It feels less like a fact than a philosophy problem. “The Archers”, a BBC radio drama centred on the fictional rural village of Ambridge, contains numerous silent characters, spoken about but never heard from. Some have been in the show for years. There is Barry, who plays (wordlessly) for the local cricket team; Derek, who chaired the parish council (inaudibly) and even had an affair with another silent character; and Molly Button, who misbehaves (mutely). Their existence raises troubling questions, among them “Why?” and “What is the sound of a silent radio character?”

The second question is easier to answer. Broadly speaking, it sounds like this: “…”. The first is trickier, which is why an academic paper has been published on the topic. It contained a Foucauldian analysis of Archers dialogue and was presented in 2018 at the “Academic Archers”, an annual research conference devoted to all things Ambridge. This year’s conference, on April 27th and 28th, will discuss papers such as “The only gay in the village? Queer(y)ing family in rural Borsetshire”. An edited volume of papers, “Flapjacks and Feudalism: Social Mobility and Class in The Archers”, appeared in 2021.

The conference is, says Cara Courage, its founder, “tongue-in-cheek”. But it still tells you something about the show’s status. “The Archers” was first broadcast in 1951. It is the world’s longest-running daily radio drama and one of its best-loved: at one point it had over 5m listeners. It counts Queen Camilla among its fans and has featured a cameo from Princess Margaret. It has been suggested that its catchy theme tune, one of the first many Britons can recognise, should replace the national anthem.

That word “drama” should be taken with a pinch of salt. Plot lines regularly revolve around cake-baking competitions at the flower-and-produce show. Where other shows have “intimacy co-ordinators”, “The Archers” has an “agricultural consultant”. Episodes feature the taking of calves from their mothers (listeners find them mooving). The show’s creator wanted it to feel like “real life overheard”. Storylines unfurl in real time: one about dementia took seven years. To say it was Pinteresque is to underplay it. But silence, as that paper from 2018 made clear, can be powerful. Or, as Molly Button might say: “…”. ■

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