Transcript of Bitesize EP 064 -Transcript

Charlie:
Hello. Hello. Hello. Welcome to another episode of the British English podcast, the show that helps you better understand British culture through conversations that include comparison and contrast and at the same time improve your British English. I am your host, Charlie Baxter, and today we have a bite-sized episode taking on another children's book. I've done a few of these already, so do check them out after this episode, if this one tickles your fancy. Of course. So what I do is attempt to bring the book to life by giving it my own dramatic reading, and then I add my own commentary to it when I see fit as I am, quote unquote, a modern British person. And so you'll get an insight into how my brain works in contrast with the author's brain. Although as today's book in question is called Jack and the Beanstalk, which is a classic English fairy tale, it's surprisingly hard to pin down its original author, rather like trying to catch a golden goose. It's virtually impossible. The tale has been climbing through history, passed down through generations of oral storytelling, long before it was sprouted into written form in the 18th century. Think of it as a story that's been beanstalk hopping from one teller to another with notable pit stops in Benjamin Tabart's 1807 book and Joseph Jacob's 1890 collection. So while we can't name a single bean planter for this tale, we know it's grown from a rich soil of collective imagination. But this version I found at the top of Google was one adopted by Jane Gerard. So here we go. There once was a poor widow who lived with her son, Jack far out in the country. Jack was good-natured, but lazy. When at last there was no money left to buy food, Jack's mother told him to take the dairy cow to market and sell her for a good price. On his way to market, Jack met a strange man who asked him where he was going with the cow. I'm going to market to sell her, he said.

Charlie:
I will give you these five magic beans for the cow, said the strange man. Jack thought this was a good bargain, so he traded the cow for five beans. Jack hurried home and said, Look at the five beans I got for the cow, you foolish lazy boy, cried his mother angrily. Now we will go hungry. She threw all the beans out the window. Oof! I think Jack forgot to say the keyword in that exchange he made for the cow. Poor marketing skills on his behalf. He forgot to say magic beans. He just said beans. But I do wonder if his mum knew they were magic. What would they have done with them? She certainly wouldn't have thrown them out the window as if they're useless. Right? I guess if it were me, I'd probably, I'd probably keep an eye on them. So I'd put them in a pot full of soil inside my house, which, as you'll find out, would have caused carnage. So maybe Jack was all too wise and knew what she would do when he said that they were just beans. You know, I've got a newfound respect for this clever little boy, and she and Jack went to bed without any supper. When Jack awoke early the next morning, he noticed an odd shadow across his window. He ran outside to see that a huge beanstalk had sprung up during the night. It grew so high he could not see the top. Jack was curious and decided to climb up the beanstalk. Hmm. Not sure he's that clever, actually. Such a basic instinct there too, to see something like that and think, Oh, Yeah, I'm going to climb that immediately. At least tell your mother and pack a bag. You'll get thirsty! Hang on. This is the first thing he did in the morning. So he hasn't even had breakfast yet. He's climbing it on an empty stomach, destined to fail. He climbed for hours. When he finally reached the top, he saw a great castle in the clouds. The magnificent castle looked as if it were a vision in a dream. Jack knew from his tired arms and legs that he had not just dreamt his long climb. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was not seeing things. As he got closer to the castle, Jack met a beautiful fairy. This is new. I do not remember a fairy in the version I was told when I was a child. I'm intrigued to hear how she or he or they affect the plot. Actually, is it a gender-specific term? Apparently not. It seems leprechauns are a form of fairy and they are usually depicted as male. So I guess in the fairy realm, gender lines are as blurred as a flapping fairy wing. She told Jack that the giant who lived in the castle had killed Jack's father long ago and had stolen all his gold. Well, waste of a breath there. It's a she! And by golly is she stirring the pot? But does this mean his father also had a beanstalk and came up to the castle in a cloud to then have a deal go south with this giant? And if that is the case, why did the mum not know about this and and that the beans would lead to another opportunity to confront the giant? Maybe. Maybe the mother and father were poor communicators in their relationship. They probably both felt hard done by not being appreciated enough by one another. And now the father, to be fair, is nowhere to be seen in the story. I think we can see where Jack got his behavioural instinct from to just instantly climb a beanstalk before breakfast and not tell his mum. That's a shame. The tiny fairy said that he should take back what was rightfully his. And then she disappeared.

Charlie:
Hmm.

Charlie:
I smell a rat. This fairy clearly has an agenda. Why would you disappear so suddenly after telling this little boy such big news? She'd have a terrible bedside manner as a health care practitioner. Imagine her coming in to tell you that you've got a terminal illness. And then just as your brain explodes with questions *pfff* and she's gone. Awful. Mind you, the NHS would probably still employ her. Very short-staffed. We're in a right pickle!

Charlie:
When Jack reached the steps, he asked the Giant's huge wife for some supper.

Charlie:
If you stay here, the giant will have you for supper.

Charlie:
But Jack was so hungry that he did not care. Again, this is new for me. I remember the giant living alone. This is beyond strange. Let's assume magic is accepted in society and that you can climb beanstalks at the crack of dawn. And a fairy can tell you about your long lost, rightful fortune. But I'm sorry if you've just been told that the giant who lives in that castle did your family over. Why would you then go up, knock on the door and demand some supper from the wife? And at the risk of being eaten by your father's nemesis? This is crazy. The woman gave in and fixed Jack a good supper. Soon they heard the thump, thump of heavy footsteps. Just as the giant entered the room, his wife hid Jack in the oven. The giant sniffed the air and roared.

Charlie:
Fee fi fo fum. I smell the blood of an Englishman. It's just your supper.

Charlie:
Said his wife. The giant ate his huge supper in one huge swallow. Then he roared.

Charlie:
Fetch my gold coins!

Charlie:
The woman brought in bags of gold coins that had belonged to Jack's father. Goodness me, this giant needs to realise what year it is. He can't be bossing his wife around like that. Feed me this. Get me that. She's got rights. Almost equal pay and the ability to vote. Don't. Don't do that. Treat her with some respect, for God's sake. Also, what good is gold to a giant that lives on a cloud? Are we to assume the only connection he has to society is a beanstalk that suddenly grew as tall as his cloud last night? Poor woman being stuck on this cloud with that prick of a giant. The giant fell fast asleep counting the money. Jack took a bag of gold and ran back to the beanstalk. He threw the bag down to his mother's garden and climbed down as fast as he could. Jack's mother was overcome with joy when gold coins rained down. Oh, careful, love. I've heard that dropping a single coin from the top of the Eiffel Tower could kill a pedestrian down below if if struck on the head by one. So, yeah, a full bag of coins coming down from the height of a cloud that's big enough to hold a giant's castle. I just hope she's got some home insurance because she's definitely going to have some tiling to do on that roof. Let's also hope she was crouched under the kitchen table whilst the coins came raining down. Imagine the boy coming down the beanstalk to see his mother dead on the lawn with a coin-sized hole in her head. Oh, just hold on to the bag of coins, next time. Don't just lob it down there! Have some respect. I mean, the coins are made of metal, for Pete's sake. They could now take care of their needs for a while. But then one day, the gold ran out. Jack disguised himself and went up the beanstalk again. He wanted more of his father's gold. When Jack returned to the castle very tired and hungry, the Giant's wife did not want to help him. Hmm.

Charlie:
The last boy I helped stole a bag of my husband's gold, she said.

Charlie:
But Jack was so polite that she finally let him in and gave him a drink of water. Oh, I've got too much to say about all that, but I'm going to let it all slide for time's sake. Let's continue with the story. Just then, the giant's footsteps shook the floor. Jack barely had time to hide in the oven before the giant entered the kitchen and roared angrily.

Charlie:
Fee fi fo fum. I smell the blood of an Englishman. Don't be silly.

Charlie:
Said the giant's wife. The giant ate his supper and then he told his wife to bring him his hen. When Jack heard the giant shout.

Charlie:
Lay!

Charlie:
When he peeked through a hole in the oven, he saw the hen lay a perfect golden egg. After he told the hen to lay three golden eggs, the giant fell asleep. Jack leaped out of the oven, snatched the hen, and ran. When Jack reached the beanstalk, he began to climb down quickly. He took the wonderful hen to his mother. The hen laid a golden egg on command every time. With the golden eggs, Jack and his mother were able to fix up their cottage. And there was always plenty to eat.

Charlie:
Aha.

Charlie:
I knew these coins would do some damage to the cottage. After a while, however, Jack decided to climb back up the beanstalk. He's getting greedy now, isn't he? He's got all the gold he needs. He's got a chicken to keep him company. And the cottage is looking better than ever before. He's just bored. Poor choice, Jack. I thought better of you. What did I. Yeah. No. Yeah, I think I did. Yeah. Yeah. I'm disappointed in him. Jack sneaked back into the castle and hid in a large pot. The giant sniffed the air and said, Fee-fi-fo-fum. His wife went over to the oven and looked in, but there was no boy inside. After the giant ate his supper, he called for his magic harp. His wife quickly brought him his beautiful harp of gold. The giant told the harp to play. It began to play the most entrancing music Jack had ever heard. It was not long before the giant was lulled to sleep by the music. When Jack heard the giant snoring, he knew it was safe to climb out of the pot. He grabbed the giant's harp and started to run away with it. Master, Master, the harp cried. The giant awoke with a start. Jack jumped off the table, the harp in his arms just as the giant made a grab for him. Jack tightly held on to the harp and ran for his life. Jack could hear the huge thump thump of the giant's footsteps closing in behind him.

Charlie:
He knew the giant took large steps, so his fear was great. But the angry giant had just finished a filling supper, and that slowed him down enough for Jack to reach the beanstalk ahead of the giant. I've got to say, the last couple of lines in that version of this story were beyond basic. I can only imagine the author who adapted this version had a draft. And then and then she just, you know, gave it to her partner over dinner. And he was thinking out loud saying, But why doesn't the giant just take one big step, catch up with Jack and eat him? And then she panics and she thinks she has to explain the unrealistic race that Jack and the Giant are having. But I'm sorry, Jane Gerard but we're already believing that there are magic beans, a beanstalk taller than the Shard, or maybe even the Burj Khalifa, a fairy that knows the financial status of a random boy's father, a giant who's still a sexist pig in this day and age, a golden egg-laying hen and a self-playing harp. I don't think many kids are going to be caught up on the fact that a boy can outrun a giant. So next time, just tell your partner to keep his opinions to himself, perhaps. Jack clumsily climbed down the beanstalk with the harp calling out to his mother as he went.

Charlie:
Mother, bring me the axe. The giant was halfway down the beanstalk when Jack reached the ground. Jack took the axe from his mother. With one mighty chop, he cut the beanstalk in two. The giant crashed to the ground and died. Wow. That was graphic, wasn't it? Nice little touch of gore in the children's book. I don't know if children would think too much about it, but if a dead giant is in your garden, that's going to be very difficult to clean or move before the rotting carcass of this giant stenches your neighbourhood out. You can't just get the wheelbarrow, can you? I'm guessing. Yeah, They'd have to saw chunks of this giant's body off bit by bit, wouldn't they? We're looking at a week of constant hacking away at this body, but. Yeah. Guess it's the price you pay for being a greedy little beanstalk grower, isn't it, Jack? Gosh, going up a third time. Naughty Jack. Jack, His mother, the hen and the harp lived happily ever after. A far too convenient ending, in my opinion. The harp seemed very happy and loyal to his master up in the clouds and the hen. Well, it's probably a bit depressed now that it has realised despite having wings, it can't fly. All that time it was just the cloud holding her up. And she's barren.

Charlie:
She can't have little chicks of her own just laying gold. What good is that to her? I'm just thinking about the longevity of this Nirvana they have all apparently arrived at. My biggest fear in parenting, aside from the obvious ones, is to raise a spoilt brat. And I don't know how much luck this mother is going to have in teaching her son the value of hard work when you can just shout "Lay!" at a bloody chicken and it'll give you, um, what's the going rate for golden eggs these days? I mean, I guess an average chicken egg weighs the internet says 60g, and the gold price today is $1,900 per Troy ounce, which is 31g. So basically times two. So that's 3,800 USD. And today that would be about £3,000. And the internet says the average hen lays 200 eggs a year. So that's that's a cheeky £600,000 per annum. Plus he could also say "Lay!" whenever he wants to get more. Of course, though, like any pet owner, you've got to factor in the costs of keeping them alive, what with chicken feed, bedding, health care, coop and run costs, supplements and treats, perhaps.. Not to mention electricity and heating and I guess some miscellaneous supplies totting that up, we're looking at about £150 per year for this chicken. So yeah, we can confirm that this boy is going to be what we call stinking rich.

Charlie:
So unless his mum puts these eggs in a bank account that he can't touch until he's a lot older, odds are that Jack turns out to be as gracious and charming as the giant he had to hack to pieces. I honestly don't know why I don't write children's books for a living. Surely they'd be flying off the shelves. Well, whether my version of a children's book would sell like hotcakes or not, we have come to the end of this episode. If you did enjoy this one, have a scroll through my previous episodes. I've done one on Little Red Riding Hood, erm, Hansel and Gretel, The Gruffalo, The Tiger Who Came to Tea and Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I will say thank you very much for listening to the end of today's episode. Remember to grab the free worksheet for some of the best vocabulary I used today. Join the Premium podcast if you wanted the transcripts, full-length episodes and extended glossaries, and then if you wanted all of that, plus exclusive video lessons, weekly Zoom classes and to join the speaking Partner club, then check out the Academy. That's all from me today. I've been your host, Charlie Baxter, erm, let's all remember to not get too greedy this week. And erm, and of course, hold on to those bags of coins next time you climb down a beanstalk. See you next week on the British English podcast.