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turning to page one
The dreaded BBC microphone, in a surprisingly small room. It is arranged so Bertie can stand up as he speaks, the way Logue likes it. The ceiling has been lowered and it has been decorated in cheerful colours. As a podium for the speech an old school desk has been propped up on wooden blocks so it’s the right height for Bertie.
Logue immediately opens the window to get the air circulating.
Bertie says nothing, but goes up and inspects the looming microphone.
He spreads the fingers of one hand, touches the apparatus with the little finger, thumb to chin.
BERTIE
I am thistle sifter, I have a sieve
of sifted thistles and a sieve on
unsifted thistles..
ELIZABETH
Bertie, darling, make sure it’s not
switched on!
LIONEL
Remember the red light will blink
three times and then I’ve asked
them to turn it off, because we
don’t want that evil eye staring at
you all the way through.
ELIZABETH
I am sure you will be splendid.
WOOD
One minute, sir.
Elizabeth steps back with a wonderful smile as Wood closes the door, sealing Bertie and Logue in the booth.
BERTIE
No matter how this turns out, I
don’t know how to thank you for
what you’ve done.
LIONEL
Knighthood?
They smile.
WOOD (O.S.)
Twenty seconds.
LIONEL
Forget everything else and just say
it to me. Say it to me, as a
friend.
The red light in the booth flashes.
The red light flashes for the second time.
Bertie concentrates.
The red light flashes for the third time.
The red light now goes steady red.
Lionel opens his arms wide and mouths, “Breathe!”.
On Air.
Bertie’s hands begin to shake, the pages of his speech rattle like dry leaves, his throat muscles constrict, the Adam’s apple bulges, his lips tighten...all the old symptoms reappear.
Several seconds have elapsed. It seems an eternity.