The Agreeable World of Walllace Arnold: The talk of the town

Whither the wireless? While the new Controller of the Third Programme (more like Out-OfController, if you'll excuse the pun]) is hard at work reducing that once-noble station to a suitable dumping-ground for the unpleasing sounds of 'Wrap' and 'Reggie' music, the news comes winging its way that the Home Service is hell-bent on taking that most delightful of programmes, Stop the Week, off the air.

I have, of course, been a mainstay of Stoppers, as we affectionately term it, for close on 25 years. Indeed, with Mr Bob Robinson, Miss (Ms]) Ann Leslie, and Professor Laurie Taylor, I was one of the original foursome, soon gaining a niche as the firm favourite of the great listening public for my unashamedly forthright opinions on such matters as pouring the milk in first when making a cup of tea ('unspeakable habit]'), the rights and wrongs of wearing a cravat ('splendidly, nay, delectably English]') and the impossibility of a chap attempting 'that most unyielding of all household chores' - namely, the ironing]

Though I was undoubtedly the most popular member of the team (a team is what we were) the others all chipped in quite freely with their anecdotes and snappy comments, seemingly content in the knowledge that they would eventually be outshone by you- know-who]

We were, in our humble ways, attempting to revive the long lost art of conversation. Let others remain glued to the gogglebox: Bob, Ann, Laurie, and Wallace were the standard-bearers for civilised chat of a type and quality unknown since the goodly Dr Johnson, though briefly revived by our closest counterparts, the Algonquin set, bless - as Uncle Bob might say] - their cotton socks.

To pay due credit to my fellow panellists, the anthologists will undoubtedly wish to record the gorgeous waterfall of aphorisms coined at 7.35 on the night of Friday 30 September 1978. It all began when Bob asked the waspish Ann Leslie for her opinion on the vexed issue of piped music in restaurants. Quick as a flash, Ann replied: 'I am against pipes of all kinds in restaurants - and that includes piped music]' After much chortling and general delight from her fellow panellists, Ann said - with characteristic generosity: 'But I'm literally dying to know what you think, Bob]'

Never lost for a word, Bob replied, without so much as a second's hesitation: 'Well, Ann, you might be forgiven for failing to appreciate the finer points of piped music in restaurants, and I might even let you off the proverbial hook for - to coin a phrase] - turning your nose up at the type of pipe that one enjoys a jolly good puff on if one is of a smoking disposition, but, by golly, I'll eat my hat if you tell me in all honesty that you are really against pipes of all kinds in restaurants - for have you not considered, perchance, how very chilly those estimable establishments would be were they not warmed in the winter months by the hot water pipes so admirably linked to their central heating systems?'

Needless to say, we all fell about with laughter at such cleverness, but the hilarity did not end there. Within seconds, Professor Laurie Taylor had launched into his second-best - possibly even his best - anecdote about central heating in restaurants, setting all of us rocking with mirth. The focus then fell on yours truly. 'I can tolerate piped music,' I began, 'I can even feel duly appreciative of piped heating and I am, as you know, something of an inveterate pipe- smoker - indeed, I am the proud holder of the Pipesmoker of the Year Award, 1973 - but I stoutly refuse to give elbow-room to the other type of pipe, ha, ha - and that, may I add, is a promise]'

Alas, as the laughter subsided, the programme came to an end, the familiar jaunty beat of the title tune drowning out the subsequent chat, so that I cannot for the life of me remember to what other type of pipe I was referring. Nevertheless, I hope this small gem of a chat will have inspired readers to practise the long lost art of conversation in their own homes. Just a few minutes a day, and you too could be a match for the immortal Bob, Ann, and Laurie - or even my own good self]