Yee-haps. Today I chose disasters from around the world to pitch to the broadcaster. Location criteria are: a moderate degree of industrialization; Europe but not Britain (interviews and footage are so expensive they make your teeth go yellow and snaggled with shock); Asia but not Japan (again, an expensive proposition. Or perhaps my producer is tsunamiphobic); Africa but not Egypt (no reason given, but here's my scenario: on some previous project, a bureaucrat deep within the warrens of Egyptian government made life difficult for someone here at The Company, which resulted in our CEO barking out "We're never dealing with Egypt again!" during a three hour production meeting. Such is the power of a production company, that can by fiat obliterate whole nations from its business map). We also shy away from going to countries where we run a good chance of being shot, kidnapped, ransomed, or 'hound-dogged'. We seek a middle ground, neither too exotic nor too modern. This leaves us with nowhere at all, but somehow the show gets made.

Our criteria for disasters are pretty simple: a populace living calmly, their peace of mind marred only by vague portents, and then horrible death from above! From below! Creeping over the plain or cascading down the mountain, exploding or sinking, spiralling horribly out of control or flying smoothly into buildings. Anybody remember Richard Dreyfuss' monologues on theatrical death from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead? Yes, well, neither do I. And I've never of Richard Dreyfuss either. Whoever that is.

My favourite disaster so far: The Hartford Circus Fire of 1944. A Ringling Bros./Barnum & Bailey circus started off with clowns and calliopes and whatnot but ended in fire and screaming, then coughing, then rasping, and finally a sound like a sack of potatoes hitting the ground (Try it some time: set a sack of potatoes on fire and drop it on the floor, and you'll have a good idea of what the Hartford circus fire was like. Or set 167¹ men, women and children potato sacks on fire, and you'll be even closer to the original experience. For greater verisimilitude add a circus.). The tent had apparently been waterproofed with a mixture of paraffin and gasoline, which is a bit like going to a beach party with a napalm hat on². As the flames spread the band started to play "Stars and Stripes Forever," which served as a general danger signal to the staff. The performers exited and left the paying crowd to stampede in a panicked herd for the exits.

You will notice that I have coined a new word with this entry: Yee-haps. It's an ambivalent version of yee-hah, suitable for the stage. I don't know quite what to call phrases like 'yee-hah'. It's not quite a cry, it's not a curse, and it's certainly not an oath. 'Exclamation' is too general, and 'ejaculation' is only good if your name is Robert Louis Stevenson and you're writing Treasure Island, and ejaculating is something that sailors do on the wharf.

¹Some reports of the Hartford Circus Fire say 168 deaths, others 169. I wonder how these extras always manage to creep in on disaster death tolls. A few envious suicides craving solidarity? I picture people flinging themselves off a bridge with a note pinned to their chests reading: "Yes, I know it looks like a death by drowning, but actually I died last week in that circus fire. Whoah, was it hot!"

²It is like wearing a napalm hat to a beach party. It is. It is it is it is it is it is. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

parode - exode