On Tuesday Molly Dylan Winter’s faithful mare was safely tethered outside King’s Cross

On Tuesday Molly, Dylan Winter’s faithful mare, was safely tethered outside King’s Cross, having pulled a barge-load of soap and candles all the way from Liverpool for A Hack on the Cut (R4). Nobody suggested to the orchestra that it was time to go back to Palm Court; the band played on.Hundreds of horses were killed that day – though in this version they suffered in silence – so it is a relief to turn to a survivor. Awkward removal men seemed to be taking a heavy sofa downstairs and in the distance you could hear someone feeding hungry hens. The sound-effects of the charge itself used all the mighty acoustic potential of crumpled tissue-paper, a single jingling bit, one whinny and someraindrops in a water-butt. Given a script woven seamlessly from variegated cliches, the actors did theirbest, but they were stitched up. Raglan was certainly a little woolly but Cardigan, though wildly unbuttoned, refused to flap, despite some clumsy ribbing. His motive was to demoralise the Russians by demonstrating to them ”what a deadly opponent the British cavalryman can be”.

Realising his mistake, he was killed as he tried to turn the brigade back. (Sixty years later Haig had learnt nothing from this and pitted horses against guns on the Western Front.)This theory would make an interesting essay It made silly radio. Instead of capturing some small accessible guns, Nolan persuaded Lord Lucan to order a charge against, and through, impregnable batteries. Amis has a theory that Captain Nolan deliberately misinterpreted Lord Raglan’s famously ambiguous command.

Such dialogue is more risible than plausible, so to make it all more comfy, everyone had a drink And then another. As we listened, gasping, they downed doubtful sherry which ”can just about be swallowed if you grit your teeth”, followed by gin, brandy, rum, vodka, port, champagne, more vodka and a small glass of still white wine.Thus fortified, they set about revealing the plot. His reading sounded cross, sinister and slightly Welsh, as if Richard III had turned up in Milk Wood Worse was to come. One by one the protagonists
appeared, greeting each other with abbreviated CVs, to help the listener tell them apart. The poem was the startingpoint for Kingsley Amis’s play, Captain Nolan’s Charge (R4) This time Steve Hodson replaced the poet. In out of the storm he came, to recite against a string orchestra practising a little gentle Mendelssohn. Of the 600 or so horsemen involved, 113 were killed and 134 wounded in what became, largely thanks to Tennyson, the best-known action of the Crimean war.

Only familiarity allows the hearer to recognise the cadences of The Charge of the Light Brigade. Tennyson’s subject was the futile, foolhardy, heroic cavalry assault on Russian guns outside Balaclava, which took place in October 1854. Apparently standing half a league from the microphone in a tropical downpour, his lugubrious bass intones his most famous poem. ONE OF the earliest soundrecordings ever made has preserved the voice of Tennyson Every so often you can catch it on the radio. I think I’d ask him to marry me straight away.TONY KING, company director: Bill Clinton, to say sorry to hear things aren’t working out too well at the moment, shame about the health reforms.ANNABEL McKINNON, housewife: I’d ring Geoff Hamilton and ask if he could tell me what’s wrong with my Forsythia.STEVE, barman: I would love to phone the Chancellor of the Exchequer, cos he’s putting 16p on a packet of cigarettes and I want to know why..

If she answered I’d say, ”Can I come round?”SARAH ALLCOCK, advertising manager: I’d love to ring up Pierce Brosnan but I don’t know if I would have the guts. The education system is being run appallingly and we’re like lambs to the slaughter.JASON WHITE, mobile phone salesman: I’d like Claudia Schiffer’s telephone number. I would ask him which numbers he’s put on his ticket this week and also, could he lend me pounds 50 until pay day.JUSTIN GREETHAM, graphics/animation producer: If he were alive, I’d want the number of William Fox Talbot to thank him for developing the term ”photography” because it’s great. I’d tell him I’ve taken on board his advice about the darkroom and it’s working beautifully.LIZ WOODHEAD, teacher: I’d phone Gillian Shephard and berate her for her policies. Then I’d call God and ask him if I could win the National Lottery Even winning just a little money would help, I’m not greedy. I’d tell him that I had been good all year and that I deserved it.DAVE SHELDON, senior art director of Harry Enfield/Mercury phones ad campaign: Ken Pilton, the lottery winner. Perhaps we will go out a bit less, but we’ll still go down the pub, and the Robinson family will probably be there too.(Photographs omitted).