When the pen takes control.

Photo Credit: Anurag Bakhshi

Looking down from our seats in the helicopter it was obvious. Our suspicions were confirmed.

Notwithstanding the difficulty these people must have experienced in transporting  themselves, their families and all  the materials necessary, to this remote volcanic island.  A small piece of land which would not ordinarily merit inclusion on most maps of the world. Somehow they had bypassed all the planning regulations so carefully monitored and enforced by the government.

Instead of the the small group of tents and temporary camp the wild-life film crew had assured them would be all that was necessary,  they had managed to build a virtual community.  They had built everything,  houses, a school, shopping mall and all the other needs of a small town.

The planning officer would not be very happy when I returned with the film footage.

This was the hardest job I had ever undertaken since giving up my day job to become a stand-up comedian.

When I got a call from the BBC I thought my luck was in, my fortune made.

I soon changed my mind when they explained that I would be the warm-up guy entertaining the audience so that they could record the canned laughter for the radio shows.

Florence paused at the door, “what the hell did you just say?”

She watched as their only daughter Susan, wearing a face like thunder had jumped into her car and  set off up up the road with a screech of tyres and a trail of smoke.

Her husband Jim, sitting at the table looked guiltily at his wife. Then he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth turning up as he started to smile.

“All I said was if she was going to sit outside wearing any less clothes, the neighbours would think she’d forgotten the bathtub. It was only a joke. I didn’t think she was that touchy.”

“Oh Jim, after all these years, will you never learn?”