Authors: Ben Elton
Ben Elton's career as both performer and writer encompasses some of the most memorable and incisive comedy of the last twenty years. His work as a stand-up comedian hosting such ground-breaking television series as
Saturday Live
and
The Man from Auntie
has been hugely influential, as have his hit television sitcoms
The Young Ones, Blackadder
and
The Thin Blue Line.
Elton has written three hit West End musicals, including the global phenomenon
We Will Rock You,
which he also directs, and three West End plays, including the multi-award-winning
Popcorn.
His internationally bestselling novels include
Stark, Inconceivable, Dead Famous
and
High Society.
In 2000 he wrote and directed the feature film
Maybe Baby
based on his acclaimed novel
Inconceivable.
Critical acclaim for Ben Elton:
'Engaging and smartly plotted'
Observer
'Fans will love it'
Heat
'Past Mortem
confirms Elton as craftsmanlike, thoughtful and readable. Fans will find plenty to enjoy'
Daily Mail
'He has not lost his canny eye for the preoccupations of his peers . . . its warm-hearted characterisation and deft pacing should make the paperback popular on next summer's beaches'
Sunday Times
'You expect a witty, engaging storyline when you pick up an Elton novel – and his latest doesn't disappoint'
Fresh
magazine
'In the tradition of Ben Elton's previous novels,
Past Mortem
is a gripping read'
City Weekly
'Elton is such a readable author'
Sydney Morning Herald
'Elton melds his story, part comic romance, part page-turning thriller, with a subtext that explores schoolyard bullying, lightly and broadly, by taking every opportunity to include thought-provoking passages on the issue'
Sunday Territorian
'As I raced to the end, I found myself applauding Elton. This is a tough subject tackled with courage and commitment' Will Hutton,
Observer Review
'A fix of high comedy from a writer who provokes almost as much as he entertains'
Daily Mail
'Tremendous narrative momentum . . . genuinely moving'
The Times
'A return to Elton's top fiery form'
Glamour
magazine
'Very racy, a compulsive read'
Daily Mirror
'Full of passion and plenty of one-liners'
Scotland on Sunday
'A joy to read . . . a startling head of narrative steam'
Evening Standard
'A throat-grabbing thriller which also manages to savagely satirise this high society we all live in . . . Excellent'
Ireland on Sunday
'One of Ben Elton's many triumphs with
Dead Famous
is that he is superbly persuasive about the stage of the story: the characterisation is a joy, the jokes are great, the structuring is very clever and the thriller parts are ingenious and full of suspense. And not only that – the satire (of
Big Brother,
of the television industry, of the arrogant ignorance and rabid inarticulacy of yoof culture) is scathing, intelligent and cherishable.
As
House Arrest's
twerpy contestants would put it, wicked. Double wicked. Big up to Ben Elton and respect, big time. Top, top book'
Mail on Sunday
'Brilliant . . . Ben has captured the verbal paucity of this world perfectly . . . devastatingly accurate in its portrayal . . . read Elton's book' Janet Street-Porter,
Independent on Sunday
'Elton has produced a book with pace and wit, real tension, a dark background theme, and a big on-screen climax'
Independent
'Very acute about television and the Warhol-inspired fame for fame's sake that it offers . . . certainly delivers a readable whodunnit'
Spectator
'One of the best whodunnits I have ever read . . . This is a cracking read – a funny, gripping, hugely entertaining thriller, but also a persuasive, dyspeptic account of the way we live now, with our insane, inane cult of the celebrity'
Sunday Telegraph
'Extremely funny, clever, well-written, sharp and unexpectedly moving . . . This brilliant, chaotic satire merits rereading several times'
Mail on Sunday
'Extremely funny without ever being tasteless or cruel . . . this is Elton at his best – mature, humane, and still a laugh a minute. At least'
Daily Telegraph
'A very funny book about a sensitive subject. The characters are well-developed, the action is page-turning and it's beginning to seem as if Ben Elton the writer might be even funnier than Ben Elton the comic'
Daily Mail
'This is Elton doing what he does best, taking comedy to a place most people wouldn't dream of visiting and asking some serious questions while he's about it. It's a brave and personal novel'
Daily Mirror
'A tender, beautifully balanced romantic comedy'
Spectator
'Moving and thoroughly entertaining'
Daily Express
'Somehow Ben Elton has managed to write a funny, positive love story about one of the most painful and damaging experiences a couple can go through'
Weekend Australian
'Anyone who has had trouble starting a family will recognize the fertility roller-coaster Elton perceptively and wittily describes'
The Age,
Melbourne
'With his trademark wit and barbed humour, Ben Elton tells a poignant and heart-rending story . . . a novel that is both entertaining and emotionally rich . . . This book is a marvel'
Pretoria News,
South Africa
'The action is tight and well-plotted, the dialogue is punchy and the whole thing runs along so nicely that you never have to feel you're reading a book at all'
Guardian
'A strong beginning, and the reminder that it is fear itself that makes you jump wouldn't be out of place in a psychological thriller.
Blast from the Past
is a comedy, but an edgy comedy . . . a slick moral satire that works as a hairy cliff-hanger'
Sunday Times
'Elton at his most outrageously entertaining . . . Elton is a master of the snappy one-liner, and here the witty repartee hides a surprisingly romantic core'
Cosmopolitan
'Elton again underlines his mastery of plot, structure and dialogue. In stand-up comedy, his other forte, it's all about timing. In writing it's about moving the narrative forward with exciting leaps of imagination and, as before, he seems to have the explosive take-off formula just about right. This literary rocket burns bright'
Sunday Times
(Perth)
'Blast from the Past
is a wicked, rip-roaring ride which charts the fine lines separating hilarity from horror; the oily gut of fear from the delicious shiver of anticipation'
West Australian
'Only Ben Elton could combine uncomfortable questions about gender politics with a gripping, page-turning narrative and jokes that make you laugh out loud' Tony Parsons
'As always, Ben Elton is topical to the point of clairvoyancy . . . Fast, funny and thought-provoking'
The List
Also by Ben Elton
STARK
THIS OTHER EDEN
POPCORN
BLAST FROM THE PAST
INCONCEIVABLE
DEAD FAMOUS
HIGH SOCIETY
PAST MORTEM
THE FIRST CASUALTY
Ben Elton
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
ISBN 9781407040929
Version 1.0
GRIDLOCK
A BLACK SWAN BOOK:
ISBN: 9781407040929
Version 1.0
Originally published in Great Britain by Macdonald & Co (Publishers) Ltd
PRINTING HISTORY
Macdonald edition published 1991
Sphere Books edition published 1992
Reprinted by Warner Books 1993, 1994, 1996, 1997,
1998, 1999, 2000 (twice), 2001
Reprinted by Time Warner Paperbacks in 2003, 2004, 2005
Black Swan edition published 2006
3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © Ben Elton 1991
The right of Ben Elton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Condition of Sale
This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
Set in 12/14pt Melior by Falcon Oast Graphic Art Ltd.
Black Swan Books are published by Transworld Publishers, 61-63 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA, a division of The Random House Group Ltd.
Addresses for Random House Group Ltd companies outside the UK can be found at:
www.randomhouse.co.uk
The Random House Group Ltd Reg. No. 954009.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berkshire.
For Sophie
GRIDLOCK
Before beginning this story proper, a story which has its fictional feet very firmly on the ground, it is worth taking a moment to look upwards, high above the teeming masses of rush-hour London where most of this story is set. Above the tired office workers, tired of office working; the tired media lunch-eaters, tired of eating media lunch; the strange cockney philanthropists, who are prepared to offer you not one gold watch, not even two gold watches, but three gold watches for a tenner. Up and away from the deep carpet of burger boxes and homeless people. Up through the dirty air, over the satellite dishes currently receiving fifteen different Italian game shows, some with bikinis. On, up past Nelson, through the flock of pigeons with the telescopic sights on their backsides, past the great crowd of 747s playing aeronautical Russian Roulette on their way to Heathrow. Through the hot, sticky fog of greenhouse gases, sadly no longer through the ozone layer, past the awesomely sophisticated satellite technology currently employed in transmitting fifteen different Italian game shows, some with bikinis. Up up up and out into space, for it is here, in space, that there recently hovered a spaceship.
This spaceship contained a group of television researchers from the Planet Brain in the process of analysing humanity, in order to compile a three-minute comedy item for their top-rated television show,
That's Amazing, Brainians,
which followed the early evening news.
The researchers were pleased, they had noted much which was amusingly amazing, and they assured each other that Earth had provided the easiest bit of researching that they had done in aeons. Brain is populated by beings of immense intelligence and so far it had taken them only a quarter, of a quarter, of a single second to assimilate and comprehend humanity.
All those things which we on Earth believe to be complex and difficult had been simplicity itself to the beings from Brain. The situation in Beirut; what Hamlet's problem was; how to set the timer on a fourteen-day video-recorder – these things were not mysteries to the Brainians. In that quarter, of one quarter, of a single second they had answered it all. Although, in fairness, it must be added that two weeks later, back on Brain, the researchers would discover that they had managed to record a documentary about Tuscany rather than
Dirty Harry
which they really wanted to watch.
But such slight slip-ups aside, the Brainians had humanity taped. They understood the rules of cricket, how the stripes get into the toothpaste and the reason why there is no word in English for the back of the knee. In that quarter, of one quarter, of a single second the research team had answered all the great philosophical questions. They knew whether an object still exists when you are not looking at it (it does); whether there is a God (if you want); and why people eat Kentucky Fried Chicken even though it makes them feel ill (human beings are stupid).
But then, they were stumped. They had encountered one aspect of human activity which astonished and mystified even those hardened researchers. Researchers who thought they had seen every illogicality and lunacy that the universe had to offer. On this very planet they had seen pointless wars and pointless destruction; they had visited the Tate gallery; they had listened to modern jazz; they had read the novels of James Joyce; they had seen ice creams which claimed to be shaped like faces but were actually shaped like amoebas – and they had understood it all. But this one had thrown them. This one had them scratching their multiple thought podules in a perplexed manner and saying
'akjafgidkerhs lejhslh hei!',
which translates as 'Bugger me, that's weird!'
The problem was one of transport.
The Brainians could see the long, thin arteries along which the humans travelled. They noted that after sunrise the humans all travelled one way and at sunset they all travelled the other. They could see that progress was slow and congested along these arteries, that there were endless blockages, queues, bottle-necks and delays causing untold frustration and inefficiency. All this they could see quite clearly.
What was not clear to them, was why.
They knew that humanity was stupid, they had only to look at the week's top ten grossing movies to work that out, but
this
was beyond reason. If, as was obvious, space was so restricted, why was it that each single member of this strange life-form insisted on occupying perhaps fifty times its own ground surface area for the entire time it was in motion – or not in motion, as was normally the case?
The super intelligent beings transmitted their data back to the producer of their programme and they received a right earful in reply (which was rather a lot because, although Brainians are only eight inches tall, their ears are the size of wheelbarrows and have to be rolled up like blinds).
'You're mad,' bellowed the producer using his intergalactic portable phone because, like producers the universe over, he was having lunch.
'You're trying to tell me that they're all going in the
same
direction, travelling to much the
same
destinations and yet they're all
deliberately
impeding the progress of each other by covering six square metres of space with a large, almost completely empty tin box?'
'That's exactly what we're trying to tell you, boss.'
'You're drunk,' shouted the producer, and he was so annoyed that the binding on one of his ears snapped and about six square feet of flapping lughole flopped into his pasta.
'We're bloody not drunk,' responded the aggrieved researchers. 'They're all stuck down there, beeping and screaming at each other and working themselves into a frenzy, not getting anything done, not producing anything, just stuck.'
'Oh go on then, let's have another bottle of wine,' said the producer, which naturally rather confused the researchers, but in fact the producer hadn't been speaking to them, his last remark was addressed at his lunch companion. Having another bottle of wine is something else which producers do the universe over – except in Los Angeles where people who, ten years ago, took cocaine in their coffee now give you the phone number of Alcoholics Anonymous if you ask for a beer.
Returning to his telephone conversation, the producer allowed himself to be mollified.
'You mean it's really true?' he said. 'A society sufficiently sophisticated to produce the internal combustion engine has not had the sophistication to develop cheap and efficient public transport?'
'Yes, boss,' said the researchers, 'it's true. There's hardly any buses, the trains are hopelessly underfunded, and hence the entire population is stuck in traffic'
'Well that's amazing,' said the producer.
'Yes, boss, it is amazing,' the researchers agreed.
'Get your asses back to Brain,' said the producer, 'we got a show.'