I may have mentioned in passing that Ambridge is a bit on the quiet side (Lilian: "What are you doing?" Paul: "I'm watching paint dry") but, surprisingly, the Radio Times's Ambridge Diary promised fireworks last week. "Poor Jill is feeling wretchedly torn about the rift that has opened up in the Archer family," it wrote.
I almost sat up sharply. I would have cleared my diary if it hadn't been clear already. Every day I listened intently, picking up many a useful scrap of country lore ("You have to stay on top of things with hens"), but Jill remained in one piece and the Archer family unriven. The Radio Times had printed an old diary, dating from the frightful time Nigel fell off the roof. If there is a judge-led inquiry into shoddy journalism, I shall appear for the defence. The prospect of catastrophe quite brightened my week.
The only thing that actually happened was Emma Grundy got thinner. The Grundys have run out of money and you never saw a family further down the plughole. Peering down, you can see their bright little eyes peering back. Emma thin as tissue paper, Ed licking the last of the marge out of the tub, the baby turning blue. "'Er little 'ands feel cold, Em." "Blow on 'em!" Dickens would have drawn the line at this. It is the credit squeeze spelled out in past-its-sell-by-date spaghetti.
Only sex, as Ed said hopefully to Emma, is free. So let's celebrate that. Lilian has stumbled on her son James and Leonie in flagrante in the bath.This being radio you can colour in the details for yourself, including how James managed with his leg in plaster. Shaken, Lilian is offered gin and sympathy by Matt's butter-wouldn't-melt brother ("Put your head on my shoulder"). And ever since Rhys and Fallon were separated, the erotic tension between them has been like the elastic twang of a snapped suspender.
Please tell me there is someone round here who remembers suspenders.
