A rewilding project is sending residents of Ambridge silly – and they must be unique in the English-speaking world for not giggling whenever the rodent’s name is uttered. Please stop it now – us listeners can’t cope!
‘Stop. Saying. Beaver.” This was the despairing text message I received from an Archers-listening friend. His anguish during these past rodent-heavy weeks was only partially assuaged by Lynda Snell’s use of the splendid word “gallimaufry”. Residents of Ambridge must be unique in the English-speaking world for not instantly giggling when the word “beaver” is uttered, proof that they truly are living in a version of The Matrix (a fact slammed home this month when it turned out that the beaver activist urging Rex and Kirsty to introduce the creatures into the rewilding project was called Neo). I was put in mind of a famous incident from my life when my late mother, hosting lunch for me and a handful of friends when I was a student, innocently issued the immortal instruction: “Show Julian my beaver,” a reference to a wooden dish at that time in use in the parental household as a receptacle for nuts. Much muffled hilarity ensued, the joke remaining evergreen until the Archers permanently tore away the joy from any and all beaver silliness.
“To beaver or not to beaver”; “beavers are an absolute menace”; “surely beavers are a welcome addition to the countryside”: on it went, as we learned that “beavers are smart, determined and really strong” and caused a billion pounds’ worth of damage, or something, to Brian’s friend’s farm in the West Country. Pip is anti-beaver, Josh is pro-beaver, Justin is keen to bring beavers into Ambridge in the teeth of local opposition, Brian is taking the beaver issue to the BL board. But who cares any more, except to say that I will be at the barricades with David Archer to prevent beavers’ entry to Borsetshire for ever, not because I’m not a beaver fan (I am, why wouldn’t I be?) but because I never want to hear them mentioned again on the Archers.
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