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"Filmic Fantasy - A Sad Scenario"

By Denzil Howson from facts supplied by Ivan Maguire

That great film studio in the sky -home of all actors who have shuffled off this globe - was in turmoil!

From their vantage point on the fleecy cumulous clouds high above suburbia, a crowd ofwell-lcnown mummers gazed
down sadly at a group of double storied brick buildings.

A handsome solidly built man, with slightly wavy black hair was holding a pamphlet and addressing the gathering.
They were men and women of all ages, and they all wore a similar gannent- a long white robe.

From the back ofthe crowd a shortish man, with a well-wom visage and a broad Scots accent, called out, "Speak up
mon! We canna hear you. Just Imagine you're back on the cruel sea, Jack giving orders to your crew! Don't mumble you
Sassenach! Let's be hearing you!"

A slight man, with a face you would pass in a crowd, uttered a mild protest. His well-modulated voice was quiet, but
compelling.

"Now then Mr. Laurie - let's not have any unpleasantness. We're all eqlJal here. Let's reflect on the good times we all
had down there. As you all know, I've not been here that long, and I can think back well on "Lavender Hill" and that
white suit which was supposed to be indestructible"

He chuckled reminiscently. "Yes! I remember them well!"

Those familiar faces were all there ... Jack Hawkins, Sir Alec, John Gregson, Peter Sellars, Jack "Blue-pencil" Warner,
his screen-wife Kathleen Harrison and that sexy pixie, Joan Greenwood. with that sensuous huskiness in her voice,
which had caused many a leading man to forget his lines, as her provocative up-turned face nestled a fraction too
closely, and he momentarily fa11tasized a scenario totally different from the one on his script.

There was a slight flu.-ry, as a latecomer joined the group. He was carrying a ukulele.

"Eeeh! Turned out nice again, asn't it!" The accent was broad. "Sorry if l'm a bit late, but l've been cleaning windows
for Fanlight Fanny, the Frowsy Night-Club Queen!"

He chuckled with a toothy grin and strummed a chord on the uke. Someone called out, "Good old George!"

Jack Hawkins waved the piece of paper in his hand. "The point is, what are we going to do about this? Our home!
They're going to- " We know what they're going to do and there's naught we can do to stop 'em".

The speaker was a jolly looking lady. "Happen someone down there will do somethu1g to stop the rot. But don't be
downheatted. Come on! Let's hear you. Let's brighten ourselves up with a song".

The accent was direct from the Lancashire mills.

"Come on. You all know this one. One! Two! "Sing as we go and let's be bright and gay!"

Stanley Holloway shouted, "That's our Gracie!"

The crowd captured by the infectious beat and the vibrant soprano of their cheerleader moved away as briskly as they
could, to a distant cloud and finally Jack was the only one left, clutching his pamphlet.

He shook his head sadly as for the wnpteenth time he read the bold type.

"A hundred years" he muttered. "Surely somebody must be able to do something!"

(CONTINUED ON THE NEXT PAGE - PLEASE TURN OVER)

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