight of Temperus. I’d rather die.

[Andrew Curnow]

Ooh, Knights of Temperus, sounds interesting!

[Dirk Gently]

I get the feeling that those pictures of Ian and his arm positions are going to come back & metaphorically bite him in the ample backside, for others ammusment.