Yes, one does not literally light the kettle, but as Ben claims, it's a commonplace figure of speech. Upon reflection, and imagining two skilled actors arguing over whether "light the kettle" or "light the gas" was conventional usage is the sort of argue-'til-you're-exhausted question that evokes laughter, especially when the exchange continues with no end in the making and no way to resolve it. Similarly, in The Dumbwaiter, Ben and Gus' testy exchange over the meaning, or lack of same, of the expression "light the kettle" at first struck me as passingly silly. Perhaps the same would be true of Aston's interminable fiddling with the switch on a toaster he's trying to repair. Performed on stage, the juxtaposition of the young thug-wannabe with the quasi-technical, aesthetically refined description of his proposed renovations must have seemed ridiculously funny. Dense as I am, I took this all too seriously until Mick recounted his elaborate tale a second time word for word. His description, couched in language that I take to be peculiar to the most sophisticated and expensive interior decorators and architects are, I'm sure, hilarious when coming from the mouth of a leather-jacketed, sometimes maniacally teasing and taunting Lad, whose only resource is the old dump he's sitting in. He describes to an old man named Davies, however, how he plans to completely renovate and furnish the entire dwelling. For example, in The Caretaker, Mick is a working class guy in his late twenties who purportedly owns a tumbledown, ramshackle old house that currently has only one (barely) habitable room.
There is a good deal of humor in each play that readers may very well miss, but that those watching a performance would no doubt enjoy. The Caretaker and the Dumbwaiter are two Pinter plays that remind the reader that they were meant to be performed rather than read silently sitting at home.
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