R01 1 <#FLOB:R01\>1

R01 2 VANNER WAS STAYING OUT LATE to avoid the sexual demands of his R01 3 wife. His appetites in that direction had been quashed by the R01 4 tension-filled twelve-hour day, the 100-mile there-and-back R01 5 journey, the lack of sleep and the skimped meals. Felling drained R01 6 as usual, he looked at the pint of lager in front of him that R01 7 promised a rare moment of peace in a day that had frazzled his R01 8 nerves.

R01 9 Toby Beauchamp was staying out late because he always did. He R01 10 had only been to bed completely sober once in ten years, and what a R01 11 long night that had been. He hated going home early. It shut down R01 12 the day and seemed such a waste. How many evenings did he have R01 13 left?

R01 14 Toby was fifty-five but seemed younger. With his good looks, R01 15 his silver hair and white moustache he looked like a man you R01 16 vaguely remembered from an early British film comedy. In the bar of R01 17 the Fox he was a regular fixture because he lived alone, worked for R01 18 himself and did as he pleased.

R01 19 "How did you escape?" he asked.

R01 20 "I abseiled out of the bathroom window," Vanner R01 21 told him. Vanner was thirty but his plump figure and tired face R01 22 made him look older than his years. For most of the time he R01 23 operated on the edge of exhaustion and his face was haggard. Toby R01 24 always imagined that if Vanner could only arrange enough sleep for R01 25 one month his face would probably look quite different.

R01 26 "She's probably put an electronic tagging device on R01 27 your ankle. Tell her that a man with a half-million-pound mortgage R01 28 deserves a drink in the pub," he said.

R01 29 "I was joking, pal," said Vanner. "I'm R01 30 still on my way home from work." He picked up his drink and R01 31 wondered if Suzanne would be asleep. It would depend on how much R01 32 wine she had managed to consume during the day. One night, after a R01 33 frenetic day in the money market, he had been to see some R01 34 pornographic films in the hope that their explicit sexuality would R01 35 kick-start his crumbling libido, but they were so lurid that he'd R01 36 felt queasy and it was several days before he could think about R01 37 women's bodies again.

R01 38 The pub in which the two men sat had oak beams and brass R01 39 horseshoes and, tonight, a roaring log fire that created the cosy R01 40 atmosphere that pubs were supposed to have; it was hardly R01 41 surprising that almost everybody in the village was to be R01 42 discovered in here at one time or another.

R01 43 The landlord, a plump and harassed man named Barry, looked as R01 44 if he had spent too much time enjoying his own product, but he had R01 45 managed to fit other pleasures into his life too. His fourth wife, R01 46 Sylvia, even plumper but less harassed, was herself on her third R01 47 surname. From her previous marriage she had brought her two R01 48 children to add to Barry's four and now they had more of their own. R01 49 This protracted ordeal in motherhood could not entirely eradicate a R01 50 flirtatious streak in her nature which was revealed R01 51 indiscriminately to any male customer who loitered in her R01 52 company.

R01 53 It was directed now at a new arrival in the bar, a heavily R01 54 built, somewhat untidy man with a boyish face which suggested that R01 55 his forty years had been lived at a much slower pace than Paul R01 56 Vanner's thirty.

R01 57 "Hallo, Harry," she said. Her upper lip R01 58 twitched in what she imagined was a sensuous manner, but to Harry R01 59 Grant it looked as if she was hyping herself up before R01 60 disembowelling a live snake.

R01 61 "I'll have a bitter," he said. Harry Grant R01 62 seldom flirted himself these days, having painfully gathered the R01 63 impression over the years that behind every voluptuous woman was a R01 64 homicidal maniac claiming to be her husband. "Toby? Paul? R01 65 Drink?"

R01 66 The two other men at the bar produced empty glasses in a matter R01 67 of seconds.

R01 68 "What's the news, Harry?" asked Toby Beauchamp. R01 69 "Are they going to build a nuclear-waste reprocessing plant R01 70 on the green?"

R01 71 "Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid." As he was R01 72 the district reporter for the county newspaper people expected R01 73 Harry Grant to come into the pub to tell them what was going on, R01 74 when he had actually come in to find out. "The bus service R01 75 is going to be cut is the only news I have, but it won't affect you R01 76 rich men in your big cars."

R01 77 Harry Grant was always conscious of the wealth that surrounded R01 78 him in this village. In the last decade of the twentieth century, R01 79 making money had become the most popular activity even among those R01 80 people who had no trace of materialism in their characters. Ten R01 81 years of Thatcherism, it seemed to him, had killed the public's R01 82 interest in leisure and pleasure and focused its attention on the R01 83 accumulation of wealth to such an extent that merely to have made R01 84 money sent people to bed happy, even after a day in which they R01 85 hadn't actually enjoyed themselves. And the most remarkable thing R01 86 about this obsession with wealth was that it didn't seem to make R01 87 any difference to anyone's life. Harry couldn't tell in the pub R01 88 which man earned pounds40,000 a year and which earned R01 89 pounds140,000: both had comfortable homes, smart cars, foreign R01 90 holidays; both seemed to spend most of their waking hours at work. R01 91 Once you made more money than you spent it didn't seem to Harry R01 92 Grant to matter what you earned.

R01 93 "Money is no consolation," said Paul Vanner, R01 94 "if you've got the sex drive of a wether."

R01 95 "You've bought the Manor House and you've got a R01 96 Ferrari. You can't have everything," said Toby R01 97 Beauchamp.

R01 98 "If you city slickers had a sex life as well it R01 99 wouldn't be fair on the rest of us," said Harry Grant R01 100 holding up his beer. "I don't think this has matured in oak R01 101 vats under the sage eye of the cellar-master."

R01 102 "I should hope not," Sylvia told him. R01 103 "It's best bitter."

R01 104 "Well, pour it back in the horse and give me a lager. R01 105 At one time the ale was safer to drink round here than the R01 106 water."

R01 107 "It still is," said Toby. "Have you R01 108 seen what comes out of your tap these days?"

R01 109 Harry Grant took his new pint of lager and gave Sylvia a R01 110 nervous smile. Like many overweight women she dressed in black R01 111 which he felt gave her a menacing air.

R01 112 He was relieved to hear that it wasn't all gasps of success in R01 113 Vanner's bedroom. The wheels seemed to have come off his sex life, R01 114 too, and he was sustained by a series of carnal fantasies, the R01 115 latest of which had him addressing a roomful of grateful nuns while R01 116 standing naked before them on a chair.

R01 117 He said: "Being a reporter round here is a bit like R01 118 being a swimming instructor in the Negev Desert. Why don't any of R01 119 you ever do anything newsworthy? Where are the antique auction R01 120 rings and the witches' covens? Where's the arson and the R01 121 rape?"

R01 122 "We're deficient in the pillage department R01 123 too," said Toby Beauchamp. "And quite right. Peace R01 124 and quiet is what we want. It's part of the pleasure of living in R01 125 Sin."

R01 126 Compton Sinbury- its name abbreviated to Sin by many of the R01 127 residents who derived a childish pleasure from telling others where R01 128 they lived- lay at the foot of sloping fields where chalk met R01 129 sandstone, and was built round an oblong village green. At the top R01 130 of the green was the church and at the bottom, facing it across the R01 131 grass, was the public house, the Fox. That had been renamed too. A R01 132 poor painting of the eponymous beast on a new inn sign had prompted R01 133 the customers to refer to it as the Flatulent Ferret. Behind the R01 134 public house was a river which meandered across north Hampshire R01 135 and, at the corner of the green, passed beneath a medieval R01 136 five-arch bridge which carried the people of Compton Sinbury to R01 137 both the railway station and a new motorway.

R01 138 The green itself with the bridge in the background was a R01 139 much-photographed scene of English country life and had adorned R01 140 many a magazine cover. The pictures were usually taken when the R01 141 cricket team were entertaining visitors on the green; many of the R01 142 photographers who arrived to capture this portrait of rural clam R01 143 stood far enough back to get the duck pond covered with water R01 144 lilies, at the top of the green, into the foreground of their R01 145 picture. The ducks had their own tiny house with a roof that R01 146 somebody in the distant past had thatched, and the photographers R01 147 liked to include that too.

R01 148 Compton Sinbury was so old that Iron-Age farmers had built R01 149 their huts here centuries before the birth of Christ. In medieval R01 150 times they had made glass in the village, using local sand and R01 151 wood. Even within living memory the people who didn't work on the R01 152 farms were likely to be farriers, wheel-wrights, cobblers, saddlers R01 153 or thatchers. But the last thirty years had seen more change then R01 154 the previous three hundred. The thud of the hammer in the smithy R01 155 had been silenced. The village forge had been replaced by a garage R01 156 and petrol station. The muddy rutted streets were now immaculate R01 157 Tarmac, and there were Mercedes in double garages where once there R01 158 were broughams in barns. The Meadow Estate, an upmarket quadrangle R01 159 of modern detached houses, had replaced one of the farms, but R01 160 another, Mr Garrity's, still survived on the edge of the village R01 161 with a mixture of grazing, cereal and potatoes- the proportions R01 162 endlessly juggled to cope with changes in the quotas for milk and R01 163 cereals.

R01 164 As fewer people could earn a living from the land, the village, R01 165 which had once been the home of pioneer peasant farmers, milkmaids R01 166 and yokels, was now merely a pleasant place to live and its R01 167 popularity affected its prices. The businessmen, lawyers, money R01 168 brokers and estate agents had moved in, attracted by the peace and R01 169 quiet as much as by whitewashed, timber-framed walls and thatched R01 170 roofs. They disappeared in their large cars in the morning and R01 171 returned, mysteriously enriched in the evening to drink gins in the R01 172 Flatulent Ferret. Their presence, or the presence of their wives, R01 173 enlivened the village. The list of activities which appeared from R01 174 time to time on the notice-board outside the village hall which R01 175 stood next to the church at the top of the green would have kept a R01 176 much larger community busy: amateur dramatic society, R01 177 flower-arranging circle, women's institute, judo classes, ladies' R01 178 tap class, rambling club, art society, writers' circle, chess club, R01 179 handbell ringers, young wives group- all these and more helped to R01 180 keep boredom at bay.

R01 181 In some ways it was a maverick community. When other villagers R01 182 in this peaceful part of the world had risen to fight the plans for R01 183 a motorway that would cut across southern England missing Compton R01 184 Sinbury by no more than a mile, the residents, mostly attuned to R01 185 mobility, kept a judicious silence, realizing that London would R01 186 soon be less than an hour away in the Porsche. When a small R01 187 airfield was mooted for the fields beyond Garrity's farm the R01 188 expected outrage never occurred. It was seen not as a noisy R01 189 intrusion on the peace of the countryside but as a useful and R01 190 easily affordable amenity that might benefit any one of them.

R01 191 It was through accepting, even welcoming, change that the R01 192 village had survived and prospered. Strangers still arrived with R01 193 the hope of separating the residents from some of their money, but R01 194 they were no longer itinerant tinkers, knife-grinders and R01 195 hurdle-makers; today they were charity collectors or R01 196 representatives of firms who built swimming pools. Nobody sat down R01 197 on an evening meal of horsebeans and turnips, and no family now had R01 198 a pig in the back garden. The original occupants would be amazed to R01 199 see that had happened to their dowdy, oil-lit homes. Tastefully R01 200 converted, whitewashed and freshly thatched, the cottages, with R01 201 roses round the door and luxury bathrooms, now cost exactly a R01 202 hundred times more than their first owners had earned in a lifetime R01 203 of exploitation. Compton Sinbury prospered today because the R01 204 residents prospered. R01 205 R01 206 R02 1 <#FLOB:R02\>9

R02 2 The House

R02 3 It wasn't far from where he lived, just a stop further on the R02 4 tube, but he'd not been to the area before. Nor, from the look of R02 5 it, had the developers. No wonder it's cheap, he thought.

R02 6 The first thing he saw when he came out of the station was an R02 7 antiquated sign on a lamppost saying, "Stand for 6 licensed R02 8 hackney cabs". No cabs, of course, hackney or otherwise. R02 9 Just a tired row of shops opposite and a seedy-looking pub on the R02 10 corner and a disused laundry with boarded-up windows and a For R02 11 Sale notice. It felt closer to Dickens's London than to R02 12 Preston's.

R02 13 But perhaps that was the fog.

R02 14 Not quite the fog of Dickens, or even his own childhood. They'd R02 15 cleaned it up since then and taken the soot out. The poisons it R02 16 contained were less visible now. But it was still a proper fog, a R02 17 city fog, with a whiff of brimstone in it, a hint of the old R02 18 buildings and hung in the doorways and fled in ragged wisps from R02 19 the car headlights.

R02 20 He turned right out of the station, according to William's R02 21 instructions, and then right again, and saw the viaduct.

R02 22 Come and look at the place, William had said, R02 23 it's like everyone's dream of a Victorian childhood.

R02 24 And here it was, the nightmare.

R02 25 It spanned the road ahead, the brickwork streaked with dark R02 26 tears and three black holes in the middle, one for the traffic and R02 27 two smaller ones on each side for pedestrians, and they looked to R02 28 Preston like mouths, or nostrils breathing fog.

R02 29 It was the monster of his infancy, lying in wait for him all R02 30 these years, or a warning sign, saying, Go Back, make your excuses R02 31 and leave, exert your free will...

R02 32 But he was older now and in another city, and besides, the R02 33 wench was dead.

R02 34 So he shook off the ghosts and walked on, his footsteps muffled R02 35 by the fog, shivering from a chill that wasn't just in the air, R02 36 until the nearest mouth engulfed him.

R02 37 It was a real Fanny-by-gaslight relic of the old city, R02 38 redolent of gin and vomit and brutal crimes, and the fog had crept R02 39 in like an old friend and made a dripping urinal of the walls. Only R02 40 the graffiti was on the present, but even that had its roots in R02 41 ancient hatreds. Troops Out of Ireland. Keep Britain White. Bring R02 42 Back Hanging...

R02 43 They should never have abolished it, hanging's too good R02 44 for him. A life sentence. He'll be out in ten years...

R02 45 Committed to an asylum for the criminally insane...

R02 46 For a moment he thought he saw a figure at the far end, R02 47 waiting, but that was from the nightmare, too, just a trick of the R02 48 light and the fog.

R02 49 There was a significant improvement on the other side of the R02 50 viaduct, a Victorian class divide that had survived the years, and R02 51 within two blocks he was walking down a tree-lined avenue R02 52 composed of tall, detached houses set back from the road behind R02 53 fair-sized gardens. He could see from the number of bells beside R02 54 each door that they'd nearly all been turned into flats now, or R02 55 dentists' surgeries, and some were in urgent need of renovation, R02 56 but they still retained some of their former grandeur, or was it R02 57 pretension? The make-believe pomp and affected circumstance of R02 58 the people for whom they'd been built, the doctors and lawyers and R02 59 merchants and administrators of Empire who all, in one way or R02 60 another, made their money out of trade but built houses like R02 61 miniature castles, or palaces, to reassure themselves that they R02 62 were closer to the Barons than to the Peasants, and safe from R02 63 both.

R02 64 Preston was fascinated by them. As a very young child he had R02 65 learned to read from picture books that showed children living in R02 66 houses like these, in nurseries with sloping ceilings and toy R02 67 yachts and teddy bears on the floor and solid Papas and gentle R02 68 Mamas and a view through the window of rooftops and spires, and if R02 69 there was a cloud across the moon it was in the shape of a sailing R02 70 ship. As an adolescent and well into his twenties he had affected R02 71 to despise the whole fairy tale - the people, the properties, the R02 72 false virtues, the false security it represented. But now he was of R02 73 an age and living in an era whose insecurities craved the R02 74 reassurance of nursery images, the illusory solidity of Victorian R02 75 values which, if they had never existed, could always be invented. R02 76 He was confused by a barrage of conflicting ideologies. The sneer R02 77 had turned into a lump in his throat. The contempt into envy.

R02 78 The house that William had found was down one of the side R02 79 streets and not so majestic, but it still had a fair bit of the R02 80 Gothic about it, and the brass knocker on the front door had the R02 81 face of an ogre.

R02 82 Preston lifted it and knocked.

R02 83 Kate answered the door but he heard William's voice, shouting R02 84 down the stairs.

R02 85 "Is that Preston? Come in, shut the door on the R02 86 fog."

R02 87 It evoked some distant memory but he couldn't quite pin it R02 88 down.

R02 89 He stepped into the hall.

R02 90 "Bloody hell," he said. "Take some R02 91 heating, this."

R02 92 He stamped his feet on the tiled floor. Original by the look of R02 93 it, and so were the banisters, but someone had painted them a kind R02 94 of snot green.

R02 95 "What do you think of it?" William bounced down R02 96 the stairs, a grinning schoolboy again, and he could hear other R02 97 voices somewhere in the upper reaches.

R02 98 "He hasn't seen it yet," complained Kate. R02 99 "Give him a chance."

R02 100 "He's seen the outside. Wait until you see the R02 101 fireplaces."

R02 102 Preston couldn't remember when he'd last seen him so R02 103 enthusiastic about anything.

R02 104 "Wait until you see the soot," said a sardonic R02 105 but unseen voice, and then a woman emerged from one of the R02 106 downstairs rooms off the hallway.

R02 107 Preston stopped stamping his feet.

R02 108 She was stunning. She had tawny blonde hair down to her R02 109 shoulders and a rather thin face with high cheekbones and a wide R02 110 mouth. She wore a leather coat and boots and his first thought was R02 111 that she looked Slavonic, a Russian or a Pole. His second was that R02 112 she was from the estate agent's. His third that he was in love.

R02 113 But he was mistaken. She wasn't Russian or Polish, she wasn't R02 114 from the estate agent's, and if he was in love, it was the worst R02 115 mistake of all.

R02 116 "This is Tess," said William. "Louis' R02 117 upstairs with the kids."

R02 118 Her handshake was cool and firm and her eyes were grey.

R02 119 But Preston had stopped looking.

R02 120 "They're bloody choosing the rooms already," R02 121 said another voice, deep and loud, and from somewhere above ceiling R02 122 level, and Preston looked up and saw the man who must be Louis, R02 123 hanging over the banisters on the landing.

R02 124 Was this the ogre? Preston's glance took in the broad R02 125 shoulders, a black beard a lean, dark face and a big nose.

R02 126 "Bit premature, isn't it?" said Tess.

R02 127 And there was a small, uncomfortable silence, or so Preston R02 128 imagined, and a chill in the air, but that could have been real.

R02 129 "Preston, Louis," said William, and he was half R02 130 bent at the waist, like a supplicant monk, rubbing his hands and R02 131 smiling, nervously. He is nervous, Preston thought, he wants us to R02 132 like each other.

R02 133 Louis came bounding down the stairs. He was as tall as William R02 134 and half as wide again, and he exuded a genial, gregarious energy. R02 135 He looked at closer quarters, less of an ogre, more like a R02 136 Victorian explorer, but was this an improvement? And yet Preston R02 137 did like him, instinctively, and without his usual reserve. R02 138 More than that, he wanted Louis to like him, but he didn't R02 139 know why.

R02 140 "Come and look at the fireplaces," said R02 141 William, and they filed dutifully into the room Tess had just come R02 142 out of. Preston looked at the fireplace. A steel grate like a suit R02 143 of armour, a long time unsquired, and what looked like a tile and R02 144 marble surround, it was difficult to tell, the snot-green artist R02 145 had been busy here, too.

R02 146 "We'd be able to have coal fires," said R02 147 Kate.

R02 148 "They only allow smokeless fuel these days," R02 149 said Preston.

R02 150 He knew what he was doing but was incapable of stopping it. It R02 151 was the same thing that made him physically shrink into his scarf R02 152 and his leather jacket. He felt he was being drawn out of his R02 153 comfortless hole into something altogether more vast and impressive R02 154 and alarming.

R02 155 "Well?" said William, when they'd seen it all and R02 156 adjourned to the pub opposite the station, an old witing room of a R02 157 pub that had not yet been converted into a wine bar or a theme park R02 158 and was consequently empty. The three children were at a separate R02 159 table, grudgingly tolerated by the landlord.

R02 160 "Well it's... big," said Tess.

R02 161 "Big?" thundered Louis. "Is that all R02 162 you can say? It's fantastic."

R02 163 "Fourteen rooms, three bathrooms, a hundred-foot R02 164 south-facing garden..." William intoned.

R02 165 "You sound like an estate agent," said Tess.

R02 166 William looked stricken. Tess relented.

R02 167 "Sorry, but it's a bit... overwhelming, really. The R02 168 work we'd have to do."

R02 169 "That's why it's so cheap," said Louis. R02 170 "My God, woman, you were the one who said we needed more R02 171 space."

R02 172 "I said we needed a playroom for the kids and a bit R02 173 more garden - not a damn great manse at the arse-end of the R02 174 Northern line with its own private wilderness..."

R02 175 "Where's your sense of adventure?"

R02 176 "I exhausted it on you, darling."

R02 177 Preston kept his head down and his nose in the beer.

R02 178 "So, I take it we look elsewhere," said Kate, R02 179 flatly. She sounded disappointed.

R02 180 "Is it the house - or the whole idea?" William R02 181 demanded. He looked so crestfallen Preston felt sorry for him. He R02 182 wished he could say something encouraging, but he didn't feel R02 183 encouraged. He was on Tess's side.

R02 184 She sat crumbling a beer mat between her fingers. She looked R02 185 more out of place in the shabby pub than any of them.

R02 186 "I really like it," said Kate plaintively. R02 187 "I think we could do an awful lot with it. And think of the R02 188 advantages of sharing. Sharing the shopping, R02 189 babysitting..."

R02 190 "Decorating?" said Tess. "Mending the R02 191 roof?"

R02 192 "We'd get builders to do that."

R02 193 "Oh God, you mean we'd have to live with builders as R02 194 well?"

R02 195 "There's nothing wrong with the roof," said R02 196 William. "Not as far as I know..."

R02 197 "Anyway, I think we should be more positive," R02 198 said Kate. "We have to make it work."

R02 199 "Maybe it's just the fog," said Preston. R02 200 "And seeing it at night..."

R02 201 But no one was listening.

R02 202 "She's just a bloody pessimist," said Louis. R02 203 "Always looks on the dark side. I think it's great. I think R02 204 the house is great, I think the idea's great. My God, we're all R02 205 victims in this fucking city. They're all out to screw us. R02 206 Plumbers, builders, estate agents, the government, the council, R02 207 bloody thieves... We've got to fight back. Otherwise we're just R02 208 prey."

R02 209 Preston stared at him in astonishment. Anyone less like prey he R02 210 couldn't imagine. He looked as if he'd make a Rottweiler pause for R02 211 thought.

R02 212 "Consumers," said Kate, with a shrug, "that's R02 213 what we are. And they use the whole sham of our so-called R02 214 individualism to make it easier to manipulate us. Buy what they R02 215 want us to buy, live the way they want us to live. We have to learn R02 216 how to live collectively again. I know it's not exactly fashionable R02 217 at the moment, but it's the only hope we've got."

R02 218 "Exactly," said Louis. "Collective security. R02 219 Fuck the bastards. Especially burglars."

R02 220 He banged the table with his fist and the glasses jumped and R02 221 the drink spilled. The landlord glared.

R02 222 Preston wondered where the burglars came into it. His face must R02 223 have registered his confusion.

R02 224 "We had a break-in last year," said Tess. R02 225 "That's what this is all about really."

R02 226 "Bollocks!"

R02 227 Tess was undaunted.

R02 228 "The house is full of weapons," she complained. R02 229 R02 230 R03 1 <#FLOB:R03\>Culture R03 2 The Irish are keen preservers and promoters of their Celtic R03 3 heritage, much of which is recorded (and illustrated) in the famous R03 4 (and illuminated) Book of Kelts at Dublin.

R03 5 Irish Poetry

R03 6 The Irish have a tendency to wax poetical. Foremost among Irish R03 7 poets is W.G. Yeats (brother of the more famous Jack Keats). R03 8 William Butler Keats (pron. Yates), having a premonition that he R03 9 might be killed if he joined the Irish Airforce, very sensibly R03 10 became a poet instead. He invented the Limerick and wrote a series R03 11 of celebrated odes to Autumn, A Grecian Urn, A Night in Galway, R03 12 etc.

R03 13 English Playwrights

R03 14 All English playwrights since the time of Shakespeare (or R03 15 Bacon) have in fact been Irish (see esp. Sheridan, Oscar Wilde, R03 16 G.B. Shaw, Samuel <*_>a-grave<*/> Becket).

R03 17 Their plays are easily recognisable - if not easily R03 18 distinguishable - on account of the distinct traces of Irish Wit. R03 19 (NB Not to be confused with Irish Jokes.)

R03 20 From The Importance of Not Speaking Erse

R03 21 Morning-room of Estragon's flat in Half Moon St, London W. R03 22 Time: The Present. The room is furnished with an eye for comfort R03 23 and nose for extravagance. The sound of a banjulele is heard in the R03 24 adjoining room.

R03 25 Lane is deranging elevenses on the table. Enter ALGERNON, R03 26 GWENDOLEN, VLADIMIR, MR PUFF, DR DOOLITTLE, ETC.

R03 27 PROFESSOR HIGGINS: Have you no cucumber sandwiches, man?

R03 28 DOOLITTLE: Can't afford them, Guv'nor. Neither could you if you R03 29 was as poor as me.

R03 30 ALGERNON: Really, if the lower orders don't set us a good R03 31 example what on earth are they doing in a play like this?

R03 32 GWENDOLYN: Oh, Algy!

R03 33 ALGERNON: Oh, Cecily! (He sinks to his knees.)

R03 34 (Enter MRS MALAPERT.)

R03 35 LADY MALADROIT: Arise, sir, from that semi-cucumbered posture! R03 36 Come, Gwendolen, we have already missed five, if not six, trains, R03 37 To miss any more might expose us to cement on the platform.

R03 38 BECKETT (OFFSTAGE, SINGING): "Happy Days are R03 39 here again ..."

R03 40 LADY MACKERAL: See you later, Allegory.

R03 41 ALLIGATOR: In a while, crocodile.

R03 42 ELIZA DOOLITTLE (Enunciating carefully): Not bloody R03 43 likely.

R03 44 PROF. HIGGINS: Ah, a Lisson Grove burr, if I'm not much R03 45 mistaken.

R03 46 ALGERNON (Ignoring these remarks): I have invented an R03 47 invaluable permanently expected friend called Godot in order that I R03 48 never have to visit the country.

R03 49 MR PUFF: This play is terrible. I do hope it will last.

R03 50 (Curtain.)

R03 51 CECILY: The play ends, happily. It was bad, unhappily. This is R03 52 what fiction means.

R03 53 VLADIMIR (Putting on his coat): That passed the R03 54 time.

R03 55 OSTROGOTH: It would have passed in any case.

R03 56 LADY CRACKNELL (Waking up with a start): A R03 57 handbag?

R03 58 VLADIMIR: Yes, but not so vapidly.

R03 59 THE END

R03 60 IRISH TEST PAPER

R03 61 (OR THE IRISH QUESTIONS)

R03 62 1. How far is it to Tipperary?

R03 63 (a) A short way?

R03 64 (b) A long way?

R03 65 (c) Don't know?

R03 66 2. Discuss with copious reference to the works of W. C. Yeats R03 67 the relative merits of the Irish Airforce and the Irish Navvy.

R03 68 3. Which popular song is traditionally played at Irish R03 69 funerals?

R03 70 (a) 'Danny boy'?

R03 71 (b) 'The Munster Mash'?

R03 72 (c) 'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go'?

R03 73 4. Consider the impact on sikh morality of J. M. Singh's R03 74 The Playboy of the Western World.

R03 75 5. If you were travelling from Meath to Louth would you be more R03 76 surprised to meet:

R03 77 (a) a leprechaun?

R03 78 (b) a snake?

R03 79 (c) Shergar?

R03 80 Great Britain

R03 81 IN 1992 Britain is going to 'Enter Europe'. The question has to R03 82 be asked: Are we ready? Britain, by an accident of geography, is R03 83 not very Continental. Its people are by tradition insular - a R03 84 maritime breed (or Boat Race), unversed in the ways of our European R03 85 neighbours (driving on the right, not eating a proper breakfast, R03 86 etc.). Nevertheless, there are perhaps signs that the gap is R03 87 getting narrower.

R03 88 Physical Characteristics

R03 89 It has to be admitted that Britain possesses less geography R03 90 than many other European countries. There are no geysers, no R03 91 fjords, no great mountain ranges (with the possible exception of R03 92 the Crampons in Scotland) and no truly memorable waterfalls. There R03 93 just isn't enough room.

R03 94 Instead we have 'The English Countryside', a green and pleasant R03 95 belt which surrounds the various dark satanic mills (now closed), R03 96 suburban developments, new towns, international airports, and Asda R03 97 superstores that take up most of the available space.

R03 98 Economy R03 99 The British Economy still has many sterling qualities (just), R03 100 although the currency was decimated in the 1970s to bring it into R03 101 line with European custom.

R03 102 Industry R03 103 Happily, very little is known about British Industry. The R03 104 Conservative Government's recent policy of privation means that R03 105 most of the old National Industries (British Steal, the Lost R03 106 Office, Telecon, etc.) have been derationalised, and are now R03 107 carried on privately.

R03 108 Agriculture R03 109 It is also a time of change for British farming. Agriculture is R03 110 becoming more and more an extension of Big Business.

R03 111 British farmers now have less and less time for their R03 112 traditional rural pursuits - fox hunting, hare splitting, wool R03 113 gathering, and grousing about the weather. Instead they have to R03 114 devote their energies to trading livestocks and shares, carrying R03 115 filofaxes (esp. the Diary Farmers), fleecing the VAT man, and R03 116 cultivating EC subsidies. Some farming does, of course, remain R03 117 orrible, but with the emphasis on high-yield crops such as rape, R03 118 oats, groats, and pop festivals.

R03 119 Politics R03 120 British politics are quite as confused as those in the rest of R03 121 Europe. Indeed, many European countries have based their own R03 122 Parliamentary systems on the British model.

R03 123 All British political institutions are divided very neatly (and R03 124 sweetly) into two parts. This is called the bi-caramel system R03 125 of government. It is undoubtedly a good thing as it provides R03 126 everyone with cheques, balances, photo-opportunities, caramels, R03 127 etc. Also it prevents anything very much from being done.

R03 128 The Bi-Caramel System Explained

R03 129 <*_>bullet<*/> The are two Houses in Parliament - the R03 130 Lords and the Commons.

R03 131 <*_>bullet<*/> There are two main parties in each House - R03 132 conservative and Labour.

R03 133 <*_>bullet<*/> There are two types of Labour MP - the moderate R03 134 and the petulant.

R03 135 <*_>bullet<*/> There are two types of Conservative MP - R03 136 the wet(-fish) and the dry(-sherry, please).

R03 137 <*_>bullet<*/>There are no two people who can remember the R03 138 name of the Liberal Demagogic Social Party Party (est. membership: R03 139 two).

R03 140 Recently we have had over a decade of Conservative rule (for R03 141 full details see Our Island's Tory). And during this time R03 142 Britain has been presided over by the all-too-memorable Mrs R03 143 Thatcher (Mrs T., the Iron Tea Lady, the Mother of Parliaments, R03 144 etc.) who, as Prime Minister, lived (increasingly out of her depth) R03 145 at Number Ten Drowning Street.

R03 146 The Royal Family

R03 147 Britain's Royal Family is, at present, thoroughly German in R03 148 origin and thus indisputably European

R03 149 Wales (W. Cwmbyah-my-lord)

R03 150 Although fervently Welsh, Wales is also proud of its links with R03 151 the other Celtic (i.e. Welsh) peoples in Europe - the Bretons, R03 152 Basques, Magyars, Irish, Lapps, etc.

R03 153 Often representatives from these kindred peoples are invited to R03 154 the great Welsh cultural festivals - or Festiniogs - there to sing R03 155 and dance, eat rabbits (covered in melted cheese) and harp on about R03 156 the joys of being Welsh.

R03 157 Scotland (and, by extension, Northern Ireland)

R03 158 Scotland (previously Caledonia stern and wild) is a very rugged R03 159 and romantic country, named after the very rugged and romantic Sir R03 160 Walter Scot (explorer, bird-painter, and author of the Waverley R03 161 novels).

R03 162 Scotland has always enjoyed close links with Europe, especially R03 163 France (see 'The Auld Appliance' or 'French Connection'). This was R03 164 partly for romantic reasons (Mary Queen of Scots was briefly R03 165 married to a French Dolphin) and partly to annoy the English.

R03 166 Culture R03 167 British culture, it must be admitted, has often shown a sorry R03 168 tendency to be insular and un-European. Cricket, Carry On Films, R03 169 warm beer, afternoon tea, Marmite, the Sun, mint sauce, R03 170 Gilbert and Sullivan, Jennings and Darbishire, Morecambe and Wise, R03 171 Mrs Thatcher; none of these popular British institutions has R03 172 succeeded across the channel.

R03 173 There are, of course, exceptions. Football, football R03 174 hooliganism, Les Rolling Stones, and the comedy specials of Benny R03 175 Hill can all claim to have had a profound impact on the Continent. R03 176 But such instances are rare.

R03 177 The tide of influence has more often run in the other R03 178 direction. This is due to Classical Education, the Renaissance, the R03 179 Grand Tour, Cook's Tours, Foreign Wars, Foreign Films, native R03 180 indolence.

R03 181 The English Poets

R03 182 England is rightly proud of its poets: Shakespeare (or The Swan R03 183 of Bacon), Milton, Wordsridge and Coleworth, Lard George Byron R03 184 ('Mad, fat and murderous to know'), Persse Bicy Shelly, Gerard R03 185 Mandy Hopkins, the Brownings (Elizabeth, Barrett and Robert), R03 186 Alfred Lawn Tennyson, Sir John Bitumen. The list is impressive.

R03 187 Although many of the above exhibited a decidedly English R03 188 sensibility (i.e. played tennys, wandered lonely as a cloud, lost R03 189 things - Paradise, Love's Labour, etc.), often they drew their R03 190 subject matter from Renaissance Europe (i.e. Italy) or the R03 191 Classical World (i.e. Italy or, perhaps, Greece).

R03 192 Many English poets even went so far as to live abroad (i.e. R03 193 Italy or, at a pinch, Greece). Some even died there. Elizabeth and R03 194 Barrett Browning are buried in Florence (It. Ferrara) together R03 195 with their pet woolf, Flush. While Shelly, increasingly under the R03 196 influence of drink, opprobrium, Byron, etc., drowned his sorrows in R03 197 the nearby Gulf of La Speranza. Byron himself died in Greece, R03 198 complaining that he felt, "hot, shot and dangerously R03 199 low".

R03 200 Other High Points of British Culture

R03 201 The Plays of Shakespeare (aka Francis Bacon, R03 202 Christopher Marlowe or what you Will): these very memorable dramas R03 203 (tragical, comical, hysterical and pasteurised) contain many famous R03 204 parts, including Henry IV Part II, Henry VI Parts I to R03 205 III, 'Parting is such sweet sorrow', Henry IV Part R03 206 I, etc.

R03 207 The Novels of Charles Dickens: Dickens was noted for R03 208 his vivid descriptions of Dickensian (and hence Victorian) London, R03 209 with its smogs, fogs, fugs, Twists, turns, curiously old shops, R03 210 etc. His books are all very well written (i.e. in a Copperfield R03 211 hand).

R03 212 The Landscapes of Constable: John Constable (or P.C. R03 213 Turner) was a retired policeman who painted many scenes of a R03 214 decidedly rural nature, including The Haystack, A View of R03 215 Salisbury Cathedral, and The Mill on the Floss.

R03 216 The Buildings of Sir Christopher Wren: although best R03 217 remembered for designing St. Paul's Cathedral, Wren also founded R03 218 the Women's Naval Service. He used to be commemorated on the R03 219 farthing, but has since been promoted to the pounds50 note.

R03 220 The Hits of The Beatles: The Beatles, with their R03 221 so-called 'Mercybeat', rescued post-war Britain from being terribly R03 222 dull. Instead they invented 'The Swinging Sixties', even though R03 223 they themselves weren't sixty at all, but only teenagers.

R03 224 Britain and Abroad

R03 225 Over the years Britain has had considerable experience of R03 226 dealing with Abroad. This, of course, was especially true during R03 227 the Golden Age of the British Empire, when most of the map was R03 228 coloured red and the midday sun never set, and the white men R03 229 (together with their mad dogs) would carry enormous burdens in the R03 230 appalling heat.

R03 231 Most of the memorable countries in the British Empire were not, R03 232 however, in Europe. New Zealand (NZ), Australia (OZ), the Cook R03 233 Islands (where they cooked the unfortunate Captain Cook), the R03 234 Gilbert-and-Sullivan Islands, the Easter Islands, the Christmas R03 235 Islands, the August Bank Holiday Islands; these were (and, indeed, R03 236 are) all in the Antipodes.

R03 237 Canada is in North America. India is, of course, in India. R03 238 Rhodesia - discovered so providentially by Cecil Rhodes R03 239 (n<*_>e-acute<*/> Cecil Zimbabwe) - is in Africa. All, alas, R03 240 are far beyond the scope of this book.

R03 241 Britain, however, does even now retain some decidedly European R03 242 possessions:

R03 243 <*_>bullet<*/>Gilbraltar: a small and very British rock on the R03 244 southern tip of Spain, garrisoned by British bobbies and Spanish R03 245 monkeys.

R03 246 <*_>bullet<*/>Tuscany: a small and very British enclave in R03 247 central Italy, garrisoned with British writers and Italian R03 248 hill-farmers.

R03 249 <*_>bullet<*/>The Dordogne: a small and very British enclave in R03 250 Southern France, garrisoned with the British writers who couldn't R03 251 get into Tuscany (see above).

R03 252 GREAT BRITAIN TEST PAPER

R03 253 1. With detailed reference to the Continental origins of the R03 254 Royal Family, compute the relationship between the Battenberg Cake R03 255 and the Victoria Sponge.

R03 256 2. Anyone for Tennyson?

R03 257 3. Using protractors and a home-ruler, estimate the relative R03 258 sizes of Little Britain and Little England.

R03 259 4. Is the concept of 'the Academic Marketplace' best expressed R03 260 by Oxford University or Oxford Street?

R03 261 5. Ruminate diligently on (a) cattle feed and (b) R03 262 grass.

R03 263 6. What, if anything, is the difference between:

R03 264 (a) Maynard Keynes;

R03 265 (b) Milton Friedman;

R03 266 (c) Milton Keynes?

R03 267 R04 1 <#FLOB:R04\>Sushi nice young man!

R04 2 KENNETH ROBINSON offers some useful Anglo-Nippon party R04 3 tips

R04 4 It is said that the Japanese, who are bringing us a festival R04 5 during the next few weeks - including wrestling at the Albert Hall R04 6 and robots at the Science Museum - feel closer to Britain at the R04 7 moment than to any other country.

R04 8 They are not pleased by America's plan to commemorate Pearl R04 9 Harbor with an explicit postage stamp showing sinking ships. Nor by R04 10 the French prime minister's remarks about "little yellow R04 11 men who sit up all night thinking of ways to screw the Americans R04 12 and the Europeans."

R04 13 Maybe they are warming to us because their bookshops are R04 14 currently selling translations of our Debrett's Etiquette and R04 15 Modern Manners. Though the editor of this entertaining work, R04 16 Elsie Burch Donald, tells me she had no idea the Japanese had got R04 17 hold of it without paying her. And she cannot think what their R04 18 tourists will make of our good taste bible if they arrive here R04 19 clutching it.

R04 20 After dipping into the original English version I suspect that R04 21 the Japanese could find our rules for gracious living pretty R04 22 aggressive compared with their own life-style of courteous R04 23 bowing, enigmatic smiles and shoes left facing backwards on the R04 24 door-mat.

R04 25 They will discover, for instance, that a well-mannered R04 26 English hostess sits at dinner with enough old newspapers under the R04 27 table "to deal with any broken glass or possibly an R04 28 accident with a plate."

R04 29 Debrett, you see, can make the simplest meal seem like a R04 30 violent night out. It tells hostesses to keep a footman handy with R04 31 a jug of water for any guests choking over her food. And it urges R04 32 caution in the serving of cocaine, marijuana or heroin in case it R04 33 puts anyone "in a difficult position."

R04 34 Like under the table no doubt. If one of those Japanese R04 35 visitors found himself in this position he would discover that a R04 36 Debrett hostess always "delegates a trusted friend to look R04 37 after the drunks." He could also learn from Debrett that a R04 38 man who 'fancies' a guest must never use this vulgar word but must R04 39 say to her, instead, "Let's get it together". And R04 40 on the way home he must be careful, he is told, "not to R04 41 berate a bus-driver, or to sing, whistle or argue in the R04 42 street."

R04 43 If this Debrett guide opens the eyes of Britons who didn't know R04 44 it existed, they can now have them opened even more - in Tokyo. It R04 45 is here that surgeons are currently employed to create expressions R04 46 of greater honesty on businessmen.

R04 47 This is reported in a guide to Japanese Living, R04 48 published by Nippon Books to show the British what to expect from R04 49 their countrymen. It seems, for instance, that although the R04 50 Japanese go bright red when given alcohol, they will leave the R04 51 house promptly after drinking green tea. And any hostess would be R04 52 happy with a Japanese guest's way of saying "Yes, R04 53 yes" all the evening, meaning that he doesn't agree but R04 54 won't argue, and changing the subject frequently so as not to R04 55 linger on anything that might give offence. Even when he says to R04 56 the hostess "You must come to my house," he doesn't R04 57 mean anything of the kind. He is just saying that he quite likes R04 58 her.

R04 59 But however much a Japanese may like a hostess his own guide R04 60 book tells him not to ask the size of her bosom, as he would do at R04 61 home, or to call her "oi" affectionately - meaning R04 62 "here you" - as he would his wife. And, however R04 63 great the temptation, he must try not to hold her hand R04 64 absent-mindedly long after shaking it.

R04 65 Not that he would really want to chat up the typical English R04 66 hostess. She is the sort of woman, says his Debrett translation, R04 67 who was brought up not to use a loo until the chain had stopped R04 68 swinging. At tea-time her sandwiches have never oozed and her R04 69 cakes have never crumbled. On Sundays she has always gone to church R04 70 in a striking hat and long gloves, smelling ever-so-slightly of R04 71 camphor. And when she invites a man home for a late-night cup of R04 72 coffee this will "not necessarily" mean she wants R04 73 him so stay for breakfast as well.

R04 74 Anyone planning an Anglo-Nippon party during the Japanese R04 75 festival could have a lot of fun by handing round these etiquette R04 76 books for the two nations. But I feel a little sad for our R04 77 illustrious ex-prime minister when I see snide comments about her R04 78 by Debrett. It seems that Mrs Thatcher's vowel sounds are R04 79 considered just as unspeakably non-U as references to bloater R04 80 paste, sandwich spread and individual fruit pies.

R04 81 Such things, according to Debrett, should never be mentioned in R04 82 polite company. Nor should a true gentleman use phrases like R04 83 "Suit yourself, I'm sure", "That's your R04 84 lot, matey" or "Drop dead".

R04 85 I was thinking how useful Debrett could be to the Japanese if R04 86 they really sought our help with refined speech when I found, in R04 87 their own guide to modern etiquette, how the women are supposed to R04 88 deal with male harassment. They are taught to use one very R04 89 effective oriental expression.

R04 90 "Knock it off, buster!"

R04 91 And that, I am afraid to <}_><-|> stay <+|>say<}/>, is the R04 92 only advice I can offer to you as we tackle the slow merging of R04 93 British and Japanese cultures. But let me just warn you that the R04 94 Japanese have an ambiguous new word for coffee. In future Debrett's R04 95 perfect woman may well be startled by an innocuous late-night R04 96 Nippon invitation.

R04 97 "Do you fancy a nice quick hotto, then?"

R04 98 Rave new world

R04 99 Are you the type the club doorman shuns? Does the DJ never play R04 100 your request? Fear no more. Here's ANNE NIGHTINGALE's guide to R04 101 Getting In and Getting Down

R04 102 The two done-up-to-nines bimbettes had teetered their way R04 103 along the beach to the entrance of The Zap Club, Brighton. It was a R04 104 stormy, hot summer night and inside 300 people were thrashing about R04 105 to the relentless beat of hard core techno house dance music. (It's R04 106 that whoomph whoomph whoomph noise you hear coming from the open R04 107 windows of a boy racer's Escort XR3i.)

R04 108 The two bimbettes were keen on getting in on all this. But they R04 109 were experiencing difficulties in persuading the doorman to let R04 110 them in.

R04 111 Recently I have taken on the role of Friday night DJ in Arch R04 112 One, the alternative, ambient 'Chill-out' room of The Zap R04 113 Club.

R04 114 chill-out? Well, I suppose you sweat slightly less to R04 115 music that is only running at 101 beats per minute, than you do to R04 116 the 182 or so bpm of hard techno which kicks the night away in Arch R04 117 Two. The Zap Club 'happens in these arches under the seafront at R04 118 Brighton where once seafarin' folk smoked pipes and spun yarns at R04 119 angling and sailing clubs. The Zap changed all that, along with The R04 120 Ha<*_>c-cedille<*/> in Manchester, The Milk Bar at al in London, R04 121 which are the core of Clubland. And they perpetuate the rituals R04 122 which go with it. The first of which is: The Art Of Getting In. The R04 123 bimbettes were clearly not very experienced in this matter and did R04 124 not realise that an Elitist Door Policy was in force. This sinister R04 125 euphemism means you don't get in if a) you're wearing a suit, b) R04 126 you've got 'bad attitude', c) you're an armed drug dealer with R04 127 accompanying Rottweiler, or d) you're simply not cool dead hip R04 128 enough.

R04 129 I had come to the door of the club to do some serious R04 130 chilling-out and wipe the sweat from my brow after slaving over the R04 131 Technics 1200 record decks for three hours.

R04 132 "How come they're letting you in?" one of the R04 133 bimbettes demanded of me.

R04 134 "Just came out for a breath of air," I replied R04 135 in a dead cool way.

R04 136 "Oh right," said Bimbette Two. "We'll R04 137 try that." She turned to the doorman. "Erm, we just R04 138 popped out for some fresh air. Can we come back in?"

R04 139 The doorman retained his impenetrable expression set in granite R04 140 but moved his head almost imperceptibly sideways. Bimbette Two R04 141 turned again on me.

R04 142 "So why you and not us?"

R04 143 "Well I work here," I replied.

R04 144 "Wot, bar work?" asked Bimbette Two.

R04 145 No, I DJ" (it's a newish verb) I said in a R04 146 chilled-out manner.

R04 147 "Oh" said the Bimbettes, defeated.

R04 148 It's a cruel unfair world in Clubland. You can queue for hours R04 149 and they won't let you in. You can say, "but it's cost me R04 150 37 quid on the train from Birmingham," and they still won't R04 151 necessarily let you in. If, however, you say "I'm on the R04 152 guest list" and you are on the guest list, you'll be R04 153 whisked in, in the time it takes to say "extended R04 154 re-mix".

R04 155 Being got onto the guest list involves a fair amount of R04 156 industry, including phone calls, general hustling, grovelling, R04 157 pulling strokes or sheer bluff. Saying: "I'm a friend of R04 158 Boy George," can be effective. Possibly.

R04 159 Alternatively, being a Face will get you in. Being a Face means R04 160 you are someone who gets regular mentions in the gossip columns of R04 161 NME and Melody Maker, there's been a feature about R04 162 you in i-D magazine and you're in a group that has a R04 163 single-syllable name. Viz, Cud, Moose, Top, Ride, Curve, Lush, Bliss, R04 164 Bleach or Blur. Blah hasn't yet been invented.

R04 165 In this case you can swan in, past the hapless unhip in the R04 166 queue, and drink over-priced Sol through the throbbing early R04 167 hours. Once you've run the gauntlet of the doorman ('bouncer' in R04 168 such an unattractive word), been ticked off the guestlist, another R04 169 set of rituals has to be enacted. Clubs revolve around the DJ, a R04 170 now quite exalted figure since the original acid-house raves and R04 171 not to be confused with radio personalities such as Simon Bates or R04 172 Steve Wright In The Afternoon, to give him his real name.

R04 173 For a start, club DJs do not speak. Ever. They don't even have R04 174 microphones. And you go and ask him/her to play your favourite Top R04 175 20 tune at your peril. In fact you go and ask him/her to play R04 176 anything at your peril. It's just not done. You actually leave your R04 177 DJ absolutely alone because he has his headphones clamped to his R04 178 ear and he's working out the next 'seamless mix'. This is in fact R04 179 quite tricky as you try to match the next record beat-for-beat R04 180 to the one you're playing currently, so no one can spot the join. R04 181 Timing is crucial and some goon coming up, prodding you in the ribs R04 182 and asking if you're going to "play some decent R04 183 music" can put you right off your groove. But of course an R04 184 <*_>e-acute<*/>litist door policy is supposed to eliminate such R04 185 insensitive loutism.

R04 186 Even more uncool is to ask the DJ what he/she is playing. R04 187 Happening DJs generally play unmarked 'white label' 12-inch R04 188 pre-release advance copies not yet available to the public. The R04 189 unmarked white labels are also to avoid industrial espionage by R04 190 rival DJs. Chosen DJs are on record company mailing lists which R04 191 require them to return their comments as to the 'floor-filling R04 192 potential' of a particular record. You tick the appropriate box R04 193 against 'blinder' through to 'crap'. Depending on the response, R04 194 record companies follow up with a mail-shot to radio stations in R04 195 photo-copied felt pen hyping, sorry extolling the virtues of said R04 196 record. "Going a storm in the clubs! Guaranteed floor-filler!! R04 197 Check all mixes!!! The big summer hit!!!"

R04 198 Not that your cool club crowd is fooled by hype. One wrong R04 199 record can be a disastrous 'flaw-klearer'.

R04 200 And then there's the club vernacular. The 20K sound rig R04 201 discourages discussion on post-constructivism in Soviet art. you R04 202 merely pass the comment 'sound' or 'top night' or 'cool' (even R04 203 though it isn't) and squeeze your face into some appropriate R04 204 expression of appreciation if things are 'going good'.

R04 205 The management will be keeping a keen eye on your dancing R04 206 expertise. This is the most ritualistic aspect of Clubland. You may R04 207 be a floor dancer or a podium dancer who chooses the raised area of R04 208 the dance floor to bop the night away amid smoke machines, lasers R04 209 and other buzz-creating or energy-expanding devices. R04 210 R04 211 R05 1 <#FLOB:R05\>The Secret Diary of John Major aged 47 R05 2 3/4

R05 3 Wednesday R05 4 Today is the big day we have all been waiting for. The R05 5 Daily Telegraph coloured map of the world arrives! It R05 6 comes with a note from Mr Hurd saying that I should put it up on R05 7 the wall behind my desk. He says it will help me to know where all R05 8 the places are when the war starts. My first key decision comes R05 9 almost immediately. Should I use drawing pins, or blu-tac? I decide R05 10 on the latter, as it has always been Mrs Thatcher's favourite R05 11 colour! When the map is finally put up, I spend some considerable R05 12 period of time studying it. Iraq is really quite big, compared R05 13 with, say, Israel. I am glad to see, however, that America is R05 14 bigger than both of them!

R05 15 Wednesday night

R05 16 I get a phone call in the middle of the night on my special R05 17 grey telephone hotline. It is Mr Bush. Why do Americans never R05 18 remember that we are asleep when they are awake?! He says that he R05 19 has had to start the war without me, as he couldn't get through R05 20 earlier, and he hopes that that's alright. I tried to think of R05 21 something memorable to say, and luckily it came to me in a flash. R05 22 "Oh yes," I said, but he had already hung up.

R05 23 Thursday R05 24 We have the first meeting of our new War Cabinet. Me, Douglas, R05 25 Mr King, my friend Chris Patten and, of course, Norma Lamont from R05 26 next door. Norma kicked things off in great style by telling a joke R05 27 about Saddam Hussein and a dead camel. We all laughed although I R05 28 did not get the last bit. Then Douglas turned to me and said: R05 29 "Well, Prime Minister, what are our war aims?" R05 30 Honestly, Douglas can be very slow sometimes for someone who's been R05 31 to Oxford! "We are aiming at Iraq of course," I R05 32 said firmly, pointing at where it was on the map.

R05 33 Then I told them that I had had a very long telephone call from R05 34 Mr Bush in the middle of the night. They were very impressed. R05 35 "Oh yes," I said, "it went on for some R05 36 considerable period of time." My friend Chris smiled and R05 37 said: "About a minute, I suppose.". "Oh R05 38 no," I said, "not that long."

R05 39 Friday R05 40 We have had a lot of letters about the war. It is amazing how R05 41 many of them forgot to put on the postcode, SW1 1PLC - which you R05 42 would have thought was pretty easy to remember!

R05 43 Saturday R05 44 Today Norman and I had to go to Chequers (Mrs Thatcher's R05 45 country house, which she has lent me while I am Prime Minister). R05 46 First we had to go back to Graylings - that's our real home in the R05 47 country - to fetch some towels and my pocket calculator, which I R05 48 left there last weekend. On the way I told Norman about my R05 49 top-secret phone call from the President of America. "But R05 50 you're not to tell anyone," I told her, "because it R05 51 is still meant to be classified." "Don't be R05 52 silly," she said. "It was on the 9 o'clock news R05 53 last night." I was very annoyed at this 'leak'. In Mrs R05 54 Thatcher's day someone would have had to spend more time with their R05 55 family over something like this. "If it was a R05 56 leak," Norman said, "I bet it was your friend R05 57 Norma. I've never trusted him since that party at Jeffrey Archer's R05 58 when he and that actress got stuck in the lift R05 59 together."

R05 60 Sunday R05 61 Today we had to go to church and be photographed. I wore my new R05 62 grey suit. The service was very nice but it went on for a R05 63 considerable period of time. The vicar made a special prayer about R05 64 peace, and he asked for divine help to strengthen all world leaders R05 65 in their efforts for peace. He then gave me a long hard look. I R05 66 wonder why? Perhaps he thought my choice of tie (Old Rutlishians - R05 67 light grey stripe on dark grey background) was inappropriate.

R05 68 Monday R05 69 Norman is still in a sulk with me. While I was eating my R05 70 Weetabix (2 1/2 today), I told her: "If you go on like R05 71 this, I shall have to call you Stormin' Norman." This was R05 72 because of the American in Arabia who has been telling me what my R05 73 plans are for the war. She didn't see the joke, unfortunately.

R05 74 Tuesday R05 75 Today I have to make a Big Speech in the House of Commons. Mr R05 76 O'Donnell says that I should speak for some considerable period of R05 77 time, and that it is very important that I should not just sound R05 78 like a dalek. "Not that you do, of course, Prime R05 79 Minister," he added hurriedly. "Oh yes," I R05 80 replied, "I am my own man. I will obey."

R05 81 Wednesday R05 82 All the papers said that my speech was a great success. One R05 83 even said I had been quite like Mr Churchill during the war, R05 84 especially in the bit when I said: "If something nasty R05 85 happened to Mr Saddam then I for one would be quite pleased - oh R05 86 yes."

R05 87 HEIR OF SORROWS

R05 88 BY SYLVIE KRIN

R05 89 THE STORY SO FAR: War has broken out, and Charles is R05 90 caught up in the tide of events ...

R05 91 "LOOK DIANA, we all have to make sacrifices, you know. R05 92 I mean, there is a war on, after all." Charles watched R05 93 as Diana stood moodily looking out of the window at the falling R05 94 dusk.

R05 95 "How could they do this?" she asked testily, R05 96 her pretty mouth pouting in a sulky grimace.

R05 97 Charles crossed his arms and tried to explain.

R05 98 "It's war. You can't expect everything to carry on as R05 99 normal. There are bound to be disruptions, even on the home R05 100 front."

R05 101 Outside a badger walked warily across the Highgrove lawn and R05 102 sniffed suspiciously at a discarded croquet mallet, abandoned R05 103 during more carefree sunlit hours.

R05 104 Diana turned and faced Charles defiantly.

R05 105 "I don't care. I don't see why Top of the R05 106 Pops should be taken off just so you can watch your war on the R05 107 telly."

R05 108 Charles bristled as Diana continued. "You just sit R05 109 there night and day glued to the set. I'm sick of it on all the R05 110 time ..."

R05 111 She strode purposefully to where Charles was sitting in his R05 112 Manfred Mann fin-de-si<*_>e-grave<*/>cle armchair (a gift from the R05 113 Armand Hammer Museum of Money in Illinois).

R05 114 "Look at that old general. Yak yak yakety-yak R05 115 ..."

R05 116 "No, no," Charles remonstrated. "He's R05 117 awfully knowledgeable. I met him once when I was inspecting his R05 118 regiment in Amstrad in Germany. The 17th Queen's Own Paranormals. R05 119 He's explaining the sort of ground plan thingie."

R05 120 But Diana was not listening and she was in no mood for an R05 121 argument.

R05 122 "I for one have had enough of it. People want a change, R05 123 a break. Even that awful programme that you and Dr Barkworth did R05 124 would be better than this ..."

R05 125 "IT'S A THING that Dr Barkworth and I did. The ratings R05 126 were awfully high ..." "Who is it calling?" R05 127 a young female BBC receptionist enquired impersonally.

R05 128 "Er ...my name is Prince Charles."

R05 129 "From where?"

R05 130 "Er ...Highgrove in Gloustershire. I haven't got the R05 131 postcode, I'm afraid."

R05 132 "No. What company?"

R05 133 "I'm a prince ..."

R05 134 "Prince? You want Top of the Pops. I'll put R05 135 you through."

R05 136 "No, no. Diana wants Top of the Pops. I want R05 137 Mr Botney of the sort of Arts & Architecture bit ..."

R05 138 There was a short silence followed by a piece of music, which R05 139 Charles immediately recognised as the 17th-century Italian composer R05 140 Badalamenti with his overture Il Twin Peaks.

R05 141 Finally there was a click, and the familiar voice of Mr Alan R05 142 Botney, the suave impresario of the airwaves, came on his carphone. R05 143 There was traffic noise in the background and it was difficult to R05 144 hear Mr Botney clearly.

R05 145 "Your Highness, what a pleasure. Some colleagues and I R05 146 were just saying, funnily enough, what a great pleasure it was R05 147 working with you and ..."

R05 148 "That's awfully kind," Charles interposed R05 149 impatiently. "It's just that I was talking to Diana just R05 150 now and she's a terrific fan of the hit parade thing you do, the R05 151 Top of the Jukebox, and she really misses it. What I R05 152 thought was ..."

R05 153 Botney jumped in hurriedly. "Yes, Sir. You're right, R05 154 Sir. We've had a lot of calls on this one."

R05 155 Charles continued: "So I thought that since you've had R05 156 to take off all these programmes - you know, Hallo, Hallo R05 157 and The Blackadder ..."

R05 158 Charles read out a list from the Sunday Telegraph of R05 159 television programmes which has been described as 'too sensitive R05 160 for transmission'.

R05 161 "I thought," Charles went on trying to R05 162 establish his point, "this might be just the time to give R05 163 the viewers another chance to see my documentary about R05 164 architecture. It was terrifically well received ..."

R05 165 There was the sound of a siren, and Mr Botney's voice became R05 166 indistinct.

R05 167 "What was that, Sir?"

R05 168 "It Really Is Appalling:" Charles R05 169 repeated the title.

R05 170 "You're right, Sir. I'll do something at R05 171 once."

R05 172 "HE SAID he'd do something at once." Charles R05 173 and Diana were sitting at Highgrove once more in front of the R05 174 Ishiguro 42-inch Videotronic Device. Charles was feeling pleased R05 175 with himself. It was so rare for him to influence events so R05 176 directly. Mr Botney had promised that the programme would appear R05 177 that very night. How had his old friend and mentor Sir Laurens van R05 178 der Post described that sensation of achievement? Wasn't it in R05 179 Chapter 12 of his classic, The Rocks That Speak?

R05 180 "Apples fall from a shaken tree, but trees do not fall R05 181 from a shaken apple."

R05 182 How very true that was, how very true.

R05 183 Diana flicked through the channels with the remote control.

R05 184 "So you're telling me it's on, are you?"

R05 185 Charles nodded.

R05 186 "Oh yes. Myself and Barkworth. It's just what the R05 187 country needs. Particularly that bit where we're on the barge in R05 188 the Thames and Dr Barkworth asks me what the tall building over R05 189 there is. And I smile at him and say 'I don't know, but it Really R05 190 Is Appalling'."

R05 191 But what was this, appearing suddenly on the screen? A black R05 192 man gyrating in pink trousers amidst a cloud of smoke. He didn't R05 193 remember this bit. Was that Barkworth in the baseball cap and the R05 194 gold medallion dangling from his chest?

R05 195 A BBC Continuity voice announced: "And now due to R05 196 popular demand, and a very special request indeed, it's ... R05 197 Top of the Pops!"

R05 198 Diana squealed with delight and flung her arms around R05 199 Charles.

R05 200 "Chazza, you're brill!"

R05 201 (To be continued)

R05 202 NODDY'S NEW LOOK

R05 203 BY Enid Ryton

R05 204 It was a lovely sunny day and Noddy climbed into his car. R05 205 "Hello," he said. "This NUCLEAR POWER R05 206 NEIN DANKE sticker wasn't here yesterday. How R05 207 strange! I don't remember it being a Citroen Deux Chevaux R05 208 either", he thought as he drove along the Old Bruce Kent R05 209 Road into Toytown.

R05 210 The first person he met was Mr Tubby Bear.

R05 211 "Hello Mr Tubby Bear, you fascist bastard," he R05 212 found himself saying. "How dare you wear fur? Take R05 213 that!"

R05 214 And little Noddy poured red paint all over Mr Tubby Bear.

R05 215 "Gosh. I feel a bit different today," he R05 216 thought as he turned the corner and was waved down by WPC Plod.

R05 217 "Where's Policeman Plod?" he asked.

R05 218 "He was sent down for racially harassing R05 219 Golliwog," the woman policeperson told him.

R05 220 "Golly!" Noddy exclaimed.

R05 221 "Right. You're nicked as well."

R05 222 Oh no! Everything seemed to have changed to poor Noddy.

R05 223 "You have the right to one phone call," said R05 224 WPC Plod.

R05 225 "Alright," he said, unable to stop himself picking up R05 226 the toy phone. "I'll phone Esther. Hello Esther? It's about R05 227 Big Ears. He's a perv."

R05 228 "Good little Noddy," said WPC Plod. R05 229 "I'm letting you off with a caution."

R05 230 So Noddy went on his way and who should he see next but Sailor R05 231 Doll?

R05 232 "Hello, Sailor," he said.

R05 233 "That's it Noddy!" interrupted Sally Social R05 234 Worker (n<*_>e-acute<*/>e Skittle). "That's the last time R05 235 you introduce gay stereotypes into this story."

R05 236 "Oh dear, Noddy," said Mr Macpathetic, the R05 237 Publisher. "I'm afraid you haven't been revised enough. R05 238 We're going to have to replace you with someone more socially R05 239 acceptable who reflects the country's changing cultural fabric in a R05 240 multi-plural society."

R05 241 Chapter Two

R05 242 Mohammed AlAkbar Noddwallah left the mosque and cycled home for R05 243 tea and hot toasted copies of The Satanic (Continued Page R05 244 94)

R05 245 R06 1 <#FLOB:R06\>A right royal ragging

R06 2 Are the tabloids swinging towards republicanism? Not while R06 3 the royals act as big stick with which to beat the left, says John R06 4 Diamond

R06 5 A theory currently going the rounds of the diasporate Fleet R06 6 Street is that the Murdoch tabloids have got it in for the royals. R06 7 That the glorious republic, when it comes, will be heralded by a R06 8 rollicking Ron Spark leader ("The Sun Says Give Us R06 9 Liberty, Folks, or Give Us Death!") is, apparently, finally R06 10 proved by the Sun's publication, last week, of a photograph R06 11 showing the Duke of York as only his mother, his wife and a few R06 12 dozen hopeful debs had previously seen him. It was hardly hot news. R06 13 The photo was seven years old and those parts of the Duke's R06 14 genitalia that weren't covered by the spray from the Canadian river R06 15 in which he was "... skinny dipping after a hike with old R06 16 school pals" were obscured with a large crown sketched in R06 17 by the Sun's art department; even thus coyly displayed, the R06 18 picture proved, blustered Neil Thorne MP, that the Sun is R06 19 determined "to undermine the Royal Family".

R06 20 Well perhaps it is and perhaps it isn't. "Think about R06 21 it," says one Sun staffer. "Rupert Murdoch is R06 22 an Australian by birth. Australians tend to resent the royals R06 23 family. And Murdoch was a mate of Gough Whitlam whose government R06 24 was brought down by the Governor General, which as far as most R06 25 Australians are concerned, means the Queen. How could he be R06 26 anything other than a republican?" This is just the sort of R06 27 convoluted conspiracy theory that you'd normally see only in the R06 28 tabloids' own opinion columns, but it's a view I've heard from a R06 29 number of senior journalists recently. Unfortunately, it ignores R06 30 the fact that, although Murdoch had once been a friend of, and had R06 31 supported, Whitlam, by the time of Whitlam's fall, the Murdoch R06 32 papers in Australia were at the head of the press pack baying for R06 33 his blood.

R06 34 It ignores, too, the more salient point that Murdoch's R06 35 political line has only ever been consistent in terms of its R06 36 pragmatism and never in terms of ideology. Indeed, I was told by R06 37 one Murdoch manager the other week that there is a move to turn R06 38 Today into a Labour paper: "There's a chance that R06 39 Labour will get in at the next election, and it would be useful to R06 40 have a sympathetic paper around as a defence against all those R06 41 Labour MPs who will be out to get us for winning the last three R06 42 elections for the Tories."

R06 43 But the 'Andrew Romps Naked in Lake' story is only the latest R06 44 in a series that, the monarchists suggest, is hard evidence of a R06 45 tabloid swing towards, at best, a prurient R06 46 l<*_>e-grave<*/>se-majest<*_>e-acute<*/> and, at worst, R06 47 outright republicanism. Simon Hughes' bill to tax the royal income R06 48 got him a useful 'Pay Up, Ma'am' editorial in the Sun and a R06 49 full page of fence-striding punditry in Today. Nigel R06 50 Dempster signed a front-page splash in the Mail announcing the R06 51 imminent split up of the Prince and Princess of Wales as 'A Cause R06 52 for Concern' and on Sunday the News of the World showed a R06 53 grubby picture of a minor-league royal at a rubber fetishists' R06 54 party as evidence of the Windsor family's irredeemable R06 55 decadence.

R06 56 I wish I could tell you that all of this means our present R06 57 Queen will be the last. It doesn't.

R06 58 At the most basic level, the tabloids don't want to lose the R06 59 royals for the same reason that they don't want to lose Arthur R06 60 Scargill, the Bishop of Durham, Myra Hindley or Romping Roger The R06 61 Randy Reverend. These figureheads are not just a source of what R06 62 passes for news in a newsless newspaper, but moral makers against R06 63 which the tabloids may voyeuristically measure their own high R06 64 principles and those of their readers. And the royals have a R06 65 particular journalistic advantage over every other public figure: R06 66 their private lives are precisely that. Each tabloid has its own R06 67 Man The Royals Trust or The Woman In The Know, but the fact is that R06 68 those who really do know - and they are rarely tabloid journalists R06 69 or anything like - don't tell. If they do tell, then they stop R06 70 being in the know, which is the last thing they want. Once a R06 71 tabloid royal-watcher who had just signed a piece to the effect R06 72 that Prince Edward's leaving the Royal Marines was but a step away R06 73 from his appearance in the Danny La Rue Follies spent some time R06 74 trying to convince me that Edward had been on the phone to him as R06 75 soon as the piece appeared congratulating him on his journalistic R06 76 acumen. I didn't believe him then, nor would I now.

R06 77 Even when the odd scandalous word does creep out of the palace R06 78 it's rarely published. There is, for instance, a persistent rumour R06 79 regarding the illicit lover apparently maintained by one of the R06 80 most senior royal women. It has a much better provenance than most R06 81 such rumours, suggesting, as it does, that one of the Mistresses of R06 82 the Royal Bedchamber has been working after hours with a pair of R06 83 binoculars and a notebook. I have yet to see it in print. Nor, I R06 84 imagine, will I unless the parties concerned choose to make it R06 85 public.

R06 86 The precedent for this sort of secrecy goes back no further R06 87 than the abdication crisis of 1935. Then the King's private R06 88 secretary met with Geoffrey Dawson, the editor of the Times, R06 89 and subsequently wrote to Edward that:"The silence of the R06 90 British Press on the subject of Your Majesty's friendship is not R06 91 going to be maintained." But it wasn't until the R06 92 Mirror took the lead from the foreign press that the vague R06 93 allusions that had been made thus far became a proper story. R06 94 Despite a lengthy hiatus in Fleet Street's royal gossip-mongering R06 95 during Victoria's reign there has been a long tradition of the R06 96 press stirring the sticky royal pot.

R06 97 Then, as now, the press took sides. There have always been, as R06 98 far as the press is concerned - and for the totally arbitrary R06 99 reasons that papers apply in these matters - good royals and bad R06 100 royals. Now we have 'caring' Diana versus 'spendthrift' Fergie, R06 101 'Princess Pushy of Kent' versus the 'charitable' Princess Royal. In R06 102 1788, during the Regency crisis when papers called, I promise you, R06 103 the Sun and the Star were making uncomfortable waves, R06 104 The World & Fashionable Designer took the side of the R06 105 Prince of Wales. He was so impressed that he offered to buy the R06 106 paper for pounds4,000 and give Major Topham, its proprietor, a R06 107 pounds400 annuity for life. Topham turned down the offer, but was R06 108 happy to take a royal subsidy instead.

R06 109 So if Buckingham Palace was handing out subsidies today, who R06 110 would get them?

R06 111 Royalty, as far as the tabloids are concerned, is separate from R06 112 politics. Indeed, when Prince Philip attacked double-dealing in the R06 113 City a while back, and Princess Anne suggested that working mothers R06 114 might not have the best deal in the world, Today (which was R06 115 then going through its Green Tory Yuppie Phase) announced that it R06 116 was not "... right for the two royals to tangle in R06 117 politics. Neither was elected or chosen in any way for the position R06 118 which led to them speaking out. As royals they have a vast public R06 119 platform yet no responsibility to go with it." Rather like R06 120 the tabloid press, in fact. "Who is to say," it R06 121 went on, "that Prince William, currently a mischievous R06 122 little boy, will not one day launch into a tirade of repellent R06 123 opinions?"

R06 124 But even if the papers can't make the connection between a R06 125 constitutional monarchy and the way the country is run, it's by R06 126 looking laterally at a tabloid's politics that you can get a handle R06 127 on its attitudes towards the royals. This is not to say that the R06 128 Tory Sun is entirely pro-Queen or the Labour Mirror R06 129 entirely anti. Rather, look at the Queen and her courtiers as the R06 130 executives of The Royalty Corp, a nationalised industry heavily R06 131 subsidised by the taxpayer, and the political equation works rather R06 132 better.

R06 133 Thus the Sun, and the News of the World, its R06 134 sister paper, see the royal business as a valuable national asset R06 135 and one we should all be proud of, but one which should stand on R06 136 its own well-shod feet. As a public utility it should be open to R06 137 scrutiny by the public: no activity of its executives should go R06 138 unpublished, no boardroom rift between, say, Charles, the deputy R06 139 chairman and Diana, vice-president (handshakes) should pass without R06 140 comment, no overseas fact-finding mission should be undertaken by R06 141 Sarah, vice-president (frocks) unless the Sun thinks there is R06 142 a good reason for it.

R06 143 Despite its declared voting intentions, the Mirror has R06 144 always been more unashamedly monarchist than its upstart rival. R06 145 Partly this is for historic reasons: for decades the Mirror R06 146 was the only working-class paper and felt it incumbent upon itself R06 147 to report respectfully on the bread and circuses that were laid on R06 148 for its readers. To continue to corporate analogy, though, the R06 149 Mirror sees The Royalty Corp as an essential industry and thus R06 150 one that can drain the public purse without too many questions R06 151 being asked. When Wendy Henry - a Murdoch graduate and thus a R06 152 member of the school that believes that the company report should R06 153 go into the minutest detail - published a picture in the Mirror R06 154 Group's People of a princeling taking a leak, Robert Maxwell R06 155 sacked her. She had gone too far. While other royalist papers R06 156 berated the Sun for publishing the naked Andy picture, the R06 157 Mirror ignored it completely.

R06 158 It is only the middle-market tabloids that are unreservedly R06 159 royalist. The modern monarchist class-theory suggests that since R06 160 Victoria's accession and the subsequent reinvention of a royal R06 161 family, which until then had been generally regarded as a bunch of R06 162 freeloading foreigners, our monarchy has been, essentially, a R06 163 middle-class institution run by the aristocracy for middle-class R06 164 consumption. The subsumption of Di and Fergie into that into that R06 165 institution, together with the transformation of Edward and Lord R06 166 Lindley into ordinary working guys has only served to confirm that R06 167 belief. And thus the Mail and the Express support the R06 168 royals not just as a glorious British example to the world, but in R06 169 much the same way as they support the CBI or tax relief on R06 170 mortgages.

R06 171 So, when the Mail or, much more rarely, the Express R06 172 runs a disapprobationary royal story - like Demspter's recent R06 173 report of the Wales' decision to use separate osteopaths, it will R06 174 be more in sorrow than in anger. The Express's job is to R06 175 report royalty (it runs rather more straight captioned pictures of R06 176 royals opening things and visiting hospital beds than the other R06 177 papers) and occasionally to remind royalty of the terms of their R06 178 job description. The Sun reports rumours of the Princess R06 179 Royal's post-marital assignations because the Sun will report R06 180 rumours of anybody's post-marital assignations; the Express R06 181 does so, it suggests, because every so often it's necessary to R06 182 remind our betters that we commoners have high expectations of R06 183 them.

R06 184 The monarchy, then, is in no danger from the tabloids - not R06 185 even the Murdoch tabloids. For, even if they served no other R06 186 purpose, the royals will always function as another big stick with R06 187 which to bash the left. Witness the Sun, in a rallying R06 188 editorial against the New Statesman's own anti-Jubliee R06 189 issue in June 1977: "Out of the woodwork they crawl - the R06 190 termites of the left. The knockers, moaners and miseries who just R06 191 can't bear the thought that this weekend the Queen is the most R06 192 popular lady in the land."

R06 193 And the problem for any republicans, hopeful that the R06 194 Sun's latest subversion will change things, is that she R06 195 probably is.

R06 196 Has the crack epidemic materialised, asks Vicky R06 197 Hutchings

R06 198 A paler shade of white

R06 199 So what is crack? Most people I asked had only a hazy R06 200 idea: it's spiked heroin, it's cocaine mixed with sugar or salt, R06 201 it's cocaine mixed with some strange chemical, it's a cheaper sort R06 202 of cocaine, and, if you believe the Guardian, it's cocaine R06 203 mixed with water. In fact, it's cocaine heated with bicarbonate of R06 204 soda to remove the impurities and produce 'rocks' or 'stones' of R06 205 pure crystallised cocaine, which can then be smoked to give a R06 206 'high'.

R06 207 R07 1 <#FLOB:R07\>Chapter Four

R07 2 GOING TO THE PARTY

R07 3 OFFICIAL BOOZE UP

R07 4 Whilst Geoffrey was being pursued by murderers and discovering R07 5 the theft of his television, Sam Turk, the man responsible for this R07 6 mystifying harrassment<&|>sic!, was in the back of a luxury car on R07 7 his way to Brighton. Starting on the morrow, Brighton was to play R07 8 host to a Party Political Conference, or Party Political Piss-up R07 9 as the more honest politician would concede.

R07 10 There is a similar institution in the world of marketing, it is R07 11 called a 'sales conference' which, despite its business-like R07 12 title, is a corporate institution whereby the staff get the R07 13 opportunity to become legless at the company's expense and the R07 14 sales reps have a chance to try and shag the secretaries. Of course R07 15 this is denied absolutely when the Inland Revenue queries the R07 16 drinks bill. Then much corporate gobbledegook is spouted concerning R07 17 'late night policy sessions', 'target dinners' and 'strike-unit R07 18 damage control briefings'. None the less, the sales conference is a R07 19 piss-up. And why not? It is a small reward, a chance to get out R07 20 of the Ford Sierra and into the bar; to get away from the R07 21 typewriter and into a little black cocktail number. It forges R07 22 esprit de corps. The Japanese have their R07 23 company songs and exercise sessions; the British have their eleven R07 24 pints of lager and at 3 a.m. attempt to break into the hotel R07 25 swimming pool. People need a chance to express themselves.

R07 26 Party Conferences are the political world's equivalent of these R07 27 fine corporate institutions. The only difference being that they R07 28 last a week and provide an excellent opportunity for behind the R07 29 scenes wheeler-dealing. This was why Sam Turk was going to R07 30 Brighton.

R07 31 KILLER ON THE LOOSE

R07 32 Sam was not a politician, not in the elected sense anyway. But R07 33 he certainly dealt in power. He was a carmaker.

R07 34 He worked for Global Motors, a US based multi-national auto R07 35 manufacturing company, and he had come to London the previous year R07 36 with the declared intention of kicking some English bottoms at R07 37 Global Motors UK. The British motor industry, as Sam well knew, was R07 38 still residing in the 1920s which, considering the US motor R07 39 industry had made it as far as the 1950s, meant that Sam had a lot R07 40 of work to do. The Japanese motor industry is, of course in the R07 41 1990s. It was Global Motors's secret target that by the year 2015, R07 42 they would be in the 1990s too.

R07 43 For the moment however cars were not on Sam's mind, but killing R07 44 was. In his briefcase lay hidden the most exciting designs that he R07 45 had ever come across. However, in order for Sam to realize their R07 46 full potential, he needed their creator dead.

R07 47 "D'yah knock out the professor guy?" Sam asked R07 48 Springer, his loyal Lieutenant of many years.

R07 49 Springer winced a little at this abrupt enquiry. He had not R07 50 enjoyed the task of organizing a murder one little bit. In fact he R07 51 had for the first time in all his loyal service attempted to defy R07 52 Sam. It was only after Sam had reluctantly shared the momentous R07 53 secrets of the plans with him that Springer had steeled himself to R07 54 the task. It was immediately clear to Springer that the good of the R07 55 company, indeed the good of the entire economy of the United R07 56 States, might be at stake.

R07 57 "I guess he must have bought the farm by now," R07 58 Springer replied. He had served in Korea and loved to talk like a R07 59 soldier.

R07 60 Sam nodded with a grim satisfaction, none the less, he could R07 61 not help but feel a pang of something. One wouldn't go so far as to R07 62 say it was actual remorse, but it was definitely regret. Sam had R07 63 led a pretty rough life in the paranoid world of the US motor R07 64 industry and he had done wicked and unpleasant things. But he had R07 65 never before had anybody killed.

R07 66 "I can't help feeling that bumping the guy off was R07 67 wrong," he said.

R07 68 Springer was surprised, it was most unusual for his boss to be R07 69 tormented by doubt.

R07 70 "I can get the driver to haul ass to a church boss. It R07 71 might be best to let a priest handle this," he said R07 72 sympathetically.

R07 73 "I ain't talking morally wrong," said Sam. R07 74 "We had a serious situation, and we made a move. That's R07 75 business, that's what I'm paid to do, my conscience is clear. But R07 76 was it the right move I ask myself? Death is kind of R07 77 radical. I still can't believe we couldn'a bought the damn thing R07 78 off the little fuck'n' brain box."

R07 79 "I'm telling you Sir, there's no way he would have R07 80 sold," said Springer. "We ran a full background R07 81 make on the guy, major reconnaissance. He's a public transport nut, R07 82 he hates private cars, reckons we should all be sat behind each R07 83 other on stinking buses, picking the chewing gum off our R07 84 pants."

R07 85 "Mother of God ain't people sick?" said Sam in R07 86 disgust. "The guy's probably into free love R07 87 too."

R07 88 "I guess he would be at that," Springer R07 89 agreed.

R07 90 "You want someone like that having the right to ball R07 91 your old lady?" Sam was working himself up into a fine R07 92 state of self-justification. "Smoking his pot and R07 93 corrupting college kids? He got what was his. We did the world a R07 94 favour."

R07 95 "We had to do it, Sir," Springer affirmed. R07 96 "His invention in the wrong hands could take out our entire R07 97 operation. They'd be sending Global Motors home in a body R07 98 bag."

R07 99 This last analogy was sufficiently ghoulish to reconcentrate R07 100 the minds of the two men on the human cost of their business R07 101 decisions. They lapsed into a brief silence.

R07 102 "Yeah," said Sam eventually. "The little commie R07 103 sure had it coming."

R07 104 DELAYS R07 105 The knock-on effects of the protest rally which had impeded R07 106 Geoffrey's escape continued to paralyse part of London. Traffic R07 107 jams are strange things, the resonate. As when a stone is dropped R07 108 in a pond, the matter does not end with the initial plop. Six feet R07 109 away some frog in a lily gets a series of rhythmic ripples up the R07 110 back flap and hops off going ribbit and looking for something R07 111 semi-aquatic to shag. It is the same with traffic. It's quite R07 112 possible for a person to miss a train at Waterloo because half an R07 113 hour previously a one-driver bus on the Strand was confronted R07 114 with someone who didn't speak English, only had a twenty pound note R07 115 and wanted to be taken somewhere that provided traditional English R07 116 scenes, haddock and tea-time. Traffic jams never actually end, R07 117 they merely expand and contract, merging into one another, R07 118 endlessly connected by frustration and grinding synchromesh. There R07 119 is a little bit of the very first traffic jam in every one that has R07 120 happened since.

R07 121 Sam was caught up in the ripple effect. His car, like his R07 122 industry, was at a standstill and he was getting impatient.

R07 123 "Jeez," he barked, lowering the electric window which R07 124 separated him from the driver. "I never seen the city this R07 125 bad. It's Sunday goddamit, doesn't anyone in this damn country R07 126 worship the lord any more? What the hell's going on?" The R07 127 driver explained that the traffic was particularly bad that day R07 128 because there had been a huge protest rally in Hyde Park and the R07 129 effects had fanned out across the city.

R07 130 "A protest rally? What, like a hippy R07 131 thing?" gasped Sam in astonishment. "I don't R07 132 believe this fucking country! It's like it never left the middle R07 133 ages! A protest rally! What's there to protest about, there R07 134 ain't no war or anything? Sometimes I just want to throw in the R07 135 towel. The whole of Eastern Europe comes to its senses and kids in R07 136 the West are still shouting about Ho Chi Minh."

R07 137 The driver explained to Sam that the protest was to do with the R07 138 suspected new road plans for London and the South-East of R07 139 England. Sam knew all about these plans. In his capacity as boss of R07 140 Global Motors UK he was on very close acquaintance with Digby R07 141 Parkhurst, the Minister for Transport and whole-heartedly R07 142 supported his policies. This was something which Digby took great R07 143 pleasure in. It did not occur to Digby that it was perhaps a little R07 144 unhealthy for a person whose function was to represent the best R07 145 interests of the people in the area of transport, to be quite so R07 146 close to one of the country's largest car manufacturers.

R07 147 Sam was delighted.

R07 148 "A protest about the road plans! Well that's great," he R07 149 cried. "That is my kind of protest. What is it, they don't R07 150 think it's radical enough? I told that stupid son of a bitch R07 151 Parkhurst that nobody gives a damn about Nelson's R07 152 column."

R07 153 The driver was forced to disillusion Sam as to the political R07 154 slant of the march. "Objecting to roads!" said R07 155 Sam in astonishment. "But that's crazy! What are they gonna R07 156 object to next? Food? Don't they want to be able to get from A to R07 157 B!"

R07 158 "I think that they're concerned that there should still R07 159 be an A to come from an A to come from and a B to go to R07 160 Sir," replied the driver who cherished his R07 161 individualism.

R07 162 "What did he say?" enquired Sam who, as was his R07 163 wont, had only been asking a rhetorical question.

R07 164 "I think he said that he'd better button his lip or get R07 165 fired," said Springer, raising the sound-proofed electric R07 166 window again.

R07 167 Sam looked sadly out at the rag-bag of protestors making R07 168 their way home. "I don't know," he said wearily. R07 169 "People. You try to make a better world for them, and what R07 170 do they do? Throw ball-bearings under police horses."

R07 171 It was while Sam was having this philosophical ponder on the R07 172 ingratitude of 'the little fellow' that Springer's personal phone R07 173 rang.

R07 174 "This is it Boss. News from the dead R07 175 professor," said Springer.

R07 176 "You got hit-men calling you here? In my R07 177 car!" replied an astonished Sam.

R07 178 "Relax," said Springer. "This is a brand new R07 179 portable phone, after this call I chuck it in a river." He R07 180 answered the phone.

R07 181 "What's he say? What's he say?" Sam demanded R07 182 impatiently. Springer's face had fallen.

R07 183 "He says the Gerbil is still twitching."

R07 184 "And why did he say that?" asked Sam, not R07 185 unreasonably.

R07 186 "Because the guy ain't dead yet. They missed R07 187 him," Springer admitted.

R07 188 Sam grabbed the phone in a fury.

R07 189 "Now listen here, you lazy, Limey fruit!" he R07 190 shouted. "When I employ tradesmen I expect them to get the R07 191 job done and get outa my face, not to ring my car to say some R07 192 hampster is still doing the rumba. What you doin' you English fuck? R07 193 Taking a tea-break? On a frigging strike? Jesus Christ, R07 194 what is it with you English? You can't make cars, you can't kill R07 195 people, how the hell d'you ever get yourselves an empire? I'll tell R07 196 you how, you got the Scots do it for you! That's R07 197 how."

R07 198 "Pardonnez moi, monsieur," said the R07 199 impeccably polite French voice of the contract killer on the end of R07 200 the line. "I'm an Anatole Chiraud of Euro Despatch and I R07 201 can assure you that the gerbil which you require to be sedated has R07 202 only been briefly mislaid. The contract will be completed as soon R07 203 as possible."

R07 204 The line went dead, leaving Sam frustrated and bemused.

R07 205 "A French hit-man?" said Sam. "What R07 206 is he going to do, breathe on the guy?"

R07 207 CONCRETE AND STEEL

R07 208 Digby Parkhurst, the Minister for Transport, friend of Sam Turk R07 209 and the man at whose image the students had spent the afternoon R07 210 chanting "Out out out", was preparing for his R07 211 departure to the conference at Brighton. He was a little sad R07 212 because he was going to have to leave his beloved models behind R07 213 him. They were beautiful models, mounted on trestle tables all R07 214 through his department, and he loved to touch them. He loved to R07 215 feel the long, grey ribbons and stick his fingers in the tiny R07 216 little tunnels. The models were of bits of the British Isles, R07 217 although a native of those same islands would have been hard to put R07 218 to recognize them as such. Hills had been removed, villages R07 219 relocated, lochs drained, and in their place were roads - long, R07 220 empty, beautiful roads.

R07 221 R07 222 R08 1 <#FLOB:R08\>CHAPTER 7

R08 2 The party was quite organized. Milo was bringing all his bright R08 3 young literary friends, Sebastian had been alerted, Sergei was R08 4 coming with some of his more disreputable cronies, Roger was R08 5 bringing Kiki, for a joke, Nicholas was bringing his pocket camera R08 6 and a tape recorder, and Alabama and Venice had spent all day R08 7 getting ready.

R08 8 Oliver surveyed his flat. It did look like a slice of heaven, R08 9 with the heavy orange evening sun slanting through the wide R08 10 windows. The caterers had surpassed themselves. A great table was R08 11 laden with the kind of food so avant-garde that most people didn't R08 12 even know what it was called. Oliver hardly knew himself. All he R08 13 knew was that it certainly looked far too pretty to eat, which was R08 14 the point of food, in his mind. What he had hated most about school R08 15 food was not so much that it tasted of old socks, but that it had R08 16 looked so ugly. Mealtimes had been a torture to him all through his R08 17 childhood.

R08 18 In the bathroom, the bath was filled with ice and rows and rows R08 19 of Dom Perignon in its elegant green bottles. Not for Oliver the R08 20 ignominy of having champagne served with napkins carefully placed R08 21 to obscure the label. There was nothing more shabby, in his R08 22 opinion.

R08 23 Enormous vases of lilies, pale half-open roses, and orchids R08 24 were everywhere, their scent mingling with the heady smell of R08 25 Floris lamp oil. Oliver put Mozart's piano concerto for two pianos R08 26 on the record player. There was something almost unbearably R08 27 decadent about a piano concerto for two pianos.

R08 28 Oliver gave a great sigh of utter satisfaction He did so love R08 29 the moments before a party, when the room was quiet and still, R08 30 ready to receive its babel of guests, and the anticipation of the R08 31 night to come was a sharp excited thrill in the stomach. He looked R08 32 about the room one last time, as if to reassure himself of its R08 33 perfection, and went to give himself a final glance in the looking R08 34 glass. It pleased him so much that the Crolla shirt he had chosen R08 35 so carefully exactly matched the flowers. Really, he did show R08 36 flashes of genius sometimes. He smoothed his hair unnecessarily R08 37 with a supplicating little gesture. He looked a pictures and he R08 38 knew it. He smiled at himself with love.

R08 39 "You are quite to die for," he told his R08 40 reflection with feeling. His reflection smiled graciously back, R08 41 adept at accepting a compliment.

R08 42 And now for the performance to begin. It was going to be quite R08 43 a night.

R08 44 Alabama sighed, tossed her head a little, frowned twice, and R08 45 tried to start from the beginning. Her bed was littered with R08 46 clothes. It was too hot for velvet, and the pale chiffon had a mark R08 47 on it. The washed linen shirt was just too understated, and the R08 48 crushed silk Bruce Oldfield was just too much. Alabama concentrated R08 49 as hard as she could. There must be something that was just right. R08 50 She sighed again, a little wistfully. She thought of the days when R08 51 it had taken her five minutes to get dressed to go out. Those R08 52 simple days when it was a matter of which pair of jeans was clean. R08 53 She looked rather piteously at her old cowboy boots, scuffed from R08 54 years of uncomplaining service, now consigned to the depths of the R08 55 wardrobe. It was all very well turning herself into the latter day R08 56 answer to Ava Gardner, but no one had warned her about all the work R08 57 involved. She drew herself up tall, pausing to admire her silk R08 58 underwear. She did look rather fine in it. She couldn't let a small R08 59 thing like this defeat her. She was the best playwright of her R08 60 generation. She had a double first. She was brilliant. She was not R08 61 going to be thwarted by a tiny matter like what to wear. She took a R08 62 deep breath, and started again.

R08 63 Venice finished painting her lips and pouted at herself in the R08 64 glass. She did have the best pout in London. She had much to be R08 65 thankful for. She smoothed the perfection of her brow, which ached R08 66 a little from all last week. She was almost ashamed to admit that R08 67 she found the Daily Telegraph rather amusing, and that R08 68 she didn't miss the Mail nearly as much as she had expected. R08 69 Perhaps she was a closet intellectual after all. That would be a R08 70 thing. Imagine, after all these years, a Venice who minded about R08 71 more than finding exactly the right dress to wear to a party. Life R08 72 did throw up the most extraordinary surprises, just when one was R08 73 least expecting them. Venice looked at her face again, something R08 74 she never tired of. It looked rather strange with so little make-up R08 75 on. Rather fine, really. Almost ethereal, in fact. Perhaps R08 76 intellectual? Venice told herself to stop being fanciful. Enough R08 77 was enough, after all.

R08 78 It took her hardly a moment to dress. She had decided to strike R08 79 a balance somewhere between glamour and utter carelessness. She R08 80 still drew the line at wearing jeans to a party, whatever Alabama R08 81 said, so she had settled on a little black dress. Venice knew all R08 82 about little black dresses and their importance in the history of R08 83 seduction. She knew that every girl should have at least one. This R08 84 particular one was simple and short and made of material that clung R08 85 lovingly to her figure. No jewels, Venice decided firmly, with R08 86 hardly a backward glance at her box of baubles, the box which only R08 87 a week ago had given her so much pleasure, the box which she could R08 88 quite happily gaze at for an hour, when she had an hour to spare. R08 89 No jewels, just sheer black stockings and a dash of Chanel N. 5, R08 90 and that would do very nicely indeed. Venice looked at her wardrobe R08 91 for a moment, with a faint look of longing, running her hand for a R08 92 brief forbidden minute along the collection of silks and satins and R08 93 rich organza. It was only for a minute. She turned back to her R08 94 reflection, thinking that perhaps she looked rather young and slim R08 95 and fine, and anyway, some things were more important than R08 96 clothes.

R08 97 Nicholas sighed heavily, and put one of his old Ella Fitzgerald R08 98 records on, to accompany him while he dressed. It fitted his mood R08 99 quite perfectly. He had no heart, everyone knew that. So what was R08 100 all this, mooning about like a lovesick adolescent? And why was R08 101 there a hole where his stomach used to be, even though he had eaten R08 102 a whole lobster for lunch, and two helpings of summer pudding, R08 103 every time he thought of Alabama? It was getting too ridiculous. He R08 104 was the toughest nut in a street of very hard cases, he was the man R08 105 who dared people to sue, he was the man who could make and break R08 106 reputations and marriages, so what was the matter with him? He R08 107 sighed again, and slapped on some of his best aftershave, with a R08 108 vain attempt at carelessness. He looked at his collection of suits, R08 109 said by some to be the most extensive in London, although he felt R08 110 that Sergei might have the edge on him, and wondered which he R08 111 should wear for maximum effect. The pun-stripes were too formal, R08 112 the cream linen too cricket, the Anthony Price too reminiscent of a R08 113 television personality. After some deliberation, he chose a double R08 114 breasted Prince of Wales check which he had always been fond of. R08 115 That should do, not too sharp, yet modern, with a hint of witty R08 116 nostalgia that was so essential these days. Perfect. He brushed his R08 117 hair, and shot his cuffs, and fitted his cigarettes into a silver R08 118 cigarette case, and told himself for the sixty-fourth time not to R08 119 be so ridiculous.

R08 120 Milo worked on his book until late. He only needed five minutes R08 121 to get ready anyway. He put his head under the tap, and then pulled R08 122 on a pair of jeans and a white shirt and had done with it. He was R08 123 fond of Oliver, in a wry kind of way, but not that fond. Besides, R08 124 there was little point in dressing up. This was Alabama's night. He R08 125 didn't want to steal any thunder at all.

R08 126 Scattered across London, his literary friends were putting on R08 127 much the same uniform. Most of them looked like Montgomery Clift R08 128 anyway, so they didn't need any more adornment. That was why they R08 129 had been invited, if only they knew it. As it was, they were R08 130 looking forward to a good evening. Oliver's parties were famous, R08 131 and the Skye sisters were fast becoming legendary, and there was R08 132 bound to be an extraordinary amount of material for their next R08 133 books.

R08 134 Above an off-licence in the King's Road, Sebastian paused in R08 135 front of the glass to accompany Eric Clapton in a particularly R08 136 gruelling guitar riff. The least one could do for a sound like that R08 137 was give it a little respect. Sebastian bowed extravagantly to an R08 138 imaginary audience. Too kind, he thought. What a great crowd you R08 139 are. Really, it was nothing. He wondered if he should dress up for R08 140 this party. King of the social circuit in Oxford, Sebastian had R08 141 never been to a really sophisticated London party before. All his R08 142 parents' friends were serious financial wizards who occasionally R08 143 gave drinks parties on Sunday mornings, and his own friends were R08 144 still bringing bottles. What did really sophisticated London party R08 145 goers wear? Should he dress up, or down? He didn't quite dare ring R08 146 Venice to ask her. He would have to improvise. After some thought, R08 147 a tin of Miller Lite, and a couple more guitar solos which sent the R08 148 audience wild, he decided on a pair of red trousers belonging to R08 149 some obscure military regiment, the 54th dragoons or some such, R08 150 which Sebastian was particularly fond of since they were the only R08 151 item of clothing he had ever bought in a street market, a white R08 152 evening shirt with stick ups, and his leather jacket. This R08 153 ensemble, he felt, rather cunningly mixed elements of smartness, R08 154 street credibility, and wit. Anyway, it would have to do.

R08 155 Max grunted crossly to himself, and wondered again why he had R08 156 accepted Oliver's invitation. Curiosity, and ambition, he supposed. R08 157 Besides, he hadn't been to a good party for quite a fortnight, and R08 158 he rather missed it. How was he going to impress Dent Ludlow? R08 159 Should he go for a raw Brando look that Alabama had preferred, or R08 160 the smooth sophisticate that impressed the glamorous women? Perhaps R08 161 he should simply capitalize on his dark looks. That would do. He R08 162 pulled on some black trousers and a black shirt and slicked his R08 163 hair back with the Brylcream that had so suddenly come back into R08 164 fashion after twenty years of obsolescence. Everyone would keep R08 165 saying that black was out, but it suited Max, and he was damned if R08 166 he was going to be a slave of fashion. He looked cool in black, he R08 167 looked dangerous and <}_><-|>langorous <+|>languorous<}/> and R08 168 fierce. He wondered if the leather jacket might be overdoing it. He R08 169 decided it was rather, so he compromised with a pair of suede boots R08 170 instead. That way, he could at least step on a few toes, if all R08 171 else failed.

R08 172 Sergei dressed as he dressed for everything, with care and R08 173 thought and just the right amount of concentration. He put on a R08 174 dark grey suit, and a cream shirt and a blue tie. Everything was R08 175 beautifully laundered and pressed, and laid out lovingly by his R08 176 man. As usual, he looked immaculate. He looked like what he was, R08 177 rich, pampered, tasteful. Of course, being Sergei, he didn't think R08 178 that. He was too busy wondering quite what the evening had in R08 179 store, and whether his fiendish plan was going to work. He couldn't R08 180 help a sneaking desire that it would backfire, and a nasty young R08 181 actor would run off with a bimbo, or just not turn up. He couldn't R08 182 help feeling that Alabama was worth rather more. He gave himself R08 183 the usual cursory glance in the glass, simply to make sure that R08 184 everything was quite as it should be. R08 185 R08 186 R09 1 <#FLOB:R09\>"The Lost One," said Perdita R09 2 tonelessly.

R09 3 "Hamish's firm was overseeing the adoption. He sought R09 4 me out at the unmarried mothers' home and offered to marry me. He R09 5 was different in those days. He had ideals, he was so kind and so R09 6 good-looking, I was sure I could grow to love him. Anyway I'd R09 7 have married the devil, I was so desperate to keep you."

R09 8 "No wonder Biddy looked so sour at the R09 9 wedding," said Perdita savagely. "Did you tell her R09 10 I was a little orgy bastard? No wonder she loathes me. What chance R09 11 did I ever have? Hamish took me on because he had the temporary R09 12 hots for you. Once he got bored, he got fed up with me."

R09 13 "It's all my fault and I'm sorry," sobbed R09 14 Daisy. "I love you more than anything in the world. Please R09 15 forgive me." Getting up, stumbling over a pile of art R09 16 magazines, she fell towards Perdita, holding out her arms, frantic R09 17 to comfort and be comforted. But Perdita, who'd always detested R09 18 physical contact, shoved her away.

R09 19 "Don't touch me, you disgusting slag. All those men in R09 20 one night. I bet you loved it, and what's more Violet R09 21 knows."

R09 22 "She doesn't," said Daisy aghast. "I R09 23 swear it."

R09 24 "Bloody does. Biddy or probably Hamish tipped her R09 25 off."

R09 26 "Oh my God," whispered Daisy. "Oh, R09 27 darling, I'm so sorry."

R09 28 "Why the fuck didn't you let that wonderful couple R09 29 adopt me?" hissed Perdita. "They'd have given me a R09 30 much better life than you or Hamish have."

R09 31 13 R09 32 For such a solitary and reserved introvert as Ricky France-Lynch R09 33 prison was slightly less crucifying than it might have been R09 34 because it made him feel in some infinitesimal way that he was R09 35 atoning for the terrific wrongs he had done Chessie. Not only had R09 36 he killed her child, but he was convinced she'd never intended to R09 37 stay with Bart and could now only be miserable living with such a R09 38 monster.

R09 39 Even while recovering from horrific operations on his right R09 40 elbow in the prison hospital, he wrote her endless letters with his R09 41 left hand, begging, in a rare dropping of his guard, for her R09 42 forgiveness and her return. Chessie answered none.

R09 43 The one glimmer of cheer was that Herbert, his father, felt so R09 44 sorry for Ricky that he changed his will yet again, leaving R09 45 everything to Ricky instead of the local hunt, who were absolutely R09 46 furious, which at least meant the bank came sweet and Ricky could R09 47 turn his ponies out instead of selling them.

R09 48 After the relative freedom of being on remand, where he could R09 49 wear his own clothes, have visitors and go for walks outside, his R09 50 worst time inside was the month after his conviction when for R09 51 twenty-two hours a day with lights out at six, he was 'banged up' R09 52 in a tiny cell in Rutminster Prison, with a burglar, a murderer and R09 53 a GBH case.

R09 54 He was next moved to Greenwood, an open prison on the Rutshire R09 55 - Wiltshire border. The drive, with the sun warming the bare trees R09 56 and snowy fields sparkling against a delphinium-blue sky, was R09 57 tantalizingly beautiful. Near the prison was a large Elizabethan R09 58 manor house with ramparts of yew overlooking a great frozen lake, R09 59 which belonged to some cousins Herbert had fought with. What would R09 60 they think, wondered Ricky, if he climbed over the wall and dropped R09 61 in on them for tea?

R09 62 The prison governor was a raging snob.

R09 63 "We've got six millionaires, four old Etonians, three R09 64 Radleans, two solicitors, an archdeacon and a rock star, the lead R09 65 singer of Apocalypse, in at the moment," he told Ricky, R09 66 "so you're pretty small fry. The rock star gets so much fan R09 67 mail, he ought to be sewing his own mail bags. Sorry about your R09 68 arm, had business. We'll find you something not too taxing to do, R09 69 the library or the art department or a bit of gardening. I'm a R09 70 racing man myself, but evidently the Scrubs has got a table R09 71 completely set aside for polo players. Never knew there were so R09 72 many bad hats in the game."

R09 73 Queueing up for lunch, Ricky felt sick. He dreaded having to R09 74 adjust to a new set of people. He'd grown fond of his three R09 75 previous cellmates, who'd been very tolerant, when, impossibly run R09 76 down, he had kept them awake with his incessant coughing or his R09 77 screaming nightmares.

R09 78 Nor had he ever been intimidated at Rutminster. Just behind him R09 79 in the queue on his first day, however, was a fat little man with R09 80 strands of dyed black hair oiled across his bald patch and a puffy R09 81 complexion like marshmallow. Flanked by four huge minions, he was R09 82 making a lot of noise. Irritated that Ricky was ignoring him, he R09 83 poked him in the ribs.

R09 84 Howdya get that?" He pointed at Ricky's elbow. R09 85 "Is that sling 'olding up a limp wrist, or did we 'urt it R09 86 raising our glass once too often to our mouth? Drunk driving wasn't R09 87 it? I 'ear we plays polo wiv Prince Charles."

R09 88 Ricky said nothing and, deciding against dishcloth-grey R09 89 mutton and flooded yellow cabbage, helped himself to mashed R09 90 potato.

R09 91 "Off our nosh, are we?" went on the fat little R09 92 man, drawing so close that Ricky could smell breath like too sweet R09 93 cider. "Ay suppose we're used to creamed potatoes at Buck R09 94 House. Won't be playin' polo for a bit, will we? WILL WE?" R09 95 his voice rose threateningly.

R09 96 For a second Ricky considered ramming the plate of mashed R09 97 potato in his face. Instead he said, "Why don't you piss R09 98 off?"

R09 99 "Piss orf," mimicked his tormentor, turning to R09 100 his four huge minions who shook, with sycophantic laughter. R09 101 "Oh, we are on 'ooray 'enry, aren't we? Did we pick up that R09 102 posh accent from Prince Charles? We better learn some R09 103 manners." And mindful of his beefy entourage, he punched R09 104 Ricky in the kidneys.

R09 105 Not for nothing did Ricky have the fastest reflexes in polo. He R09 106 was also instinctively left-handed. Next minute a left hook had R09 107 sunk into the fat man's marshmallow jaw and sent him flying across R09 108 the canteen crashing to the ground. Strolling across the room, R09 109 Ricky hauled him to his feet and smashed him against the wall.

R09 110 "Don't ever speak to me like that again," he R09 111 said softly, "or I'll really hurt you," and dropped R09 112 him back on the floor.

R09 113 There was a stunned silence. Not a screw nor a minder moved.

R09 114 "More of an 'ooray 'enry Cooper," drawled a R09 115 camp cockney voice.

R09 116 Everyone cracked up and bellowed with approval as the fat R09 117 little man struggled to his feet and shuffled out, threatening R09 118 vengeance.

R09 119 "Dancer Maitland", the owner of the camp R09 120 cockney voice, held out a long, pale hand to Ricky. R09 121 "Welcome to Greenwood."

R09 122 Ricky knew nothing of the music business, but the tousled mane R09 123 of streaked shoulder-length hair, darkening at the roots scraped R09 124 back into a pony tail, and the heavily kohled, hypnotically R09 125 decadent, frost-grey eyes hidden behind dark glasses told him at R09 126 once that this must be the rock star of whom the governor had R09 127 boasted.

R09 128 Thin to the point of emaciation, in jeans and a black jersey, R09 129 Dancer had a long mournful clown's face, a pointed chin and a big R09 130 pale mouth like a lifebelt. Intensely theatrical, giving off a R09 131 suggestion of tragi-comic heights, he moved with feet turned out R09 132 and pelvis thrust forward with the fluid grace of a ballet dancer. R09 133 Gathering up Ricky's plate of cooling mashed potato, he bore it off R09 134 to a far table and, sitting down, patted the seat beside him. R09 135 Unwilling to be charmed, Ricky sat opposite.

R09 136 "'Ooray 'enry, 'ip, 'ip, 'ooray. The 'ole prison will R09 137 put up a plaque to you for flooring that fat queen."

R09 138 "Who is he?"

R09 139 "You didn't know? Marmaduke Kempton. That's not his R09 140 real name. Bent property developer. Terrorized the East End. In R09 141 'ere he's a tobacco baron, known as the Duke, carrying on his reign R09 142 of terror. Most powerful guy in the nick, or he was till you R09 143 floored him. Now eat up your spuds," went on Dancer R09 144 reprovingly, "although your strength doesn't seem to need R09 145 keeping up. The food's atrocious in 'ere, but I've got a pet screw R09 146 who smuggles fings in for me."

R09 147 Gazing at the night-black glasses, Ricky said nothing.

R09 148 "We've got Judge Bondage-Smith in common," R09 149 drawled Dancer. Ricky looked blank.

R09 150 "He sent me down too - month before you. Made the R09 151 same crack about living in the fast lane, 'Who are Apocalypse' R09 152 indeed?" Dancer peered over his glasses, imitating the R09 153 Judge. "Fucking 'ell, you'd have thought everyone 'ad 'eard R09 154 of us."

R09 155 "I hadn't," confessed Ricky, straightening a R09 156 prong of his fork.

R09 157 Dancer grinned. His mouth, with its exquisitely capped teeth, R09 158 seemed to light up his sad clown's face like a semicircle of R09 159 moon.

R09 160 "You're better looking than Bondage-Smith, so I'll R09 161 forgive you. We're in the same dormitory by the way. Very Enid R09 162 Blyton - I didn't bag you a bed by the window. The draught'd have R09 163 given you earache." Then, seeing the wary expression on R09 164 Ricky's face, "I know you're dyin' to know what I was R09 165 brought in for, but it ain't that. Sex offenders and long-term R09 166 murderers are all tucked away in another dorm, stockbrokers and R09 167 accountants in the next."

R09 168 Encouraged by the slight lift at the corner of Ricky's mouth, R09 169 Dancer went on. "I was busted smuggling cocaine and heroin R09 170 into England. Shame really. I'd gone cold turkey six months before; R09 171 gone through all the screaming heeby-jeebies of coming off. I was R09 172 just bringing in the stuff for a friend."

R09 173 "What's it like in here?" Ricky removed a long, R09 174 dark hair from his potato and put down his fork.

R09 175 "Triffic contacts," said Dancer. "My R09 176 shares have rocketed. An' the screws'll do anything for a bit of R09 177 dosh. You won't have any 'assle with the inmates now you've taken R09 178 out the Duke. The Padre's a bugger, literally. Loves converting R09 179 straight blokes, so keep your ass superglued to the wall when he's R09 180 around."

R09 181 "You don't seem to eat much either," said R09 182 Ricky, looking at Dancer's congealing mutton.

R09 183 "I'm so anorexic I have midnight fasts," said R09 184 Dancer.

R09 185 "Have you - er - had lots of hits in the top R09 186 twenty?"

R09 187 "Five number ones, the last one for twelve weeks, and R09 188 fourteen weeks in the States," sighed Dancer, shaking his R09 189 head. "Who are Apocalypse? indeed. My solicitor's comin' in R09 190 'ere for a stretch next week. No wonder I didn't get R09 191 off."

R09 192 Dancer saved Ricky's sanity. He made him laugh and later he R09 193 made him talk about polo, and slowly about Chessie, but never about R09 194 Will. In return Dancer was incredibly frank about his own sexuality R09 195 and the problems of a deprived childhood, followed by fame and R09 196 colossal riches too early.

R09 197 "I was an East End kid. Suddenly we had a break. I was R09 198 going everywhere, staying at the best hotels, meeting the best R09 199 people, birds throwing themselves at me, smart parties. I got so I R09 200 had to be high to go on stage, then I was getting so high on coke, R09 201 I started taking heroin to calm me down, and ended up addicted to R09 202 that as well.

R09 203 "You've gotta talk, Rick. Bottle it up and it comes out in R09 204 uvver directions. The night my auntie died, my uncle went straight R09 205 up the pub. Two months later, he went off his 'ead, and died of an R09 206 'eart attack."

R09 207 "Thanks," said Ricky.

R09 208 Anyone, claimed Evelyn Waugh, who has been to an English public R09 209 school, feels comparatively at home in prison. For Ricky it was R09 210 better. He'd been bullied at school. Here he was very popular. The R09 211 inmates liked him because he didn't show off or drop names or R09 212 grumble, and because beneath his aloof, impassive manner, his grief R09 213 was almost palpable. Once he started giving racing tips that R09 214 worked, even Duke forgave him and started asking him what Prince R09 215 Charles was really like, and if he'd ever clapped eyes on Princess R09 216 Diana.

R09 217 There were terrible moments. He was plagued by feelings of R09 218 utter worthlessness. He slept appallingly, still wracked by R09 219 insomnia, followed by nightmares. He was consumed with desire for R09 220 Chessie. He was crucified by the knowledge that Will's last R09 221 terrifying memory must have been Chessie and he screaming at each R09 222 other, and being gathered into a car and hurtled to his death. R09 223 R09 224