00.42 And we’re back. The crowds are gathering in front of the TV sets. The PM is making the worst car journey of his life. Sam Cam would be wringing her hands if RADA still taught you to do that to signify ‘distress’.
00.44 Like the PM, I’ve remembered again what we’re dealing with here. The nasty details are clicking in. Lindsay has checked, the pig has been ‘sedated’, and she’s now opening the door for a horrified looking PM.
00.45 Cut to people in a pub watching TV, where an official announcement comments that ‘the PM will shortly be performing an indecent act on your screens’. A cheer goes up. And isn’t that exactly what would happen? By the time this information has filtered down through Youtube, through Twitter and Facebook, haven’t we become so utterly desensitized to it that we make no personal connection to it anymore?
Cripes. People are setting their recorders. ‘All viewers are advised to turn off their sets’, etc etc.
I feel…not too hot.
Do you know what, social media has got us in a horrible mess, hasn’t it?
I am honestly experiencing physical pain.
PM is slow mo-ing down a corridor. Lindsay runs through the rules, her voice unbearably slow. She’s a class act, that Lindsay. I’m glad I didn’t come up with a nickname for her. I sat next to her at the theatre once. She’s very pretty in real life.
Oh, ok. I’m just writing so I won’t have to focus on what she’s saying. It’s not pretty. You can have all the advisors under the sun, but when it comes to having sex with a pig on live TV, you’re on your own. I think that’s the message we’re coming away with, anyway.
00.46 I can’t actually look at the PM’s face. It’s too horrible.
00.47 I wish I hadn’t watched that programme about teacup pigs. It was narrated by Jane Horrocks. Great show. I’M DOING IT AGAIN.
He’s faced with his destiny. A big pink pig. I have a feeling I’m not going to the South of England show next year.
He says he loves his wife, and may God forgive him.
This is it. We can see how rapidly all talk of porn stars, high tech trickery, opinion polls, and ‘just not doing it’ has been left behind. All the time spent considering other options, and he hasn’t thought until now about what ‘it’ will actually involve. He’s got to ‘see it through’, Lindsay informs him. This is the worst – in a situation where we’re grasping at very thin straws, just sort of mucking along with it would have been better than having to ‘complete the act’, which implies a certain degree of arousal and complicity in the act.
00.48 Just when it becomes too unbearable, he’s dropped his trousers, and we cut to the faces of the punters in the pub. They’re jeering. Then a few start looking troubled. Harrowed. Silence begins to fall. We’re staying on their faces. PLEASE LET US STAY ON THEIR FACES. People are crying, shaking heads. Sam Cam is…well, you know. No need for birth control in that household anymore, eh folks?
00.49 We’ve got a princess, falling over on a bridge.
00.50 And just as I’d got detached again, we’re back on the PM’s face, and noises, and it’s horrible. It’s pretty horrific. Really.
00.50 I’m not sure how much to give away here, in case you haven’t watched it. Something has happened, but I won’t say what.
00.51 PM’s throwing up over a toilet bowl. You and me both, sonny. You and me both.
Do you know, I really never thought we’d go there. I really didn’t think it’d happen.
So, after this, I’m now no longer ok to look at: pigs, Sam Cam, David Cameron, Lindsay Duncan, and Rory Kinnear. Most of all Rory Kinnear.
And do you know what? That’s the really clever part. The Camerons are implicit in this, and our brains have been constantly making associations over the course of the hour. We may not have actually seen Cameron having sex with a pig on live TV, but we’ve been there, because we’ve HAD to think about it. It would have been impossible not to.
I think there’s a big chance most of you will see the postscript coming. It’s all there when you watch it, even before you know what you’re looking for, but it’s ok. It’s not what’s important.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m about to lose the battle with supper.
Tatty bye xx
p.s. Here’s a creepy fact: before this postscript, this blog post had 666 words. I was far too alarmed to leave it like that, so I’ve come back in to write this. Superstitious.
p.p.s There’s one more thing that’s bothering me. I just can’t help wondering if it was deliberate that SamCam was dressed in a particularly pale shade of pink dress at the very end of the show? You know, that soft, muted looking pink….why, it almost reminds me of the skin of……No. I’m being silly. Time for bed.
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