Are You Listening, Rabbi Löw

  ‘Honey for Christ’s sakes don’t start crying again. I’m putting my clothes back on honey because I got to go. You’re a good girl. Christ I’d even go as far as to say you’re even a little bit wonderful. And never mind the novelty. But honey, just out of interest what were you doing coming out from behind the ballroom door downstairs.’

  ‘I was making my debut.’

  ‘Your debut. For what.’

  ‘Into prostitution. Madame Dipompididor said Lord Nectarine has a preference for virgin whores who have never fucked for money before and who have him for their first customer.’

  ‘Holy cow honey. Virgin whores. Will the wonders of his eccentric Grace’s perversions never cease.’

  ‘It was my formal introduction. Madame Dipompididor has the difficulty to find genuine new whores. They all tell lies and are clapped out old slags and scrubbers. And when she does find a girl who is not lying they fall in love with his rich handsome Lordship and they abandon the prostitution.’

  ‘And jesus honey it’s clear why.’

  ‘Why.’

  ‘Because, honey, of his Lordship’s wonderful philosophy of happiness which all women I’ve ever met unanimously concur with. And jesus what a fucking generous host and entertainer he is.’

  ‘I look his Lordship up in Debrett. And he is there.’

  ‘Sure he is honey. With a lineage as long as your arm.’

  ‘But why does he sing that song, the aristocracy is falling down, falling down.’

  ‘Well honey, because maybe he sure ain’t putting it back up, back up.’

  ‘Hey you know what, you little squirt.’

  ‘What honey.’

  ‘I like you. And I like his Lordship.’

  A smile at last out of Erica as she sees my arm go through the empty hole of my jacket. It really is a gorgeous four poster bed. I’m bending down tying my shoelaces. Wow. When she climbed up on top of me. Her nipples hardened like acorns hanging down from her breasts. And slowly slowly going up and down on my prick from its hilt to its tip. It was like being straddled by a giant spider. And my back feels broke. The crotch of my pants still wet. Lost the jacket sleeve downstairs. Now I’m out of my mind wondering what kind a secret life his Lordship leads giving debutante balls for virgin whores with hunchbacks kept down in his cellars. Who jump out of nowhere in tweed caps and knickerbockers to clean him up off the floor when he’s pissed. Jesus and he once told me vanity had made me one of its greatest victims. He practises what he preaches. Him without a shirt, shoes and scratching himself up under the armpits like he had fleas. But christ this kid could have a real hot project. Upgrade it from a downmarket documentary into a major feature film with a team of scriptwriters. When I first suggested to his Lordship that we might go into the film business he said that I was perfectly suited to the philosophical rapture that Hollywood indulged in but such a move was sure to invite miscalculations of the most inordinately dangerous variety. Boy and now his Lordship, the Skyscraper and I could be balancing in a canoe as we paddle up the Amazon. And when it tips over and we fall out, if we get to the shore without the piranhas tearing us to bits we’ll all then get spears up the ass.

  Schultz crossing in the candlelight to the bedroom door. Opening it. Turning around to face Erica sitting up on the side of the bed. Her hands hanging between her open thighs, her head bent forward, her hair hanging down hiding her face.

  ‘So long kid. See you at my office. Or see you another time maybe. Put some clothes on so you don’t catch cold. And holy mackerel there’s no reason for more tears.’

  ‘There is. Madame Soignee say I have to get out of here. Madame Dipompididor say that Madame Soignee, with the big emerald pendant, take his Lordship away in her red Ferrari sports car.’

  Honey

  That’s better than

  The hunchbacks

  Shoving him in a dungeon

  At least together

  They can go

  Voom voom

  21

  The sun these days coming up earlier over the rooftop of the Ambassador’s house across Arabesque street. The weather warming with gentle mists. And rains from the west tickling the window panes. At dusk each evening a gentleman with a black bag welcomed in the door by Jorricks. And led up to Schultz’s bedroom. Stethoscope put to his chest. Temperature taken.

  ‘Ah Mr Schultz judging from your last sample of blood you are coming along very nicely.’

  ‘I’m glad doc, this bed gets pretty boring.’

  ‘You must still take it easy. Plenty of fresh vegetables, garlic. Tomorrow begin a little mild exercise. Goodnight Mr Schultz.’

  ‘So long doc.’

  Jorricks entering Schultz’s bedroom. Big Ben tolling nine. A stream of cars and taxis arriving at a reception at the Ambassador’s across the street. Ladies in gowns and tiaras alighting and climbing the steps. Faint echo of names being announced within.

  ‘The Ambassador sir really does keep this street busy doesn’t he sir.’ ‘He sure does Jorricks.’

  ‘A pity sir you were too poorly to attend. Ah let me fluff up sir’s pillows a bit and is there anything I can get.’

  ‘I’m fine just have a spoonful of honey and just lie here.’ ‘Goodnight sir. Sleep well.’

  ‘Goodnight, thanks Jorricks.’

  Schultz turning out the bedside light. A glow coming in the window from the street lamp. Take a deep breath. Stare up at the spider moving across the ceiling. Wriggle my toes to see if my motor reflexes are still improving. After the longest, saddest spell of loneliness I’ve ever endured in my life. All as a result of his Lordship’s party. And jesus once inside all the time like a little kid I was waiting and dying to watch the candles on the birthday cake being blown out. In this bed four and a half fucking weeks and in delirium half the time. Triple pneumonia, and migraine nightmare visions of suffering from hepatitis, non bloody ruddy specific urethritis and athlete’s foot. The only consolation being my testicles are fully recovered and haven’t swollen up to the size of grapefruits with some kind of plague. But a gap left in my mouth where Deirdre the Dyke knocked out a tooth which never would have happened if, right at that crucial time when I was leaving and said voom voom to the Skyscraper, her smile hadn’t been so endearing that it made me take off all my clothes again and get back into bed. Such memories of that night should even be excluded from my unexpurgated autobiography. Deirdre the Dyke came stealing without a sound into the bedroom and tried to slam a cricket bat down on my ass that would have nearly broke both hip bones if it weren’t for a foot thick duvet. Trying to get at Erica, the fucking weight lifting woman was like a tiger. Her clothes off and a huge two way dildo sticking out of her. Since the fight with my mother in law I never thought such a nightmarish event could ever come again. All I could think of was making my bar mitzvah and some obscene female intruder breaking into the synagogue. Not that I care that nobody has any god damn morals anymore. But shit this fucking naked apparition coming at you in the semi darkness. Looking for its own selfish indulgence. I was up the Skyscraper and it was a time for supreme civility, this dyke with a left hook that took Napoleon’s jaw off. And fucking wham. Across the backside. It was all adrenalin without ecstasy from there on in. Jumping out of bed, already tired, shivering and nonplussed, I was fighting for my life back and forth across the bedroom. Feinting left hooks trying to land my right cross. Fucking dyke was a kung fu jujitsu artist. Grunting and screaming. Going into paroxysms of hostile poses. Nothing worse than fighting a woman when you’re stark naked. Especially when she’s with a dildo hanging out of her. Rabbi a fucking unedifying sight let me tell you. And the Skyscraper did nothing. Just waiting there on her back for me to get killed. And then the dyke landed a blow. One tooth behind my canine knocked hanging loose. Then I’m spitting it out. Thought I could even hear his Lordship loose again, shouting out Schultz where are you. But it could at that stage of the battle been merely wishful thinking. Then everything suddenly went blank. Something hit me from somewhere which
I didn’t see coming. I woke up on my back in the middle of the floor. A cricket bat lying next to me. Erica and Deirdre the Dyke gone. And a pain across the back of my neck. I rang Jorricks. He came with Daniel. They had to support me back down the front steps. Which I had come up just to see if his Lordship’s house was being robbed. Rabbi let me tell you. It’s the last time I’ll ever behave like a good citizen.

  ‘Good morning sir. Breakfast.’

  ‘Holy christ. Morning. I went out like a light Jorricks.’

  ‘It’s eleven sir.’

  ‘Eleven. O my god. I was totally unconscious.’

  ‘Lord Nectarine asked if he might call upon you sir and I took the liberty of saying yes.’

  ‘Yeah that’s OK Jorricks.’

  ‘Indeed sir. I believe that may be him at the front door now.’

  ‘Show him up Jorricks.’

  The bridge of the breakfast tray placed over Schultz’s knees. Curtains opened. Sunlight pouring in. Tall brimming glass of fresh orange juice. Look at this non kosher breakfast. Baked ham. Poached eggs. Swiss cereal. Wholewheat toast. Cream. Croissants. Normandy butter. Black cherry jam. Baxter’s marmalade. Piping hot aromatically wonderful coffee. All the newspapers. Holy shit what a gem Jorricks is. Does all the shopping. Won’t let Daniel even buy apples. If nothing else that’s the one big signal thing that’s good in my life is my household staff. It’s like now I have a secretary, maid, bodyguard and nurse all combined. Jorricks with his little notepad. Wanting to know if I’m going to be feeling well enough to be leaving for New York next Wednesday or Thursday and listing what he has to pack. Each day keeping track of the temperatures and weather not only in New York but Chicago in case I might detour to go there. Has Daniel undergo inspection every morning for dirty fingernails. He even wastes time walking back half a mile all the way to Harrods to return two slightly overripe tomatoes. And I forgive him while Daniel who is usually looking across the back garden with my binoculars at that lady undressing, is polishing the car and taking care of the pigeons and I’m disturbed with phone calls and people getting the idea that I don’t have a butler. Yesterday my first day out. Chauffeured around the park. Rug over my knees. Daniel sitting next to Jorricks while I played Ave Maria and watched the public getting their umbrellas blown inside out in a rain storm. I was like the Queen of Sheba. Hey no. Correct that. I was like the Ambassador’s Emperor King Zumzimzamgazi. Then I had for the first time up, dinner. Watched the news on television. Rang the theatre to check the gross. It was up another miraculous thirteen pounds sixteen shillings from the record of the previous week. Then I thought fuck it, have something that’s not good for me. And Rabbi I tell you what isn’t good for you becomes good for you when you get your vintage Napoleon brandy and coffee the way Jorricks serves it. The glass warmed. The piping hot coffee. The molasses sugar. The silver spoon gleaming on the saucer. A chocolate mint sliver on a silver plate. Holy shit my toes tingle with excitement just as I hear his feet coming up the stairs. Guess all I lack in life is my own pair of hunchbacks. And he and Daniel have really kept me from being bothered by interviews and publicity. Plus the guy, like the best hotel concierge par excellence, is a walking encyclopaedia of information on share prices, companies, best airlines. Knows the layout and seating of every theatre in the West End. And in the middle of the long nightmare he even helped negotiate my loan to buy Binky out. With a banker who on top of the usurious interest, asks for a piece of the action out of the show. Jesus these money lending fuckers know when they think they can squeeze the last little bit of juice out of you. And today is only the second time his Lordship has dropped in.

  ‘Lord Nectarine, if I may, sir.’

  ‘Show him in Jorricks.’

  ‘This way milord if you please.’

  ‘Hey come in. Jesus Basil, you’re all dressed up.’

  ‘A wedding Schultz. To which I am on my way.’

  ‘Hey sit down and have a cup of coffee first. Well as you see I’m still recovering. But no complaints.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think you would have Schultz by the manner in which this butler of yours appears to be ministering to you. One can hardly believe he magically materialized from an actor out of work.’

  ‘He even does a bit of chiropody for me.’

  ‘Good god Schultz you mean to say he actually puts his bare hands on your naked feet.’

  ‘Holy shit, you don’t have fucking well to use words like bare and naked.’

  ‘I’m afraid one must Schultz, especially where butlers are concerned. There are certain obligatory restraints of which one must remain conscious.’

  ‘Hey I was incapacitated. You make out like I’m compromising myself or something.’

  ‘I hope I haven’t in the least suggested such a thing.’

  ‘He gives me the major city weather reports, and even if it’s cloudy in Monte Carlo.’

  ‘Awfully good coffee this, I must say. But why Monte Carlo Schultz.’

  ‘Shit isn’t it fucking obvious.’

  ‘No Schultz it most certainly is not fucking obvious.’

  ‘Well I might fucking suddenly wake up and suddenly want to go there and be a practising tax free Buddhist, that’s what’s obvious. And hey what about you and your butler.’

  ‘Ah my poor old Noble, I fear I’ve had to send him off to Brighton to calm his nerves by the seaside. But then let us hope Schultz your butler may finally succeed in stopping you running in circles all over the globe.’

  ‘Yeah well that’s where I’m presently planning to go. All over the globe. Where no one is going to be sure where the fuck I am. With my god damn wife’s lawyers licking their chops over my assets and now they got dates set down for hearings. They’ve even seized two of my London bank accounts. And lucky I just emptied them both. Some fucking thing they call the right of angary. I mean how the fuck does one ever have a few minutes peace of mind thinking you can trust anybody.’

  ‘Peace of mind Schultz, is achieved by always assuming to be betrayed. And then one can await the pleasure of the contrary. Giving of course meanwhile no one the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘Jesus your Lordship sometimes you simply leave me speechless.’ ‘Well Schultz I hope this news doesn’t leave you speechless. What on earth did you say to this tall Scandinavian lady. She says you are backing her and I’m the production manager on a bloody film up the Nile.’

  ‘The Amazon it was.’

  ‘Good god. I don’t care if it’s the bloody Mississippi Schultz.’

  ‘Hey jesus I didn’t say nothing.’

  ‘You apparently said enough Schultz to have her appear arriving in my front hall with twelve cases of termite proof luggage, six safari pith helmets, mosquito netting, three large movie cameras, sound and lighting equipment and following parking the whole mass of stuff, she sat down on a bag and refused to move. Said you’d promised her forty five thousand dollars.’

  ‘Holy shit.’

  ‘Well you might say holy shit Schultz. That is only the tip of the iceberg. However meanwhile I should be most appreciative should you inform the young lady before I may have to rudely do, that my house is not the production office for her film.’

  ‘Hey christ let her hang around in your fifty bedrooms a few seconds. She’s built like a brick shit house not only could she be like an outstanding symbol for the feminist movement but also a lead in the chorus line of the show.’

  ‘Well you put her in the chorus line Schultz but please get her out of my one kitchen and house where the lady also appears to have ideas of giving a dinner party for her friends.’

  ‘Hey jesus why don’t you trust me your Lordship, at least where women are concerned. The kid could have a hot property.’

  ‘Well while trusting you Schultz and especially where women are concerned, there’s also more than a rumour that you took advantage of Binky’s rather eccentrically disturbed sister.’

  ‘Hey where are you getting all these crazy stories from.’

  ‘Never mind Sc
hultz but adding to Binky’s personal troubles at this moment, that profoundly beautiful not to say entrancing lady is with a small entourage indeed heading this way south.’

  ‘She’s not is she. Hey christ all this is going to ruin my appetite in the middle of a delicious breakfast.’

  ‘Well Schultz my appetite for lunch has not been improved either, and if you’ve ever wondered why the Lord Chamberlain informs that the Queen regrets due to other commitments that she is unable to attend at our little show you have but to read this little note in this first edition of this evening’s paper in Londoner’s Diary.’

  WRIT SEQUEL TO BACKSTAGE BEDLAM WITH ROYALTY IN BOMB SCARE

  As the result of a backstage imbroglio at ‘Kiss It Don’t Hold It It’s Too Hot’ some weeks ago, the firm of Sperm Productions is now being joined in an action for damages previously brought by the theatre’s manager Mr Valentine against the well known impresario Sigmund Schultz, whose wife executed her brilliant dive from Tower Bridge which was watched internationally by millions of TV viewers. Lord Nectarine, the famed schoolboy cricketer and Master of Foxhounds and one of Britain’s largest landowners, is a director of the firm along with Binky Sunningdale whose mother, the legendary society beauty, fell to her death recently.