Tiny Tickle UnRadio

Tiny Tickle UnRadio is proud to present Occle, the world's shortest silent radio play, which was written and performed by William Shakespeare's lesser-known half-brother, Wallace Brakespeare, who is here with us now. Brakespeare is 444 years old and currently living in a privately-owned gravel pit in South-East England. But before we air the recording, please tell us a little about how you came to write it, Will -- er -- Wallace.

Well, I first had the idea for a really short radio play in 1773, so I guess you could say I was ahead of my time.

I wouldn't guess; I'd suppose.

Whatever. So, back then nobody was interested in my idea. I went to several agents who actually had the nerve to tell me that radio hadn't been invented yet! I knew that -- that was the problem! I was hoping they'd be able to help me, but they all told me to get out of their respective offices... Those insensitive little shits! They don't know what it's like! They have no idea what it's like being an artist who's held back by technology and constantly in his little brother's shadow!

Yes... erm... thank you. We do try to avoid swearing on this station. You never know, there may be little children listening.

Yeah, well... they can all go and--

This interview is over. Run the tape, for goodness sake!

"..."

Well, that really is a short silent radio play.

What were you expecting?

Alright, alright, I'm sorry, just please don't swear.

Fine. Shall I continue with the story?

Since we seem to have so much air-time left, please do go ahead.

Right, well... Once I'd got over the initial frustration, I thought, "OK, Wally, you've got hundreds of years to write your play, so relax and do a good job of it." I started my first draft that night. It was hard going, staring at that blank page. The page stared back at me. Course, when I was finished, the page was still blank.

Understandably, yes.

Nonetheless, I went to sleep knowing it was a job well done. Well, it was good for a first draft. But the next day I couldn't find that page... I searched high and low and from side-to-side, but all I could find was a page with nothing on it, and that couldn't be it. So I eventually calmed down and decided to write another draft from memory. I could still remember it pretty well, 'cause my memory's good if I get enough sleep. Anyway, the next day there was nothing but that dratted blank page again. I started to think that William was stealing all my drafts. It was like that for the next few centuries. I don't know how he continued to steal my drafts after his death, but he did. When radios and recordings were eventually invented, I'd written enough drafts to be able to improvise the play on the spot, so I simply recorded several improvisations and kept the best one. First, it was recorded onto an old cylinder, but I had to keep transferring it to new cylinders because they wore out so quickly. Then I transferred it to a record and later to tape. By then, it was so scratched and horrible it was almost impossible to hear the silence, so I had it digitally re-mastered. It cost a lot, but I have to give them some credit; they did it SO quickly! That's the story behind the recording you just heard.

Well, that was fascinating. Do you have any plans for the future?

Yes, I'm writing the sequel, which I hope to make even shorter and quieter.

Even quieter? How can you get quieter than silence?

It's amazing what you can do with computers! Anyway, I'm also forcing myself to make this one shorter by using a smaller piece of paper.

I say, that is indeed cunning. Well done and I hope you have better luck with this play!

Thanks, I'm sure I will.

Well, that's all for now. Do be sure to tune in later.