Rebecca returned later that afternoon and came upon them in the study.
– Giles! Darling! How are you? Oh, I see you’ve been looking at the manuscript. What do you think?
Giles, in spite of his anger and anxiety, had been preparing to soft-soap Rebecca. He detested writers; they were invariably tedious, self-righteous, fucked-up bores. The ones who had artistic pretensions were by far the most unbearable. That’s what had happened to the silly cow, he considered, far too much time to think in that hospital, and she’d gone and got fucking art! Confronted by her illness with the prospect of mortality, she wanted to make her mark and she wanted to do it at the expense of his profit margins! However, nothing could be gained by irritating her. She had to be seduced, to be wooed into seeing the error of her ways. Giles was just about to launch into an ‘interesting new direction, darling, but …’ speech, when Perky, seething with anger, got in first.
– Becca, darling, Perks said through gritted teeth, – I don’t know what you’re trying to give us here …
– Don’t you like it, Perky? Don’t you find it more racy, more … raw?
– It’s hardly a Miss May Romance, darling, Giles lisped.
– Now, Giles, it’s full of realism. One can’t, how should I put it, live with one’s head stuck up one’s fanny forever, can one?
It’s the medication, Perks thought. The old girl’s finally lost her marbles.
– Darling Rebecca, Giles implored, – Do try to see reason. He started pacing up and down, moving his hands expansively. – Who reads your books? Mumsie-Wumsie, of course, she who doth hold the entire fabric of our great society together. She who does all the essential maintenance on the chappie who goes out to work, she who rears the kiddies. You know her, you see her all the time on the washing-powder adverts. Yes, she works ever so hard; and like the slaves in the field she does it with a smile on her face and, yes, a song in her heart! It’s a dull, thankless life of drudgery, so she needs a little escape hatch. Oh, yes, afternoon telly helps, of course, but what is the real sweet little pill that makes it all bearable? It’s getting out Rebecca Navarro’s Miss May novels and escaping into that beautiful world of romance and gaiety you so passionately re-create. All the mumsies and the young mumsies-to-be need that.
– Precisely, Perky nodded sternly, – you go introducing buggery and revolution into things and those valium-headed bovine tarts will be throwing down their books in horror – and then where will we be?
– Do tell me, darling? Rebecca teased.
– On the fucking street selling
The Big Issue
, that’s where! Perky roared.
16 A Bugger In The Scrum
Nick Armitage-Welsby picked up a loose ball on the edge of the scrum and accelerated, weaving deep into opposition territory, deftly swivelling past two desperate tackles. The small crowd at Richmond experienced a tingling of anticipation, as Armitage-Welsby had the pace and power to go all the way to the line. However, with the opposition rearguard in disarray, Armitage-Welsby weakly passed to a colleague then collapsed onto the mud.
He was dead on arrival at St Hubbin’s Hospital, the victim of a massive cardio-vascular accident.
The body lay on a trolley in the hospital morgue and was eagerly inspected by Freddy Royle. – Oooh ar, that’s been a good un! Ung loike an ars boi the looks of things … He prepared to take a closer look.
– Eh, Freddy, Glen said warily, – we got this new pathologist geezer, this fellow called Clements, and he … eh, hasn’t really sussed out the way we do things here. He’s on duty later on, and he’ll want to see our friend, so sort of go easy on him.
– Yeah, aal be noice n gentle wif you, won’t oi me ol vlower? Freddy smiled and winked at the corpse. He turned to Glen, – now are you goin to be a lad and look out zum noice ztring vor Vreddy?
Glen huffed and puffed but rummaged in
– Giles! Darling! How are you? Oh, I see you’ve been looking at the manuscript. What do you think?
Giles, in spite of his anger and anxiety, had been preparing to soft-soap Rebecca. He detested writers; they were invariably tedious, self-righteous, fucked-up bores. The ones who had artistic pretensions were by far the most unbearable. That’s what had happened to the silly cow, he considered, far too much time to think in that hospital, and she’d gone and got fucking art! Confronted by her illness with the prospect of mortality, she wanted to make her mark and she wanted to do it at the expense of his profit margins! However, nothing could be gained by irritating her. She had to be seduced, to be wooed into seeing the error of her ways. Giles was just about to launch into an ‘interesting new direction, darling, but …’ speech, when Perky, seething with anger, got in first.
– Becca, darling, Perks said through gritted teeth, – I don’t know what you’re trying to give us here …
– Don’t you like it, Perky? Don’t you find it more racy, more … raw?
– It’s hardly a Miss May Romance, darling, Giles lisped.
– Now, Giles, it’s full of realism. One can’t, how should I put it, live with one’s head stuck up one’s fanny forever, can one?
It’s the medication, Perks thought. The old girl’s finally lost her marbles.
– Darling Rebecca, Giles implored, – Do try to see reason. He started pacing up and down, moving his hands expansively. – Who reads your books? Mumsie-Wumsie, of course, she who doth hold the entire fabric of our great society together. She who does all the essential maintenance on the chappie who goes out to work, she who rears the kiddies. You know her, you see her all the time on the washing-powder adverts. Yes, she works ever so hard; and like the slaves in the field she does it with a smile on her face and, yes, a song in her heart! It’s a dull, thankless life of drudgery, so she needs a little escape hatch. Oh, yes, afternoon telly helps, of course, but what is the real sweet little pill that makes it all bearable? It’s getting out Rebecca Navarro’s Miss May novels and escaping into that beautiful world of romance and gaiety you so passionately re-create. All the mumsies and the young mumsies-to-be need that.
– Precisely, Perky nodded sternly, – you go introducing buggery and revolution into things and those valium-headed bovine tarts will be throwing down their books in horror – and then where will we be?
– Do tell me, darling? Rebecca teased.
– On the fucking street selling
The Big Issue
, that’s where! Perky roared.
16 A Bugger In The Scrum
Nick Armitage-Welsby picked up a loose ball on the edge of the scrum and accelerated, weaving deep into opposition territory, deftly swivelling past two desperate tackles. The small crowd at Richmond experienced a tingling of anticipation, as Armitage-Welsby had the pace and power to go all the way to the line. However, with the opposition rearguard in disarray, Armitage-Welsby weakly passed to a colleague then collapsed onto the mud.
He was dead on arrival at St Hubbin’s Hospital, the victim of a massive cardio-vascular accident.
The body lay on a trolley in the hospital morgue and was eagerly inspected by Freddy Royle. – Oooh ar, that’s been a good un! Ung loike an ars boi the looks of things … He prepared to take a closer look.
– Eh, Freddy, Glen said warily, – we got this new pathologist geezer, this fellow called Clements, and he … eh, hasn’t really sussed out the way we do things here. He’s on duty later on, and he’ll want to see our friend, so sort of go easy on him.
– Yeah, aal be noice n gentle wif you, won’t oi me ol vlower? Freddy smiled and winked at the corpse. He turned to Glen, – now are you goin to be a lad and look out zum noice ztring vor Vreddy?
Glen huffed and puffed but rummaged in
Similar Books
