- As it is? - As it is, yes please, absolutely
As it is. Thank you. How very kind of you
How very kind
- Cheers - Your health
- Please help yourself - Terribly kind of you
Your good health
What was it I was saying, as we arrived at your door?
- Ah... let me see - Yes! I was talking about strength
- Do you recall? - Strength. Yes
Yes. I was about to say, you see, that there are some people who appear to be strong
Whose idea of what strength consists of is persuasive
But who inhabit the idea and not the fact
What they possess is not strength but expertise
They have nurtured and maintain what is in fact a calculated posture
Half the time it works. It takes a man of intelligence and perception...
...to stick a needle through that posture and discern the essential flabbiness of the stance
- I am such a man - You mean one of the latter?
One of the latter, yes, a man of intelligence and perception
Not one of the former, oh no, not at all. By no means
May I say how very kind it was of you to ask me in?
In fact, you are kindness itself, probably always are kindness itself
Now and in England and in Hampstead and for all eternity
What a remarkably pleasant room
I feel at peace here. Safe from all danger
But please don't be alarmed. I shan't stay long
I never stay long, with others. They do not wish it
And that, for me, is a happy stale of affairs
My only security, do you see, my true comfort and solace rests in the confirmation...
...that I elicit from people of all kinds a common and constant level of indifference
It assures me that I am as I think myself to be, that I am fixed, concrete
To show interest in me or, good gracious, anything tending towards a positive liking of me...
...would cause in me a condition of the acutest alarm
Fortunately, the danger is remote
I speak to you with this startling candour because you are clearly a reticent man
And because you are a stranger to me, and because you are clearly kindness itself
- Do you often hang about Hampstead Heath? - No
But on your excursions, however rare... on your rare excursions...
...you hardly expect to run into the likes of me? I take it?
Hardly
I often hang about Hampstead Heath myself, expecting nothing
I'm too old for any kind of expectation
- Don't you agree? - Yes
A pitfall and snare, if ever there was one
But of course I observe a good deal, on my peeps through twigs
A wit once entitled me a betwixt-twig peeper
- A most clumsy construction, I thought - Infelicitous
- My Christ, your right - What a wit
You're most acutely right. All we have left is the English language
Can it be salvaged? That is my question
- You mean in what rests its salvation? - More or less
- Its salvation must rest in you - It's uncommonly kind of you to say so
In you too, perhaps, although I haven't sufficient evidence to go on, as yet
- You mean because I've said little? - You are a quiet one. It's a great relief
Can you imagine two of us gabbling away like me? It would be intolerable
By the way, with reference to peeping, I do feel it incumbent upon me to make one thing clear
I don't peep on sex. That's gone forever. You follow me?
When my twigs happen to shall I say rest their peep on sexual conjugations, however periphrastic...
...I see only whites of eyes, so close, they glut me, no distance possible
And when you can't keep the proper distance between yourself and others...
When you can no longer maintain an objective relation to matter...
The game's not worth the candle, so forget it
And remember that what is obligatory to keep in your vision is space
Space in moonlight particularly, and lots of it
- You speak with the weight of experience behind you - And beneath me
Experience is a paltry thing. Everyone has it and will tell his tale of it
I leave experience to psychological interpreters, the wetdream world
I myself can do any graph of experience you wish, to suit your taste or mine. Child's play
The present will not be distorted
I am a poet. I am interested in where I am eternally present and active
-I have gone too far, you think? - I'm expecting you to go very much further
- Really? That doesn't mean I interest you, I hope? - Not in the least
Thank goodness for that. For a moment my heart sank
Nevertheless you are right. Your instinct is sound. I could go further, in more ways than one
I could advance, reserve my defences, throw on a substitute, call up the cavalry
Or throw everything forward out of the knowledge that when joy overfloweth...
...there can be no holding of joy
The point I'm trying to make, in case you've missed it, is that I am a free man
It's a long time since we had a free man in this house
- We? - I
- ls there another? - Another what?
- People. Person - What other?
- There are two mugs on that shelf - The second is for you
- And the first? - Would you like to use it?
Would you like some hot refreshment?
That would be dangerous. I'll stick to your scotch, if I may
- Help yourself - Thank you
I'll take a whisky with you, if you would be so kind
-Certainly. Weren't you drinking vodka? - I'll be happy to join you in a whisky
- You'll take it as it is, as it comes? - Oh, absolutely as it comes
- Your very good health - Yours
Tell me... do you often hang about Jack Straw's Castle?
I knew it as a boy
Do you find it as beguiling a public house now as it was in the days of the highwaymen?
When it was frequented by highwaymen? Notably Jack Straw. The great Jack Straw
Do you find it much changed?
- It changed my life - Good Lord. Did it really?
I refer to a midsummer night, when I shared a drink with a Hungarian emigre, lately retired from Paris
- The same drink? - By no means
You've guessed, I would imagine, that he was an erstwhile member of the Hungarian aristocracy?
I did guess, yes
On that summer evening, led by him, I first appreciated how quiet life can be...
...in the midst of yahoos and hullabaloos
He exerted on me a quite uniquely calming influence, without exertion
Without any desire to influence. He was so much older than me
My expectations in those days, and I confess I had expectations in those days...
...did not include him in their frame of reference
I'd meandered over to Hampstead Heath...
...a victim to memories of a more than usually pronounced grisliness
And found myself, not much to my surprise, ordering a pint at the bar of Jack Straw's Castle
This achieved, and having negotiated a path through a particularly repellent lick-spittling herd of literati...
I stumbled, unseeing, with my pint, to his bald, tanned, unmoving table. How bald he was
I think, after quite half my pint had descended, never to be savoured again...
...that I spoke, suddenly, suddenly spoke
And received a response, no other word will do, a response, the like of which...
- What was he drinking? - What?
- What was he drinking? - Pernod
I was impressed more or less at that point, by an intuition...
...that he possessed a measure of serenity the like of which I had never encountered
What did he say?
- You expect me to remember what he said? - No
What he said all those years ago is neither here nor there
It was not what he said but possibly the way he sat which has remained with me all my life...
...and has, I am quite sure, made me what I am
And I met you at the same pub tonight, although at a different table
And I wonder at you, now, as once I wondered at him
But will I wonder at you tomorrow, I wonder, as I still wonder at him today?
- I cannot say - It cannot be said
I'll ask you another question. Have you any idea from what I derive my strength?
Strength? No
I have never been loved. From this I derive my strength
Have you? Ever?
- Been loved? - Oh, I don't suppose so
I looked up once into my mother's face. What I saw there was nothing less than pure malevolence
I was fortunate to escape with my life
You will want to know what I had done to provoke such hatred in my own mother
- You'd pissed yourself - Quite right
- How old do you think I was at the time? - Twenty-eight
Quite right. However, I left home soon after
My mother remains, I have to say, a terribly attractive woman in many ways
Her buns are the best
Her currant buns. The best
Would you be so kind as to pour me another drop of whisky?
With pleasure
Perhaps it's about time I introduced myself. My name is Spooner
I'm a staunch friend of the arts, particularly the art of poetry, and a guide to the young
I keep open house. Young poets come to me
They read me their verses. I comment, give them coffee, make no charge
Women are admitted, some of whom are also poets
Some are not. Some of the men are not. Most of the men are not
But with the windows open to the garden...
My wife pouring long glasses of squash, with ice, on a summer evening...
Young voices occasionally lifted in unaccompanied ballad...
Young bodies lying in the dying light...
...my wife moving through the shadows in her long gown, what can ail?
I mean who can gainsay us? What quarrel can be found with what is, Au fond...
...a gesture towards the sustenance and preservation of art, and through art to virtue?
Through art to virtue. To your continued health
When we had our cottage...
When we had our cottage we gave our visitors tea, on the lawn
I did the same
- On the lawn? - I did the same
- You had a cottage? - Tea on the lawn
What happened to them? What happened to our cottages? What happened to our lawns?
Be frank. Tell me. You've revealed something
You've made an unequivocal reference to your past. Don't go back on it
We share something. A memory of the bucolic life. We're both English
In the village church, the beams are hung with garlands...
...in honour of the young women of the parish, reputed to have died virgin
However, the garlands are not bestowed on maidens only
But on all who die unmarried, wearing the white flower of a blameless life
You mean that not only young women of the parish but also young men of the parish are so honoured?
I do
And that old men of the parish who also died maiden are so garlanded?
- Certainly - I am enraptured. Tell me more
Tell me more about the quaint little perversions of your life and times. Tell me more...
...with all the authority and brilliance you can muster about the socio-politico-economic structure...
...of the environment in which you attained to the age of reason
- Tell me more - There is no more
- Tell me then about your wife - What wife?
How beautiful she was, how tender and how true
Tell me with what speed she swung in the air, with what velocity she came off the wicket
Whether she was responsive to finger spin, whether you could bowl a shooter with her...
...or an offbreak with a legbreak action. In other words, did she Google?
You will not say. I will tell you then that my wife had everything
Eyes, a mouth, hair, teeth, buttocks, breasts, absolutely everything. And legs
- Which carried her away - Carried who away? Yours or mine?
Is she here now, your wife? Cowering in a locked room, perhaps?
Was she ever here? Was she ever there, in your cottage?
It is my duty to tell you you have failed to convince
I am an honest and intelligent man. You pay me less than my due
Are you, equally, being fair to the lady? I begin to wonder whether...
...truly accurate and therefore essentially poetic definition means anything to you at all
I begin to wonder whether you do in fact truly remember her
Whether you truly did love her, truly caressed her, truly did cradle her
Truly did husband her, falsely dreamed or did truly adore her
I have seriously questioned these propositions and I find them threadbare
Her eyes, I take it, were hazel?
Hazel shit
Good lord, good lord, do I detect a touch of the maudlin?
Hazel shit. I ask myself, have I ever seen hazel shit?
Or hazel eyes, for that matter?
Do I detect a touch of the hostile?
Do I detect, with respect...
...a touch of too many glasses of ale followed by the great malt which wounds? Which wounds?
Tonight, my friend, you find me in the last lap of a race I had long forgotten to run
A metaphor. Things are looking up
I would say, albeit on a brief acquaintance, that you lack the essential quality of manliness
Which is to put your money where your mouth is
To pick up a pintpot and know it to be a pintpot
And knowing it to be a pintpot, to declare it as a pintpot
And to stay faithful to that pintpot as though you had given birth to it out of your own arse
You lack that capability, in my view
Do forgive me my candour. It is not method but madness
Heed me. I am a relevant witness. And could be a friend
You need a friend
You have a long hike, my lad, up which, presently, you slog unfriended
Never disdain a helping hand, especially one of such rare quality
And it is not only the quality of my offer which is rare
It is the act itself, the offer itself, quite without precedent
I offer myself to you as a friend. Think before you speak
Remember this. You've lost your wife of hazel hue, you've lost her and what can you do
She will no more come back to you, with a tillifola tillifola tillifoladi-foladi-foloo
No. No man's land does not move or change or grow old
Remains forever... icy... silent
I have known this before. The exit through the door, by way of belly and floor
What are you drinking? Christ I'm thirsty. How are you? I'm parched
What are you drinking? It's bloody late. I'm worn to a frazzle. This is what I want
Taxi? No chance. Taxi drivers are against me. Something about me
Some unknown factor. My gait, perhaps. Or perhaps because I travel incognito
Oh, that's better. Works wonders. How are you? What are you drinking?
Who are you? I thought I'd never make it. What a hike
And not only that. I'm defenseless. I don't carry a gun in London
But I'm not bothered. Once you've done the East you've done it all. I've done the East
But I still like a nice lighthouse like this one
Have you met your host? He's my father. It was our night off tonight, you see
He was going to stay at home, listen to some Lieder. I hope he had a quiet and pleasant evening
Who are you, by the way? What are you drinking?
- I'm a friend of his - You're not typical
- Who's this? - His name's Friend
This is Mr Briggs. Mr Friend... Mr Briggs. I'm Mr Foster
Old English stock. John Foster. Jack. Jack Foster. Old English name
Foster. John Foster. Jack Foster. Foster. This man's name is Briggs
- I've seen Mr Friend before - Seen him before?
- I know him - Do you really?
- I've seen you before - Possibly, possibly
Yes. You collect the beer mugs from the tables in a pub in Chalk Farm
The landlord is a friend of mine. When he's shorthanded, I give him a helping hand
- Who says the landlord's a friend of yours? - He does
- I'm talking about The Bull's Head in Chalk Farm - Yes, yes. So am I
- So am I - I know The Bull's Head. The landlord's a friend of mine
- He collects the mugs - A first class pub. I've known the landlord for years
- He says he's a friend of the landlord - He says he's a friend of our friend too
- What friend? - Our host
- He's a bloody friend of everyone then - He's everybody's bloody friend
- How many friends have you got altogether, Mr Friend? - He probably couldn't count them
Well, there's me too, now. I'm another one of your new friends
I'm your newest new friend. Not him. Not Briggs. He's nobody's fucking friend
People tend to be a little wary of Briggs. They balk at giving him their all. But me they like at first sight
- Sometimes they love you at first sight - Sometimes they do
That's why, when I travel, I get all the gold, nobody offers me dross
People take an immediate shine to me, especially women, especially in Siam or Bali
He knows I'm not a liar. Tell him about the Siamese girls
They loved him at first sight
- You're not Siamese though, are you? - He's a very long way from being Siamese
- Ever been out there? - I've been to Amsterdam
I mean that was the last place I visited. I know Europe well
My name is Spooner, by the way
Yes, one afternoon in Amsterdam I was sitting outside a cafe by a canal. The weather was superb
At another table, in shadow, was a man whistling under his breath, sitting very still, almost rigid
At the side of the canal was a fisherman. He caught a fish. He lifted it high
The waiter cheered and applauded, the two men, the waiter and the fisherman, laughed
A little girl, passing, laughed. Two lovers, passing, kissed
The fish was lofted, on the rod. The fish and the rod glinted in the sun, as they swayed
The fisherman's cheeks were flushed with pleasure. I decided to paint a picture...
...of the canal, the waiter, the child, the fisherman, the lovers, the fish
And in background, in shadow, the man at the other table, and to call it The Whistler
The Whistler. If you had seen the picture, and the title, would the title have baffled you?
- Do you want to answer that question?
- No. Go on. You answer it
Well, speaking for myself, I think I would have been baffled by that title
But I might have appreciated the picture. I might even have been grateful for it
Did you hear what I said? I might have been grateful for the picture
A good work of art tends to move me. You follow me? I'm not a cunt, you know
I'm very interested to hear you're a painter
- You do it in your spare time, I suppose? - Quite
- Did you ever paint that picture, The Whistler? - Not yet, I'm afraid
Don't leave it too long. You might lose the inspiration
Ever painted a beer mug?
You must come and see my collection, any time you wish
What of, beer mugs?
- No, no. Paintings - Where do you keep it?
At my house in the country. You would receive the warmest of welcomes
- Who from? - My wife. My two daughters
Really? Would they like me? What do you think?
- Would they love me at first sight? - Quite possibly
- What about him? - They are remarkably gracious women
- You're a lucky man. What are you drinking? - Scotch
What do you make of this? When I was out East once...
...a kind of old stinking tramp, bollock naked, asked me for a few bob
I didn't know him. He was a complete stranger. But I could see immediately he wasn't a man to trust
He had a dog with him. They only had about one eye between them
So I threw him some sort of coin. He caught this bloody coin...
...looked at it with a bit of distaste, and then he threw the coin back
Well, automatically I went to catch it, I clutched at it, but the bloody coin disappeared into thin air
It didn't drop anywhere. It just disappeared into thin air on its way towards me
He then let out a few curses and pissed off, with his dog
Oh, here's your whisky, by the way.
What do you make of that incident?
- He was a con artist - Do you think so?
You would be wise to grant the event no integrity whatsoever
- You don't subscribe to the mystery of the Orient? - A typical Eastern con trick
- Double Dutch, you mean? - Certainly
Your good health
I can't sleep. I slept briefly. I think. Perhaps it was sufficient
Yes. I woke up, out of a dream
I feel cheerful. Who'll get me a glass of whisky?
My goodness, is this for me? How did you know? You knew. You're very sensitive
Cheers. The first today
- What day is it? What's the time? ls it still night? - Yes
The same night? I was dreaming of waterfalls. No, no, of a lake
I think it was just recently
Can you remember when I went to bed? Was it daylight?
It's good to go to sleep in the late afternoon. After tea and toast
You near the faint beginnings of the evening sounds, and then nothing
Everywhere else people are changing for dinner
You're tucked up, the shutters closed, gaining a march on the world
Something is depressing me. What is it? It was the dream, yes
Waterfalls. No, no, a lake. Water. Drowning
Not me. Someone else
How nice to have company
Can you imagine waking up, finding no one here, just furniture, staring at you? Most unpleasant
I've known that condition, I've been through that period
Cheers. I came round to human beings in the end. Like yourselves. A wise move
I tried laughing alone. Pathetic. Have you all got drinks?
Who's that? A friend of yours? Won't someone introduce me?
- He's a friend of yours - In the past I knew remarkable people
I've a photograph album... somewhere. I'll find it
You'll be impressed by the faces. Very handsome. Sitting on grass with hampers
I had a moustache. Quite a few of my friends had moustaches
Remarkable faces. Remarkable moustaches
What was it informed the scene? A tenderness towards our fellows, perhaps
The sun shone. The girls had lovely hair, dark, sometimes red
Under their dresses their bodies were white
It's all in my album. I'll find it. You'll be struck by the charm of the girls
Their grace, the ease with which they sit, pour tea, loll. It's all in my album
Who is the kindest among you? Thank you
What would I do without the two of you? I'd sit here forever, waiting for a stranger to fill up my glass
What would I do while I waited?
Look through my album? Make plans for the future?
You'd crawl to the bottle and stuff it between your teeth
No. I drink with dignity
- Who is this man? Do I know him? - He says he's a friend of yours
My true friends look out at me from my album. I had my world
I have it. Don't think now that it's gone...
...That wi'll choose to sneer at it, to cast doubt on it, to wonder if it properly existed
No. We are talking about my youth, which can never leave me
It existed. It was solid, the people in it were solid...
...while transformed by light, while being sensitive to all the changing light
When I stood my shadow fell upon her. She looked up
Give me the bottle.
Give me the bottle!
It's gone. Did it exist? It's gone. It never existed
It remains
I am sitting here forever
How kind of you. I wish you'd tell me what the weather's like
I wish you'd damn well tell me what night it is, this night or the next night
Or the other one, the night before last. Be frank. ls it the night before last?
Help yourselves. I hate drinking alone. There's too much solitary shittery
What was it? Shadows. Silence, through leaves
Sunlight. It was my dream. Yes.
Who was drowning in my dream?
It was blinding. Oh I remember it
Yes, I've forgotten
By all that's sacred and holy. The sounds stopped. It was freezing
There's a gap in me. I can't fill it. There's a flood running through me. I can't plug it
They're blotting me out. Who is doing it? I'm suffocating
It's a muff. A muff, perfumed. Someone is doing me to death
She looked up. I was staggered. I had never seen anything so beautiful
That's all poison. We can't be expected to live like that
I remember nothing. I'm sitting in this room
I see you all, every one of you. A sociable gathering. All the dispositions are kindly
Am I asleep? There's no water. No one is drowning
Yes, yes, come on, come on, pipe up, speak up, speak up
Speak up. You're fucking me about, you bastards
Ghosts, long ghosts, you're making noises, I can hear you humming
I wear a crisp blue shirt at the Ritz
I know him well, the wine waiter, Boris. Boris, he's been there for years
- Blinding shadows, then a fall of water - It was I drowning in your dream
Bugger off.
Unhand me
He has grandchildren. As have I. As I have. We both have fathered. We are of an age
I know his wants. Let me take his arm
Respect our age
Come, I'll seat you
- There is no pity in these people - Christ
I am your true friend. That is why your dream was so distressing
You saw me drowning in your dream. But have no fear
- I am not drowned - Christ
Would you like me to make you some coffee?
- He thinks he's a waiter in Amsterdam - Service non compris
Whereas he's a pintpot attendant in The Bull's Head. And a pisspot attendant as well
Our host must have been in The Bull's Head tonight, where he had an unfortunate encounter
Hey scout, I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding
You're not in some shithouse down by the docks
You're in the home of a man of means, of a man of achievement. Do you understand me?
Why am I bothering? Tell me. Eh? Listen chummybum
We protect this gentleman against corruption, against men of craft, against men of evil
We could destroy you without a glance, we take care of this gentleman, we do it out of love
Why am I talking to him? I'm wasting my time with a nonstarter
I must be going mad. I don't usually talk. I don't have to. Normally I keep quiet
I know what it is. There's something about you fascinates me
- It's my bearing - That's what it must be
I've seen an Irishman chop his balls off
I suppose once you've had Irishmen you've had everything
Listen. Keep it tidy. You follow? You've just laid your hands on a rich and powerful man
It's not what you're used to, scout. How can I make it clear?
This is another class. It's another realm of operation. It's a world of silk. It's a world of organdie
It's a world of flower arrangements. It's a world of eighteenth-century cookery books
It's nothing to do with toffee apples and a packet of crisps.
It's milk in the bath. It's the cloth bellpull. It's organisation
- It's not rubbish - It's not rubbish. We deal in originals
Nothing duff, nothing ersatz, we don't open any old bottle of brandy
Mind you don't fall into a quicksand
Why don't I kick his head off and have done with it?
I am the same age as your master. I used to picnic in the country too, at the same time as he
Listen, my friend. This man in this chair, he's a creative man. He's an artist
We make life possible for him. We're in a position of trust
Don't try to drive a wedge into a happy household
You understand me? Don't try to make a nonsense out of family life
If you can't, I can. Come here
Where are the sandwiches? Cut the bread
- It's cut - It is not cut. Cut it
I'll go and cut it
I know you from somewhere
I must clean the house. No one else will do it
Your financial adviser is coming to breakfast
I've got to think about that. His taste changes from day to day
One day he wants boiled eggs and toast, the next day orange juice and poached eggs
The next scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, the next a mushroom omelette and champagne
Any minute now it'll be dawn. A new day
Your financial adviser's dreaming of his breakfast. He's dreaming of eggs. Eggs, eggs. What kind of eggs?
I'm egg-xhausted. I've been up all night. But it never stops. Nothing stops
It's all fizz. This is my life. I have my brief arousals. They leave me panting
I can't take the pace in London. Nobody knows what I miss
I miss the Siamese girls. I miss the girls in Bali
You don't come across them over here. You see them occasionally, on the steps of language schools
They're learning English, they're not prepared to have a giggle and a cuddle in their own language
Not in Regent Street. A giggle and a cuddle
Sometimes my ambitions extend no further than that.
I could do something else. I could make another life
I don't have to waste my time looking after a pisshound
I could find the right niche and be happy. The right niche, the right happiness
We're out of bread. I'm looking at the housekeeper
Neurotic poof. He prefers idleness. Unspeakable ponce. He prefers the Malay Straits...
...where they give you hot toddy in a fourposter. He's nothing but a vagabond cock
Move over. Get up
Keep on the move. Don't look back
I know that man
Do you know what I saw once in the desert, in the Australian desert?
A man walking along carrying two umbrellas
Two umbrellas. In the outback
- Was it raining? - No. It was a beautiful day
I nearly asked him what he was up to but I changed my mind
- Why? - Well, I decided he must be some kind of lunatic
I thought he would only confuse me
Listen. You know what it's like when you're in a room with the light on...
...and then suddenly the light goes out? I'll show you
It's like this