The Idler, Monday, March 9, 2020

Days of the

catswhisker

detector

 

LAST week's discussion of British comedy – in particular The Goon Show – took reader Richard Isemonger, of Hillcrest, back to his boyhood at Prince of Wales school in Nairobi.

"None of us had a 'wireless', as it was called in those days. The nearest was an unaffordable 'saucepan wireless', shaped as the name implies and powered by a brick battery.

"To listen to the Kenya broadcaster, Cable & Wireless, we constructed a simple crystal set and acquired old World War II headphones. The crystal set required a piece of wood, some copper wire for the circuit and aerial plus an essential fragment of mineral crystal called Galena (lead sulphide).

"Tuning in was a search across the mineral face with a sprung sharp wire 'tickler' until the station signal was found. No batteries were required.

"The Goon Show was a schoolboy's delight. Luckily the strict 'silence after lights out' rule was overlooked and laughter filled the dormitory.

"The Goon Show featured after the BBC News, which was heard on the hour from an iconic, well paced BBC voice 'This is London ...' followed by the stirring and unforgettable signature tune of Henry Purcell's (1687) march Lilliburlero and the six Greenwich time beeps.

"We listened to some great radio plays and narratives but music was rare."

Yes, crystal sets. I think the "tickler" Richard mentions was also called a "catswhisker detector". One would lie in bed at night with the headphones on, listening to The Goon Show, Beyond Our Ken and other great shows. Also, you'd pick up morse code, probably from all over the world, none of it making any sense at all.

Memories, memories …

 

 

Light music

 

THE "BBC voice" Richard mentions was in days of yore not unknown on the SABC English service. One fellow was so plummy he put the BBC to shame.

One evening, on came the plummy one (no names, no packdrill) reading the bulletin live. But obviously he'd been somewhere on his way to the studio. He was stumbling plummily over the account of an incident in the Vietnam War when he suddenly declared: "Thish doeshn't make shenshe …" – all in impeccable if slurred BBC tones.

The newscast faded … light music.

 

 

More light music

 

I WAS once on an assignment in Lesotho when on came the 8am radio news. A voice intoned: "There is no news today. We will listen to light music."

Wow! Panic! Another coup? Lesotho was more than somewhat unstable in those days.

But what had happened was that the newsreader answered a call of nature on his way to the studio, holding his typed news bulletin. Unfortunately he dropped the bulletin into the urinal, where it instantly became a soggy mess.

Hence light music until the next newscast, when he read from a carbon copy.

Phew! No coup.

 

 

Doling us proud

 

IAN Gibson, poet laureate of Hillcrest, pens some lines of tribute to our sportsmen and sportswomen for their splendid unifying efforts, in contrast with our politicians and their divisive party loyalties.

 

Our sportsmen are doing us proud,

Whilst politicians are under a cloud;

Can't run the country,

Plans up a gumtree,

The economy? Almost under a shroud.

 

 

Tailpiece

 

AN ENGLISHMAN, an Irishman, a Scotsman, a Pole, a priest, a nun, a rabbi and Van der Merwe walk into a bar.

Barman: "What's this? A joke?"

 

Last word

 

Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It's already tomorrow in Australia. - Charles M Schulz