Dean Spanley

Morning.

'It is a commonplace observation

'that remarkable events often have ordinary beginnings.'

'Never was this more true than of my talks with Dean Spanley,

'which form the spine of our narrative.'

-Morning.

-Morning!

'Properly speaking, they began on a Thursday,

'the day on which I visit my father, Mr Horatio Fisk.'

'This habit,

'one might even say ritual,

'commenced after the death of my younger brother, Harrington,

'in the Boer War,

'and the subsequent demise of my dear Mama,

'occasioned by her grief at this... unsupportable loss.'

I'm coming, I'm coming! >

Morning, Mrs Brimley.

-How are you today?

-As you see me.

-Could complain, but what'd be the use of that?

-Yes, indeed.

-And himself?

-Oh, he's working himself up into a head of steam.

You know how he gets.

Sent back the paper, he did, to have it properly ironed!

I'm just finishing the obituaries, so you can take it in to him.

I thought he didn't read the obituaries.

No more he does, but he wants them ironed just the same.

Says he doesn't read them

because he's afraid he'll come across his own name one day.

I ask you!

Do you believe in the transmigration of souls, Mrs Brimley?

I don't believe in letting foreigners in,

if that's what you mean.

No, um,... reincarnation,

not immigration. Erm...

The belief that the immortal soul has many earthly homes.

Well, I haven't given it much thought, I haven't.

After Albert died,...

..I went to one of them mediums, but she couldn't get hold of him.

I wasn't surprised. He never said much when he were alive.

I couldn't imagine him piping up once he were dead.

Mind you don't crease that, now.

He won't know what day it is, not having seen the paper.

KNOCKS AT DOOR

Oh, young Fisk.

-It must be Thursday.

-It is indeed.

Very handy, a Thursday. Keeps Wednesday and Friday from colliding.

You're here, then.

-You should have the garden seen to, Father.

-That was your mother's job.

Nevertheless.

Nevertheless... What does that expression mean, I ask you?

Nevertheless.

Might as well be clearing your throat, for all the sense it makes.

CHILDREN'S LAUGHTER OUTSIDE

Well, it's a fine day, Father. Have you anything particular in mind?

I can see how fine the day is. As for particular in mind,

everything is particular when you get down to it.

What I meant was, do you have any plans?

Are there any concerts or...

..exhibitions,

diversions you wish to attend?

There's nothing about the war.

We're not at war, as far as I know.

Diversions, you say. That's all that's left, you know,

before stepping out of the anteroom of eternity.

There is a display of aboriginal weapons

from our wars of imperial conquest...

'Such was the common procedure of my relationship with my father.'

'I, carrying out my filial duty,

'would arrive with the best of intentions.'

'He, indulging his practised yet primitive paternal instincts,

'would play a strange game of control.'

'As Thursday upon Thursday arrived,

'I'd become more and more determined to see this game dismantled.'

..a collection of Georgian shoe buckles.

Over 2,000 items.

That was an era when a gentleman could spend a fortune

ornamenting his feet.

Did we win the Boer War?

I believe we lost more slowly than the other side.

Garden never recovered from it.

You know, there is a lecture by one Swami Nala Prash

on the transmigration of souls.

Poppycock!

Think if we had souls they wouldn't get in touch? Of course they would.

Think your mother wouldn't be onto me about that garden? Of course!

Still, it seems the most likely of the lot, wouldn't you say?

It's being held at the home of the Nawab of Ranjiput.

-Isn't that the cricketing Indian chappie?

-Yes, I believe so.

Oh, well. Let's take a look.

Heard he's turned the ballroom into a cricket pitch.

Mad as badgers, these nawabs.

Oh, by the way, I've invested in a chair vehicle.

Makes walking unnecessary. You'll enjoy it.

Mrs Brimley! My chair!

GRAND MUSIC

-Watch your step, young Fisk.

-Thank you, Father.

-How is it going?

-Very smoothly so far!

So it should. Latest model.

Guaranteed to last longer than the user.

-Not that that means very much.

-Nonsense, Father.

ENGINE CHUGS

-HORN TOOTS

-Damned machines!

Be the death of all of us, they will.

Progress, Father, occasions certain inconveniences.

Galsworthy, old son.

-How are you?

-Very well, sir.

Hey-ho! Well done, chair!

Give you a hand with the buggy?

-Grab hold.

-That's kind of you.

-Buggy, indeed!

-My pleasure, sir. Clyde-built by the feel of it.

CHEERING

MUSIC: Jerusalem played on sitar

GLASS SMASHES, LOUD CHEERS

WOMAN: Always a pleasure.

Thank you! Thank you!

Damn foolish game, cricket, if you ask me! Too many rules.

-Howzat!

-Not out, I say.

Not exactly a full house, is it?

Want to be where we can see the yellow of his eyes.

I declare, that's Spanley, dean of St Justus.

Not that I ever go, so he may've been kicked out by now.

-Father, keep your voice down!

-What?

-Shh!

Dean Spanley, did you say?

Not me. Chap with the dog collar.

What's a dean doing at a sermon on reincarnation?

-Exactly my thought.

-I think it shows open-mindedness.

Impending apostasy, more like. Seen the error of his Christian ways!

-The name's Wrather, with a W.

-Fisk.

-What brings you here, Mr Fisk?

-Ask young Fisk. His idea.

The lesser of several evils.

GONG

Well, there you are. I thought I got a thin edge onto my pad,

but when the umpire raises his finger, you have to walk.

That's life. And cricket.

Well, then, time to bring on Swami Prash.

Of what he will tell you, I have no particular opinion, but...

I've always held him in high regard as a cricketer.

Bowled decent left-arm leg breaks before he went holy.

Haven't seen him play since, but I'm sure he's the sportsman he was. Hmm!

APPLAUSE

'I confess, the appearance of Swami Prash

'came as something of a surprise,

'even a disappointment.'

'Although I had no clear expectation of what a holy man would look like,

'I had imagined one with such a title and discussing such a subject

'to have been dressed more... traditionally.'

The question of the transmigration of the soul,

perhaps more familiarly known to you as reincarnation,

has been the structural underpinning

of Indian philosophical and religious thought for millennia.

Only recently...

'What ensued proved to be as unilluminating a 50 minutes

'as I can remember spending outside the confines

-'of parliamentary debate.'

-..esoteric wisdom...

'Indeed, the most significant fact I gleaned from the experience was,

'that with my eyes closed,

'the lecturer could've been a Welshman.'

..a little, if only a little,

closer.

SNORES

I should be pleased now to answer any questions you may have.

Where am I?!

Be quiet.

You are, my dear sir,

in the anteroom of eternity

-with the rest of us sojourning souls.

-What?!

-Yes, madam?

-I-I was, er,...

w-we were, that is, wondering if...

-Did he say the anteroom of eternity?

-Shh!

-What?

-Shh.

-..animals, if they...

Pets, really. The souls of pets!

That is a most interesting question,

-and I thank you for asking it.

-WOMAN CHUCKLES WITH PRIDE

It is generally supposed

that the animal soul must be of a different

and, by inference, inferior nature to the human soul.

The soul is that part of the godhead, of All That Is...

What you said before, sir, about the anteroom of eternity...

Would you be kind enough to allow the swami to finish his thought?

-Well, well!

-Shh!

-What?

-Shush!

However, although all animals

have their specific awareness of the godhead,

the dog is,

by virtue of his singular relationship with all mankind, unique.

WOMEN: What about cats?

The dog...amplifies,

the cat diminishes...

man's estimation of himself.

Poppycock!

Howzat! >

So I shall wish you gentlemen good day.

I can be found here most mornings and of the occasional evening.

-What exactly is a conveyancer?

-Well, nothing, exactly. More a service of facilitation.

Assisting a thing to be moved between parties.

So you're a middleman.

Well, sometimes in the middle and sometimes at either end.

-Been a great pleasure, sir.

-You're easily pleased, is all I can say.

Mrs Travers, did I ever mention that I collect birds?

I'm a real cornucopian!

Only thing that made sense in the whole farrago

was what the chap said about dogs thinking you're better than you are.

Canine flattery is a survival mechanism, according to Darwin.

The chap never had a dog, is all I can say.

I thought he had a beagle.

I had a dog once. Wag.

One of the seven great dogs.

At any one time, you know, there are

-only seven. Did you know that?

-I can't say I did.

Neither did that swami. Made me think he didn't know much about dogs.

Let's go to my club, have a stiff one.

I thought you didn't go any more.

That was in the past. This is the present, young Fisk.

No time like the present, as that swami called it.

-What was it? The Eternal Now?

-I don't know, sir.

I wasn't listening.

SIGHS IN EXERTION

Ahh! How are you, Marriot?

I'm well, sir. And yourself?

Oh, one step nearer the grave.

How's that boy of yours? Tommy, isn't it?

Yes, sir.

Tommy, sir.

He... He's dead, sir. He...

The war, sir. The Boer War.

Oh, the Boers.

Lost one myself in that nonsense.

Haven't seen you for a while, sir.

Hasn't changed much.

-Clubs aren't supposed to change, surely. Part of their charm.

-Mm.

There's that chap again. Is he following us?

Where are you going?

-Fisk.

-What?

Horatio Fisk. This is young Fisk.

Surprised we were to see you at the nawab's.

Oh, yes, yes.

So, what did you make of all that mumble-jumble?

The beliefs of others are always of interest.

Really? Tell me this, then.

Why don't they get in touch?

Souls, I mean. Never a word from beyond the grave.

You'd think one of them would've given a shout.

Well, I imagine if the swami is correct,

they're all too busy being whoever they've become.

-And what about him pinching my line?

-What line was that?

The anteroom of eternity.

I'd rather thought that common usage.

Not at all! Out of my own head that came.

Rather like having your pocket picked. What's that you're drinking?

Ah... This is Tokay.

Not an Imperial, I'm afraid, but... good enough, for all that.

It's a bit syrupy for my taste.

Well, we'll leave you to it.

You must excuse my father. He can be...rather impulsive.

Not at all.

Pardon me, Dean, but...

erm...

am I to understand you give some credence to these beliefs?

Only the closed mind is certain, sir.

Oh, I agree.

I agree.

-Good day, sir.

-Good day to you, sir.

Rum chap, Spanley.

Do you know him well enough to form that opinion?

One can tell. Not quite sound.

Dabbling in Eastern religion. Drinking that Hungarian treacle.

Can I get you gentlemen a drink?

I'd like a brandy and soda, Marriot, with the emphasis on the brandy.

I'll have the Tokay.

I'm afraid that won't be possible, sir. The Tokay's private stock.

The dean keeps a bottle for his personal use.

Very hard to come by, I believe.

Damned unsociable of him. Told you the fellow wasn't sound.

In that case, I'll have a brandy and soda, as well.

In the inverse ratio.

Yes, of course, sir.

If I...

may say so, Mr Fisk, I...

I'm most sorry to hear of your loss.

What?

Your boy, sir. In the war.

Wasn't my loss!

He's the one got killed.

Sir.

That was, even for you, Father, a singularly callous remark.

Nothing of the sort.

Here we sit, about to be served brandy and sodas.

What's our loss compared to your brother's?

Women with the vote is like a cow with a gun - contrary to nature.

'Walking home, listening to my father assert a variety of things

'in tones of unbrookable authority,

'Dean Spanley's words returned to me with renewed force.

'Only the closed mind is certain.'

An excellent hotpot, Mrs Brimley.

It ought to be, seeing as how I've made it for you about 500 times!

Thank you.

SNORING

"It may well be supposed that this turn of events

"came as a most disagreeable surprise to Mr Chuttleworth,

"accustomed as he was to having his every whim catered for."

'I confess I had, until that moment,

'always supposed certainty to be rather a good thing.'

'Like money in the bank.'

'But something in the day's events had occasioned in me a certain...

'disquiet, a sense that...'

There may be more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

< SNORING

MUTTERING

I'll be off, Mrs Brimley. He's dozing in the study.

Oh, I'll have to wake him up, otherwise he won't sleep tonight!

Does he ever mention my brother?

Your father doesn't hold with grieving, Mr Fisk,

as you well know.

No, that's right.

No, you're right.

Thank you, Mrs Brimley.

-And thank you for the hotpot.

-Oh, don't you start, young man!

Hotpot! That's all he'll let me cook for him.

Creature of habit, he is! Knows what he wants without having to think.

The certainty of a closed mind.

Well, I don't know about that.

But you do know where you are with him.

Where you was before.

Nowhere!

Bye-bye.

-I'll see you next Thursday.

-Like as not.

Creatures of habit. Oh!

'I've heard it said that one encounter is a happenstance,

'two a coincidence

'and three a significance.'

'Be that as it may,

'that day, I found myself,

'for the third time, in the presence of Dean Spanley,

'a man who, until that day, I did not know existed.'

-Oh!

-CAT MEOWS

-Is it stuck up there?

-It rather appears so.

They never think of that when they go up,

which I consider a reflection on their intelligence.

Probably chased by a dog.

Dean?

Dean Spanley?

Hello! I met you earlier at your club.

I was introduced by my father. Mr Fisk.

Oh.

And you were at the nawab's. CAT MEOWS

-Ah, yes.

-CHURCH BELLS RING

I am most eager to hear your further views

on the subject of reincarnation.

I have no special knowledge on the matter.

Compared to my own, I'm sure yours are encyclopaedic.

I was wondering if I might invite you to dinner one evening.

I'm afraid that with my schedule, that would be rather difficult.

I would not presume upon so short an acquaintance

were it not that I've come into possession of a bottle of Tokay.

An Imperial Tokay.

-An Imperial Tokay?

-Yes.

One must be on one's guard against the common or garden variety.

What year?

An '89, I believe.

An '89, you say?

Was... Is that a good year?

Oh, yes. How do you come to be in possession of such a treasure?

You must be very well connected, Mr...?

Fisk. Henslowe Fisk.

Well... Well...

Perhaps I might manage...

Thursday, if that would be convenient?

Most convenient. Shall we say seven o'clock?

-Very well. Until then.

-Good day, sir.

'89... Goodness me!

LOUD MEOWING

I wouldn't call it a lie, puss.

More like a truth deferred. Nothing worse.

'It had not occurred to me when I made my overture to the dean

'that procuring his favourite tipple would prove such a challenge.'

-Oi! Come back here!

-SHOUTING

Very hard to find an Imperial Tokay, sir. There are what you might call

commercial counterfeits. But the real thing -

that's another story altogether.

It's made solely for the Hapsburg monarchy.

Takes a royal decree to have one uncorked.

You would need to know somebody with such connections.

I see.

Tell me this. If...

King Edward himself were to come you and say,

"Find me one or two bottles of Tokay," what would you say to him?

Well, I would suggest, most respectfully, that he...

uses his family connections in order to affect the conveyancing.

So he'd have a lot more chance of success than I would, sir.

Of course.

The point of the exercise, drop every ball without a miss.

Care for a small wager?

No, thank you. No, you seem more than capable of performing such a feat.

So you'd like to acquire a bottle of an '89 Tokay.

An Imperial.

-This an adventure of the romantic sort that you're embarking on?

-Certainly not.

It is said that the fair sex responds avidly to Tokay.

Loosens the morals, and with it the corsets.

-How high are you willing to go?

-Whatever it costs.

-Within reason.

-Ah, yes. You see, there's the rub - within reason.

-'89 Tokay not easy to come by.

-So I understand.

-So, what's your line, then?

-Oh, this and that.

-A bit of art publishing.

-Any money in it?

-A modest remuneration.

The real reward is in the art itself.

Though, I must admit,

there must be rather more to be made in conveyancing.

It's not all mine. I'm just a ground-floor tenant.

How on earth did you come by all this stuff?

My Auntie Molly was a hoarder. Caught it from her.

What do you do with it?

You never know when someone wants something you happen to have.

Such as a bottle of Imperial Tokay.

Really?

Good grief.

It's not an '89, I'm afraid. Will, er...

Will a '91 do?

It'll have to.

I suppose I could say I was...

promised an '89 and the man was mistaken.

What do you think?

-How much is this?

-Five guineas to you.

Five guineas?!

That's a bit steep!

These little things were sent to try us, as the man said of the pygmy judge.

'Thursday?'

Are there not six other perfectly adequate days,

each equipped with portions of time suitable for such activities?

-Thursday is the only day the dean is free.

-Poppycock.

-Deans have dinner every evening.

-He has prior engagements.

Is my Thursday not a prior engagement, young Fisk?

CLOCK CHIMES

What is going on?

You're not getting married, I hope.

-No.

-Good.

If I had it to do over again...

Am I to understand from that remark that you regret marrying Mother?

Fine woman, Alice.

Very good in the garden.

No...

It's the children.

Hostages to fortune is what they are.

But there is no point to regretting things

that have gone to the trouble of happening.

And that is your reason for refusing to mourn Harrington?

I warned your brother that the war would be bad for his health,

but he knew better, the young fool.

Your mother mourned him enough for both of us.

Perhaps if you'd shared that burden she might not have found her grief so insupportable.

I have nothing more to say on this subject.

Please never mention it to me again.

Close the door on your way out.

Do you...miss your husband, Mrs Brimley?

Miss him?

Oh, well, he weren't hard to miss, were Albert!

Kept himself to himself.

Sat in that chair night after night, never said a word.

Just nodded, sociable-like,

and spat in the fire every now and again.

That were Albert's one bad habit.

I talk to the chair sometimes and it's just like old times.

Except the chair don't spit!

Thinking about your brother and your mum, are you?

I just wish Father would...

Well, Mr Fisk was never one for showing much.

I remember that night up at the lake

when you and young Harry went out on that cockleshell of a boat.

Yes...

Wasn't one of his finest moments.

I'll let you get on, Mrs Brimley.

Good night.

Don't you worry about Thursday!

I'll feed him his hotpot and he'll be right as rain.

You just enjoy yourself with your friend.

'But as Thursday evening arrived,

'I found my enthusiasm for the event waning.

'The whim that prompted me to extend the invitation had lost its piquancy,

'and the sobering cost of Wrather's Tokay

'played its part in making the whole venture seem...somewhat dubious.'

I'm afraid I was mistaken about the vintage.

The '89 was unavailable. This is... This is a '91.

I do hope you're not too disappointed.

Not at all.

One would have to have a jaded palate indeed if the prospect

of a '91 Kleverheld-Manschliess... were a disappointment.

Properly decanted.

No sign of sediment.

Well done.

Thank you.

To think that such wine was once only opened by decree of a Hapsburg

and now, through the vicissitudes of history,

we lesser beings can command such an audience.

Your very good health.

INHALES DEEPLY

'I must confess, my first taste of Tokay was not an illuminating moment.'

< Ohhh!

'Rather, my father's dismissal of it as being too syrupy

'seemed remarkably close to the mark.'

'However, in the dean,

'its champion was to hand.'

SIGHS WITH PLEASURE

Ohh!

Ohh...

Tokay, of course, is unique among wines

in that the aroma is of more significance than the flavour.

For us humans, alas,

that is the pursuit of the ineffable by the inadequate.

SNIFFS

At such moments, one could wish to possess

the olfactory powers of the canine.

SNIFFS REPEATEDLY

It's often occurred to me that to pull a dog away from a lamppost

is akin to seizing a scholar in the British Museum

by the scruff of his neck and dragging him from his studies!

Yes...

DOGS BARK OUTSIDE

HORN HONKS

What are you doing? >

One of those damned motor machines!

Dreadful things, don't you think?

It must be clear to anyone of perception that the internal,

one might even say infernal, combustion engine

will prove to be a complete... catastrophe for the species.

Quite so.

And have you noticed that motor cars are exactly the right height

for THEM to take refuge under?

Cats.

The way they get under motor cars and can't be got at.

Unless, of course, you're a very small dog.

I see what you mean.

The trouble with cats is they have no idea of the rules.

One chases them, invariably they hide or run up trees.

Or perform that preposterous inflation they're so fond of,

raising their hair on end!

Well, I was never fooled by that ruse.

-No?

-Well, perhaps once or twice when I was very young.

But once I discovered what devious and subversive creatures they are...

So you are inclined to agree with the swami about them.

About cats and how they diminish man's estimation of himself.

Oh, indeed.

They have no awe of the masters.

The masters?

Yes. How one loved to be in their company.

How one wanted to please them, if only by obedience.

Let me give you a piece of advice.

When a door is opened, always take the opportunity to leave the room.

There is nothing more annoying to the master than a dog whining

t-to...to get...

Tokay?

No. No, thank you.

Two glasses are my limit.

One must know one's limit.

Otherwise there's no knowing where things will end up.

SNOOKER BALLS THUD

'I had no idea of the true nature of what had occurred with the dean.

'It may have been madness, but I found it intriguing.

'So intriguing...that I finished the rest of the bottle.'

"..pulling a scholar out of the British Museum

"by the scruff of his neck."

It was as if his mind had slipped a cog.

Went barking mad, you mean?

No, he was completely rational!

If you can call remembering you were a dog...

..rational.

-How much of the Tokay had he had?

-Two glasses. Two!

Sure it wasn't you that was snockered?

So what do you think?

That getting deans tiddly so that they pretend to remember being a dog

is as harmless a way of spending an evening as any other.

He was not tiddly, as you put it. He was...

Well, it was more like an altered state of mind.

-Being tiddly isn't an altered state of mind?

-No, it was the Tokay!

Even when he inhaled it,

he was...transported

to this... other place!

And you'd like to get him back to this other place?

Can you get me another bottle?

Can you?

I don't doubt that, for a price, one could come to hand.

Can you get one for next Thursday?

Have another shot.

SNIFFS

Your Tokay, Dean.

Ahh.

What lambency of hue, what colour.

It reminds me...of the light when the master came home.

-Hup! Never to the brim.

-Of course.

-One must leave room for the aroma.

-Yes, yes. The aroma.

SNIFFS

Now, you were saying about the master.

Oh, yes. the master.

He would go away for very long times.

Other people were kind, but it was not the same.

-And what did you do?

-I'd wait for him until I knew he was coming home.

-You knew when he was returning?

-Oh, yes.

How, might I ask?

Well, before he was not coming back and then he was!

-That was the difference, plain and simple.

-I see.

Yes, seeing is part of it, it's true.

The proximity of the master does affect the light.

The light grows brighter?

No, not brighter. Louder.

The light grows louder?

Well, certainly there was more of it.

I remember waiting one day when he was due to come back.

The light that day got brighter and brighter

until one was quite dazzled.

I only know when he did finally come back, I was so excited,

I had several brandies to calm myself.

Dean, dogs...

do not drink brandy.

No more they do.

I would achieve the same effect by running in tight little circles.

Drives the blood to the head in a most exhilarating fashion.

And then I'd sit down, have a good scratch.

Were you much bothered by fleas?

-When I say bothered, I don't mean...

-Nothing wrong with a few fleas.

They serve admirably to get one's grooming going.

Ah, yes...

Indeed, I doubt if one can be a dog

and not have fleas.

So, these evenings have become a regular feature, then?

Well, yes. The dean has a wealth of knowledge

-which I find quite fascinating.

-Oh.

-Lawrence! Come here!

-No!

-Lawrence Swan, come back here!

-But only on a Thursday.

-Come back here at once!

-BOY SCREAMS

-Lawrence!

That man tripped me up!

-Don't be ridiculous. He's given to imaginings.

-Uh-huh.

-Pick yourself up. I told you before about running away from me.

-Oww!

-If I call to you...

-What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?

No business running off like that when he was being summoned.

You talk as if you were never yourself a child.

Indeed I was, and damned glad when it was over.

Too much is made of childhood. Golden days of fun and innocence?

Poppycock. The most miserable I've been was as a child.

You tripped him up to teach him that childhood isn't a happy time?!

Do not presume to judge me, young Fisk.

I should first have to understand you! And that, I confess, I do not!

Perhaps you would have to become a father first.

Your example disinclines me to that particular comprehension, I'm afraid.

-Push on!

-CHOIR SINGS

Push on!

WHEELS SQUEAK

You don't think the dean is having you on, do you?

-What do you mean, having me on?

-He's spotted you for the gullible sort

and a good source for his favourite drink?

Why assume that pretending to have been a dog would not cause disbelief

rather than repeated invitations to dinner?

He saw you listening to the swami about reincarnation and dogs

and all that nonsense,

and he decided that you believed in all that stuff.

I can't accept that. It would be most unlike someone of his gravitas.

Gravitas? Telling you about running round in circles

-to create the effect of whisky?

-Brandy, actually.

Fleas are a good source of grooming? You could call that gravitas.

He doesn't know when he's saying these things and when he isn't.

-I'd have to be there to see it for myself.

-Your Moroccan is here. >

Excuse me. A delivery.

Go easy on him, my darling.

Be careful, he's a monkey.

-Abdul, how are you? How much do I owe our man?

-You owe him nothing.

-You tell him he owes me a gin.

-With pleasure, Mr Wrather!

-Good day.

DOOR BANGS

Very nice article, this.

Fell off the back of an elephant. Interested?

-Don't have an elephant.

-Just say the word and I'll get you one.

-Look, about this Tokay...

-Yeah, right. Tokay...

How about if I do round one up, you let me sit in on the next seance?

It's not a seance!

It's more like the parting of the veil between...

-well, between one life and another.

-All right. The parting of the veil.

But I wanna be there.

All right. But you must promise - truly and genuinely promise me -

-you will allow ME to do the questioning.

-Cross my heart and hope to die.

-Swear on something you hold sacred!

-50 guineas.

-What do you mean?

I give you 50 guineas to hold

and if I don't meet your standard of decorum, I forfeit it.

Am I to understand that there is nothing you hold sacred?

I feel quite religious about 50 guineas, I assure you.

I can only imagine that I was not in my right mind

to have spoken to you in such a fashion,

and it grieves me to think that I may have...

offended you by my lack of respect.

I am stricken to think I have given you cause to think me ungrateful.

Don't grovel, laddie! You remind me of Wag when he'd been naughty!

What a whining and squirming he went in for!

Yes. Wag, eh?

One of the seven great dogs.

At any one time, you know, there are only seven.

What kind of dog was he?

A Welsh spaniel.

In his prime.

What happened to him?

He went away one day and never came back.

-Had he ever done that before?

-Never.

I blame the bad company he fell in with.

This dog that used to come around, ugly brute, a mongrel, big scrawny thing, it was.

Wag chased him off at first, but he came back and Wag took off with him,

just before I had to return to school.

I wanted to stay home till Wag came back, but they wouldn't allow it.

I told them if I wasn't there,

then Wag might not know where to come to.

Must have been very difficult for you.

It wasn't difficult.

It was unbearable.

'I had heard this story before.'

'But now it was as if I was hearing it for the first time.'

'As dubious as any connection might have seemed,

'my father's revelation inspired greater significance

'to my next encounter with the dean.'

Who's this likely-looking lad?

That's my brother Harrington.

He was killed fighting the Boers.

Broke my mother's heart.

And your father, how'd he take it?

"If something goes to the trouble of happening,

"it may be considered inevitable," was his comment, I believe.

That's your stiff upper English for ya.

There's a few shillings left in this. Cobwebs are worth a guinea.

No, please! Not the last inch.

The dean is most particular. KNOCK AT DOOR

-Fussy old hound. What kind of dog did he say he was?

-He didn't.

I must insist you don't ask him such a question.

I'd have thought that'd be the first question.

-Please just give me your word.

-As you like.

But there's no doubt I'll know as soon as he gets started.

-Henslowe.

-Good evening, Dean. How are you?

-Very well.

I fancy I would have been a pointer, an Afghan...

This is my friend, Mr Wrather.

Oh.

Mr Wrather is the agent by which we manage to procure the Tokay.

Mm.

Good evening...

Dean.

Yes.

SNIFFS

Tonight's vintage is... a special one.

Kleinfeld-Hasslerbeck '82.

One of the great years.

I've not had the good fortune to taste that particular vintage.

Well, every dog has his day, as they say.

Well, what a privilege.

Dean.

Of course, the Empire must be maintained,

but history shows us only too clearly the dangers of overreach.

I myself considered the Indian Mutiny, so-called,

a warning that perhaps our presence on the subcontinent

was not the universal benevolence that we believed.

A glass of Tokay, Dean?

That would be most agreeable.

So, Dean,

do you think it's true that you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

-What Mr Wrather means is...

-Will we ever give India back to the Indians?

Not in my lifetime, I would venture. We've become too dependent on it.

Not just economically, although we derive inordinate treasure

from, erm, its exploitation.

We have become habituated...

-SNIFFS

-..to the role of master...

..and dog... Servant!

-Ohh...

-SNIFFS DEEPLY

How elegant.

-My, my, my, my, my, my.

-Is it all you'd hoped for, Dean?

HE WHIMPERS

Oh.

Beyond hope, beyond imagining.

The actuality exceeds anticipation.

I am in your debt, sir!

And yours, Mr Wrather.

You were saying about... our relationship with the Indians,

between the master and the servant?

Not just servant, but loving servant.

It's most important to the English that we are loved by those we rule.

With a dog-like devotion, would you say?

What is it, er, that's...

so important about the master?

Yes, the master.

The thing is, whenever he returned from wherever he'd been,

no matter how long I'd been waiting,

the actuality always exceeded the anticipation.

Causing you to run about in circles.

But, you know, for all his great wisdom,

there were certain things the master never understood.

-Such as?

-The moon.

And ticks. The master always wanted to remove mine,

but my own motto was "live and let live".

I hate ticks.

And the moon?

Yes, the moon...

The master wasn't nearly suspicious enough of the moon.

I never trusted it. Never the same two nights in a row.

BARKING

Couldn't hear it. Couldn't smell it.

Well, you can take your own line on that, and others do.

I had a friend who never worried about the moon, but then...

he didn't have a house to guard.

The moon had a way of looking at a house, implying it wasn't guarded.

Well, my house was guarded properly, thank you very much,

and I told it so every time it came around in no uncertain terms!

BARKING

Were you very big?

Oh, yes.

How big?

When I barked,

I was enormous.

So...

why do you think it wasn't frightened?

Well, frightened things smell frightened.

I've smelled many frightened things.

Cats, elderly ladies, children, rabbits.

They all smell of being frightened. It's a wonderful smell.

You mean...

old ladies smell the same as rabbits when they're frightened?

No, their fear smells the same. Otherwise there's no confusing them.

Yes, this, erm, this business of smell is very interesting, isn't it?

Interesting.

If there's one thing I could find fault with the master,

it would be on that issue.

I've known occasions when I was studying a message left by a friend

and he'd drag me away by the collar

in the middle of a fascinating passage.

Rather like dragging a scholar away from a text at the British Museum.

That is a rather untoward analogy.

No, most apposite.

I believe I have thought exactly the same thing.

What sort of a dog were you, anyway?

I beg your pardon?

I mean in your day. You know, before you took...

holy orders.

I recall no such activity, sir!

Quite a session. Damn good value!

Listen, I've been thinking. This is getting out of hand.

The man is clearly suffering from delusions.

And as for the Tokay... Huh!

I sincerely hope I never develop a taste for it.

It's hard to find and devilishly expensive.

Ten guineas to hear a dean say he believed he was once a dog!

-I must be mad.

-Good as gold.

-< Shh!

-I don't want your money.

This has gone too far.

-But you can't stop now, young Fisk.

-Well, I see no point in continuing.

The man believes what he believes. That's that.

You're not one of these blokes who gives up before he can lose, are ya?

Are ya?

What if I was to procure a bottle of the elixir for free?

For free?

This bloke owes me. More than one favour, too, I'll tell you that!

And if anyone's got a bottle or two, His Nawabship will.

Tokay, you say? An Imperial?

-We're finding it hard to come by.

-I should jolly well think so!

Rather extravagant being so keen on it, I'd say.

-You must be a connoisseur.

-It's not for him. It's for Dean Spanley.

For Spanley? Old Wag Spanley likes Tokay?

Very partial to a drop, the dean.

Excuse me. Did you just call Dean Spanley "Wag"?

Walter Arthur Graham. Wag Spanley.

Before my time, but my father knew him at Oxford.

But tell me, why are you so intent on plying him with Tokay?

Well, it has to do with, er...

one of the major tenets of your religion.

Bat and pad together when playing forward?

Reincarnation, actually.

Don't go in for it myself.

I mean, er, I'm not gonna do much better next time round, am I?

This innings will do me nicely.

Reincarnation is for the masses - something to look forward to.

About the Tokay, look in the cellar. Galsworthy will show you.

Wouldn't be surprised if you found the odd case of Tokay.

Don't like it myself.

Last time I drank it... I dreamt I was a monkey.

ENGINE CHUGS

Thought the bugger might have a dozen or two hanging around!

More than enough there to get the old boy back to when he was a pup.

My father used to have a dog when he was a child. Name of Wag!

You know, I've been thinking.

Lady I know, in the thespian way,

thought we might give her a bottle of the Imperial.

Lovely girl. Lot of fun when she's tight.

BOTTLES RATTLE

For that to be significant, you'd have to suppose two things,

neither of which are improbable.

One, that the dean's mum and dad

knew that he'd previously been your father's pooch,

and two, to commemorate the event,

decided to incorporate his doggy name into his Christian name.

It looks like a boat but it doesn't float, as my Aunt Molly used to say.

And why would I want to have dinner with a dean,

let alone one who believes in reincarnation?

You always complain that I neglect you on my evenings with Spanley.

I thought you'd like to come with us.

Wrather will be there. You remember him.

The conveyancer.

From the lecture.

Can't say as I do.

It must be here, this gathering.

Certainly not at that rickety place of yours.

-Can Mrs Brimley cook for four?

-She can make more of her hotpot.

Father, we are having a Shevenitz-Donetschau '79!

And I do not think the hotpot,

sustaining though it may be, is quite the precursor for a '79 Tokay!

Damn fuss over fermented grapes!

What is this all to do with?

The dean, the Tokay, this dinner?

If I were to tell you, Father, you would not believe me.

In that case, don't tell me. I don't believe in enough things already.

Well, it won't be the hotpot, that's all I can say. Ha!

I'm not serving hotpot to a dean.

I could do the navarin.

With the sorrel and cucumber soup to start.

Or maybe leek and potato...

What your father calls the Vicious Swiss soup.

Either would be most welcome.

Mrs Brimley, do you remember my father's dog, Wag?

And for dessert...profiteroles.

I think it was a spaniel.

My choux pastry is too good to be eaten, if I say so myself!

Wag?

No, not really.

I remember it run off, though. What a to-do that was.

Like a death in the family. Upset him ever so.

"Why didn't he get another?" I asked him once. Know what he said?

That Wag was one of the seven great dogs?

Oh. I see he talked to you about it.

Mm-hm!

Maybe profiteroles would be too heavy

after the lamb.

Raspberry and gooseberry fool!

Whatever you decide, Mrs Brimley, I'm sure will be splendid.

CHORAL MUSIC

-A '79?

-Yes, indeed.

Really, my dear Henslowe, you are a man of remarkable resource!

Oh, it's not I who provided this trove, sir.

My father,

-whom I believe you have met before.

-Yes, I believe I do recall.

I was hoping that he might join us for our next evening together.

I see.

-And your friend.

-Wrather. Mr Wrather.

-Wrather, yes.

I have the strangest feeling, you know, after our last encounter,

that I know Mr Wrather.

Perhaps from a previous life.

-I was not always a dean, you know.

-No?

-No.

I was in accountancy at one time.

A dismal business.

At least in the regions where I toiled.

And you feel like you met Mr Wrather then?

Yes, it's possible. Or perhaps it's his being a colonial.

One often feels one has met them before.

So, can I hope for your company this Thursday?

I do feel only your palate can fully appreciate a '79.

A '79...

What splendours. A bottle of the '79.

Three bottles.

RAGTIME MUSIC

Might be best to let sleeping dogs lie, know what I mean?

Yes, I know what you mean.

What if he recognises your father, starts licking his hands?

That could be damned embarrassing.

Pygmy judge, old man...

Pygmy judge.

So there we were, on our holidays

in this cottage on the shore of Windermere.

Wonderful spot to get some reading done,

and I was availing myself of the tranquillity to do just that.

This fellow here, young Fisk, and his brother,

were out on the lake in a rowboat.

Storm came up. One minute it's all, "I wandered lonely as a cloud,"

the next it's blowing hell's bells and howling like a banshee.

Mrs Fisk, she comes in, wringing her hands.

"Our boys," she cries at me. "They're out on the lake."

You have no idea how taxing it is

to be dragged out of a book in which you are thoroughly engaged.

"You must do something, Horatio!" she said to me.

"Our boys are in great danger."

"Do something!" she implored me.

So I got up,

laying aside Balzac with the greatest reluctance,

and went to the window, opened the shutters.

Whitecaps as far as the eye could see.

I stared out into the maelstrom

and I raised my hands and called out in my most stentorian tone...

.."Give up your dead!"

Which was a great comfort, as you can imagine, to my mother.

When one is helpless, I see no point in pretending otherwise!

How terrible that must have been for your mother.

And you too, sir.

When something has gone to the trouble of happening,

it is best to consider it inevitable, in my opinion.

Learned that lesson the hard way, I did.

Well, let us, erm...

Let us drink to the inevitable...

before it happens.

SNIFFS

Not a bad drop. I'm beginning to get a hang of this stuff.

RINGS BELL INSISTENTLY

Too much like toilet water for my taste.

Clear away the rest, Mrs Brimley!

She makes a very good hotpot, I should tell you.

Well, let's take this in the drawing room.

If you wouldn't mind, sir,

I should prefer to remain here to enjoy my Tokay.

Oh? And why is that?

I cannot really say. I...

Sometimes you get comfortable where you are.

You don't want to disturb yourself.

Poppycock! Port should be taken in the drawing room.

Let the ladies get on with whatever it is they get on with.

MRS BRIMLEY: I'm no lady!

It's rather like being bathed when one has just...

gotten comfortable in one's smell.

-What is the fellow on about?

-Shh!

There was a patch of ground behind the shed where the earth was moist

and I loved to roll there to get...

that particular aura around me.

It brought out the natural secretions,

so one could feel there was a glow around oneself, like a halo.

And it was then, when one felt so complete,

that the master would call me.

Who, in God's name, called you what?

The master.

He called me Wag.

For reasons I never understood. Wag...

But that was the greatness of the master,

he could make that one sound convey so many meanings.

There was a "Wag" which meant "a walk".

There was a "Wag" which meant "Go away from the table".

And there was a "Waaag" which meant, "You are to be bathed".

And of all the "Wags",

-that "Wag" was the most terrible.

-Why was that?

Because, for all his great wisdom, he never understood

how embarrassing it is to meet another dog

when one isn't wearing one's own smell.

They did not know who you were,

so you had to go through all that business of circling and sniffing

and growling and...

I was always being embarrassed with a particular friend of mine.

So, what did you do? Did you have to fight him?

Oh, we fought a few times, just to get acquainted. That I enjoyed.

My favourite grip was the ear.

You always hear how going for the throat is the best approach,

but in my experience it's almost impossible to get a throat grip,

so I would always go for the ear.

But it does give the opportunity for excellent complaint.

My friend had a very good complaint, which I memorised

-and used if I had to take a beating from the master.

-He beat you?

-Only...

-On certain occasions, it was called for.

Then I would use this splendid complaint, learned from my friend.

So what was his name, this friend of yours?

His name? I don't think I knew the name his master called him.

Indeed, I'm not entirely sure he had a master.

But his complaint was most satisfying.

"Oh, rescue me. I'm a poor, unfortunate creature,

"far from home and without a friend. Help me, help me.

"I have fallen into terrible straits and am about to be murdered."

Which, of course, was not the case.

This dog, the one without a master, w-what sort of dog was he?

Oh, the best of fellows.

Adventurous and carefree, fearless and bold.

But you said he was whining and snivelling about being murdered.

Oh, that was just his complaint.

How'd you meet him, this friend?

He would leave messages... on the cart that brought the milk.

BIRDS TWEET

HORSE NEIGHS

'And I would reply.'

'And then one day, he came to our door. Well...'

I told him to go away or I would chase him,

and I barked my most enormous bark and made myself very huge!

But he wasn't afraid and said so.

You weren't, erm, how will I put it, a female by any chance, were you?

-Of course he wasn't.

-Not at all.

We were just good friends.

He'd led a very interesting life

and knew many things, which he told me about in considerable detail.

-How did he tell you?

-In the messages that he left me.

I would leave word of my doings, which were not comparable to his,

because all I'd ever done was go for evening walks with the master.

And while they were enjoyable outings,

they were but moon-cast shadows compared to his adventures.

-Did you ever go on an adventure with him?

-Indeed.

The greatest of my life.

'I remember the master had to go away and I couldn't go with him.

'And I was going to follow him, but then my friend came

'and he proposed we have an adventure.'

BARKS

'Since the master was leaving,

'I said yes, and off we went.'

DOGS BARK

'What a day that was to be a dog,

'and to be with one who knew how to be a dog.'

For I confess, happy though I was to belong to the master,

until that day, I had barely glimpsed

the glories of dogdom!

He introduced me to the joys of chasing animals,

a matter in which I was largely unversed,

having only had the opportunity to chase a couple of cats.

Cats are no use for chasing for, not knowing the rules,

they invariably climb up trees, a habit I find contemptible.

Horses, on the other hand, understand the rules perfectly

and enter the business in good spirit.

HORSE NEIGHS, DOGS BARK

But of all the creatures that a dog can chase,

none exceed sheep for sheer pleasure.

SHEEP BAA

'Their fear drifts in clouds behind them

'and you breathe it in as you run along,

'so you become quite intoxicated by it.'

'It's as if one is not so much running but...flying on it.'

Or perhaps swimming might be more a exact description.

'Were it not for their master appearing,

'we might have chased them all day.'

Be gone!

My friend didn't care, but...

I thought we might be seized and prevented from further adventures,

so I persuaded him to leave.

So we went into the woods.

And there we had the good fortune to come across...a rabbit.

'It's not commonly known that, er, rabbit scent,

'particularly when it's frightened,

'and this rabbit was very frightened,'

does not lie along the ground,

but rises in heaps, so you have to...jump to inhale it.

'When we'd had our fill of its fear,

'we turned to catching it, and in this endeavour,'

my friend showed what a splendid fellow he was,

for he drove straight through the thicket,

paying no heed to its many inconveniences,

and sent the rabbit scuttling to where I was stationed.

How much more satisfying a recently alive rabbit tastes.

I'm afraid the masters fail to appreciate fur, guts and bones

for the delicacies that they are.

Then it was time to quench our thirst.

And then, as in all things that befell us on that glorious day,

we came across some water that had gathered in a hollow.

Then after we drank our fill,

we rolled in it to give ourselves a good glow,

and then we went into the woods to rest in the shade.

-Perhaps we should take our...

-Father.

Be quiet and sit down, please.

You went into the woods.

And...?

And we slept.

That most sublime of states,

when the dream dreams you rather than the other way round.

STREAM FLOWS, BIRDS TWEET

'And when we awoke, the moon was rising.'

'It was just on the other side of the woods,

'so we set about surprising it.'

And we came very close to catching it, for it was slow to get up.

But just when we were almost on it,

my friend couldn't control himself any longer and let out a cry!

BOTH BARK

And had we been there but a moment sooner,

we surely would have seized it and torn it apart like the rabbit!

How it would've tasted, I cannot tell.

So we told it what a great cowardly, unsmelling thing it was,

and if we ever caught up with it, it would surely regret it.

BOTH BARK

Then we turned around and went home.

So, you knew the way home?

Oh, yes.

Turn towards home and go there.

But you had been out all day, running free.

How far from home were you?

Yes, we'd gone many overs, that is true.

How many, I couldn't tell.

-Overs?

-Overs. Many overs.

Over woods and fields, streams and hills. Many overs.

And you just...

turned towards home?

How else would one do it?

-Then, why...?

-And I knew...

that I should be beaten,

and I remembered my friend's complaint that I would use

and how delicious it would feel when the beating had stopped

and the insults had finished.

Yes, the glow of having paid the price for wrongdoing.

And were you punished?

No, not on that occasion.

Why was that? Do you know?

Because a very remarkable thing happened on the way back...

..which I cannot fully explain.

One moment we were running along, side by side, and the next...

..we were not.

I cannot say what happened.

Perhaps it was a dream and I wakened from it.

GUNSHOT

Was there any pain?

Pain? No... I cannot say there was.

'All I can remember is how clear the night was,

'with the moon-cast shadows

and the earth rising underneath me,

'and home in my heart and the master waiting.'

'But no, no pain.'

I am most glad to hear it.

If you will excuse me.

Did I say something to upset you, sir?

No, no, no, not at all!

I am put in memory of my son, Harrington.

That is all.

Erm...

Harrington was, erm,

killed in the Boer War...

..returning from a patrol.

That's all we know.

The, er, body was never recovered.

Are you all right, Mr Fisk?

He was shot.

Yes.

HE WEEPS

Oh...

There, there...

SOBBING

Better late than never, Mr Fisk.

Come with me.

In you go, Mr Fisk.

Sit yourself down.

He does mither on, that dean of yours.

I do hope whatever I said did not upset him.

Excuse me. I was talking to Mrs Brimley about the old days.

Thank you, Dean, for coming. It was a memorable evening.

No, thank you, sir.

I fear the Tokay rendered me somewhat unsociable.

It has a tendency to make me withdraw into myself.

Not at all. You were all that could be hoped for in a guest.

You know your way home from here?

Just turn towards it is the best way, I'm told.

I'm going in the dean's direction.

I'll see that he gets there this time.

-Good of you to come, Mr Wrather.

-Wouldn't have missed it.

-Good night.

-Good night, sir.

You know, Mr Wrather,

I have the most persistent notion that we have met before.

One often feels that about colonials...Dean.

Yes, I have heard that said.

Nevertheless...

Not in the market for a new rug, are ya? I've a good friend in Marrakech.

Marrakech?

Colourful, exciting place, if you know the right people.

I know the right people.

Something of an adventure, I imagine!

He can put away the Tokay, I'll say that for the dean.

I thought we might have had to open the third bottle!

Oh, two was ample, I think.

He goes on a bit when he's in his cups, though.

Thank you, Father!

One moment you are running along, the next you are no more.

Well...

I will see you next Thursday.

Or any day that suits.

Mustn't get too set in our ways.

Good night, Henslowe.

Good night, Father.

< God knows what they were on about.

Something about rabbits tasting better with their fur on!

You won't catch me cooking them, that's all I can say!

LAUGHS

Then, he comes in 'ere!

First time in God knows how long.

And he stands,

looking at that photograph...

..sobbing his heart out.

Morning, Mrs Brimley.

-It's not Thursday, you know!

-No, I know.