Interviewer: We continue with the World of Investigation. Laura, an identical twin, has agreed to contribute to our investigations. I must apologize for the fact that Laura's twin cannot be here tonight. And I'd like to tell you, Laura, how sorry we are. You and your sister are very close, aren't you?

Laura: Of course we are.

Interviewer: Interesting! You said 'of course'. Don't you think there are quite a few sisters who aren't close?

Laura: Sarah and I aren't just sisters. We're identical twins.

Interviewer: I take your point. How identical are you, in fact?

Laura: Both blonde, with brown eyes. Same height, same weight, same size. Even shoes.

Interviewer: As you're the same size, have you always dressed alike?

Laura: Oh yes. I'm told it started when we were babies. Mum made a feature of her twins. And then we got into the habit of buying two of everything.

Interviewer: And you've never minded having a double identity? I mean ... another person exactly like you?

Laura: Sarah isn't exactly like me. We may look identical, but. I remember our boyfriends couldn't tell us apart.

Interviewer: Didn't that cause problems?

Laura: For them, perhaps. Not for us. We couldn't stop laughing.

Interviewer: I think you said you and Sarah weren't exactly alike? Just what did you mean by that?

Laura: Sarah has a well-fed happy husband and four healthy children. When she was washing up, I was learning to type. When she was knitting, I was writing articles for the school newspaper. When she was having her second child, I was in Panama, doing my first job for United Information Services. See what I mean?

Interviewer: And haven't you got a healthy husband and happy children?

Laura: You must be joking. There's never been the time ... or the inclination.

Interviewer: Laura, you've made some very interesting points. I gather that you don't feel that behaviour is purely genetic ... that there might be some element of environment or choice or even perhaps ...

Laura: Shall I conclude? Sarah and I are identical twins ... in appearance, that is ... but it's a fact that life has presented us with different opportunities, so we've led very different lives.

Alan and Barbara have just read an article about twins and coincidences. They are discussing the article over lunch. Listen to their discussion.

Alan: That idea about our genetic make-up is rather frightening, isn't it?

Barbara: Do you mean the idea that because of our genetic make-up we are bound to act in a particular way?

Alan: Yes. If it's true, then it suggests that criminals are born and not made.

Barbara: Not necessarily. It would only mean that somebody was born with the potential to become a criminal.

Alan: How do you mean?

Barbara: Well, if somebody was born with a particular set of genes that made him a potential criminal, it would be necessary for him to be brought up in a particular way if he was actually going to become a criminal.

Alan: He'd have to grow up in a family of criminals, you mean?

Barbara: Yes, in the sort of family that regarded crime as a way of life and saw the police as the enemy.

Alan: They say it takes a thief to catch a thief.

Barbara: What do you mean by that?

Alan: Well, I suppose I mean that similar qualities are necessary to become a successful criminal or a first-class policeman.

Barbara: That's a bit hard on the policeman, isn't it?

Alan: I don't think so. In time of war men who might easily be in jail win medals for gallantry.

Barbara: That's because they're the sort of men who aren't satisfied with a normal everyday job.

Alan: Yes, they're men who get bored with ordinary life and want action. They're usually pretty strong characters, too.

Secretary: Mr. Turner's office.

Caller 1: Hello. I'd like to speak to Mr. Turner, please.

Secretary: I'm sorry, he's in a meeting right now. May I take a message?

Caller 1: Uh, yes. This is Mary Roberts from the First National Bank. (Mm-hmm.) Would you ask him to call me at 772-1852?

Secretary: Okay. That's 772-18-?

Caller 1: 52.

Secretary: Okay.

Caller 1: He can reach me at this number until, say, twelve thirty, or between two and five this afternoon.

Secretary: That's fine, Ms Roberts. I'll tell him. I'll give him your message.

Caller 1: Thank you very much. Goodbye.

Secretary: Goodbye ... Mr. Turner's office.

Caller 2: Yes. Hello. Is Mr. Turner in, please.

Secretary: No, I'm sorry, he's in a meeting right now. May I take a message?

Caller 2: This is Mr. Brown calling. I have a lunch appointment with Mr. Turner for tomorrow noon that I have to cancel. I'm going to be out of town for a while. Would you offer my apologies to Mr. Turner and have him call me, please, to reschedule? My number here is 7439821.

Secretary: Okay, Mr. Brown. I'll make sure he gets the message.

Caller 2: Thank you so much.

Secretary: You're welcome.

Caller 2: Bye-bye, now.

Secretary: Bye-bye ... Mr. Turner's office.

Caller 3: Hello, Jane. Is my husband in?

Secretary: Oh, no, Mrs. Turner. I'm sorry. He's in a meeting until noon.

Caller 3: Oh.

Secretary: Oh, excuse me just a minute. I have another call. Can you hold for a second?

Caller 3: Yes, sure.

Secretary: Mr. Turner's office. Will you hold please? Hello, Mrs. Turner. Uh ... Would you like your husband to call you back?

Caller 3: No. That's not necessary. But would you just tell him, please, that I won't be home until eight o'clock? I'll be working late.

Secretary: Oh, sure. I'll tell him.

Caller 3: Thanks a lot. Bye-bye.

Secretary: Bye-bye. Thank you for holding. Uh ... Can I help you?

Caller 4: Yeah. Hi. This is Wendy at Travel Agents International. Umm ... I've got Mr. Turner booked on a flight for Puerto Rico next Tuesday. Can you take down the information?

Secretary: Sure.

Caller 4: Okay. It's Pan Am Flight two twenty-six, which leaves Tuesday the twelfth at eight am.

Secretary: Okay. That's Pan Am Flight two twenty-six, leaving Tuesday the twelfth at eight am.

Caller 4: Right. Umm ... I'll send the ticket over later this afternoon, if that's okay.

Secretary: Oh, sure. That'd be fine.

Caller 4: Okay. Thanks lot. Bye.

Secretary: Bye-bye ... Mr. Turner's office.

Caller 5: Hello. Uh ... My name is Juan Salvador. I'm calling from Puerto Rico, and I want to speak to Mr. Turner.

Secretary: I'm sorry, sir, Mr. Turner is in a meeting. May I take a message?

Caller 5: I ... think it would be better if I ... uh ... call him later. Uh ... Will you please tell me when he's going to be free?

Secretary: He'll be free in about an hour.

Caller 5: Oh, thanks. Uh ... Why don't you leave him a message saying that I called him and I will call him back? It's in regard to our meeting on next Wednesday.

Secretary: Okay. Uh ... Could you give me your name again, please?

Caller 5: Yes, of course. Juan Salvador.

Secretary: Could you spell that, please?

Caller 5: Yes. S-a-l-v-a.

Secretary: Uh ... Excuse me, sir. I'm having trouble hearing you. Could you repeat it, please?

Caller 5: Yes, of course. S-a-l-v-a-d-o-r.

Secretary: Thank you very much, Mr. Salvador. I'll give Mr. Turner the message.

Caller 5: Oh, thank you very much. Bye-bye.

Secretary: Bye-bye.

Night Flight
'This is Captain Cook speaking. Our estimated time of arrival in Brisbane will be one am, so we've got a long flight ahead of us. I hope you enjoy it. Our hostesses will be serving dinner shortly. Thank you.'
It was Christmas Eve 1959, and the beginning of another routine flight. The hostesses started preparing the food trays. A few of the passengers were trying to get some sleep, but most of them were reading. There was nothing to see from the windows except the vast blackness of the Australian desert below. There was nothing unusual about the flight, except perhaps that the plane was nearly full. A lot of the passengers were travelling home to spend Christmas with their families. The hostesses started serving dinner.
It was a smooth and quiet flight. The hostesses had finished collecting the trays, and they were in the galley putting things away when the first buzzers sounded. One of the hostesses went along the aisle to check. When she came back she looked surprised. 'It's amazing,' she said. 'Even on a smooth flight like this two people have been sick.'
Twenty minutes later nearly half the passengers were ill—dramatically ill. Several were moaning and groaning, some were doubled up in pain, and two were unconscious. Fortunately there was a doctor on board, and he was helping the hostesses. He came to the galley and said, 'I'd better speak to the captain. This is a severe case of food poisoning. I think we'd better land as soon as possible.' 'What caused it?' asked one of the hostesses. 'Well,' replied the doctor, 'I had the beef for dinner, and I'm fine. The passengers who chose the fish are ill.' The hostess led him to the flight deck. She tried to open the door. 'I think it's jammed,' she said. The doctor helped her to push it open. The captain was lying behind the door. He was unconscious. The co-pilot was slumped across the controls, and the radio operator was trying to revive him.
The doctor quickly examined the two pilots. 'They just collapsed,' said the radio operator. 'I don't feel too good myself.' 'Can you land the plane?' said the doctor. 'Me? No, I'm not a pilot. We've got to revive them!' he replied. 'The plane's on automatic pilot. We're OK for a couple of hours.' 'I don't know,' said the doctor. 'They could be out for a long time.' 'I'd better contact ground control,' said the radio operator. The doctor turned to the hostess. 'Perhaps you should make an announcement, try to find out if there's a pilot on board.' 'We can't do that!' she said, 'It'll cause a general panic.' 'Well, how the hell are we going to get this thing down?' said the doctor.
Suddenly the hostess remembered something. 'One of the passengers ... I overheard him saying that he'd been a pilot in the war. I'll get him.' She found the man and asked him to come to the galley. 'Didn't you say you used to be a pilot?' she asked. 'Yes ... why? The pilot's all right, isn't he?' She led him to the flight deck. They explained the situation to him. 'You mean, you want me to fly the plane?' he said. 'You must be joking. I was a pilot, but I flew single-engined fighter planes, and that was fifteen years ago. This thing's got four engines!'
'Isn't there anybody else?' he asked. 'I'm afraid not,' said the hostess. The man sat down at the controls. His hands were shaking slightly. The radio operator connected him to Air Traffic Control. They told him to keep flying on automatic pilot towards Brisbane, and to wait for further instructions from an experienced pilot. An hour later the lights of Brisbane appeared on the horizon. He could see the lights of the runway shining brightly beyond the city. Air Traffic Control told him to keep circling until the fuel gauge registered almost empty. This gave him a chance to get used to handling the controls. In the cabin the hostesses and the doctor were busy attending to the sick. Several people were unconscious. The plane circled for over half an hour. The passengers had begun to realize that something was wrong. 'What's going on? Why don't we land?' shouted a middle aged man. 'My wife's ill. We've got to get her to hospital!' A woman began sobbing quietly. At last the plane started its descent. Suddenly there was a bump which shook the plane. 'We're all going to die!' screamed a man. Even the hostesses looked worried as panic began to spread through the plane. 'It's all right!' someone said. 'The pilot's just lowered the wheels, that's all.' As the plane approached the runway they could see fire trucks and ambulances speeding along beside the runway with their lights flashing. There was a tremendous thump as the wheels hit the tarmac, bounced twice, raced along the runway and screeched to a halt. The first airport truck was there in seconds. 'That was nearly a perfect landing. Well done!' shouted the control tower. 'Thanks,' said the man. 'Any chance of a job?'

1. Thousands of people die of heart attacks every year; heart disease is becoming so widespread that we can almost talk of an epidemic.

2. That is, people with heart disease often show one or more of these traits.

3. The answer is, a person's personality determines that he or she will be likely to develop this illness.

4. They set themselves unrealistic goals and force themselves to meet impossible deadlines.

5. Eventually their responses to life become less creative, more automatic, and all of their activities are performed under stress.

6. In the past, men have tended to show Type A behaviour more than women have, but with an increasing number of women entering the labour force, this also may change.

7. Stress seems to be caused by our highly technical, highly rushed modern way of life.

8. Now it is not uncommon for a sixty or fifty or even a forty-year-old to suffer a heart attack.

9. Too preoccupied with his own schedule, he has little capacity to concentrate on what other people are saying—unless, of course, they are talking about work.

10. When he returns to work, he finds that the leisure time of the night before has helped him find a creative solution to his work problems.

The Boy Who Cried Wolf
Once upon a time there was a very naughty shepherd boy. He often fell asleep while he was watching his sheep. And he told lies. The villagers shook their heads and said, 'That boy will come to a bad end.'
One day, when he was feeling very bored, the boy decided to play a practical joke on the villagers. He ran down the hill. 'Wolf, wolf!' he cried. 'Help, come quickly. Wolf!' All the villagers seized their spears and ran to help him. But there was no wolf. 'He heard you,' the naughty boy lied, 'and ran away.' When everyone had gone, he started to laugh.
Three weeks later, when he was feeling very bored indeed, he decided to play the same trick again. 'Wolf, wolf!' he shouted. 'Help, come quickly. Wolf!' Most of the villagers hurried to help him. This time the boy laughed at them. 'Ha, ha. There wasn't a wolf,' he said. 'What a good joke!' The villagers were very angry. 'Lies are not jokes,' they said.
Two days later the boy woke up suddenly. He had fallen asleep in the afternoon sun. What was that big dark animal coming towards his flock? Suddenly it seized a lamb. 'Wolf!' screamed the boy. 'Wolf. Help, come quickly. Wolf!' But none of the villagers came to help him. He screamed again. The wolf heard him and licked its lips. 'I like lamb,' it thought, 'but shepherd boy tastes much nicer.'
When the shepherd boy didn't come home that night, some of the villagers went to look for him. They found a few bones.