‘Schultz, I was a fucking high jump champion. As well as a fucking cricketer. And am still the fucking master of fucking foxhounds.’ ‘Well your Lordship why don’t you wait to go chase a fox or get up at fucking bat and knock one for six to mid off or something in the morning.’
‘Where’s my cricket bat. I’ll show you. Schultz. Where are you Noble, my bloody cricket bat if you please.’
‘Stop him somebody, stop him, for Christ’s sake.’
A flushed faced Noble entering with the turkey on a platter. Frowning as he waits for a break in the noise of the shouting voices. ‘The turkey is served milord.’
‘Fuck the turkey we’re playing cricket.’
‘Very good milord.’
Madame Dipompididor’s poodles gnawing at the lamb chop bones in a corner. One dog grabbing the last meaty bone and chased by the others. Their leads flying behind them as they sail barking towards the ballroom doors. The long leather leashes entangling around Noble’s legs as he totters under the heavy weight of the large roasted turkey. Its massive silver platter trembling and tipping over as he lifts it high out of reach of the jumping and snapping poodles’jaws. Gravy pouring down over his grey hair and dripping from an ear lobe. Madame Soignee rushing to his side to hold the turkey steady. Erica taking a swig out of a champagne bottle. Margot leaning back against the wall, peeling a banana and taking a bite. Watching his shirtless Lordship seize a polo mallet out of a corner stand, and in his stockinged feet jump up on the table knocking over wine glasses, sending knives and forks flying. His gold sovereign case gleaming against the hairs of his chest as he scratches up and down. Taking a candelabrum, candle flames flickering, and placing it behind him at the end of the table.
‘This is the wicket. And all I’ve got to defend with is a skinny shafted half arsed polo mallet. Now Schultz let’s see if you forty feet away down that other end of the table, can with this orange if you can catch it and with your bandaged balls in a sling, see if you can bowl out England’s all time half arsed schoolboy cricketer.’
‘Don’t say you didn’t ask for it your Lordship, and here it comes, a fucking knuckle ball which you’ll never hit in a million years.’
Schultz winding up and throwing the orange. His Lordship concussing it with the end of the mallet, sending half an orange heading for the ceiling, and the other half hitting Noble smack mid eye in the face. The turkey surrounded by basted potatoes and in its sea of gravy sliding off the platter. The poodles with canine teeth flashing, ripping it asunder before it hit the floor. Madame Soignee her hands up hiding her eyes and then dropping to cover her laughing face. Despicable Deirdre the Dyke from Hornchurch in the melee grabbing Lilly from Lee’s Place around the corner, kissing her and throwing her to the floor and grinding her pelvis down between Lilly’s open legs.
‘Hey jesus your Lordship, holy christ the mutts are devouring the dinner and we’re breaking the fucking heirlooms and I’m famished for something to eat and now this whole thing is getting out of hand obscene in here.’
Noble with a handkerchief wiping orange from his eyes, nose and mouth and the gravy from his hair, ears and shoulders. Margot with a leg of turkey pulling in one direction as six poodles pull in the other. The Scouse from Liverpool shovelling spoonfuls of caviare down her throat. Teenaged Bradford Myrtle and Manchester Caroline holding each other’s hands in alarm beneath the portrait of Nectarine’s monocled grandfather in a field marshal’s uniform. Deirdre and Lilly groaning and moaning, hands clutched in each other’s hair. His Lordship connecting with another orange thrown by Erica.
‘Ah I am Erica the Valkyrie. I know how to bowl his fucking Lordship. And he splatter peel, pips and juice in all directions, and it go splut, splut, splut. All over the place. And you, you nobody, shut up Schultz. Get back away from the table. Never mind an anaconda squeeze me, a fucking piranha should bite your prick off. And let his Excellency his Grace have a good fucking time. I bowl him now a big fat grapefruit.’
‘Hear that Schultz. She bowls a wicked fucking orange too. And the Valkyrie by the look of her will fuck a wicked fucking fuck up in the bedroom I guarantee you. And right now my prick may be down but my wicket is standing up.’
‘Ah I charge his Lordship three sovereigns. And if he doesn’t pay me I come tomorrow to this house with my luggage to live. Now I bowl this one for a wicket.’
Noble standing rubbing his hands together, great grey eyebrows raised in some alarm as he surveys the bombarding action across the ballroom.
‘I do understand it when his Lordship occasionally decides to have a bit of fun and games, but I do believe that this is going a bit over the top.’
Noble moving to collect the gold plate and cutlery from the table. His Lordship swinging and missing the grapefruit. A poodle chasing it across the floor. The polo mallet swiping two candles off the candelabrum. His Lordship’s feet crushing more crystal in a tinkle of crashing glass. Waving the mallet over his head.
‘No one dares to stop me Schultz. Excuse me while I belch. This is my fucking party. That is causing me wonderful happiness tonight. While civilized London sleeps. I become uncivilized. Show you bunch of whores a fucking dance. Kick the crystal ware off this fucking table. Place your bets. Later we’re all going out together to the casino. To gamble the night away. Schultz you never see me in the dumps. But I do get down in the fucking dumps. But I get out again. By having a private feast and making a fucking awful fool of myself. That’s why I am so fucking happy tonight. I am so fucking happy. To see you there Schultz. Your fucking sleeve hanging off your coat. Rubbing your hands worried that I’ll break my own fucking furniture.’
‘You bet I am. This is awful.’
‘May we assume Schultz that when the nuclear holocaust comes. That you you old poofta, will be seen walking about upon that deserted landscape, a contract in your hand, standing there outside the theatre where in the smoking ruins no vestige of such place remains, and demanding to be paid from the box office embers your share of your usual sixty percent of one hundred percent of the gross off the top. And twenty percent down the sides. And fifteen percent off the bottom. OK everybody except Noble must go topless. Schultz we’re on a death march. And Binky is ruined.’
‘He’s what.’
‘Ruined Schultz.’
‘O boy the joke of the night. Twenty servants or something in a castle and quarter of a million going into his coffers.’
‘You don’t believe anything do you Schultz. Except that you think you’re a fucking genius. And of course that’s what you are. Erica you fucking Valkyrie downhill slalom skier come up on the fucking table with me, the two of us will do an Irish topless fucking jig to entertain the nonbelieving likes of the fucking genius Sigmund Isadorable Ziggy Ziggy Schultz. And watch us. Schultz. Come sit up here on my throne which takes all six of these girls to carry it up out of the cellar. Erica the Valkyrie, mein Gott. Her English is not perfect but her fucking and dancing is.’
Skyscraper Erica the top half of her apron down with two pear shaped breasts bouncing high above Schultz’s upturned eyes as he suddenly goes into a paroxysm of sneezing, clutching the edge of the polished mahogany. Noble seizing the birthday cake from the table, placing it in safety on the floor by the sideboard. Topless Bradford Myrtle throwing a bun across at Manchester Caroline who takes a roast potato in each hand to fire back, her right arm wind up sending the potato smashing on the side of Myrtle’s head and knocking her topless right out of her chair. Madame Dipompididor rushing to descend upon Despicable Deirdre, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her back off Lilly from Lee’s Place around the corner.
‘You dyke stop fucking my girls.’
‘Take your filthy hands off me. I’ll fuck anyone I like you old hag whore.’
Deirdre upon her feet swinging a punch at Madame Dipompididor. Madame Soignee leading Margot to safety. Excited dogs snapping at ankles. Lilly up and coming from behind to grab Dipompididor’s hair. Screams and screeching, blows raining, scratches gouging
in all directions. Blood pouring down Dipompididor’s face. Noble fainting in a heap to the floor. Margot rushing to kneel at his side resuscitating him back to life with a kiss. An angelic smile across Noble’s face as he sits back up again licking his lips. Just as Deirdre lands a sock flush on the jaw of Madame Dipompididor of Swansea sending her crashing backwards into the end of the sideboard and slumping down to land sitting arse deep down in her own squashed birthday cake. Flattening thirty six pink candles in the thick cream. The ballroom doors opening. His Lordship’s cook peeking in. And quickly retreating, her hand held over her heart. As his Lordship on the table tries to waltz through the cutlery with a barefoot Erica.
‘After this last twirl my dear Erica, we will all go fucking filming and exploring up the Amazon. Now get down the other end of the table and bowl me another bloody grapefruit. Bounce it off this mahogany pitch. Show Ziggy Schultz we can sock the ruddy thing for six. And spatter with citrus fruit the smug commanding look I so regret remains forever on my grandpapa’s smug bloody face. No socialist he let me tell you.’
‘O my god, your Lordship, please, I beg of you please stop. This is getting dangerous. There’s thousands of quids’ worth of damage already.’
‘Schultz success has made you lose your charm entirely. Shut up you old Ziggy stick in the mud.’
‘And there are fights going on with the girls I can’t get into with my balls. Come on, these are heirlooms. And you got strangers you should be careful with here.’
‘These are the most dependable wonderful most trustworthy women in the world Schultz that you will ever have the privilege to be among. You must learn how to enjoy danger in your life. Hold on to your balls Schultz. The topless oil lubricated indoor rugby is soon to start. You ain’t seen nothing yet.’
Erica standing grinning above Schultz. Wagging her breasts down at his alarmed upturned face. Juggling the grapefruit from hand to hand. And now wagging her arse in a hula as she turns towards his Lordship down the other end of the table and slowly winds up.
‘Ah after I bowl his excellent Grace with the grapefruit I maybe go give Schultz a free friendly waltz upstairs. Because I remember now I see him on television.’
Erica’s long arm sending the grapefruit on one bounce up the table to connect with his Lordship’s polo mallet. The yellow skin smashing to pieces splattering up on the glittering crystals of the chandelier.
Noble ambulatory again moving to capture the poodles on their leads. Bradford Myrtle running around the table screaming as she attacks Manchester Caroline and they sink their talons in each other’s tits. Madame Dipompididor wiping the great white blobs of cream off her arse as she gets to her feet. Turning to pick up the remains of the cake. Charging back down the ballroom. Behind the wax figures of Bonaparte and Churchill, Deirdre with her arms locked again around and kissing Lilly. Madame Dipompididor two handedly shoving the remains of the cake between both their heads. Deirdre, big breasts heaving, eyes disguised under blobs of whipped cream, lashing out with a round house fist, missing Madame Dipompididor and connecting with Bonaparte. Whose jaw comes off in a chunk to fall on the floor. A new horrified face at the ballroom door. A dignified lady in slippers and dressing gown. A gold pinned white satin scarf at her throat, her grey hair coiffed, her nose sniffing suspiciously in the air and peering through a lorgnette. Noble holding tight to the last captured dog on its lead and holding one yapping under an arm and frozen still as he looks up imploringly at his Lordship and clearing his throat to announce.
‘Recess milord. Recess. Shall I ring the bell. I do believe it may be time to call recess, if it may please your Lordship. And if I may so respectfully advise, Nanny is here.’
And so
Should it please
Your Lordship
The blasphemy
Should stop
20
The fog lowering again and thickening this night in Mayfair outside his Lordship’s thirty two room mansion. With sixteen bathrooms and a rumoured dungeon down in the wine cellars. Which Madame Soignee said would some day with what already had gone on in here tonight make it a London tourist attraction. And in which commodious premises at two a.m. Nanny brought some semblance of order to the proceedings. But not for long. Wow. Because Rabbi, when Noble rings the bell for recess it was just like starting the second round. With me still starving and dipping a piece of toast in the bowl of caviare. And during these few peaceful seconds stuffing it in my mouth to chew it down so that I could fast ladle out another mouthful. Before it went wild. And it was wild. Deirdre the Dyke covered in whipped cream, kicking Napoleon’s jaw she knocked off, across the floor. Now attacking the wax effigy of Churchill, knocking the cigar out of his mouth. Then shoving her hand up the gowns of the lady effigies. At the sight of which his Lordship is going shouting, entirely berserk.
‘How dare you you old dyke do that up those ladies’ frocks.’
Deirdre grabbing a giant crystal bowl of fruit salad and going for his Lordship as he leaned to rearrange the ruckled up hem of an effigy’s gown. Dumping the lot down on top of his head. Just as the dogs are loose again. One crapping a real load on the floor. Which whoops. Madame Soignee has just stepped in it. And I can’t help laughing. For the first time in days. Or is it months. O my god. She’s slapped my face. With bedlam beginning all over again. And the Skyscraper trying to jump from the table and hang on to the chandelier. Her fingers only reaching to tinkle the ends of the crystals. Coming down one foot in the caviare bowl. Fuck it. Let her. The caviare still is delicious. And now jesus christ the Skyscraper is in a heap landing in my arms. And ouch my balls. Her voice may be deep but at least her breath is sweet.
‘Big boy that’s what I think good English parties are all about. Swing from the chandelier. They hung this one too high. What do you say big boy you show me what you’ve got and I give you a good fuck up in one of these bedrooms.’
A strange medieval rustic pair of hunchbacks appearing in the ballroom doorway to carry Noble away. Who finally fainted for the full count seeing his Lordship drowned in peaches, pears and apricots. Schultz taken by Erica and led by the hand. The end of a torn shirt sleeve hanging off one arm. Sneezing up the main stairs. Holding on to the banister and blowing a nose. O my god Rabbi. I feel like I’m going up these steps to more mayhem and slaughter. Sigmund it’s a miracle you even got back out here to the front hall like this. I know Rabbi, I know. And I even passed an elevator I have never noticed before in the front hall disguised in the wall. Into which that pair of hunchbacks dragged Noble. And into which Nanny disappeared. And I only got to the balcony landing and looking down, what do I see but his Lordship trying to escape out the front door. With the greatest struggle of all time taking place. As he kept shouting. I must go to the casino. The hunchbacks returning out of the elevator to grab him. And I felt as they dragged him away backwards across the tiles and into the elevator screaming and kicking that I was betraying my best friend. But jesus when you’re in a loonybin why not also be loony and go up these fucking stairs. And how could I resist these endless long beautiful legs in front of me. Slalom should be a good Hebrew word for instead of downhill going upstairs. It was like I was going to climb Mount Everest. And holy jeez, I swear, I really was for only the second time in my sex life intimidated. From the top of that long wonderful body she just kept turning around and looking back down at me with that sultry smile. A fucking beauty she is too. If only she had washed her hair recently. I thought I could even vaguely hear coming through the chimney his Lordship still bellowing.
‘Come get me the fuck out of here Schultz.’
The Skyscraper removing her apron and lighting a candle on the mantelpiece of this exquisite bedroom. Lace everywhere. Icons on the walls. Tapestries either side of the massive four poster bed. I tell you Rabbi I’ve had long nights in my life before. But this is already after the long train ride down from Scotland, the longest night of all the long nights in my life. With right now the worst of worst things happening just as I drop my
drawers. With my prick suddenly hanging down ashamed like an overcooked piece of spaghetti.
‘Hey big boy what happened to your testicles.’
‘Nothing. They just got a couple of scratches.’
‘I love maimed men.’
‘Honey I’m not maimed.’
‘Hey big boy that’s too bad. It excites me.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you honey.’
‘Hey I like you, you little squirt. Usually I scare the shit out of guys like you.’
‘Well honey I don’t know what you’re doing but you’re sure not scaring the shit out of me.’
‘Well then come on big boy let’s see it get up.’
‘As a matter of fact honey talking about elevation how tall are you.’
‘I am six foot eight and one half inches and do not make the joke to ask how it is up here in the clouds. Because on my back I am as you are on your back on the same pillow, the same height.’
‘Touche honey. Touche.’
‘Hey parlez vous franfais.’
‘Honey, my French is a little rusty, all I’m fluent in is a little Yiddish but maybe just so we keep track of things tonight what do you say we keep talking English.’
‘You betcha buster. Hey you got a nice body.’
‘Yeah, it’s not too bad is it.’
‘Hey big boy, you know Kierkegaard and Rilke.’
‘Hey honey I’ve kind of had a long sort of day and I don’t know if I’m up to getting into intellectual areas tonight.’
Rabbi I never thought it could happen. My prick as limp as a piece of lox. And I was dying famished to have a hot pastrami on rye with coleslaw and a pickle. Standing there wondering if the candles gave enough light and if I should look in the mirror sideways to see how my profile was doing. Jesus I couldn’t for the life of me stop staring at her big massive bare feet spread out on the floor. Her fucking pinky toes were as big as my big toe. O my god and between her toes there’s a whole bunch of caviare sticking. How do I suggest licking her feet. And then jesus you’d think I had enough surprises already this last twenty four hours. When suddenly without warning this fucking big slender beautiful dame bursts into tears sobbing like Niagara Falls. Holy fuck. I mean like uncontrollably. She collapses back down to sit on the side of the bed. Taking her head in her hands. Jesus. Rabbi. Next tell me about physiology will you. I suddenly had another surprising surprise. The top profile of my prick which when I looked down on it had a horizontal hard on which was two miles long. I was so embarrassed. Like I was only twice before, having an erection which wouldn’t go down at my aunt Rachael’s funeral. Uncle Werb told me go have a pee. But my other aunt Naomi wouldn’t take her eyes off it. But tonight I must admit it’s giving me a frisson of confidence. Like I was standing on the steps high school graduation back in Woonsocket giving as I did once the valedictory address on behalf of my school classmates. And I got a hard on. Had to side step back behind the lectern. But parents were so enthralled in their seats that they all stood up at the end to give me a standing ovation which amazingly, increased the angle of elevation of my prick two more inches. With my cousin Saul’s parents so hot under the collar with resentment and jealousy. Which reminds me when Saul and I were eleven he bragged he could get a six second hard on, till I beat him with five seconds. But shit tonight Rabbi my prick came up in three seconds. Sigmund it was four seconds but who’s counting.