“It is the end of civilisation, isn’t it?” the Member for Blackfriars observed, waving an unlighted pipe at Krishna’s Bride. She posed in a golden crown and trousers of scarlet muslin, politely offering a lotus to the camera. From the far end of the studio, the Ambassador’s wife was listing the ornaments of desire:
“In her hair she wears the traditional brooches.”
On the monitoring screen, palely reflected, brooches.
“In her ears she is wearing the traditional earrings.” Rings.
“Next on her arms you can see the traditional bracelets. Sometimes they are very old . . . On her ankles . . .”
On her ankles the camera discovered, after a moment’s hesitation, traditional anklets. The exposition was at least clear. With the same patient thoroughness, the camera explored the attire of her four handmaids. “Of course,” the Member for Blackfriars added, “they say it broadens the mind.”
“. . . And thank you very much Mrs. — Mrs.—. Well, no wonder I didn’t catch it the first time. Now, after our glorious summer, we’ve had a hard winter. Our camera man’s been out and about, and we’d like to show you . . .” a blackbird in a bird bath. A bird bath without a blackbird. The bath is filled from a kettle. The blackbird returns. Sparrows peck the top off a milk bottle . . . “So now I know where my cream goes. And in the studio this afternoon we have the distinguished novelist. . . ” With aimless suavity, the announcer introduces by turns a writer, the Member for Blackfriars, a Lady, a cartoon film from Czechoslovakia of which we shall only show one extract, the Queen’s manicurist, and 47 naval ratings from Singapore who are here for the opening of Cruft’s Dog Show.