(Before coming up with a mechanical version of television in the early 1920’s, John Logie Baird worked on several other ideas, including diamonds-from-graphite, thermal socks, pneumatic shoes and a glass razor blade (source: Wikipedia, accessed 19.06.2023). The list of parts is also detailed here, as are the ventriloquist’s dummy and the visits to the Daily Express and Selfridges.)

‘So how’s it going then, John?’

John Logie Baird adjusts his oval-lensed glasses and turns around.

‘Great, great, Dave – got this really brilliant idea – almost working now. Look, I went into Hastings and picked up this hatbox and a pair of scissors and some darning needles from the milliners, and a couple of bicycle light lenses from that bike shop round the corner – the lights didn’t work anyway, they were chucking them out. And then an empty tea chest from the Co-op – what? Oh, Ceylon, I think - and some sealing wax and glue from the stationers in the High Street. Then I simply connected this thallium sulphide cell that I got from an Aussie bloke I know in the movie business, and here we are.’

‘Oh, yeah, right, just the job! Er…what’s all that for then?’

‘Television!’

‘Oh, I see – now you’re talking! So, television. That would be…?’

‘OK, sit over here.’

JLB starts a motor on his desk which apparently rotates a three-foot diameter dustbin lid with holes in it, then plonks down what looks like the head from a ventriloquist’s dummy in front of it. A similar arrangement (without the dummy) on the dining table is also coaxed into life. As both run up to speed, JLB has to shout to be heard.

‘Look, look in here – what do you think?’

A flickering, stripey image can just about be made out at the dining table end. Dave puts his glasses on and squints into the lens.

‘Er, is that the dummy’s head?’

Could be anything really.

‘Quite right – that’s old Stooky Bill! Of course, the definition isn’t brilliant – I’m thinking of upgrading to the HD version – 240 lines rather than 32. That will really knock them out.’

‘Yes, it’s quite amazing. So where do you think there’s a use for this?’

‘Endless possibilities. The King could give his Christmas Message to the Empire face-to-face instead of just on the wireless. Stanley Baldwin could give one of his fascinating talks on the benefits to the economy of Trade Protection. Or perhaps the Pope could read his ‘Urbi et Orbi’ to millions of Catholics in seventeen languages, including Turkish and Aramaic as well as the usual Latin.’

‘Don’t be silly; no-one would be interested in that sort of thing.’

‘Then there are sports matches – you could watch your favourite team in the comfort of your own home; no need to queue at the gate to pay your one-and-ninepence and get soaked when it rains; no waiting for the trolleybus home.’

‘So the teams would be playing to empty stadiums – no crowds, no admission takings for the clubs.’

‘Well, I need to look into that. Perhaps if everyone who wanted to watch paid a monthly subscription. Then there are Hollywood movies – no more turning out on a wet Thursday evening to see the latest Buster Keaton; no snogging couples blocking the view, no need to creep out for popcorn or Tizer.’

‘Then the cinemas would go bankrupt as well. And the film studios. And the firms that make popcorn and fizzy drinks and ice-cream.’

‘You can’t stop progress. And how about the 1928 Olympics coming up – fourteen sports in two weeks; amazing! People would pay to see that.’

‘What, pole vaulting? Horse jumping? Hardly. And how do you charge them?’

‘Er – perhaps you could ask anyone with a Televisor® to chip in?’

‘Whether they’re watching or not? This all sounds like a disaster. Have you tried the idea on anyone else?’

‘I went to the Daily Express offices.’

‘What did they say?’

‘Threw me out. Then I went round to Selfridges. They’ve booked me in to give demos for a fortnight.’

‘At how much per session?’

‘Oh, they’re not going to pay me anything – it’s to promote sales.’

‘So if anyone wants to buy one, how much would you charge?’

‘Er… (starts to scribble on paper) … right, say materials, about …. then my time…. Oh, I’d say around £450.’

‘So about two years’ wages for a skilled worker.’

‘Should come down a bit in a year or two.’

‘Isn’t there anything else you could come up with, anything you’ve been working on, or at least thinking about?’

‘Funny you should mention that. I’ve thought about using the same principle as in pneumatic tyres, but for shoes. I’ve embedded some semi-inflated balloons into the soles, although so far the trouble is that they keep bursting.’

‘I should persevere with that one. Great idea.’

‘Then there’s the thermal undersock – I get cold feet.’

‘I’d be getting cold feet about television.’

‘Or the glass razor blade – never needs sharpening or replacing.’

‘Sounds like a winner.’

‘Except it shatters if you drop it in the sink.’

‘Just needs a bit more work – I should press on with that if I were you.’

JLB pauses. ‘I suppose you’re right. That bloke KC Gillette in the States is a multimillionaire just from selling a million or so of his steel razor blades every year. I could sell double that, at least to begin with. Although I suppose once everyone had one, there’d be no real replacement market…’

‘You’d be retired and living in luxury by then.’

‘Ok, I’ll do it. Let’s give the television idea a miss, shall we? After all, it could easily lead to a situation where one or two people controlled our access to everything that we need to know about. No, it’s probably not a good idea. People would sit at home, hardly going out, believing everything that came up on the screen in front of them. Disreputable nonentities would become national celebrities, just because they were seen on television. Doesn’t bear thinking about. OK, pass me the shaving soap. And that bottle of iodine.’

‘Glad you’ve given up the idea – could’ve been a real menace. Right, must get on – got to take my Austin 7 to the blacksmith’s.’

JLB sadly switches off the two motors and lets the rotating discs wobble to a halt. Picking up Stooky Bill’s grinning head, he dejectedly returns it to the cupboard.

Then a thought strikes him. What if he could use television to show advertisements for his glass razor blades? Or wait, better still, Mr. Gillette’s, who would then pay him for the privilege, so he wouldn’t have to continuously fiddle around with the wretched glass blades and keep cutting his fingers.

Or maybe even advertise popcorn? Or Tizer and ice-cream.

He walks over and gets Stooky out of the cupboard again.

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