simon Williams (aka The Archers’ Justin elliott)

The Archers star on his Ambridge affair and getting a boost from Mary Berry

The high point of my month is when the scripts arrive for the next block of recordings for The Archers, in which i play Justin elliott. According to Twitter, opinion is divided as to whether my alter ego can be trusted, and i’m not sure myself. he is a property developer and there is a fair amount of nimbyism in Ambridge. The postman, recognising the envelope as i run to take it from him, says ‘looks like Justin is going to be a busy boy next month’.

The five million aficionados of the programme area special breed, respectful and loyal, no bear-hugging selfies for them. Ambridge is their parallel universe with its pressing issues of cattle disease, the mixed cricket team, and a new Speedwatch campaign. The daily episode is a sacred time; for 15 minutes every evening a hush falls across the nation – potatoes are peeled, babies nursed, roses pruned, in total silence. When Archers listeners meet me ‘in the flesh’ (as if one had a choice), they tell me in disappointed tones that i am not at all what they imagined. They picture Justin as shorter, younger, stouter, balder, jollier.

Recently, they have been worried about Justin’s romance with the show’s darling, Lillian Bellamy, with whom he was recent ly c aught in f lag rante in Jen ni fer Ald r idge’s g ue s t bed room! Mercif ully, t his was audio only – t he sound-effects man was beside me pulling up the zip of a pair of trousers while i made my excuses and left.

Justin’s vile wife, Miranda, played by my real-life wife, Lucy Fleming, who is obviously not at all vile, has g iven him the old ultimatum: her or me. The tension mounts chez nous waiting for the scripts. The postman rightly looks a nx ious. A glacia l pall fa lls over our household as we read that Justin wants a divorce to marry Lillian and Miranda is exiled to London. Lucy is not in the least comforted when i tell her. it SEEM Si may have cornered the market in public-school property developers, as i’ve now been drafted into East enders to share some skulduggery with the enigmatic character Max Branning. As in Am bridge, it’ s already clear that my character has IT’S A Busy Time of year for those of us involved in organising village fêtes, as i am, at home in oxfordshire. it is always my responsibility to find an ‘opener’. it’s not a task i relish as even tiny celebrities have other fish to fry in June–sports days, charity cricket matches – some of them even have a life. past successes include paul Daniels, Joanna Lumley, Fiona Bruce – even nigel havers one wet summer. There are always plenty of suggestions from fellow committee members, but it ’s hard to explain that george or Amal might bea touch busy. Sometimes when i’ve drawn a blank or get a lastminute cancellation, the poster goes to print with, ‘To be opened by a mystery guest’. Alas, this ploy has been rumbled by th es avvy folk of nettle bed. i once overheard two women studying this announcement, one saying to the other, ‘That’ll be Simon again then’.

This year i have ventured outside my address book for a suitable opener. i heard on the grape vine that Mary Berry was moving to the area, and quick as a flash i wrote to her asking her to do the honours. My stock in the village has risen to record levels since i announced that the nation’s favourite baker had consented to be our guest. next year who knows? perhaps i’ll ask my new bride from Ambridge.

If my career goes on like this, I shan’t be able to show my face again in my local Waitrose