Setting: A draughty living room in Huddersfield. Brown carpet, beige wallpaper, two armchairs. The kettle whistles distantly. Rain lashes the window with the enthusiasm of a grudge.
Characters:
Ian: Retired geography teacher. Big fan of plasma and sausages.
Marjorie: His sister. Knits thermoelectric generator cozies.
Voiceover (Alan Bennett–style narrator): Reflective, slightly melancholic but warmly amused.
Voiceover: They said Ian was mad. But then, they said that about Marjorie too—and she was just collecting hats for ferrets.
Ian (entering, with a folder of diagrams): "You won’t believe this, Marj. Apparently, heavy rain releases X-rays. Not puddles. Not splashes. X-rays. Nature’s own physics GCSE, mid-exam panic edition."
Marjorie (not looking up): "I once got X-rays from the dentist. He said my jaw clenched like a ‘corrugated council noticeboard.’ You reckon it’s thunder that does that?"
Ian: "It’s nuclear fusion in the clouds. You’ve got molecules in a state, electrons legging it to the ground, and the positive ions all smug up top. 5000 volts, a bit of drama, and zap! One lightning farce strikes down like it’s got a shift at Greggs."
Marjorie (wry): "Better than Doreen next door, she still thinks 'carbon zero' is a brand of biscuits."
Voiceover: Ian had discovered a steam plaza. Not in Marbella. No cocktails or fountain shows. Just pressure, heat, and the dream of 65 kilowatts of three-phase joy.
Ian (animated): "I’m telling you, Marj, it’s all online. A 1500 thermoelectric generator, heats across thorium salt. You know... DC electricity without the drama. No oil vans. No hypochondriac nuclear power plants pretending to be useful."
Marjorie: "I like my electricity how I like my tea. Hot, paid for, and not leaking thorium. But Ian—who’s paying us for this miracle?"
Ian (smug): "The National Grid. £1.8 million for 65 kilowatts. That’s more than I got in retirement—and that included the casserole dish from the PTA."
Voiceover: And so they sat. Between the crackling radiator and an X-ray-filled storm outside. Two ordinary Yorkshire folk. Plotting to bring down fossil fuels with science, sarcasm, and a bit of leftover curry.
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