Not long ago episodes of the weekly cliff hanging thriller would end with the killer's knife-bearing hand raised ready for the fatal blow. Then would follow a brief burst of tension inducing music and the credits would mercilessly roll leaving the viewer in a paroxysm of terror. A whole week before the truth is revealed . Did he/she do it or did something intervene in the nick of time? Recently the format has changed. Just as you thought it was all over there are flashes forward to next week's edition. In some of these the intended victim looks fit and well. From that it can reasonably be concluded that they, usually a near psycho lady detective, ducked at the crucial moment so all was well. Phew, that's good then. No suspense, no tension. Put the kettle on. We can sleep well tonight and the next edition can be viewed from on the sofa, not behind it.
The same thing has happened in that other, if declining, theatre, the House of Commons. Budget statements and other policy statements were closely guarded secrets. Heads would roll (at one time literally) if there were any leaks. In the Budget the first hint the nation got of whether the next 90 minutes were going to cause elation or depair could come in the Chancellors drink, his antidote to a dry throat, something that can occur especially if one is lying. A glass of tap water would signify austerity, but milk, honey and maybe a dash of something a little stronger indicated a happy afternoon and good times to come. If he was clearly smashed before he even started talking that was probably a bad sign. Now almost all parliamentary announcements or trailed ,-that means officially leaked,- days in advance .As result they are thoroughly analysed by the 24 hour media not just once but three times. Before, during and after. The during really need not happen at all. The middle man, the House of Commons bit, could be eliminated entirely and the whole process of announcing and discussing anything be left to the various media and twitters and tweets. In view of the quality of and attendance at many Commons debates there may be some merit in that but on the other hand when you think about what some of the press, not to the mention the own-agenda BBC, can get up to that may not be worth the downside risk if we want to keep some vestiges of democracy.
In both cases better theatre and more excitement and interest would be generated by not knowing what was going to happen in the real thing on the day. Do we really want decaffinated versions of everything? No adrenaline rushes, clenched knuckles or looking away? Just perpetual blandness?
Can we rewind and go back to anticipation and suspense? We know that excitement must carry a health warning "Could raise blood pressure, cause heart failure, death, etc" but we think it's worth it. It might just feel a bit more real. For the politicans it might just raise interest in what apart from fiddling expenses and polishing desks with assistants or colleagues goes on in Parliament. Some gain there to be sure. Now back to Sarah Lund.
