Are You Listening, Rabbi Löw

  Schultz pulling open the heavy latches of this massive door. Twisting the knob. Noble emerging again from under the stairs. His trembling hand holding a glass on a silver tray.

  ‘Dear me sir, you’re not leaving are you. I’ve got your drink here.’ ‘I was just going to sort of catch a breath of fresh air. O jeez.’ ‘Gesundheit, Mr Schultz.’

  ‘O boy am I really sneezing.’

  ‘Hardly a time to stand in a draught sir. Have your drink sir.’ ‘Thanks a bunch Noble. Really thanks a bunch.’

  ‘And sir you’re quite welcome a bunch as I believe it’s still said in the better parts of our former colonies in the neighbourhood of Massachusetts.’

  Noble giving a smiling nod of his head. Schultz putting the glass of whisky to his mouth and taking a big swig. Holy shit. Noble’s a fucking card. And having a rare old time here tonight with his Lordship safely in Scotland. The cat’s away, and the mice will play. Shit a woman betrays you so why not join the party and go find that god damn familiar pair of legs. By what must be going on in here it won’t matter my sleeve’s hanging off and I’m looking like something the cat dragged in. And my motto right now is go have a ball. I mean when I think of it what the fucking hell did his Lordship ever really do for me. Except fall over his shotguns and hold his stomach laughing when my own balls got zapped in the zipper.

  Noble leading a sneezing Schultz. Blobs of mud caking off behind him on the marble floor. Through a door and along a hall past the library and dining room and to a spacious glass domed vestibule. The sound of yapping barking dogs. Noble pushing open a gleaming pair of double mahogany doors. Schultz stopping in his muddy tracks, mouth dropping open and his drink spilling from an upraised hand as he was bent double in a paroxysm of sneezing. In this vast room, a crystal chandelier hanging from a ceiling adorned with paintings of robed celestial figures, angels and heavenly cherubs. Life sized portraits inset on the walls. Men in military uniforms, ladies in gowns. At the end of a long table laid with sparkling glassware and gold gleaming dinner plates, and aseat in a massive golden chair, his sleeves rolled up and his shirt open to his navel as he scratched himself under the armpits, sprawled his Lordship. Noble at the door lifting his chin to intone.

  ‘Milord, Mr Sigmund Schultz.’

  ‘Good god, Schultz. You old poofta. What on earth are you doing over here down our little side street in Mayfair.’

  ‘Jesus what are you doing here. I thought you were in Scotland.’ ‘Ah you silly old sod, Schultz. Can’t you see we are here celebrating.’

  ‘Well I got lost in a fog in the park. And came out the wrong way.’ ‘You are always coming out the wrong way Schultz. If I may say so. Or getting lost in a fog in some park. Were you searching for other pooftas. And having found them they jumped out at you and in their carnal quest bloody well ripped your clothing off. You’re in deshabille, fucking covered with mud. Sit immediately down. Everyone sit immediately down. It’s full of prowling pooftas after dark that park. Or did you just merely go in there to wank in the shrubberies.’

  Schultz taking a seat at the other end of the long table. Smiles from all the assembled ladies. In their various stages of high heeled titillating dress. So this is what goes on when my back is turned. He has our fucking lead dancer Margot, holy christ how could I ever not know those legs, on her unbelievable body and who with her marvellous lack of brains has only to cross the back gardens to get in here. That beautiful ass of hers invites you to bugger her. My god. This is insane. Talk about a harem. I’m accused. And it’s his fucking Lordship who’s guilty. Lights blazing all over this place. Women everywhere. This is bacchanalian. Jesus it’s his Lordship who is the roue. Holy shit Rabbi, am I spooked. And am I seeing things. Maybe I have a fever. Jeez, who are the figures standing around without moving a muscle. They are fucking wax. And there. O my god, there she is. That’s the fucking lady next door. And boy O boy, one thing’s for sure, she’s not in wax. She’s fucking living and breathing and looking fantastic. What a figure. In that clinging wool green dress. Hair pulled back and parted like a ballerina. And wearing an emerald pendant that with the diamonds around it could buy and sell both me and Al put together. Or else my uncle Werb never taught me nothing about gems. Hey boy, I’m not dying of heartbreak yet. Joy is again getting injected in me. This Rabbi, could be my night. My god. So this is why you never know what his Lordship’s doing. Because this is what he’s doing. The secret fucker has all this time got it all going for him here. Bowls of bananas. Grapes. Tangerines. And jesus nectarines. And gorgeous girls all assembled for his own private delight. Even gold engraved names at the place settings.

  ‘Hey your Lordship I got just to catch my breath.’

  ‘Catch your breath Schultz. Whatever for.’

  ‘Just let’s say I recently had an emotional let down.’

  ‘Ah my dear darling Schultz, you are a silly old poofta aren’t you. Not disappointed in love I hope. Of course you know women will always get away with what they can. Ah but rumour now has it that you presently have two pooftas in your house. And you do don’t you, nearly always come into my house with something unfortunate adhering to your footwear. And while you catch your breath and as I see you staring in shocked surprise, let me point out our little wax collection of effigies. Always present for company when my grandfather dined here alone. Among the legendary reconstructed celebrated beauties of my grandfather’s youth he has those chaps. You must recognize, Napoleon. And Nelson. And Churchill added just before my grandfather died, is over there with his cigar. Normally I keep them cool in the basement. But we bring them upstairs for Madame Dipompididor’s birthday party. At which Margot has so kindly after her hectic bomb scare deigned to dance for us. Pops in the very “French” doors there from across the garden you know. That’s the beauty of being in show biz. These wonderful events we have. And let one of the ladies Schultz help you to caviare.’

  ‘And your Lordship. Just what the doctor ordered in my present state of pessimism. And my appetite which I thought I lost forever an hour ago is coming back now that I see there could be a couple of pounds of beluga in that bowl.’

  ‘Ah Schultz you’ve estimated nearly to the exact ounce. Always the merchant aren’t you, weighing, buying, selling, dealing. Looking for bargains. Ladies, do let me present Sigmund Schultz. And this Schultz is Bradford Myrtle. Manchester Caroline, Lilly from Lee’s Place around the corner. And our dear old favourite Scouse, formerly from Birkenhead and now of Upper Norwood. And you do of course know as all London does, the lead dancer Margot from that hit show, Kick It Don’t Fuck It, It’s Too Morbid. Ah and we nearly overlooked, sorry my dear, this is Despicable Deirdre from Hornchurch. She resides near the borax works. Ah, and Madame Dipompididor from Paris, but originally from Swansea, and for whom we hold this celebration and whose most wonderful birthday this is. Ah but last and not least my dearest nearest neighbour. Madame Soignee who is in fact from Chantilly. But. But. Schultz. Stop stuffing your mouth and listen. We are not yet finished with the introductions.’

  ‘I’m listening your Lordship. So’s my Rabbi. But jesus such beluga.’

  ‘Schultz. We have a lady for you, I am sure you would like to meet and she is in there behind that door. Erica come out please.’

  Schultz’s jaw dropping a mile open. Beads of caviare stuck to the corners of his mouth. As a long blonde haired toweringly tall girl steps smiling forth into the room attired in an apron and golden high heeled sandals. Her long arms propped out from each hip.

  ‘Ah Skyscraper Erica Schultz, with those curvaceously graceful fishing rod arms. She might if you have the necessary mountain gear let you ascend her Scandinavian summit. An Olympic downhill slalom champion. Her father a professor of Sanskrit and speaks eleven languages. She speaks five but claims she can fuck in eight. And we tonight celebrate her first night on the game. Now Schultz, what do you say we get on with the party before you not quite so rudely interrupted.’

  ‘Hey your Lordship I’m ready. I like it. Let’
s go in Serbo Croat. Voom. Voom.’

  ‘Ah it would appear Schultz that that indifferent edge to your voice has vanished and you are rapidly entering into the mood of things. But you silly old poofta Schultz you should be back in your purdah. The principal question is are your bandaged balls ready to go voom. Voom voom voom. Up the Skyscraper Erica. Of course your prick is going to be like a needle in a haystack.’

  ‘Your Lordship don’t worry about my needle in any haystack, but to my production practised eye that looks like a fantastic throne you’re sitting on with genuine gems embedded in it.’

  ‘Of course it’s a fucking throne Schultz. You don’t think I’d sit on an ordinary chair for Madame Dipompididor’s birthday party, who has long distinguished herself by having the best, albeit the most expensive string of certified healthy whores in London. Plus Despicable Deirdre there from Hornchurch is getting married to someone once prominent in the borax works but who has now wisely transferred to an artificial fertilizer plant due to his recent sex change operation.’

  ‘Hey what’s the silence, why is nobody saying nothing.’

  ‘Club rules, Schultz. In order that one’s mind be allowed to concentrate the ladies are not allowed to speak until spoken to. And then one asks them about their vegetable gardens in the green belt. And then one is told about their fucking Brussels sprouts they brought to cook for the supper tonight.’

  ‘Holy shit, what a good fucking idea. Hey include me in the membership. Jesus that’s wonderful. Nobody has to shout shut up. Wow. Just eat the Brussels sprouts.’

  ‘Nor Schultz is smiling or laughing permitted, not even at my most amusing stories. Ladies who collapse in uncontrollable fits of mirth are asked to immediately leave the ballroom.’

  ‘Hey. This is the cat’s whiskers and the cat’s pyjamas.’

  ‘I don’t know about the fucking whiskers but of course this is the cat’s pyjamas Schultz. And down with small minded little fuckers is the theme of tonight’s little party. Schultz you no longer look as if you’re attending at a beheading.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe I’m not. But I just came from one. But if I look like I’m at another one right now it’s only because I am about to sneeze again.’

  ‘Ah Schultz sneeze. And god bless you. I do miss your not being in purdah, but O my god almighty. I am chuffed. Chuffed. Usually I am very careful about anyone knowing I am awfully happy. But this evening I am so happy, so very very happy, that I don’t give a fuck who knows it. Schultz are you listening down there you old poofta. While pondering the imponderables one best sits on a fucking throne. And scratches one’s ass as well as one’s head. I’m scratching my arse Schultz. And you’d think by the stunned expression now on your face that you had never before seen someone sitting on a fucking throne, and scratching their royal arse on it. Or seen the likes of Skyscraper Erica with the butterflies, such beautiful butterflies on the front of her scanty apron.’

  ‘Don’t worry your Lordship, I’m stunned. I’m even nonplussed dumbfounded. But I’ll tell you one thing. I like it. Voom.’

  ‘And voom, voom to you Schultz. My wife’s fucking boyfriend who invented the flush overflow warning device for lavatories has by accident sat on his most recent invention and the sharp end of it went up his fucking arse and he wants me, who believes devoutly in socialism, to pay for a private hospital room for him. A very dispiriting prospect indeed as rumour has it that he may require a long series of enema treatments. At which one does hope the London fire brigade who visit your house so frequently Schultz, might attend.’

  Skyscraper Erica serving Schultz with biscuits and caviare. Lilly from Lee’s Place around the corner, laying a napkin across Schultz’s lap. Topless Manchester Caroline brushing her breast against Schultz’s cheek.

  ‘Your Lordship I can’t believe this wonderful pastoral domestic scene you got going here. I just can’t.’

  ‘Ah Schultz women are so much more alluring when they keep their mouths fucking shut and fuck. And you’d think you’d never kissed a tit in passion. That’s what I find most lovable about you is your innocence.

  Noble take away that whisky and pour old Mr Siggy innocent Schultz a glass of our better champagne. He can’t believe anything. Everyone, everyone immediately stand at attention. Until we get old ripped balls Siggy there as pissed out of his mind as I am. There Schultz, on one side Manchester Caroline is giving you bosomly comfort while on the other, our dear old favourite Scouse from the Birkenhead side of the Mersey flowing along the banks of Liverpool is also giving you the benefit of her breast. We must make him pissed, Noble. Pissed do you hear.’

  ‘Yes milord. And supper is ready when you are milord.’

  ‘Then bring on the lamb chops Noble. We must make Schultz believe. That this is the real fucking domestic truth he’s seeing here where we strictly adhere to club rules. And where pissed out of my mind I have a good fucking time. That’s what you should do with your money Schultz, have a good fucking time. Put all fucking loneliness and despair to rout.’

  ‘I’m thinking of it your Lordship, I’m thinking of it.’

  Bradford Myrtle of the long black hair entering the ballroom with a large platter of steaming lamb chops held high. Suddenly tripping over the rug and sending the lamb chops plummeting off the plate and skidding across the floor. Madame Dipompididor’s poodles, descending like piranhas yapping and growling as they snap and gobble them down.

  ‘Holy shit your Lordship, those fucking mutts took the god damn lamb chops right out of my mouth. And I’m famished starving.’

  ‘Ah Schultz these up to the mark top hole ladies on the game seemingly make appalling waitresses, but there’s a turkey yet to come. And they are about to ferry in the potatoes and the Brussels sprouts. However over these many years of acquaintanceship with these daughters of joy it is their inner good naturedness of which I am so very fond.’ ‘Jesus who worries about inner nature when what’s outer nature couldn’t be more gorgeous. I must confess I wouldn’t have expected this high female standard of you your Lordship.’

  ‘What did you expect Schultz for me to have surrounding me here, a lot of old fucking clapped out ratbags. Take your prick out and fuck one, Schultz. Because it’s all coming to an end. An end. Do it on the table where we can see you. We’ll move the potatoes out of the way.’ ‘Jesus just let me sit here a second your Lordship, hold it. Take it easy. Keep your shirt on. Let’s eat. Plenty of time for fucking. Let’s not rush things.’

  ‘Ah Schultz you may have just come in out of the fog in the park but when put to the test you do fail don’t you. Here you are the biggest whoremongering erotomaniac in kingdom come. And you want to eat instead of fuck. And I’m taking my shirt off. And this hanging about my neck Schultz is a sovereign case, full of sovereigns. As it is customary for me to make my disbursal in such gold coins. But for you to indulge your prick this joyous night it will cost you one hundred guineas. Of course there may be a surcharge if you require extra curricular services.’

  ‘Jesus I’m getting enough service. It’s too much already. I’m in no hurry for anything. My wet feet are nicely thawing. And with this mournful sad music. I like it. I like everything. I should have been invited before to the club. Hey and why don’t you let the girls say something.’

  ‘I give the Skyscraper, Erica the Valkyrie permission to speak in one of her languages. Erica tell Schultz there how much you are going to charge him to open up those fucking wonderful Olympic skiing legs of yours.’

  ‘Ah you, your excellent Grace. I like how tall dark and handsome mister Schultz is. Because I am pissed maybe I charge half what I will charge you. But because maybe you would not like that and you are even more handsome than he is, and you are pissed, maybe I charge him double. Two hundred guineas on the nail as they say. Because I am Erica the Valkyrie. And I need much money. And I have a good fucking tall beautiful body which is all muscle and yet still soft. And I will be the most elegantly exquisite whore selling my ass in London. I have the most brilliant fucking mi
nd too. You your Lordship are wrong. I speak seven languages. And I can fuck in eleven. I am champion three years downhill slalom. I am a genius at mathematics. His Lordship is wrong too. My father is a brilliant professor of astro physics. My mother is a soprano who has sung in every major opera house all over Europe. And who are you pair of fuckers. Huh. Who. Who is this Schultz. Never heard of him. And I am fucking drunk. You shits. That’s why I charge double. You shits. With the money I make a wonderful film. Of an exploration up the Amazon. Have you got your purse Mr Schultz. You are a nobody. Get out your purse.’

  ‘Yes honey I’m a nobody but no honey I ain’t got no purse.’

  ‘If you can’t get your fucking purse out you nobody then write out the big cheque right now and give me. Pay in advance. No cheque, I no fuck.’

  ‘And honey I ain’t got no cheque book. And honey some fucking anaconda up the Amazon ought to wrap its fucking coils around you and crush the shit out of you. Jesus your Lordship impose the fucking rule I’ve heard enough.’

  ‘Ah Erica you take the fucking cake. Mr Schultz is upset. He is a man of immense sensibility. And now Erica it’s time for you to shut up. He fucks only for love. He never pays for it. He’s got a chorus line a mile long to fuck. He has a harem, plus two pooftas in his house. See he sits now with his head in his hands. No. Sorry. He’s just sneezing.’ ‘Yeah. Achoo. Jesus your Lordship, somebody has got to control this I swear. What’s going on here. It’s dangerous.’

  ‘Our female star performer Margot has come in her white sequins across the back garden from her flat to perform. And Schultz you know nothing about life. Of course it’s dangerous. You’re a fucking old stick in the mud. Let’s call up the whole fucking world on the telephone. We have six lines. And I want them all talking to happy people all over the world. Here I’ll get up and dance for you myself Schultz. Right up on the fucking table. You’re in England Schultz. Where after dinner we in the better Guards’ regiments’ messes play indoor rugby.’ ‘Jesus your Lordship you’re going to break your ass or the dishes. This is getting out of hand. Stop him somebody. Hey your Lordship stop.’