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Authors: Malcolm Bradbury
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getting a remarkable man like Criminale down to ten,’ I said, ‘Aren’t you going to read it?’ ‘Haven’t time,’ said Ros, ‘I
just hope you made it all perfectly understandable. Arts commissioning editors don’t know about ideas, only noise and pictures. All they do is listen to pop groups and go to art openings all
the time.’ ‘I’ve cut down on most of the ideas,’ I said, ‘It’s nearly all about his mysterious life.’ ‘Does he have a mysterious life?’ asked
Ros. ‘Yes, I told you last night,’ I said, ‘A life of contradictions, blanks, and deceptions.’ ‘Okay, Francis, I don’t have time to argue,’ said Ros,
‘Just call me a taxi and I’ll take it to the bitch. Oh, and since you haven’t anything to do today, could you chop the courgettes for when I get back?’
The courgettes were as dry as macadamia nuts, the armadillo was gasping, by the time Ros got back three days later, two bottles of Frascati in her hands and an erotic grin on her face.
‘Brilliant,’ she said. ‘What? We did it?’ I asked. ‘You did it, I did it, mostly Lavinia did it,’ said Ros, ‘She went to the commissioning editor at
Eldorado and came back with a two-hour arts feature special.’ ‘Two hours?’ I said, ‘I thought it was only one.’ ‘Yes, but they fell in love with it,
Francis,’ said Ros. ‘What, with my treatment?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know about the treatment,’ said Ros, ‘I’m not sure they exactly read the treatment.
It’s far too long. No, the title. The Mystery of Doctor Criminale, that really pulled them in.’ ‘Oh, that’s terrific,’ I said.
‘Anyway,’ said Ros, ‘They’ve given us twice the development money, they’ve hooked in PBS in the USA, and they think the Europeans are interested. I told them
Criminale was a European, he is, isn’t he?’ ‘Oh, definitely,’ I said, ‘As European as they come. So it’s good after all?’ ‘Brilliant,’ said
Ros, ‘And when I say brilliant, I really mean brilliant. We’ll get a major slot, major budget, major production values. So come on, let’s celebrate. Up the stairs, Francis.’
‘Surely we can drink Frascati down here,’ I said. ‘I have better things to do with Frascati than just drink it,’ said Ros, ‘Oh, and Lavinia thinks you’re
brilliant too.’ No sooner were we standing there naked in the shower, pouring Frascati all over each other for some reason, when the porta-phone rang. ‘It’s her, I know it,’
said Ros, popping out of the shower to get it, ‘That bloody bitch Lavinia. Darling!’ Ros talked a moment and then put down the phone. ‘Bitch, she wants to celebrate too.
She’s coming round right away.’ ‘Oh, not Lavinia too,’ I said. ‘No, let’s be quick, honey,’ said Ros, ‘You can have too much of Lavinia at
times.’
Well, there’s no doubt about it – television arts documentary is a fast and furious world. No sooner were we dry and dressed again than the doorbell rang and there was Lavinia on the
step, a code-locked briefcase in her hand and a gratified grin on her wide face. ‘Not celebrating?’ she asked. ‘No, Lav, we just finished,’ said Ros, ‘But we can give
you a drink instead.’ ‘It’s Francis I’ve come for,’ said Lavinia, ‘Francis, listen, I’ve put out a contract on your life, okay?’ ‘What do you
mean?’ I asked. ‘This is it,’ she said, taking a long and legal-seeming document from her bag, headed with the distinctive, indeed weird, logo of Nada Productions, ‘Just
sign at the bottom, please.’ ‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘Just a sort of paper thing that assigns us the rights in your glorious treatment, darling,’ said Lavinia,
‘I just wanted to do the right thing and regularize your position. You do like a regular position, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t been in one for ages,’ I said, ‘I’d better talk to my agent.’ ‘Does he have an agent?’ Lavinia asked Ros,
‘Isn’t
just hope you made it all perfectly understandable. Arts commissioning editors don’t know about ideas, only noise and pictures. All they do is listen to pop groups and go to art openings all
the time.’ ‘I’ve cut down on most of the ideas,’ I said, ‘It’s nearly all about his mysterious life.’ ‘Does he have a mysterious life?’ asked
Ros. ‘Yes, I told you last night,’ I said, ‘A life of contradictions, blanks, and deceptions.’ ‘Okay, Francis, I don’t have time to argue,’ said Ros,
‘Just call me a taxi and I’ll take it to the bitch. Oh, and since you haven’t anything to do today, could you chop the courgettes for when I get back?’
The courgettes were as dry as macadamia nuts, the armadillo was gasping, by the time Ros got back three days later, two bottles of Frascati in her hands and an erotic grin on her face.
‘Brilliant,’ she said. ‘What? We did it?’ I asked. ‘You did it, I did it, mostly Lavinia did it,’ said Ros, ‘She went to the commissioning editor at
Eldorado and came back with a two-hour arts feature special.’ ‘Two hours?’ I said, ‘I thought it was only one.’ ‘Yes, but they fell in love with it,
Francis,’ said Ros. ‘What, with my treatment?’ I asked. ‘I don’t know about the treatment,’ said Ros, ‘I’m not sure they exactly read the treatment.
It’s far too long. No, the title. The Mystery of Doctor Criminale, that really pulled them in.’ ‘Oh, that’s terrific,’ I said.
‘Anyway,’ said Ros, ‘They’ve given us twice the development money, they’ve hooked in PBS in the USA, and they think the Europeans are interested. I told them
Criminale was a European, he is, isn’t he?’ ‘Oh, definitely,’ I said, ‘As European as they come. So it’s good after all?’ ‘Brilliant,’ said
Ros, ‘And when I say brilliant, I really mean brilliant. We’ll get a major slot, major budget, major production values. So come on, let’s celebrate. Up the stairs, Francis.’
‘Surely we can drink Frascati down here,’ I said. ‘I have better things to do with Frascati than just drink it,’ said Ros, ‘Oh, and Lavinia thinks you’re
brilliant too.’ No sooner were we standing there naked in the shower, pouring Frascati all over each other for some reason, when the porta-phone rang. ‘It’s her, I know it,’
said Ros, popping out of the shower to get it, ‘That bloody bitch Lavinia. Darling!’ Ros talked a moment and then put down the phone. ‘Bitch, she wants to celebrate too.
She’s coming round right away.’ ‘Oh, not Lavinia too,’ I said. ‘No, let’s be quick, honey,’ said Ros, ‘You can have too much of Lavinia at
times.’
Well, there’s no doubt about it – television arts documentary is a fast and furious world. No sooner were we dry and dressed again than the doorbell rang and there was Lavinia on the
step, a code-locked briefcase in her hand and a gratified grin on her wide face. ‘Not celebrating?’ she asked. ‘No, Lav, we just finished,’ said Ros, ‘But we can give
you a drink instead.’ ‘It’s Francis I’ve come for,’ said Lavinia, ‘Francis, listen, I’ve put out a contract on your life, okay?’ ‘What do you
mean?’ I asked. ‘This is it,’ she said, taking a long and legal-seeming document from her bag, headed with the distinctive, indeed weird, logo of Nada Productions, ‘Just
sign at the bottom, please.’ ‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘Just a sort of paper thing that assigns us the rights in your glorious treatment, darling,’ said Lavinia,
‘I just wanted to do the right thing and regularize your position. You do like a regular position, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t been in one for ages,’ I said, ‘I’d better talk to my agent.’ ‘Does he have an agent?’ Lavinia asked Ros,
‘Isn’t
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