INT. A colossal theatre in Rochdale, a new city in the north of England. The space is cavernous, filled from the back with plush, velvet chairs, occupied by a man in black-tie, or a lady in a ball gown. As the slope of the room levels out towards the stage there are arranged twenty large, circular tables, each seating twelve people, almost imperceptibly better dressed than those at the back, unless as observed be a connoisseur. The energy in the room is frenetic, and dozens of waiters buzz about the space tending to the guests. It is impossible to understate the glamour of the event.

A number of people are returning to the main hall from side doors, indicating that we have joined the action in a break from the main proceedings.

A hushed silence begins to fall across the room as the hosts (DEAN and CARLA) return to the podium and all stragglers retake their seats. Both hosts have affected a generic American awards persona, reducing them to having no discernible personality.

DEAN: OK, guys. Welcome back. I hope you have all relieved yourselves, and whatever else you did in the toilets during the break? [Dean taps the side of his nose]

[Laughter breaks out across the room]

CARLA [mock angry]: Dean! [She swipes at him playfully]

DEAN: It’s ok Carla, these guys are alright! They know I’m kidding. [He does a dramatic stage wink to the camera which is 4 feet from his face.]

CARLA [Brushing over this in a way that suggests it is heavily scripted]: OK, I’m hearing in my ear it’s time to go back to the Simulcast.

As CARLA speaks, the red velvet curtains at the back of the stage have started opening, revealing a colossal screen which is the as wide and high as the stage space itself. The screen is divided into much smaller areas, which are showing other similar events, each with 2 hosts waving into the camera. The centre of the screen is occupied by a section larger than the other screens.

DEAN [turning to address the central segment of the screen]: Hello London!

The Rochdale audience starts cheering, and are joined by audio piped in from all of the other venues simultaneously. The London hosts (JANE and RICHARD) wave at the crowd from their central position on the screen. They are so impossibly good-looking and polished as to give the appearance of being created by poured plastic.

RICHARD: Hello UK…

JANE: …and welcome back to…

BOTH: …the annual Landlord Awards, 2010!

Another cheer goes up in each of the hundred auditoriums concurrently hosting the event.

JANE: And now we are on the Semi-Professional Landlord category.

RICHARD: That’s right! We’re celebrating a Landlord who owns 10 or fewer properties internationally, and for whom landlording makes us less than 49% of their gross annual income… so that counts you out TONY.

Across the entirety of the huge screen the image cuts to the Green Room at the Lancaster Awards ceremony, where TONY, a middle aged man whose physique strongly resembles Winston Churchill, sits with a drink, swathed by two young blonde models. He grins and makes a ‘Peace’ sign at the camera, unwittingly increasing the resemblance to the World War 2 Prime Minister. On-screen, a graphic at the bottom identifies him as Tony James, Urban Landlord of the year 2010.

JANE: He looks like he’s having a good time.

RICHARD: He sure does Jane.

By now the reader will have guessed that we are in an alternate version of the recent past, where rather than suffering a financial crisis in the mid 2000s, Britain, in a move that defies all precedent of economics, was able to grow its wealth through the property market and buy-to-let mortgages to the extent that following a saturation of the domestic market, and supply outstripping demand for UK rental property, the nation looked abroad, becoming an empire of global landlords.

JANE: OK, competition was fierce for this year’s Semi-Pro Landlord category. Of the 8,695,000 eligible British entrants, judges had a tough time coming up with a shortlist.

RICHARD: As the old French saying goes, Jane, Britain really is a nation of Landlords!

JANE: You’ve got that right Richard.

RICHARD [hammily]: OK Jane, let’s get down to business, before we have to sublet the audiences attention!

Murmured laughter across the 100 venues. RICHARD almost looks crestfallen, grinning inanely through the emotion.

JANE. The four landlords shortlisted for the 2010 Semi-Professional Landlords category in association with UK Banking’s Nationalised Mortgage department are…

RICHARD: Tom Johnson.

[Applause]

JANE: Felicity Ribden.

[Applause]

RICHARD: Louisa Sethi.

[Applause]

JANE: Robert Stenton.

The crowd in the Rochdale auditorium, who had been applauding throughout, suddenly throw up a much larger cheer at the mention of this last name, and heads swivel to try and find ROBERT. Clearly he is a local and in this auditorium.

RICHARD: And the winner…

JANE: …is…

BOTH [shouting]: Robert Stenton!

The crowd in the Rochdale Auditorium erupt at this news. The spotlight which has been circling stops on ROBERT’s chair as he stands and waves with both hands at the crowd surrounding him, CARLA and DEAN beam at the room from the stage. A voiceover begins running down his achievements and, as he makes his way down the aisle, the scene becomes soft focus and fades to white.

The scene re-opens on the same auditorium but this time it is deserted and the tables are being cleaned by staff, clearly following the wrap-up of the event. Two waiters are speaking to each other in heavily-accented English.

WAITER 1: You know, in my country I used to be a landlord.



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