Although rarely discussed now, Michael Barry (1910-1988) had an important role in the development of British television drama. As a producer before and immediately after the Second World War and subsequently as the BBC’s first Head of Television Drama, he helped shape the new medium in its formative years.
{"id":319,"date":"2010-01-11T08:17:01","date_gmt":"2010-01-11T08:17:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.britishtelevisiondrama.org.uk\/?p=319"},"modified":"2024-09-01T10:05:56","modified_gmt":"2024-09-01T09:05:56","slug":"michael-barry","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.britishtelevisiondrama.org.uk\/?p=319","title":{"rendered":"Michael Barry"},"content":{"rendered":"![\"Michael](\"http:\/\/www.britishtelevisiondrama.org.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/01\/Michael-Barry2-253x300.jpg\" "\\"Michael")
<\/p>\n
Although rarely discussed now, Michael Barry (1910-1988) had an important role in the development of British television drama. As a producer before and immediately after the Second World War and subsequently as the BBC\u2019s first Head of Television Drama, he helped shape the new medium in its formative years.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
After an unsuccessful school career, Barry initially studied agriculture, spending time on farms and 18 months at the Hertfordshire Agricultural Institute before deciding he wanted to work in theatre. He turned to acting and studied for a year at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art before going into repertory theatre for an “exciting” year in Northampton, then moving on to Birmingham and London. Barry was born James Barry Jackson and we can speculate that he changed his professional name when entering the theatre business to avoid confusion with the established theatre director Sir Barry Jackson. This article uses his professional name throughout for convenience.<\/p>\n
With gaps in acting roles Barry also took work in other capacities in the theatre, building scenery, designing and stage managing. At the age of 23 he was appointed the director of the Hull Repertory Theatre where he spent a “superb” year,1<\/a><\/sup> before taking charge of the Croydon Repertory Theatre, where he remained for two-and-a-half years. After this he felt “a little stale, a little tired, perhaps time for a change” and, at the suggestion of a friend, applied for the post of studio manager with the new BBC television service but was unsuccessful.2<\/a><\/sup> Undeterred, Barry then applied to be a television producer. His BBC file still includes two glowing letters of recommendation from previous employers in the theatre.3<\/a><\/sup> Barry later recalled:<\/p>\n The first interview at Broadcasting House began uneventfully enough; a quiet figure behind a large desk asked formal questions, but before long we were both on our feet talking excitedly about the production photographs spread out before us.<\/p>\n The enthusiasm of this senior official was my introduction to television.4<\/a><\/sup> <\/p><\/blockquote>\n He was taken on, arriving at the BBC\u2019s modest Alexandra Palace studios in North London in early 1938. As in radio, the BBC at that time did not recognise the independent role of director, so Barry\u2019s work as producer also involved artistic aspects now more associated with directors. Although drama was his primary interest, and the genre in which he would specialise, as a producer Barry had to helm a variety of programmes in the early days of the television service. His earliest known production was an edition of topical magazine Picture Page<\/em> in April 1938.5<\/a><\/sup> Only ten days later his first television play, The Marvellous History of St Bernard<\/em>, which he knew from his theatre days, was transmitted.6<\/a><\/sup> Even this early in his career Barry was experimenting with television, varying camera lenses and playing with focus as part of a career-long quest to achieve a sense of “vitality” on screen, which saw him pioneer new techniques and push standards.7<\/a><\/sup> He rapidly found success, with The Observer<\/em> noting that his production of Richard of Bordeaux<\/em> was “remarkable for that special quality which belongs to television \u2026 a sense both of reality and intimacy.”8<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Television\u2019s insatiable appetite for programming and the rapid turnaround times for productions saw Barry produce a further 23 plays (including three short plays transmitted in one day9<\/a><\/sup> ), plus at least three further instalments of Picture Page<\/em>, in little more than a year. This hectic schedule encouraged Barry to favour plays already familiar from his own stage productions, despite his own concerns about their suitability for television. An early success with a new script for television was his own reduced adaptation of Pride and Prejudice<\/em> (1938), which was found “charming” by The Times<\/em>.10<\/a><\/sup> <\/p>\n When war was declared on 1 September 1939, the BBC\u2019s television service was brought to an abrupt close. Already a reservist, Barry had been called up for service the previous month, leaving his colleague Eric Crozier to complete his production of A Cup of Happiness<\/em>.11<\/a><\/sup> Soon afterwards Barry gained an officer\u2019s commission in the Royal Marines, with whom he spent the duration of the war whilst receiving a retainer salary from the BBC. His war work included appointment in 1944 as first Assistant Military Secretary on the Headquarters Staff of the Royal Marines, which involved organising Marine dispositions for D-Day; he later served with his battalion in Germany.12<\/a><\/sup> He returned to Britain in late 1945 and re-joined the BBC again as a producer in March 1946 as the BBC\u2019s television service was preparing to reopen. He initially lacked enthusiasm for his resumed producer\u2019s duties, questioning his work and the task of trying to televise theatre plays in the absence of new scripts, with no writers prepared to work for television.13<\/a><\/sup> His ennui was dispelled upon reading The Silence of the Sea<\/em>, a French novel published by the underground press in 1942, thinking “this is what television is all about”.14<\/a><\/sup> <\/p>\n Barry later recalled how his 1946 dramatisation of The Silence of the Sea<\/em> acted “as a spur, which led on to the six most exciting years that I have ever had, being allowed to write and direct, write and direct.”15<\/a><\/sup> His script was chosen as a practice exercise prior to television\u2019s resumption and then as the main evening programme on the night the service reopened.16<\/a><\/sup> Its sympathetic portrait of a young German soldier billeted on a resentful French family was a brave choice given that hostilities with Germany had ended barely a year earlier. Recognising the limitation imposed on the visualisation of the drama by the archaic equipment, Barry made prominent use of sound, with the interior monologue of Kenneth More as the German soldier and various sound effects played into the live performance.<\/p>\n Barry produced two more war plays in 1946, both drawn from radio scripts: They Flew Through Sand<\/i>, a fast-paced action story set in North Africa, and Adventure Story<\/i>, which portrayed a young couple returning from the war and struggling to adapt to the banalities of peacetime life.17<\/a><\/sup> Written by Charles Terrot, with whom Barry went on to have a productive creative partnership, Adventure Story<\/i> was a complex production which stretched Barry\u2019s talents. As he had done before the war, Barry improvised the numerous settings required within the tiny studio. With the use of shadows and small items of scenery (and, in one instance, stage hands throwing water), he employed the power of suggestion to provide the numerous locations that could not have been built in the studio. Sound effects, models and back projection were used to give what Barry called “a depth and vitality to a tiny setting”.18<\/a><\/sup> The play was a success and was restaged for television several times.<\/p>\n Barry broke new ground with I Want to be an Actor<\/i> (1946), a script by journalist and radio producer Robert Barr which became television\u2019s first dramatised documentary.19<\/a><\/sup> It inspired Barry to write his own drama documentary about the history of medical practice, I Want to be a Doctor<\/i> (1947), which was well regarded at the BBC: Cecil McGivern, the newly installed Television Programme Director, recognised it as “a sign-post to the way ahead for scripts of its kind”.20<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n In 1948, Barry was invited by producer Donald Wilson to direct a film at Pinewood Studios. The result was Stop Press Girl<\/i> (1949), a light fantasy about a girl whose presence interferes with machinery. Shooting used Wilson and designer David Rawnsley’s experimental “Independent Frame” method, which put the onus on pre-production planning, production-line mechanisation and speed. The filming occurred rapidly across the end of 1948 and start of 1949, with Barry back at the BBC in time for his April production of Behold the Man<\/em>. Barry later felt he had allowed the mechanised technique to stifle the film\u2019s comedy. The Times<\/i> complained that it moved “in a series of uneasy fits and starts”,21<\/a><\/sup> and Barry called it “one of the industry\u2019s least distinguished works”.22<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Nevertheless, McGivern noted in an addendum to Barry’s 1949 Annual Confidential Report that his knowledge of the Independent Frame film method would be useful to him and to television, noting also that Barry was “conscientious, imaginative and hard-working” and recommending an improved pay grade.23<\/a><\/sup> The report itself, by Head of Drama Robert MacDermot, noted that “Michael Barry is possibly the most competent all-round producer on the staff of Television. He is extremely thorough & conscientious but at the same time always ready for experiments in new techniques.”24<\/a><\/sup> Barry was ‘strongly’ recommended for the next Senior Producer vacancy, though the report suggested the BBC may be at risk of losing him to the world of films.<\/p>\n Remaining at the BBC, Barry was going from strength to strength in the late 1940s and had particular success with The Passionate Pilgrim<\/i> (1949), his own adaptation of Charles Terrot\u2019s novel Miss Nightingale\u2019s Ladies<\/i>.25<\/a><\/sup> A form of historical documentary based on the true story of one of Florence Nightingale\u2019s nurses in the Crimea, the play was lauded by the Daily Telegraph<\/i> as “A triumphant production” and by C.A. Lejeune as “beautifully acted throughout, and produced by Michael Barry with courage, tenderness and a real sense of the medium as a nascent art”.26<\/a><\/sup> Barry’s personal file at the BBC reveals that around the same time he was invited to join a company called Parthian Films to be their Director of Filmed Television Programmes, which would have involved filming distinguished theatre productions, but he chose to stick with the BBC to pursue original work such as The Passionate Pilgrim<\/em>.27<\/a><\/sup> Barry\u2019s restaging of the play in 1953 was broadcast two days before Queen Elizabeth II\u2019s coronation, for which sales of television sets rocketed, and so was many viewers\u2019 first experience of television drama.<\/p>\n Barry’s desire to encourage new writing specifically for television is noted in his BBC file. In a memo from late 1949, I. Beynon-Lewis noted that “Michael Barry’s main contribution to the advancement of Television Drama technique has […] been connected with the stimulation of original writing for Television. This has involved a continual search for writers sensible to the medium, collaborating with them in the construction of the play, and the constructive criticism of completed works submitted under this heading.” Beynon-Lewis noted that the experimental nature of the work occasionally resulted in a “flop” but that “each production, whether a ‘flop’ or a success, has made a definite contribution towards the advance of technique.”28<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Written and produced by Barry, Promise of Tomorrow<\/i> (1950) was a play about three young people aspiring to succeed in the theatre world.29<\/a><\/sup> Barry was allowed the rare privilege of shooting brief film sequences to insert into the otherwise live transmission, depicting his characters travelling by train and road, including sequences at night, providing “the sort of locations where the reality of sodden coats and rain lashed windscreens provided verisimilitude”.30<\/a><\/sup> C.A. Lejeune reported that it elicited a mixed reaction, some viewers “touched and charmed” while others “gave it up in bewilderment and exasperation”.31<\/a><\/sup> The Manchester Guardian<\/em>\u2019s critic fell into the former camp and provided an insight into Barry\u2019s innovative style, noting how the play<\/p>\n proved that the medium is much more responsive than most plays produced so far have shown us […] Michael Barry\u2019s play has shown that a much quicker and more fluent handling is possible […] because the producer is the same as the writer and handles the television scene with assurance and skill life comes to this unexceptional story and is in fact extraordinarily interesting to watch. There are moments of real suspense and emotion in it […] Mr. Barry uses many clever devices for keeping the movement going: for instance, the progress downhill by the repertory theatre, illustrated by playbills and clapping, and many other quick and allusive ways of indicating things. In fact he has removed the heavy-footed feel from television in this play and achieved a sort of film technique which is far more effective than films proper are on the television screen.32<\/a><\/sup> <\/p><\/blockquote>\n His ambition growing, Barry adapted and produced Terence Rattigan\u2019s Adventure Story<\/i> (1950, not to be confused with the war play of the same name discussed above), a large-scale biography of Alexander the Great.33<\/a><\/sup> He was allowed a two-hour timeslot and both of Alexandra Palace\u2019s studios to stage the epic story. Barry chose to highlight “thought and action against amorphous backgrounds […] and great care was taken to make every frame as perfect a composition as possible”.34<\/a><\/sup> Lejeune reported that it was “done with distinction, but is too big, remote, and dressy a subject for the home screen.”35<\/a><\/sup> Barry concurred, writing later that the subject was probably “too large and remote to be encompassed dramatically”, but that “the fascination lay within the attempt”.36<\/a><\/sup> Other Barry productions from this period included Karel and Josef Capek\u2019s The Insect Play<\/em> (1950), in which human society is parodied in the world of insects.37<\/a><\/sup> After his popular earlier productions, Barry felt that The Insect Play<\/i> and Adventure Story<\/i>\u2019s “visual and oral images […] had gone further, in diverse ways, to stretch the illusion of space within the small screen”.38<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n In the summer of 1950 Barry received the offer of a job in American television with CBS, but despite the prospect of a substantially higher salary, he declined, happy with the level of support and creative freedom at the BBC.39<\/a><\/sup> He was excited by projects such as Shout Aloud Salvation<\/i> (1951), which proved to be amongst his most successful productions.40<\/a><\/sup> Adapting the manuscript of Charles Terrot\u2019s sprawling historical novel about the early days of the Salvation Army, Barry reduced the story to focus on two young women despatched to introduce the Salvation Army into a bleak northern town. It was another large-scale production, with 50 characters, a riot staged in the studio, a real Salvation Army band and brief film sequences. An opening sequence used narration over a montage of background sounds and both still and moving images, indicating the bricolage approach employed by Barry, as he applied whichever techniques from radio and film best established his setting with the modest resources at his disposal.<\/p>\n Reaction to Shout Aloud Salvation<\/i> was highly positive: The Manchester Guardian<\/em> found that “everything was 100 per cent […] The scenes changed swiftly, the technique was excellent, and ‘Shout Aloud Salvation’ was the proof that the television ‘blood and thunder’ drama is fascinating.”41<\/a><\/sup> The Evening Standard<\/i> called it the “Most successful of original television plays” and the Derby Evening Times<\/i> voiced a consensus that it was “extraordinarily moving”.42<\/a><\/sup> The play\u2019s conclusion was criticised and Barry realised it had been over-ambitious and inadequately realised: it was amended for a new production five years later by George More O\u2019Ferrall.43<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Barry’s “outstanding contribution to the development of Television Drama” with Shout Aloud Salvation<\/em>, Promise of Tomorrow<\/em> and The Passionate Pilgrim<\/em> resulted in a recommendation in 1951 for him to receive a special bonus payment, an unusual high accolade at the BBC.44<\/a><\/sup> For all his success in drama, Barry was still a general producer and his BBC file indicates that, as well as plays, his 1951 assignments included two instalments of The Epilogue<\/em> in the month prior to Shout Aloud Salvation<\/em>.45<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n As Barry drafted Shout Aloud Salvation<\/i>, the BBC advertised the new posts of Head of Television Documentaries and Assistant Head of Drama, Television. Perhaps surprisingly, Barry applied for the former, as the latter was an unknown quantity at that time.46<\/a><\/sup> However, he was called for an interview for the Drama post. Internal BBC documents suggest it was not a wholly foregone conclusion that the post would be offered to him, as seven external and three internal candidates were considered by the appointment Board in May 1951.47<\/a><\/sup> Barry reported in his memoir that he insisted the position was unsuitable, but that Director of Television George Barnes said Barry\u2019s acceptance was important to television, assuring him that he would have a free hand, with Val Gielgud, the then-current Head of Drama over both radio and television, soon to return to his preferred province in radio.<\/p>\n BBC files broadly confirm this plan, with Barnes writing two days after the Appointment Board that Gielgud would shift his attention from 90% television to 90% radio, pending a future decision about functional heads for these services. Barry was to work directly to the Controller of Television Programmes, “being only answerable to Gielgud on standards of performance and selection and for advice in regard to the theatrical professional generally.”48<\/a><\/sup> Barnes noted that this had been put to Barry, who was “entirely agreeable”. Barry himself recalled having been talked around, and suggested “we try it for six months”.49<\/a><\/sup> He was to stay ten years. He was appointed in May 1951 and after three months the Head of Television Administration reported: “He is an exceptional man and is by way of proving himself to be a model Section Head.”50<\/a><\/sup> An exceptional increment to his salary was recommended and granted.51<\/a><\/sup> Radio and television formally separated in April 1952, with Barry duly receiving the Head of Television Drama title.52<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n In his new role, Barry prioritised attracting new writers to television and improving productions, impulses that had driven him since his early days as a producer.53<\/a><\/sup> He established the Drama Script Section, with a Script Supervisor under his direct control whose brief was to find new writing. Barry’s success here was noted in his Annual Confidential Report of November 1951, with Cecil McGivern (now Controller of Television Programmes) recording that “Since taking over his job, he has had a very heavy and difficult time, he has, however, managed to give a fresh impetus to the writing of scripts specially for Television and has placed his small script section on a sound, businesslike and effective footing.”54<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Within a year the Script Supervisor reported “very encouraging” statistics, including that 12 out of 107 dramas transmitted over the past twelve months had been new works written specially for television (against hardly any in the previous five years).55<\/a><\/sup> Under Barry\u2019s leadership, this increased to 256 new works for television in the twelve months ending March 1960.56<\/a><\/sup> The post of staff writer was also created, the first filled by Nigel Kneale, whose three original Quatermass<\/i> serials (1953, 1955, 1958-59) thrilled television audiences during the 1950s. Other writers attracted included freelancer Iain MacCormick<\/a> who provided a number of highly topical new plays throughout the decade. Other initiatives included the Television Writers\u2019 Course, which had 700 applicants by February 1952, and numerous writing competitions.57<\/a><\/sup> In December 1952, the Dundee Courier<\/em> reported that one of Barry’s new initiatives was to be the introduction of a fortnightly 40-minute “playlet” “especially designed for television”.58<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n The first Script Supervisor was (briefly) Hazel Wilkinson, who was succeeded by Sir Basil Bartlett. In 1955 the Script Section expanded to cover other television genres under the leadership of Donald Wilson, who had produced Barry’s film Stop Press Girl<\/em> in 1948. Wilson had also worked with Barry as a writer contributing to television in the first half of the 1950s, and in his BECTU Oral History Project interview in 1991 recalled Barry as the only person with whom he could have worked in a superior then subordinate position, as he did in moving from film to television.59<\/a><\/sup> <\/p>\n Barry aimed to replace “dead wood” with new producers from film and theatre.60<\/a><\/sup> New talents included Rudolph Cartier and Don Taylor<\/a>, who went on to produce the type of vital work that Barry wanted to see. Cartier did much to expand television\u2019s scope, with large-scale stories, but was only able to do so with the staunch support of Barry, who shared and encouraged his aims. Innovative producers, rapidly advancing technology and increased resources greatly improved production standards over Barry\u2019s decade in charge.<\/p>\n Barry’s BBC file suggests he may have taken some time to adapt to being in an administrative position. In his Annual Confidential Report of mid-1952, McGivern reported “An excellent year’s work” but that Barry was “less sure administratively”.61<\/a><\/sup> However, his next report, in April 1953, noted that “during the year he grew in stature and in his ability to handle responsibility and difficulties and that he is now exercising a firm, capable grasp […] The scope, competence and interest of television drama has increased in the past year and has won very high praise both inside and outside of the Service.”62<\/a><\/sup> Some weaknesses were, however, starting to show by the time of Barry’s 1955 report. McGivern praised Barry’s character and ability but suggested he needed to make a “sharper and clearer division between the creative side and the administrative side of his Department”. The recent appointment of an Assistant Head and Organiser was expected to enable Barry to concentrate on the former.63<\/a><\/sup> <\/p>\n Pushing his department\u2019s technical progression, Barry was instrumental in establishing BBC Television\u2019s Experimental Group in 1956, the aim of which was to devise new means of televising conventional subjects. This led to the creation of the more specialised Langham Group in 1959, which pioneered experimental drama techniques. Immediately prior to the Langham Group\u2019s creation, Barry co-produced the experimental play A Sleeping Clergyman<\/i> (1959) with one of the group\u2019s founding members.64<\/a><\/sup> Although some suggested the Langham Group\u2019s legacy was minimal, Barry felt quite the reverse, seeing it in 1961 as “a sort of underground movement, that\u2019s affected just about every department of drama, in some way or another”.65<\/a><\/sup> Barry remained a staunch supporter of experimentation in television, and thought that the BBC should lead it.66<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Barry was also a supporter of strong and provocative work, such as Nigel Kneale\u2019s adaptation of George Orwell\u2019s Nineteen Eighty-Four<\/em><\/a> (1954), which was produced by Rudolph Cartier.67<\/a><\/sup> When the play provoked a national controversy, Barry defended it in a Panorama<\/em> debate and refused to cancel the scheduled repeat performance, which he went on to introduce in person.68<\/a><\/sup> Barry also came under fire later in his reign over BBC television drama for allowing plays to depict the seedier and more squalid elements of modern life. For example, a newspaper correspondent complained of the BBC and its writers\u2019 “morbid preoccupation with sin and abnormality, Squalor, misery, beastliness, despair, the hopelessness of marriage, sex, violence, gutter behaviour”.69<\/a><\/sup> The Langham Group\u2019s production The Torrents of Spring<\/em> (1959) was criticised within the BBC for its “licentiousness” and even shortly before this incident Barry had been stirred to circulate a memo addressing criticisms of “sexiness” in television plays.70<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Being head of department did not prevent Barry \u2013 who later said he “hated desk work”71<\/a><\/sup> \u2013 from maintaining an active presence in the studio. Indeed, in his 1954 Annual Confidential Report, McGivern noted, slightly disapprovingly, that “Mr Barry still tends at times to feel the weight of his responsibility and to seek to escape from it into production”.72<\/a><\/sup> Barry produced occasional plays, such as The Man with a Load of Mischief<\/i>, which he was pleased to produce for a second time in 1952, taking advantage of the greater resources of the BBC\u2019s new Lime Grove studios, and a rare production of George Bernard Shaw\u2019s Heartbreak House<\/i> in 1958.73<\/a><\/sup> The same year he commissioned and produced the new play Till Time Shall End<\/i> to mark the 400th anniversary of the accession of Elizabeth I.74<\/a><\/sup> His production of Robert Ardrey\u2019s documentary play The Shadow of Heroes<\/i> (1959), about 1956\u2019s Hungarian revolution, was particularly successful, with Barry praised for “his use of cameras, his presentation and the use he made of the crowd scenes”, which made for a “moving historical document”.75<\/a><\/sup><\/p>\n Donald Wilson sheds some light on Barry’s insistence on continuing to undertake hands-on production himself. Wilson reported that both of them felt that “anyone heading a production department should put himself up for scrutiny by his colleagues, by his juniors, by the people working with him […] in Michael’s case by going down on the floor and directing a piece now and again, which he did.”76<\/a><\/sup> The recollection of director Alvin Rakoff, who worked under Barry, suggests this tactic was successful:<\/p>\n Michael was a man to be listened to. He was no slouch as a practising director. He had been talked into giving up his first love of direct contact with actors and cameras, to take on the job of administrator. Of course, he would sneak back – as first lovers do – to directing again, if only to prove us young Turks that he was still more than capable, literally, of calling the shots.77<\/a><\/sup> <\/p><\/blockquote>\n It is worth considering Rakoff’s experiences working under Barry as an illustration of Barry’s approach to his executive work. In his memoir, I’m Just the Guy Who Says Action!<\/em>, Rakoff recalls Barry (who had brought him into the BBC) as demonstrating trust in his judgement, supporting him, offering advice but refusing to overrule him when Rakoff declined to follow it, and deferring to the younger man’s judgement.78<\/a><\/sup> One result of this was Rakoff’s stunningly successful 1957 production Requiem for a Heavyweight<\/em>, which introduced Sean Connery in his first leading role, despite Barry’s expressed misgivings over both Connery’s casting and the play’s title.79<\/a><\/sup> Another example occurred during Rakoff’s production of The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial<\/em> in 1958, when Barry backed Rakoff against a cast rebellion which sought to have him replaced.80<\/a><\/sup> <\/p>\n Plays were the primary form of drama for Barry, although he presided over the introduction of numerous popular series and serials, such as Dixon of Dock Green<\/i> (1955-76), The Grove Family<\/i> (1954-57) and Quatermass<\/i>. As Don Taylor recalled, “under Michael Barry, the emphasis had been very clearly upon the production of television plays. The rest was a sideline, popular audience stuff, but not what the department was for. Michael Barry was a man of the theatre, and his values were the values of that milieu and that age”.![\"'I](\"http:\/\/www.britishtelevisiondrama.org.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/01\/I-Want-to-Be-a-Doctor-in-studio1-300x225.jpg\" "\\"'I")
<\/p>\n