The Duke of Northampton

	Aerial shot of a large stately home. Grand music.
	   Stephen is standing in his study, stroking a labrador. Hugh, in a 
	dress, is sitting on a sofa, petting a spaniel.


Stephen		I suppose in a way we are very lucky. A lot of people would
		consider us very privileged. Actually, you see, I don't own
		Hartington Castle. It doesn't actually belong to me.

Voice off	Yes it does.

Stephen		Yes. It does. It does. In that sense it does. I do own it. But
		I think, I always think, that actually I've simply borrowed it.

Voice		Who from?

Stephen		From my children.

Hugh		(softly) That's lovely.

Stephen		It's a trust. I'm just the bloody caretaker, you know? Just the
		bloody old caretaker.

Hugh		We don't really use this room, do we?

Stephen		That's right. My grandfather used this room. They say Lloyd
		George vomited in that awful silver bucket thing over there.

Hugh		We rather hate that, don't we?

Stephen		Can't stand the sight of it. Now this is rather fun ...

	Stephen takes a small metal object from a display case.

Hugh		Great fun ...

Stephen		Have a guess at what that might be.

	Close up of the object.

Voice		Oyster knife?

	Stephen chuckles richly. So does Hugh.

Stephen		A lot of people say that. Actually it's not an oyster knife.
		Have another guess.

	Interviewer says something we can't quite hear.

		Not that. I don't even know what an interuterine device is,
		actually. Have another guess. (Pause.) No? I'll tell you. It's
		just a knife. An ordinary knife. We keep it here. Can't sell
		the bloody thing of course. Costs a fortune just to keep it
		heated. But it's rather fun and it's a heck of a thought that
		my great grandchildren will take it out some time next century.

Hugh		Such fun.

Stephen		(putting it back carefully) Great fun.

	Cut to garden. Hugh is pruning roses in the background and doing 
	something rather silly with them. Stephen stands by a fountain.

		That's the challenge of course. You know. One's descendants. If
		my bloody ancestors ... mostly a gang of old crooks actually...
		if they could keep this damned thing going, without the
		advantage of mains shopping and what have you, then ... you
		know, as I say. This (pointing at flower bed) is rather
		interesting, actually. The third Duke, I think it was, had
		these beds planted out, very much the thing then, of course.

	Hugh falls over in the background.

		And apparently the soil that existed in the beds was completely
		wrong, so what do you think he did? They thought big in those
		days, of course. Well, he had over four hundredweight of the
		right soil transported from all the way over there.

	Points to a place about three yards away.

		Got assorted locals to help ... whole village turned out ...
		stood them all cider and badger cakes afterwards, that sort of
		thing. But I tell you ... that sort of vision, you know? If I
		tried to do that sort of thing now they'd say I was crackers,
		have me locked up and sewing potatoes soon as look at me, I
		expect.

	Cut to Hugh in another part of the garden. There is a gardener.

Hugh		(to interviewer) The summer can be pretty ghastly. Open days
		and lots of coaches filing in and gawping and peering and so on
		with their muddy tyres everywhere. (To gardener.) I don't like
		the look of those aphids at all, Godfrey.

Gardener	I could spray them tomorrow, your Grace.

Hugh		(tartly) No, thank you. I shan't want them sprayed tomorrow, I
		don't think. I've never been much of a one for having things
		sprayed tomorrow. (Back to interviewer.) Actually people can be
		rather fun. I remember one enormous lady in pink who was
		staring at this rather ugly and impossible lacquered cabinet in
		the Chinese room and she turned to her husband, who was a very
		funny little man in tight trousers, you know the sort of thing,
		and she said, "'Ere, Bert ... we could do with one of them in
		our front lounge parlour." Rather priceless. Great fun.

	The gardener has been considering.

Gardener	I could spray them this afternoon.

Hugh		I don't think so. I rather hate things being sprayed in the
		afternoon. (Walking away.) No. Not that, thank you.

	Stephen is in his study.

Stephen		A certain amount of pressure is brought to bear, obviously, in
		the matter of children. Got to provide an heir to take over
		this when I'm dead and gone and buried and no longer alive.
		Mary does most of the work there. It's something of a tradition
		in our family that the wife actually carries the child in her
		stomach before it's born. I let her look after all that side of
		things. Absolutely wonderful at it too. Can't stand most of the
		children, great ugly things, take up a huge amount of room and
		the devil to keep them heated and free of damp. But you know,
		that's all part of the job.

	Cut to wonderful dining-room. Hugh is sitting reading the Telegraph.
	Four hundred dogs are scampering about. A servant is pouring coffee.
	Over this Stephen comes down.

		I call it the "job", you know. Most people probably imagine
		being a Duke is just one long round of parties and fete
		openings and so on. To me it's a job, like any other. Like
		everyone else, I have to get up at ten, I have to put my own
		clothes on as they've been lain out ... I come down to
		breakfast, just like any person would. And then I might talk to
		the estate manager about the farms, discuss the state of the
		coverts with my gamekeepers and Mary and I will run over the
		events of the day ... who's coming to dinner, what menus we
		should arrange with the kitchens. It's really no different from
		being a coal-welder or floor walker at your local Asda.

	Sound of Hugh and Stephen discussing the day.

Hugh		And we absolutely must decide on the May Day Claimings.

	Hugh and Stephen begin to discuss names of villagers. They talk about 
	Martha, young Lucy, Tabetha and so on.

Stephen		(over) One rather charming local custom around here in the
		local neighbourhood that surrounds the immediate environs of
		the nearby area locally is the May Day Claimings, so called.
		Mary and I feel a great responsibility to keep up with those
		things. Otherwise one can lose touch.

Hugh		(over) When I married Charles he warned me that what he calls
		his "job" does entail a lot of public responsibility and duty
		and I'm very keen to share that where possible.

Stephen		The point of the Claimings is that I have to choose a young
		girl to lead the May Day procession in the village. She must
		be no older than sixteen and no younger than fourteen. She is
		queen of the May for the day and I have to crown her and, after
		the maypole dancing and all that sort of palaver, I take her to
		the dungeons in the old part of the castle and privately
		violate her.

Hugh		We always have great fun choosing the girls. It's one of those
		very silly English customs whose point is lost in the mists of
		which there are plenty around here. But it would be such a pity
		to lost the connection with history.

Stephen		It derives, I think, from some time in the seventies when my
		father thought that violating a village maiden would be rather
		a good idea. I think that's the origin, though some people
		claim it goes back as far as 1968. Great fun, though. I always
		throw myself completely into the spirit of the thing and enjoy
		it thoroughly.

Hugh		I found this absolutely hilarious misprint in last week's
		edition of the Peterborough Echo. It says ... listen to this:
		"The Prime Minister, Mr John Major is a dignified and
		impressive leader." Isn't that priceless?