#helen shingler

[teatimewithgiles]

Mondays with Anthony Head 80/?

Tony with his mother (Helen Shingler) in 2017

[theolikeworld]

Peter Cushing and Helen Shingler study the script "Home at Seven". Peter will be seen as David Preston, the quiet home-loving bank official who returns to his suburban home at his normal time of seven o'clock to find that by some trick of amnesia he has been missing for 24 hours and is suspected of murder. Helen plays the distracted wife.

Helen Shingler is Anthony Head's mum. This guy

[greatmuldini]

The events of 6 December 1890 were neither preordained nor were they premeditated. Nothing that transpired on the day was inevitable or irreversible: participants chose to stay in character, and to act out their roles in what would eventually be described by biographers and historians as the Parnell Tragedy (Jules Abels, 1966).

Everyone at the time would have been aware of the historical significance of their actions, if not the long-term consequences - excluding of course, the one female member of the cast who could not possibly have known what she was doing. By dint of this congenital deficiency she would also quite naturally be blamed for causing "Ireland's misfortune." Simple and satisfying in terms of its mass market appeal, feminine impulsivity does little to explain the supposedly rational decisions taken by the men around her in the name of patriotism and political expediency - which far from producing an amenable solution served only to exacerbate the crisis. Whereas the exact circumstances and full cast of characters have faded over time the larger-than-life figure of Charles Stewart Parnell still towers over the events of 6 December 1890 as the one man who could have had it all - and lost it all.

Sixty-four years later, the Fall of Parnell inspired an episode of the BBC's "experimental" television series You Are There which set out to present the known historical facts, faithfully, but with an added dimension unique to the new medium: actors would impersonate the key personnel as in a conventional re-enactment. While going about their "business," however, they would be interviewed by modern television reporters. The curious anachronism underlined the artificiality of the concept; it meant the programme was deliberately drawing attention to itself which would have been an unwanted distraction, for You Are There it was the defining feature. Neither the programme nor its - fictitious - journalists were interested in the exploration of alternative histories or in-depth character studies: the point was to demonstrate the possibilities of "live" television, ironically, in a simulated setting. Fact and fiction are trading places as the reality of 1890 becomes the subject of a 1950s fantasy, and the medium of the future interrogates the evidence of the past. For the actors it would have been a challenge to navigate between imaginative portrayal of a fully formed human being and the faithful rendition of the intrinsically incomplete historical record.

The historical record states that Charles Stewart Parnell was born in 1846. The son of a Protestant Irish landowner and an American mother was not naturally predestined to champion the cause of destitute Catholic tenant farmers; indeed, nothing in his early life pointed to any such leanings. As an aristocratic country gentleman he had nothing to fear and everything to gain from the firm imperial rule exerted by the British Crown over the Island of Ireland.

And yet it was Parnell, the English-educated man of pedigree, who emerged as the voice of the starving rural population. Having decided to enter politics for reasons that are still unclear, he found his calling as the Westminster MP for County Meath not in the defence of privilege but in the vocal support - initially for land reform and then increasingly for Irish nationalism ("Home Rule"). Over the next five years Parnell gained a reputation and a following as a fiery orator back in Ireland and a force to be reckoned with in the House of Commons, where is name became synonymous with the new parliamentary tactic of "obstructionism." If the English politicians could not be moved to act in Ireland's interest Parnell vowed to meddle in English affairs. And meddle - or obstruct - he did. After a century of inaction and neglect, the Irish Question seemed relevant again, if only because its proponents made it impossible for English laws to be passed. Parnell seemed to thrive on his tactical manoeuvring which he was prepared to carry to painful extremes, on multiple occasions – including arrest and imprisonment, at the risk of damaging his already fragile state of health.

By 1880 Parnell controlled both the radical grassroots movement in Ireland and the parliamentary representation of Irish interests in London. The position made him a frequent dinner guest in the homes of friends and allies, where on several occasions he also enjoyed the hospitality of Mrs Katharine O'Shea, the English wife of a fellow Irish MP, who was sympathetic not only to the cause but to the man who personified the struggle. Mrs O’Shea had a discreet arrangement with her husband, Captain William “Willie” O’Shea, the Member for County Clare and Galway: their marriage would exist on paper only for the benefit of Willie’s career; while he conducted his business in London she would reside at their official family residence and entertain important visitors. Parnell would often stay as a guest of the family - to recuperate after gruelling campaigns in Ireland, was the official explanation given.

For the next ten years the couple conducted an illicit affair that produced four children and saw the singled-minded saboteur of the political system lead a double life away from Parliament and in the company of Katharine O’Shea. The relationship was not as one might assume a tempestuous whirlwind romance but a curiously claustrophobic still-life of Victorian domesticity - an alternate, self-contained reality where Parnell and his "Queenie" could act out their fantasy of living simply as husband and wife. Their apparent longing for simplicity may also help to explain the ease with which they expected to lead two entirely separate and parallel lives, apparently unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge the inherent paradox and inevitable complication.

In the political arena Parnell was for most of the 1880s an extremely effective manipulator of moods and opinions, always weighing and adjusting the demands of Irish nationalists against the calls for the use of force from the British press, the public, and its politicians. Anyone looking for a core belief or deeply held conviction would have been disappointed by the vagueness of Parnell's own stated aims - which he used to great advantage because it allowed him to gain the confidence of the British side and the respect of his own following. As a small but significant minority, the Irish (or Home Rule) Party under Parnell's skilful machinations was able to make demands in return for the votes it lent to either one of the two dominant forces in 19th century British politics: the Tory (Conservative) Party or the slightly more reform-oriented Liberal Party.

Parnell’s elusiveness became his trademark: the less he said in public, the fewer appearances he made in Parliament, the taller he grew in stature. In 1887 he was accused of having endorsed the murders of two British politicians in Dublin. When the alleged endorsement turned out to be a forgery two years later, the popular reaction was one of relief and renewed admiration for the noble freedom fighter who had been so horribly maligned. By 1889, it seemed as if nothing could go wrong for Charles Stewart Parnell.

Home Rule seemed within reach when, in May of 1889, Katharine O'Shea learned of the death of a wealthy aunt whose fortune she was to inherit. The additional funds would have been a welcome boost to Katharine's finances had it not been for her husband's unexpected interference. Captain William “Willie” O’Shea chose this moment to strike, possibly to exact revenge, more likely to improve his own pecuniary situation. And thus, Captain O'Shea went ahead and contested the will, citing his wife’s infidelity, and his intention to divorce her. Surprised but hardly alarmed, the lovers welcomed what they thought would be an opportunity for them to make their relationship official, the sooner the better.

 From the very beginning their affair had been an open secret in political circles, but the Captain’s announcement put the fact of their adultery in the public domain. With their case not due in court for at least another twelve months (i.e. late 1890), Katharine and Parnell were powerless to stop the scandal from spreading, and their silence on the matter allowed grievances to fester. No public statement was ever published, nor did the couple make any public gesture of remorse. They did launch a half-hearted and unsuccessful counterclaim not to deny the adultery but to accuse Captain O’Shea of adultery as well, presumably to shame the Captain into withdrawing his allegation.

For an entire year the unresolved state of their private affairs overshadowed Parnell’s political battle; it affected his health and continued to corrode confidence among his allies in parliament and at home but most significantly among the ranks of the Liberal Party led by Prime Minister William Gladstone. Ironically, and with tragic consequences for Katharine and Parnell, the earliest and most vociferous condemnations came not from the Catholic Church (both Parnell and Katharine were Protestants) but from the other “Nonconformist” denominations outside the established Church of England, which was traditionally a preserve of the Tory (Conservative) Party. An influential group among the Nonconformists were Methodists, whose large working and middle-class following had found in Gladstone’s Liberal Party their political home.

When the divorce eventually came through in November 1890 (decree nisi), Parnell was branded a “convicted adulterer” but also won the legal right to marry Katharine after completion of the obligatory six-month waiting period (decree absolute). The salacious - and uncontested – testimony offered in the course of the trial was, however, fresh on the minds of his party colleagues who were meeting to decide on his future as party leader a mere fortnight after the court’s decision. Gladstone had already warned Irish MPs of the danger to their alliance, the implication being that the Liberal Party would lose the support of its Nonconformist base if it continued to cooperate with a “convicted adulterer.” The message was clear: Irish MPs had no hope of winning Home Rule with Parnell as their leader. They needed the good will and legislative might of a strong Liberal government - and Liberal voters had strong ideas about marriage and adultery. Gladstone did, in effect, issue an ultimatum to Irish parliamentarians: lose your leader or lose Ireland.

Party activists in Ireland meanwhile re-elected Parnell as leader of the Home Rule Party before news of the ultimatum reached their shores, creating an awkward situation which allowed Parnell to claim he had the backing of the party rank and file, while Gladstone faced the beginnings of a split in his own party over the very issue of Irish Home Rule.

Parnell promptly refused to stand down, declaring instead that he considered the matter of Mrs O’Shea’s divorce closed and that, far from being a friend of Ireland, Gladstone had betrayed their cause. Whether or not the accusation was based in fact [substance] hardly mattered in the greater scheme of things. It was Parnell's word against that of the Prime Minister, and a decision had to be made: should the Irish Home Rule Party defy Gladstone and keep Parnell as their charismatic leader, or should the convicted adulterer be deposed in return for English concessions?

On 6 December 1890, after seemingly endless negotiations, Irish parliamentarians convened another marathon session to break the deadlock without destroying the party, its leader, or their country. Obstacles proved insurmountable as Parnell himself chaired the meeting and overruled any motion calling for a vote. Members present at the meeting noted his increasingly autocratic behaviour with concern and were alarmed by the apparent disintegration of his mental and physical identity. What they were witnessing may have been, on one level, the self-evisceration of a disgraced politician, but the concrete struggle of the individual to control his own destiny, and the narrative about it, had gained additional layers of meaning that transcend literal explanations for Parnell's fate.

The extent to which he did control the mythology of his downfall as well as his subsequent (and posthumous) apotheosis is a fascinating subject for debate: was he drawing attention to the opposing forces behind his identity or trying to deflect attention away from his failure to reconcile the two when he claimed that Gladstone and the Liberals were the true enemies of the rightful Irish claim to self-determination? No longer was the crisis a moral dilemma but a question of national pride. The private transgression becomes an affair of state - no longer is it a moral dilemma but a question of national pride: if it was up to the English to dictate who is to be their leader, then Gladstone truly was the master of the Irish Party.

Parnell's rhetorical masterstroke elevated his imminent ouster as party leader to an affront of international proportions by blurring the very boundaries he had otherwise hoped to maintain between the private man and his public persona. It also drew an instant reaction from the assembled party colleagues. "Who is to be the mistress of the party?” put paid to Parnell's noble-minded aspirations and reminded those present once again of the sordid scandal and the root cause of their troubles. Unable to vote the party leader out of office, 44 of his fellow members stood up and left the room, 26 remained with Parnell. It is this moment You Are There chose to dramatize, for the sheer symbolism of the scene: the leader without majority, his party crippled for decades to come. The Liberal Prime Minister ruling unencumbered.

Parnell's story, the story of Ireland's struggle, could have ended here. Or it could have ended differently. If each of the protagonists had chosen a different course of action. Parnell, for his part, chose to fulfil what he must have thought of as his destiny: within hours of the party meeting that left him - it must be remembered - still nominally undefeated, he embarked on a tour of Ireland to speak at rallies and unite the crowds behind the candidates he chose to stand in by-elections. Any hopes of regaining the momentum lost in London were slim at best; the winter weather and Parnell's failing health reduced the schedule and, compounded by his ever more radical oratory, crowds became more difficult to control, and enthusiasm for the struggle was waning. But just as the chances of a concrete, real-life settlement were growing increasingly remote, the idea of the struggle captured the imagination of contemporary and subsequent generations, and Parnell became its idealized figurehead - not without considerable work from Parnell himself, who cultivated an air of steely nerves, superhuman strength, and emotional detachment in public while being fiercely protective of his privacy. The polar opposites that defined his existence, through their very incompatibility, presented an impossible conundrum: unable to reconcile the two, incapable of compromise, the Parnell machine was at a crisis point.

Campaigning in Ireland continued throughout the summer but none of the chosen candidates were victorious. Parnell and Katharine finally became a married couple on 25 June 1891, but their life together as husband and wife only lasted a little over three months and ended with Parnell’s death on 6 October 1891. They were both 45 years old at the time.

In poetic terms, Parnell had committed the ultimate sin of the tragic hero: to think of himself as indispensable. In the eyes of his supporters, and presumably his own, Parnell had become the personification of an idea, an idea that without him was thought to be non-viable. Parnell and Irish Home Rule were interchangeable; the means and the end had merged into one. Much like the fatal flaw carried by every tragic hero in the history of human endeavour, Parnell's hubris made him both unique and universal, gave him superhuman powers and made him vulnerable - not in a simple case of crime and punishment but in the pursuit of a noble mission that is ultimately larger than the man who has internalized it as his own.

To paraphrase Hilary Mantel, we tend to fictionalize those who can no longer speak for themselves; in Parnell's case there is perhaps a greater need than with many of his peers to interpret where we cannot explain, and to speculate were we cannot know.

Indeed, so strong was the sense even among contemporaries of a catastrophic derailment of their hopes and dreams, and so great the loss of confidence in the political process, it gave rise to an entire subgenre of historical fantasies indulging in mostly wishful thinking: what if Parnell's campaign had been successful and he had lived to see an independent Ireland? What if there had never been a scandal? What if we could turn the clock back far enough to prevent all bad things from happening? This being a male-centric scenario we easily move on to imagining the hero going about his business without "distractions," and what might have been if Parnell and Katharine O'Shea had never met. The further the fantasy travels back in time, however, the more it will be about erasure of the past rather than an extension of existing timelines. As a work of fiction, it may well be a legitimate subject for philosophical or even psychological enquiry that can provide a temporary reprieve from the struggle. It can never be the solution. [Part 2 of 2]

[smokygluvs]

Maigret enjoying male company

Apart from when he is with his wife (played in the Rupert Davies series by Helen Shingler), very rarely does Maigret interact with women other than as witnesses, suspects or victims.

He clearly prefers the company on gentlemen. Preferably pipe or cigar-smoking gentlemen.

This is a particularly good example: a beefy, handsome, mature, cigar-smoking gentleman. I like to imagine they are working towards putting their drinks down and heading for bed... I know I wouldn't turn either of them down.

[kwebtv]

Enemy at the Door - ITV - January 21, 1978 - March 29, 1980

Drama (26 episodes)

Running Time: 60 minutes

Stars:

Alfred Burke as Major Richter

Bernard Horsfall as Dr. Philip Martel

Simon Cadell as Hauptsturmfuhrer Reinicke

John Malcolm as Oberleutnant Kluge

Simon Lack as Major Freidel

David Waller as Major General Müller

Richard Heffer as Peter Porteous

Helen Shingler as Helen Porteous

Antonia Pemberton as Olive Martel

Emily Richard as Clare Martel

Brian Osborne as Inspector Schulphor

Noel Johnson as Committee President

Richard Hurndall as John Ambrose

John Salthouse as Peter Girard

Morgan Sheppard as Raymond Girard

Martin Fisk as Eric Corbin

Elizabeth Bennett as Mrs. Corbin

Peter Williams as Vicar

Mark Christon as Gefrelte Kirst

Alvar Lidell as BBC Announcer

[docrotten]

PIN (1988) – Episode 253 – Decades Of Horror 1980s

“Where did you learn to do that?” Learn to do what? Oh…that. Join your faithful Grue Crew – Chad Hunt, Bill Mulligan, and Jeff Mohr along with guest host Ralph Miller – as they visit another strange twist on the ventriloquist/dummy subgenre called PIN (1988).

Decades of Horror 1980s Episode 253 – PIN (1988)

Join the Crew on the Gruesome Magazine YouTube channel! Subscribe today! Click the alert to get notified of new content! https://youtube.com/gruesomemagazine

Gruesome Magazine is partnering with the WICKED HORROR TV CHANNEL (https://wickedhorrortv.com/) which now includes video episodes of Decades of Horror 1980s and is available on Roku, AppleTV, Amazon FireTV, AndroidTV, and its online website across all OTT platforms, as well as mobile, tablet, and desktop.

Isolated by his strange parents, Leon finds solace in an imaginary friend, which happens to be an anatomy doll from his father-the-doctor’s office. Unfortunately, the doll begins to take over Leon’s life, and his sister’s life as well.

  Directed by: Sandor Stern

Writing Credits: Sandor Stern (screenplay); Andrew Neiderman (based on the April 1981 novel by)

Selected Cast:

David Hewlett as Leon

Cynthia Preston as Ursula (as Cyndy Preston)

Terry O’Quinn as Dr. Linden

Bronwen Mantel as Mrs. Linden

John Pyper-Ferguson as Stan Fraker (as John Ferguson)

Helene Udy as Marcia Bateman

Patricia Collins as Aunt Dorothy

Steven Bednarski as Leon – Age 13

Katie Shingler as Ursula – Age 11

Jacob Tierney as Leon – Age 7

Michelle Anderson as Ursula – Age 5

Joan Austen as Nurse Spalding

Jamie Stern as Eddie Morris (as James Stern)

David Gow as Officer Wilson

Terrence Labrosse as Dr. Bell

Aline Vandrine as Mrs. Shaver

Joanna Noyes as Mrs. Henry

Andrew Carter as Andy

Leif Anderson as Dave

Joel Johnson as Jack

Shawn Johnson as Tim

Robin MacEachern as Richie

Jonathan Banks as PIN (voice)

Beware the anatomy doll! Ralph Miller III joins Jeff, Bill, and Chad for a look back at PIN (1988) from director Sandor Stern. The cast includes David Hewlett (Scanners II: The New Order, Cube), Cynthia Preston (The Brain, Prom Night III: The Last Kiss), and Terry O’Quinn (Silver Bullet, The Stepfather, Lost). While it struggled to find an audience upon its initial release, critics praised PIN as well-made, bizarre, and disturbing. Fangoria would later feature it in its “101 Best Horror Films You’ve Never Seen.” Now, it’s time for the Grue-Crew to revisit the film and share their thoughts.

At the time of this writing, PIN is available to stream from YouTube.

Every two weeks, Gruesome Magazine’s Decades of Horror 1980s podcast will cover another horror film from the 1980s. The next episode’s film, moving into our Grue Believer Celebration Shenanigans month and chosen by guest host Scott Wells, will be The Queen of Black Magic (1981), an Indonesian horror film quoted as being an inspiration to modern-day Indonesian filmmakers such as Kimo Stamboel and Joko Anwar. You can check this one out on YouTube.

Please let them know how they’re doing! They want to hear from you – the coolest, grooviest fans – so leave them a message or comment on the Gruesome Magazine Youtube channel, on the Gruesome Magazine website, or email the Decades of Horror 1980s podcast hosts at feedback@gruesomemagazine.com.

Check out this episode!

[mariocki]

Play of the Month: Maigret at Bay (BBC, 1969)

"You've been in the police service a long time, Monsieur Maigret."

"Since I was 22, Monsieur le Prefet."

"So long? And your duties have taken you widely."

"Oh, the Metro, stations, the big stores, vice, gambling."

"And now you're a division commissaire."

"Yes."

"Within five years of retirement."

"And three days."

"In 28 years you must have seen many changes in methods, procedures?"

"The criminals haven't changed."

"And you, like them, prefer to keep to the old ways as well?"

"They work."

[flammentanz7]

Everlasting Love

Rupert Davies as Jules Maigret and Helen Shingler as his wife Louise in “Maigret at Bay” (1969)

[flammentanz]

Rupert Davies as Jules Maigret and Helen Shingler as his wife Louise in “Voices from the Past” (1962)

[thisbluespirit]

@mariocki Randomly clicked on Network’s YT channel today and got this!  (For a blu-ray release, but they say in the comments they should be doing a DVD as well after.)�� Relevant to both our interests, I think, as James Maxwell and Alfred Burke guest together as brothers in an ep.  (Wiki says it survives in its entirety barring the pilot.)

But also, even more intriguingly, this is a BBC series from Network.  Have they worked out some arrangement, or is this a one off?  !!!! basically.

[tottyscrushes]

Helen Shingler

[citizenscreen]

Peter Cushing and Helen Shingler enjoy a relaxing cup of tea between rehearsals for the television play 'Home at Seven' by R. C. Sherriff, August 1956.

[theolikeworld]

Actors Peter Cushing and Helen Shingler enjoy a relaxing cup of tea between rehearsals for the television play 'Home at Seven' by R. C. Sherriff, 8th August 1956.

[greatmuldini]

Any household equipped to receive the television service of the British Broadcasting Corporation in 1954 would almost certainly have done so on a “table-top” set not unlike the moderately priced and now iconic “TV-22,” which featured a circular 9-inch Mullard “television picture tube” capable of displaying the 405 lines its electron beam had to travel to draw the “high definition” images coming from London’s Alexandra Palace or the Birmingham transmitter in Sutton Coldfield. First manufactured in 1950 by Bush Radio, then under the umbrella of the Rank Corporation, the Bakelite-clad receiver came with connections for a dipole aerial and AC mains power, and no option at all to change the channel. What today would be considered a serious limitation was in fact a pragmatic decision as long as the country's airwaves remained limited to a single channel. (The set would have been ready for three additional channels which were proposed but never implemented.)

Growing audiences and an expanding schedule forced the new medium to create new content if it intended to fulfil its mission as a public broadcaster to “inform, educate, and entertain.” While the BBC's radio service had famously been on the air since 1922 and earned its merits during the war, television remained for a long time an experimental technology of questionable utility. Early programming therefore relied heavily on the spoken word and the conventions of live theatre, including the singular, and ephemeral, nature of each performance: very little was pre-recorded (on film), and once a programme was broadcast it ceased to exist. Much of the BBC's live programming and even material recorded on tape is now lost; what we do have from the era before and just after the introduction of magnetic tape in 1956 was routinely filmed off the television screen in a process known as kinescoping. Preservation of its output did not rank among the BBC's priorities; recording everything on film would have required vast resources dwarfing the convenience of "canned" content: repeat showings on the BBC often meant repeat performances – bringing the original cast and crew back to the studio was, after all, a well-rehearsed operation and more efficient than any existing technology. Similar traditional arrangements continued well beyond the arrival of effective technical solutions.

The lack of definition, in every sense, at first prevented the new medium from being recognized as such not only by those who worked in it but also the sceptical consumers into whose living rooms the images would be beamed. The privacy of the viewing experience would prove decisive: like its theatrical rival, television was visual, and it was live. With radio it shared the spontaneity of the live broadcast and a large audience that would not need to come together in a single room. Film could offer none of the above, certainly not in combination, but where television (and radio) opted for intimacy on the small screen, film went big and promoted the communal experience – a very basic, fundamental division which remained in place for more than half a century and is only now being challenged by the most recent innovations in streaming and subscription services.

In 1954 the BBC, as the sole operator of the new technology in the United Kingdom, looked to other pioneers abroad for suitable formats with which to fill their expanding schedules. In the United States, commercial television was in full swing by the early 1950s, with major broadcasters such as NBC and CBS competing for viewers and, more importantly, advertising partners – sponsors in the terminology of the scheme developed for radio that had businesses pay for the right to name an entire programme (today's wealth of "archival" recordings from the era is a direct result of the legal requirement to provide proof to the customers that their money was well-spent). Here, too, tried and tested radio content was being adapted for television and, in the process, began to take on hybrid features. One promising concept on the CBS network that appealed to the BBC decision makers was a former radio show turned televisual experiment: You Are There fused (fictitious) contemporary radio reportage with historical re-enactments – easily done on radio but more challenging – and more rewarding – as a live spectacle for audiences to see. Not quite ready, in technical terms, to rival the offerings of the film industry but arguably an alternative to a night out at the theatre, the "night in" promised to become an event in its own right.

You Are There set out to transport the viewer back in time and to bring them face to face with historical figures, who are moreover prepared to pause and be interviewed by modern-day (all-male, often real-life) TV news correspondents. The deliberate anachronism of the programme, examining a fictionalized version of history with the most modern tools available and presenting it to the viewer in the privacy of his own living room was the message and the medium rolled into one: the historical subject under scrutiny was by no means chosen at random or pre-determined by the American creators; licensees around the world dramatized historical events from their own national perspectives. Only seven episodes were produced for the BBC in 1954, none of which exist today. Press reviews and summaries confirm the use of exterior location sequences pre-recorded on film to supplement the live performances in the Alexandra Palace studio, but we can only speculate on the precise treatment of each subject.

The series opened, appropriately, with the Charge of the Light Brigade in the year of its centenary, followed by the trials (and tribulations) of Mary Queen of Scots, Charles I, Captain Dreyfus, and Julius Caesar. Joining this eminent circle were, somewhat less obviously, the instigators of a minor mutiny, as well as a major figure, arguably, of the Anglo-Irish political struggle whose historical – and literary - significance has only grown since 1954. The Fall of Charles Stuart Parnell has inspired generations of writers engaged in the fabrication of alternate histories. The enigma of his personality, and the complex set of circumstances surrounding the events of 1890 continue to be explored in imaginary what if variations. You Are There, by contrast, portrays a moment in time that must contain a myriad of possibilities. [Part 1 of 2]

[51kas81]

Helen Shingler in Maigret (1960–1963)

Happy 100th Birthday Helen Shingler born: August 29, 1919 in London, England, UK, Mother of actor/singer Murray Head and Anthony Head.

[kwebtv]

Oscar - BBC Two - March 26 - 28, 1985

Drama / Biography (3 Episodes)

Running Time: 60 minutes

Stars:

Michael Gambon as Oscar Wilde 

Robin Lermitte as Lord Alfred Douglas, 

Tim Hardy as Alfred Taylor

Emily Richard as Constance Wilde 

Norman Rodway as the Marquis of Queensberry

John Hudson as Robert Ross

Bryan Murray as George Bernard Shaw

Neil Cunningham as Humphreys

David Collings as Doctor

Donald Sumpter as Clibborn

Karl Howman as Fred Atkins

Nick Reding as Charlie Parker

Ian Holt as Wood

Russell Keith Grant as Brooklield

Peter Cellier as Beerbohm Tree

Anne Lambton as Mrs. Tree

John Repsch as George Alexander

James Bree as the Prince of Wales

Helen Shingler as Lady Lonsdale

Catherine Strauss as Lily Langrey

Robert Burbage as Max Beerbohm

Michael Pennington as Narrator