Lesson Twenty-Four

　　Section One:

　　Tapescript.

　　Calculations:

　　Add two and four; eight and ten; fourteen and seven.

　　Subtract six from eighteen; four from eleven; five from nineteen.

　　Multiply two by eight; five by three; six by four.

　　Divide six by three; eight by two; twenty by five.

　　Numbers and Symbols:

　　I’ll take a commission of ten per cent.

　　The current rate of interest is twenty-three per cent.

　　I only get three-eights of the total.

　　It’s only a fraction of the cost, about a sixteenth.

　　Divide nine by two and you get four point five.

　　You only get two point four six per cent.

　　Asking for Advice:

　　I have to get a new pair of jeans. Is there anywhere ...? Do you know a, a good shop where I can get a pair?

　　Look, er, I want something interesting. All I’ve eaten since I’ve arrived here is junk food. I want some good local food. Where should I go and what shall I ask for?

　　The car’s giving problems again. I had it serviced last week but it’s as bad as it was before. I don’t know what to do about it.

　　Ooh, yes, I need your advice. The problem is that I have to go to this very formal dinner party next week and I haven’t got a dinner suit here. I really don’t want to buy one. What do you suggest?

　　Ever since I’ve been here I had this stomach problem, you know. I mean, it’s not serious. Well, I don’t think it is. I mean, you often get these things when you travel. Must be the different water or something. But it really is a nuisance and it seems to be getting worse ...

　　Damn! I’ve lost my wallet!

　　Section Two:

　　Tapescript.

　　Telegram:

　　Man: Telegram, miss.

　　Jean: Oh, thanks.

　　Jean: I wonder who it’s from. Oh, it’s for Helen. Helen, there’s a telegram for you.

　　Helen: For me? Oh, Jean, will you open it? I hate opening telegrams.

　　Jean: Do you? Why?

　　Helen: Well, it’s just that I think a telegram must mean bad news.

　　Jean: I’m just the opposite. I love opening telegrams because I’m sure they must mean something exciting.

　　Jean: Helen, you’d better sit down. You aren’t going to believe this. It says, ‘Congratulations, Nurse of the Year. Letter follows.’

　　Helen: It can’t be true.

　　Jean: Here. You read it.

　　Interview Appointment:

　　Hello. This is Sophie Peters ringing from the Brook Organization. Um, we got your job application and I’m ringing just to arrange an interview with you. How about Monday morning at, er, 11.30? Would that be all right? That’s Monday morning of the 10th of August. Um, if you can’t make that time, could you please give us a ring? The interview will be with myself and Brian Shaw, so we, um, we look forward to seeing you then. Bye-bye.

　　Henry:

　　“Henry!”

　　“Yes, dear?”

　　“I’m going up to bed now. Don’t forget to do your little jobs.”

　　“No, dear.”

　　Henry turned off the television and went into the kitchen. He fed the cat, washed up several dishes, dried them and put them away. Then he put the cat out, locked all the doors and turned out all the lights. When he got to the bedroom, his wife was sitting up in bed reading a book and eating chocolates.

　　“Well dear, have you done all your little jobs?”

　　“I think so, my love.”

　　“Have you fed the cat?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you put him out?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you washed up the dishes?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you put them all away?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you tidied the kitchen?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you turned out all the lights?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you locked the front door?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Then you can come to bed.”

　　“Thank you, dear.”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　After a little while they heard a gate banging downstairs.

　　“Henry.”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“I’m afraid you've forgotten to shut the garden gate.”

　　“Oh dear! ...”

　　Radio Talk:

　　Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the Lake Late Talk Show, with your host, Dickie Reeves. (applause)

　　Nice to be with you again, folks. And among the line of interesting guests I’ll show you tonight is the lady you’ve all been reading and hearing about recently. She is beautiful. She is clever. And she is brave. She is the lady who makes friends with monkeys. She is with us tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, the apewoman herself, Josephin Carter. (applause) Hello, Josephin, or can I call you Joe?

　　Please do.

　　The first question that I know everybody has been dying to ask you is, how long have you been living with monkeys?

　　Apes actually. Well, I’ve been studying apes for quite a long time, ever since I was at university. But I’ve only been actually living with them for five years.

　　Five years in the African jungle, with only monkeys to talk to.

　　Apes actually.

　　Oh, with only apes to talk to. That’s fantastic! And I know you’re going back to your monkey colony ...

　　Ape colony actually.

　　...to finish your work.

　　Oh, yes. I haven’t finished it yet. Although I have been recording their behaviour and watching their movements very closely, I still haven’t finished my work. I’ve also been training my husband to work with me.

　　Your husband?

　　Yes. He’s come with me tonight. Let me introduce you to Tarsan!

　　Hi, everybody.

　　Mr. Pollard and the Solicitor:

　　People think that all solicitors are rich and prosperous. In any town there are, of course, rich and prosperous solicitors, but there are also solicitors like me. I am neither rich nor prosperous. I have an office over a fish and chip shop, for which I pay an exorbitant rent, and two rather inefficient secretaries.

　　I suppose it is because my premises are in the less fashionable part of the town, but my clients always seem to have enormous problems and miserable incomes. Mr. Pollard was exactly that sort of client. He was a small, untidy little man, with a large head and round, old-fashioned spectacles.

　　“I have a problem,” he began nervously, “I bought this house, you see. I got a mortgage from the building society, but then I lost my job, so I got behind with the payments.” He gave me the details. It appeared that he owed eleven payments of fifty pounds, and had no job and no money. Not surprisingly the building society had written to say they intended to take possession of the house; sell it, and thus get back any money.

　　“What would happen if they sold it for less than I paid?” he asked. “Would I get back any money?”

　　“Probably not,” I replied.

　　“Would you mind telephoning the building society?” he pleaded, “and see if they could possibly give me a little more time?”

　　“If you’re not earning any money, how will more time help?” I asked. He looked at me hopelessly.

　　In the end the house was sold. The building society debt was paid off, and Mr. Pollard got sixty pounds.

　　Monologue:

　　Everybody agrees I’m just ordinary. My face is ordinary, my voice is ordinary, my clothes are ordinary. Everything about me is ordinary. ‘What’s Frank like?’ they say. ‘Frank? Oh—you know. Ordinary,’ they say. Now look at that man two rows in front. He’s not ordinary. In fact I can’t see anybody apart from me who is. Even this fellow next to me. Quite ordinary on the whole, I suppose. But there’s something a bit ... something a bit odd about his mouth. Mustn’t catch his eye. Might start a conversation. Don’t want that. Interesting that he was just in front of me in the queue. They looked in his bag, they looked in his pockets—made him take his shoes off even. Mm—they’ve nearly finished with the food—though she didn’t take my glass when she collected my tray. Ah—she’s pressed her button again. Probably wants another gin and tonic. Had four already. Or is it five? Not bad, though. At least not in this light. Good—some of them are getting their blankets down now. I reckon that in about half an hour it’ll all be quiet. And then ... Of course they looked in my briefcase too. Didn’t look here, though, did they? Oh, no. Hah! Though they think otherwise, I know very well who those two in the back row are. Noticed them when I went to the toilet. But they won’t shoot. Not as long as I have this in my hand, they won’t. And it’s so small. Marvellous what they can do these days. Just about now, if I were sitting in funny mouth’s seat and not by the aisle—just about now, I could probably look down and see the mountains gleaming in the moonlight. I like that. Mm. Well, now I must go over my speech again. Mustn’t forget what my demands are, must I?

　　Section Three:

　　Answer the following questions briefly.

　　The problem of teenagers getting into trouble with the law.

　　The speaker believes that high level of unemployment is the chief cause.

　　Dictation.

　　Tapescript.

　　Well, I think that this problem of teenagers getting into trouble with the law is mainly caused by unemployment. You see, because of the high level of unemployment, so many teenagers nowadays leave school and find that they have no chance of getting a job, and this obviously makes them feel bored and frustrated. And as a result of this, they’re much more likely to get drunk and so on. Another thing of course is that you get groups of unemployed teenagers wandering around the streets with nothing to do, which can easily lead to trouble of one sort or another.

　　Lesson Twenty-Four

　　Section One:

　　Tapescript.

　　Calculations:

　　Add two and four; eight and ten; fourteen and seven.

　　Subtract six from eighteen; four from eleven; five from nineteen.

　　Multiply two by eight; five by three; six by four.

　　Divide six by three; eight by two; twenty by five.

　　Numbers and Symbols:

　　I’ll take a commission of ten per cent.

　　The current rate of interest is twenty-three per cent.

　　I only get three-eights of the total.

　　It’s only a fraction of the cost, about a sixteenth.

　　Divide nine by two and you get four point five.

　　You only get two point four six per cent.

　　Asking for Advice:

　　I have to get a new pair of jeans. Is there anywhere ...? Do you know a, a good shop where I can get a pair?

　　Look, er, I want something interesting. All I’ve eaten since I’ve arrived here is junk food. I want some good local food. Where should I go and what shall I ask for?

　　The car’s giving problems again. I had it serviced last week but it’s as bad as it was before. I don’t know what to do about it.

　　Ooh, yes, I need your advice. The problem is that I have to go to this very formal dinner party next week and I haven’t got a dinner suit here. I really don’t want to buy one. What do you suggest?

　　Ever since I’ve been here I had this stomach problem, you know. I mean, it’s not serious. Well, I don’t think it is. I mean, you often get these things when you travel. Must be the different water or something. But it really is a nuisance and it seems to be getting worse ...

　　Damn! I’ve lost my wallet!

　　Section Two:

　　Tapescript.

　　Telegram:

　　Man: Telegram, miss.

　　Jean: Oh, thanks.

　　Jean: I wonder who it’s from. Oh, it’s for Helen. Helen, there’s a telegram for you.

　　Helen: For me? Oh, Jean, will you open it? I hate opening telegrams.

　　Jean: Do you? Why?

　　Helen: Well, it’s just that I think a telegram must mean bad news.

　　Jean: I’m just the opposite. I love opening telegrams because I’m sure they must mean something exciting.

　　Jean: Helen, you’d better sit down. You aren’t going to believe this. It says, ‘Congratulations, Nurse of the Year. Letter follows.’

　　Helen: It can’t be true.

　　Jean: Here. You read it.

　　Interview Appointment:

　　Hello. This is Sophie Peters ringing from the Brook Organization. Um, we got your job application and I’m ringing just to arrange an interview with you. How about Monday morning at, er, 11.30? Would that be all right? That’s Monday morning of the 10th of August. Um, if you can’t make that time, could you please give us a ring? The interview will be with myself and Brian Shaw, so we, um, we look forward to seeing you then. Bye-bye.

　　Henry:

　　“Henry!”

　　“Yes, dear?”

　　“I’m going up to bed now. Don’t forget to do your little jobs.”

　　“No, dear.”

　　Henry turned off the television and went into the kitchen. He fed the cat, washed up several dishes, dried them and put them away. Then he put the cat out, locked all the doors and turned out all the lights. When he got to the bedroom, his wife was sitting up in bed reading a book and eating chocolates.

　　“Well dear, have you done all your little jobs?”

　　“I think so, my love.”

　　“Have you fed the cat?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you put him out?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you washed up the dishes?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you put them all away?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you tidied the kitchen?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you turned out all the lights?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Have you locked the front door?”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“Then you can come to bed.”

　　“Thank you, dear.”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　After a little while they heard a gate banging downstairs.

　　“Henry.”

　　“Yes, dear.”

　　“I’m afraid you've forgotten to shut the garden gate.”

　　“Oh dear! ...”

　　Radio Talk:

　　Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the Lake Late Talk Show, with your host, Dickie Reeves. (applause)

　　Nice to be with you again, folks. And among the line of interesting guests I’ll show you tonight is the lady you’ve all been reading and hearing about recently. She is beautiful. She is clever. And she is brave. She is the lady who makes friends with monkeys. She is with us tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, the apewoman herself, Josephin Carter. (applause) Hello, Josephin, or can I call you Joe?

　　Please do.

　　The first question that I know everybody has been dying to ask you is, how long have you been living with monkeys?

　　Apes actually. Well, I’ve been studying apes for quite a long time, ever since I was at university. But I’ve only been actually living with them for five years.

　　Five years in the African jungle, with only monkeys to talk to.

　　Apes actually.

　　Oh, with only apes to talk to. That’s fantastic! And I know you’re going back to your monkey colony ...

　　Ape colony actually.

　　...to finish your work.

　　Oh, yes. I haven’t finished it yet. Although I have been recording their behaviour and watching their movements very closely, I still haven’t finished my work. I’ve also been training my husband to work with me.

　　Your husband?

　　Yes. He’s come with me tonight. Let me introduce you to Tarsan!

　　Hi, everybody.

　　Mr. Pollard and the Solicitor:

　　People think that all solicitors are rich and prosperous. In any town there are, of course, rich and prosperous solicitors, but there are also solicitors like me. I am neither rich nor prosperous. I have an office over a fish and chip shop, for which I pay an exorbitant rent, and two rather inefficient secretaries.

　　I suppose it is because my premises are in the less fashionable part of the town, but my clients always seem to have enormous problems and miserable incomes. Mr. Pollard was exactly that sort of client. He was a small, untidy little man, with a large head and round, old-fashioned spectacles.

　　“I have a problem,” he began nervously, “I bought this house, you see. I got a mortgage from the building society, but then I lost my job, so I got behind with the payments.” He gave me the details. It appeared that he owed eleven payments of fifty pounds, and had no job and no money. Not surprisingly the building society had written to say they intended to take possession of the house; sell it, and thus get back any money.

　　“What would happen if they sold it for less than I paid?” he asked. “Would I get back any money?”

　　“Probably not,” I replied.

　　“Would you mind telephoning the building society?” he pleaded, “and see if they could possibly give me a little more time?”

　　“If you’re not earning any money, how will more time help?” I asked. He looked at me hopelessly.

　　In the end the house was sold. The building society debt was paid off, and Mr. Pollard got sixty pounds.

　　Monologue:

　　Everybody agrees I’m just ordinary. My face is ordinary, my voice is ordinary, my clothes are ordinary. Everything about me is ordinary. ‘What’s Frank like?’ they say. ‘Frank? Oh—you know. Ordinary,’ they say. Now look at that man two rows in front. He’s not ordinary. In fact I can’t see anybody apart from me who is. Even this fellow next to me. Quite ordinary on the whole, I suppose. But there’s something a bit ... something a bit odd about his mouth. Mustn’t catch his eye. Might start a conversation. Don’t want that. Interesting that he was just in front of me in the queue. They looked in his bag, they looked in his pockets—made him take his shoes off even. Mm—they’ve nearly finished with the food—though she didn’t take my glass when she collected my tray. Ah—she’s pressed her button again. Probably wants another gin and tonic. Had four already. Or is it five? Not bad, though. At least not in this light. Good—some of them are getting their blankets down now. I reckon that in about half an hour it’ll all be quiet. And then ... Of course they looked in my briefcase too. Didn’t look here, though, did they? Oh, no. Hah! Though they think otherwise, I know very well who those two in the back row are. Noticed them when I went to the toilet. But they won’t shoot. Not as long as I have this in my hand, they won’t. And it’s so small. Marvellous what they can do these days. Just about now, if I were sitting in funny mouth’s seat and not by the aisle—just about now, I could probably look down and see the mountains gleaming in the moonlight. I like that. Mm. Well, now I must go over my speech again. Mustn’t forget what my demands are, must I?

　　Section Three:

　　Answer the following questions briefly.

　　The problem of teenagers getting into trouble with the law.

　　The speaker believes that high level of unemployment is the chief cause.

　　Dictation.

　　Tapescript.

　　Well, I think that this problem of teenagers getting into trouble with the law is mainly caused by unemployment. You see, because of the high level of unemployment, so many teenagers nowadays leave school and find that they have no chance of getting a job, and this obviously makes them feel bored and frustrated. And as a result of this, they’re much more likely to get drunk and so on. Another thing of course is that you get groups of unemployed teenagers wandering around the streets with nothing to do, which can easily lead to trouble of one sort or another.