The Largest Theatre in the World: Heart to Heart Page #2

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(CREW DISCUSSING)

-Oh, Mr Godsell, was it all right?

-Sir John, thank you. Yes, very good.

Very good indeed.

Um, have you met my

production secretary, Mrs Weston?

-How do you...

-How do you think it went, Mrs Weston?

Oh, one of the best chairs

we've ever had.

(LAUGHING) Mind you, he asked me some

pretty tough questions, this young man.

That's my job, Sir John,

to get at the truth.

Of course, mine, too, you know.

Oh, not quite, is it?

Surely yours is only to get that

aspect of truth which may

suit your case.

Please, now, let's don't get into

another heart to heart, please.

Oh, Frank, the controller would

like to see you.

Doesn't he ever leave that office?

Does he eat and sleep there as well?

-He just likes watching television.

-Well, hasn't he got a set at home?

And his wife likes Coronation Street

and she talks.

To him, when she doesn't have to?

All right. Well, will you look after,

um, Sir John?

Oh, great pleasure.

One of your best, David.

Goodbye, Mr Mann. Thank you for

letting me off so lightly.

Good night, Sir John.

This way, sir.

-(SMIRKING) Did I?

-Oh, I wouldn't say that.

-If I did, I was bad, he's a phoney.

-Well, that came out.

-A time server.

-That came out too.

With a very odd sex life,

I shouldn't wonder.

That didn't come out.

And why should it? What's an odd sex

life got to do with truth of the heart?

-Do you want me to answer that question?

-No, Mrs Weston.

I want you to join me in a drink.

-Uh, I'll watch you if you like.

-You'll join me.

(STAMMERING) Tom, can I have

a couple of glasses?

You'll get me into trouble

with the union, you will.

It's all right,

I'll drink from the flask.

All right, Tom. Forget it.

Tough girl, eh?

No, not tough at all.

I'm far too soft about some things.

For instance, I should be

confiscating that.

I should have you barred

from television.

That is if I'm not barred myself,

after tonight.

-How bad was it?

-Not good, Mr Mann.

Why you always call me Mr Mann?

Because you always call me Mrs Weston.

I only do that to remind myself

that you're married.

-How is Mrs Mann, by the way?

-Oh, fine, fine.

-Enjoying the new flat, I suppose?

-Like mad!

Good!

-Ta-da, David. See you tomorrow.

-Ta-da.

That is, if there is a tomorrow.

I suppose they can't sack me

before that. Or can they?

Well, they could refuse your

new contract.

So?

Oh, I see. It's your night for being

the embittered success, is it, Mr Mann?

Listen, Mrs Weston.

A thing doesn't stop being true

just because it's become a clich.

As has been written about so badly,

so often, success can be hell.

Now, you tell me about it.

I only know about failure,

and that isn't exactly heaven.

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