The Adventure and Romance Agency

Ken Campbell

Early in January last year I was approached in the Hampstead Pub which used to be called The Cruel Sea by an exceedingly charismatic gent who I'd say was in his thirties. I'd never met him before to my recall, but he knew my name and immediately gained a sympathetic hearing by his declaration that the Fringe was currently lifeless in comparison to my great experiments of days gone by.

He told me his name was Peter Northover and he ran the Adventure and Romance Agency. He showed me a brochure exciting us to the type of work undertaken by his outfit. He hadn't a spare one to give me, and nor could he give me the address of his Agency, since, he claimed, it didn't have one. But he allowed me to copy down what I wished to of the strange brochure. I have my notebook of the time to hand, and I quote from it for you now (apparently the copy was inspired by GK Chesterton, but so far I've been unable to locate the particular piece).

'Our customers are given a glimpse of that great morning world of Robin Hood or the knights errant, when one great game was played under the splendid sky'

'We believe we do a noble work. It has continually struck us that there is no element in modern life that is more lamentable than the fact that the late twentieth-century person has to seek all artistic existence in a sedentary state. If s/he wishes to float into fairyland, dash into battle, soar into heaven, or slide down the banisters, s/he buys a copy of Time Out. We give our clients these visions, but we give them exercise at the same time, the necessity of leaping from wall to wall, of fighting strange gentlemen, of running down long streets from pursuers - all healthy and pleasant exercise. Our customers are given a glimpse of that great morning world of Robin Hood or the knights errant, when one great game was played under the splendid sky. We give them back their childhood, that god-like time when we can act stories, be our own heroes and heroines, and at the same time dance and dream.'

I asked Peter the cost of his service. It was L1,000 for six months, L1,800 for the whole year. 'I've got what they call Writer's Block at the moment,' I told him.

'Our service has cured a number of cases of Writer's Block,' said Peter.

'What writers have you cured?' I asked.

'That I can't tell you,' said Peter. 'Due to the nature of our service, one client must never know of the existence of another. If they uncover it, fine, but you can appreciate that it's rarely helpful to the scenarists of the client's adventure. If a truly exponential excitement growth is to take place in our customer, he must never be clear whether he is in a natural situation or one we're laying on.'

'Has Howard Brenton ever done it?' I wanted to know.

'I'm not saying whether Howard has ever done it or not,' said Peter, 'but I'll permit myself to tell you at least one member of the 'Romans in Britain' team was one of our clients at the time.' Michael Bogdanov? I thought to myself. Michael always seems so alive, enthusiastic, cooking ... and he rode through that 'Romans in Britain' scandal with such fine, swashbuckling style ...

A further quote from the brochure:

'Did you ever, as you walked alone through thronging streets upon some idle afternoon, feel the utter hunger for something to happen - something, in the splendid words of Walt Whitman: 'Something pernicious and dread; something far removed from a puny and pious life; something loosed from its anchorage and driving free'?'.

'Something pernicious and dread, far removed from a puny and pious life; something loosed from its anchorage and driving free'

I wrote Peter Northover a cheque for the whole year.

When Tsai Chin rang me up out of the blue to ask if, were I to be invited to represent the Fringe at the Chinese Embassy Reception for British Theatre Persons, I would respond in the positive, I responded that were that to happen I would indeed respond in the positive. This phone call came less than a week after I'd written the cheque. When she next rang, suspecting that this unlikely invitation came in some way via the Adventure and Romance Agency, I attempted to call the bluff in this way: 'You do realise, Tsai,' I said, 'that the drama which infests me is the one far removed from the puny and the pious; I go for things unproved; things in a trance; things, Tsai, loosed from their anchorage and driving free.' She replied: 'Me too, dear. Great.' And 'See you there.'

I spent my first hour at the Chinese Embassy reception talking to Tom Courtenay, David Gothard and Arnold Wesker - pleasant enough chats, but none obviously leading towards romantic or adventurous conclusion. Then there was Tsai Chin hovering on my shoulder. There was by this time only about 50 minutes to go of the reception, so if I was to be steered towards adventure here, it had to happen soon. I said quietly to Tsai: 'I'm not making proper use of my time here. I'm keeping myself to kind faces of a time or two ago. Would you be so kind as to nudge me towards my future?' She silently indicated a certain person, alone, musing at the Grub Table. With no certainty that a play had begun, but nonetheless with an incredibly growing excitement, I moved to where I'd been bidden, and spoke my first line to she who might be the leading lady.

Postcript: was reading this article to a member of the Institute for Social Inventions. He thought the inspiration for this splendid service, and much of the brochure copy, comes from G. K. Chesterton's 'The Club of Queer Trades.'

Postpostcript: He's rung back to say not only that but P. G. Northover is one of the characters in that book!

- Ken Campbell, 74 Watermint Quay, Craven Walk, London N16 6DD (tel 081 800 1651). This piece first appeared in Time Out magazine. The Institute for Social Inventions has initiated an Agency inspired by this piece, enquiries and bookings 081 208 2853). Ken Campbell is the Agency's President.

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