Let’s talk about Vietnamese TV, which on the whole is dreadful, consisting of state controlled news, Chinese / Taiwanese / Thai soaps re dubbed in Vietnamese. Gooey handsome/beautiful singers singing gooey romantic / patriotic songs to each other and kitsch copies of western talent/song contests. However there is one show that is simply the pits and wouldn’t be tolerated in the West. A television crew lands on the ‘victim’ family who are usually dirt poor living in one or two rooms in poverty. The family usually have a ‘hook’, a disabled child, a dying parent or some debilitating circumstance. The family members are interviewed about their predicament by a suitably pretty but eminently ‘caring’ young female presenter wearing no make up and who invariably struggles to hold back her tears. The family members have no such inhibitions and burst into tears at the correct cue. Whilst all this is going on, a banner is running at the bottom of the screen with the names and locations of individual donors and how much they have given. The show finishes with everybody happy and smiling, a presenter handing over an enormous cheque or a new motorbike or a cow. All smiles and handshakes as another family is temporarily lifted out of poverty. You couldn’t make it up could you! Oh then later they parade them live in front of a live audience, lets them participate in a quiz thing where they win more money and then everybody claps!
“Do you think he’ll give us some Mum?”
“Don’t know Son, just keep staring!
Cooking shellfish/fish over an old fashioned fire bucket. In the corner are some coconuts cut down that morning by this man.
This is an indoor/in house shrine. a family member (her Dad) tragically died of cancer about three months ago. You will see the shrine is well stocked with essential stuff for his ‘afterlife’ He is still very much a part of family rituals. His mother dresses in white clothes and at 12 midday and 6 pm a bell is rung and prayers said. If the deceased enjoyed a cigarette (Which he had given up about 2 years previous) Someone would light a cigarette and place on the end of a burn’t out incense stick in the sand filled pot on the shrine.
Serial time – The Gun – final chapter!
Chapter 5.
Reg unlocked the door and placed the black bag down next to the telephone table.
“Is that you love?” Rosamund called out from the lounge.
“No. It’s a teenage mutant Ninja Turtle, all slimy and green.”
“There’s some tea in the pot if you want one. I didn’t expect you back until later so I haven’t made you anything to eat. I can do you some tomatoes and eggs on toast if you’re hungry. How was your flight?”
“The pilot flew a bit high, I can’t see the need to go as high as 35,000feet coming from Edinburgh to Bristol. I would have thought 25,000 feet would have been plenty high enough. Yes that sounds lovely. I’m famished.”
“Good morning Tina.”
“Hello”
“Hi Karen.”
Reg ran the office gauntlet towards his office.
“Good weekend Reg? You and Rosamund do anything?” Corrallee with her bright red shiny lips offsetting her dark sleek black bob chirped up.
“No not really, quick helicopter from Staverton to The VIP desk of terminal five Heathrow, British Airways overnight flight to Moscow – first class of course. Local flight to Nizhny Novgorod then a Moskvitch limousine to Dolinsk Sokol Military air base for a flight in a MIG 29 jet fighter. Break the sound barrier then fifteen miles high to the edge of space; view the curvature of the earth and the blackness of space. A few aerobatics on the way down then Napolina plum tinned tomatoes and two poached eggs on thick Waitrose bread and Lurpak butter for Sunday tea.”
“You manage to clean all your windows then Reg?” Corrallee chirped looking at her screen.
Reg stopped, put down his bag and coat on the floor and walked over to her desk. He stared intently into her eyes and replied “NO”.
“I reckon he’s having a funny turn you know.” Corrallee whispered to Karen.
“The grass ‘ll soon start growing now that the light nights are here, have you had the mower serviced Reg?”
“No I’ll see to it this weekend.” Reg muttered from behind the Guardian.
“Rosamund?”
“Yes.”
“I thought we might try somewhere different for our holidays this year. I’m getting bored with France.”
“But you like France and Madame Hildegard will be very miffed if we don’t take her cottage. She keeps those three weeks for us every year.”
“I fancy Bermuda.”
“That’s a bit exotic. Can we afford it Reg?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to make a cuppa before the ten o’clock news. Do you want one?”
“Yes please.”
“There you go, don’t let it go cold reading that paper. You know what you’re like.”
Rosamund placed the white mug by his feet.
“And don’t kick it over.” She added.
‘And finally a forty two year old woman Kathleen Thomas from Richmond in Yorkshire has died in hospital. Mrs. Thomas suffered a heart attack the day after being a victim of an armed robbery in the Richmond branch of the Yorkshire Building Society in July last year. She had remained in a coma for nine months and never regained consciousness. Yorkshire Police are now treating the robbery as murder. A forty eight year old male from Huddersfield has been arrested. Now for the local news in your area——————–.’
Reg lowered his paper and stared at the screen.
“Going to the loo. I’ll feed the cat whilst I’m up.”
Rosamund raised her hand so that it brushed his arm as he walked past her.
“Thanks love.”
The BANG! Sounded very close to the house. Rosamund turned off the telly and picked up Reg’s cup.
“Reg are they shooting rabbits in the field behind? That sounded very close.” Sophia the cat purred and brushed around her legs.
“Reg. I thought you were feeding the cat.”
“Reg!”
“Reg! Where are you?”
The End.
And relax!
Love and peace John
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