Barry Potter and the tea urn of terror

“Once you’ve got the kids safely through the gift shop at the end without having to shell out another £100, you really feel quite positive about it!” enthused a parent of my acquaintance.

Last Saturday we drove through Leavesden (not London, note, as advertised on the tour website) and saw rows and rows of vehicles parked outside the studios in the blazing sunshine. What’s more, we passed three of those special buses that run up from the Junction - the ones with their windows artfully obscured to block out the less-than-enchanted landscape that is Watfordworld.

Potterworld was obviously coining it - and I can only think that over the next month or so, as the world converges on London (and Leavesden), the magical sound of cash registers jingling on the fringes of Watford will bring the joy of the Olympic spirit to the heart and spreadsheets of even the most hardened studio bean counter.

Now, while most of us would have been happy to retire on the success of the Harry Potter books, JK Rowling has been writing again. You really have to admire her for that - after all, there must be armies of critics limbering up their typing fingers (both of them) and sharpening up their literary barbs in readiness for her new book.

When you’ve been as successful as she has, there’s nothing people like better - especially British people - as a good old dose of cutting down to size.

If I was JK I’d probably spend the rest of my days reclining on a daybed in my Edinburgh mansion eating Tunnocks tea cakes and watching QVC, but instead of putting on five stone and buying a shedload of Lulu’s ’Timebomb’ beauty unguents, she’s written a novel for adults called The Casual Vacancy, due out in September.

If you google this at the moment there aren’t a lot of clues. It’s set in a quintessential English village called Pagford, where the death of Barry Fairbrother leaves a vacancy on the parish council.

According to the promotional blurb, Barry’s death and the consequent vacancy become “the catalyst for the biggest war the town has yet seen. Who will triumph in an election fraught with passion, duplicity and unexpected revelations?”

As I said, there’s not much to go on, although amateur psychologists might spot JK’s subconscious desire to bury her previous leading man, who is only a consonant away from Barry. Others might find themselves subconsciously humming the theme tune to Midsomer Murders?

Whatever - there’s a lot riding on this. Let’s get back to that bean counter scanning the spreadsheet at Warner Bros Studios Leavesden, sorry, London.

He’s probably already thinking about the branding and marketing opportunities offered by The Casual Vacancy.

“What about the studio tour?” I can hear him thinking.

Now, as it happens, as a former journalist on this very paper, I feel that I’m just the girl to help him out here.

Having covered many parish councils throughout the district I can offer a rich insight into the sort of interactive opportunities, special effects and branded memorabilia that will hit the spot.

To cash in successfully, Warner Bros should, even now, be constructing a set that resembles a rather shabby church hall or cricket pavilion. The more gently shedding fibre glass panels they can pack into the roof the better.

They are probably already working on distinctive smell-scape to infuse the experience, but can I just say that anything combining a vague whiff of damp with old socks, dust, creosote, Jeyes Fluid and tea that has been stewing for several hours is right on target.

In terms of furniture: very small, very hard ex-primary school chairs should be sourced immediately from the nearest prop store, along with a large folding table on very long legs. This is vitally important as it’s impossible to sit on a tiny school chair drawn up round a tall table without looking like one of the Krankies.

Lighting should be kept to a minimum - possibly a single unshaded bulb festooned in cobwebs swinging from the rafters.

In terms of set-dressing, several pairs of mis-matched curtains in varying shades of brown or faded orange would be authentic, and a fire extinguisher, a cork pin board covered with curling scraps of paper and a wonky plaque proclaiming ‘Best-kept village 1970’ should all be near the door, where, for added effect, there might also be a rusting lawnmower.

There may or may not be a stage. The bean counter might want to consider this as it’s vital for the inclusion of a holographic character called Pamela set to appear intermittently while wailing disconsolately, ’But you know Tuesday is always the rehearsal night for the Peartree Players’.

Moving on to the gift shop - which I propose should be called Any Other Business - and the commercial opportunities arising, may I suggest small plastic bags of fake dog poo in various sizes.

I still treasure memories of one parish council meeting I attended in an outlying village that shall not be named, where an outraged councillor produced these offending items in scaled order (or should that be ordure?) in an attempt to identify the local hound responsible for despoiling the cricket pitch.

There should also be a very narrow selection of plain, mostly out-of-date biscuits on sale to enable visitors to ‘share the magic‘. These should be displayed randomly on plates and sealed under a bit of plastic for freshness. The selection should always include the following: lots of Nice biscuits, a couple of Digestives and one crumbled Bourbon.

Visitors could also have their own names printed onto to a take-home agenda under ‘Apologies for absence’.

Finally, In terms of interactive memorabilia, can I suggest a tea urn of terror providing unparalleled opportunities for visitors to take home a photo of themselves covered in scalding brown stains.

Yes! All things considered I think that Warner Bros Studios are really going to be on to a winner when they open PC World.