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Amazing isn’t it? Pip has been sleeping on the sofa and it never occurred to anyone there was a couple of bedrooms going begging across the yard. Or rather it didnt occur to any of the scriptwriters. I suppose we are now in for BrianRix stylee farce of Toby and Rex running in and out trying to avoid WR in their Calvin Kleinssszzzzzzzzzzzz
Hello Mumbers,
I thought that we would get an e-mail when posts are replied to but this does not appear to be the case which makes things more haphazard in keeping up with each other. Is one of the Foie Gras brothers, I mean the louche drunken one rather than the fellow who admires a necklace, making the best of the two backs with the know-all Pip?
Doesn’t Pip prefer the loutish one? While the other one pines away and is understanding and makes timid remarks about her necklace. That is the impression I get but as it takes all my time working out which brother is which by the time I do know who’s who it’s another scene and characters altogether.
Will the fairbrother brothers be creating a shrine for Grace at The Stables I wonder. Furry toy horses, balloons and the like.I think that we should expect a trip to St Steve’s and some silent reflection in front of the Grace Archer memorial window provided, of course, that the tasteful flashing neon lights from the Jick Woollay and Kiptin wall mounted relief are not on full voltage.
Have we had any news from our corpulent TVOA? is he still getting stuck into WI cake stalls like a man possessed or has Usha’s lentil bake proved so unappetising that he is now a shadow of his former self? He must be gearing St Steve’s up to provide shelter for a minimum of 30,000 Syrian refugees I would have thought.
A sanctimonious exchange over an oily tuna pasta bake at Blothom Hill is on the cards I should think. That and a Lovely Service Alan with Jill and Shulie enthusing over the number of sleeping bags they can fit into the village hall after being inspired by his sermon.
You heard it here first.I’ve learnt to tell the tedious twins apart: Toby is the one who thinks he is great in bed, but actually lasts about two minutes and does an air punch when he comes and Rex is the one who bursts into tears when he comes.
At least, that’s how *I* tell them apart.
This is very helpful, Young Jo. The next time I listen in I shall wait for the cry of ‘Yeeeessssssss. get in, big boy’ and the gentle sobbing to make sure I know if it is Tweedle Foie Dee or Tweedle Foie Dum.
Brilliant!
You are both extremely rude. The Fairfairbrotherbrothers are as eny fule no unsullied by anyone save the headmaster’s creature. Indeed I am all amazement that they know where eggs come from. I feel they would have gone down a storm with Nigel Pargetter who, as we all remember, was no good in a storm at all. Particularly if he was on a Jacobean roof.
That’s roof not Ruth.One of the best things I heard was from the very early recordings of TA shortly after the saintly Grace and dull old Phil had got married. In those distant days the programme was introduced, presumably by an announcer in evening dress, and with an accent that made John Snagg sound downright vulgar.
Announcer: End in this episaird Grace is doing some work (pronounced wark)
Phil: (for it is he) I sair sweetie the twinset is just bairng orn end thairse slecks just spiffing, but sweetie do you think thet they are quait rait for feeding ar hens?At which point Grace goes into a fit of screaming hysterics because Phil is dissing her.
It is good to know that quality pronunciation is back amongst the poultry breeding classes after so many years of the Grunday’s salmonella surprises each Christmas.
The only way I can tell the Fairbrethren apart is when one of them refers to the (absent) other. Its also at that point I realise they aren’t Tom, Kenton or Charlie.
BTW – the early recordings had incidental music. Maybe they could bring this back but take a leaf out of the book of One Day Cricket. Each character could have a musical sting as they are about to speak and then we’d get they hang of who they were.
The music to Ambridge Flyer ridden by the then gutsy and tough Christine Archer at the annual point to point was up there with Champions, Dusters. Quite why Aunty cardboard went from feisty horse woman to gibbering wreck has never fully been explained. probably living for 50 years with a man who would play the trumpet for five hours a day.
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