Mortimer begins with an anecdote to introduce his argument that ‘there is no clear or necessary distinction between fact and fiction, between drama and documentary, between creating and reporting’. Indeed ‘one gives life to the other’ and both are equally important in the search for truth. Consequently, censoring drama is as ‘damaging and dishonest’ as censoring the news.

Mortimer's working life illustrates this synergy between fact and fiction. His simultaneous engagement with law and the theatre prompted the discovery that while the playwright ‘has to face up to the fearful truth of existence’ the lawyer can exist ‘in a world of pure fantasy and make-believe’: the plays of ‘Strindberg … were forced to tell the truth … about married life’ while ‘the divorce laws of England were a web of romantic fairy-tales’. Mortimer argues that truth is essential to drama and must be rooted in the reality experienced by the writer: the ‘best of dramatists … have all dealt in worlds which are quite their own’ and require them, as Proust acknowledged, to ‘read the book of unknown signs within him’.

But television drama has two ‘enemies’: censorship and ratings. Mortimer rejects both. Censors reject material which tends to ‘deprave and corrupt’. Mortimer argues that drama should shock audiences – as Dickens’ accounts of the workhouse did; moreover, any ‘healthy person’ should expect to be ‘shocked and offended at least three times a day’. Ratings also threaten drama and lead to mediocrity.