1644
DAY NINETEEN: THURSDAY
Ah, there you are! No, I haven't quite left Tinkerleys yet. I’ve been spending some time listening to this odd lot of Actors rehearsing. Who, you might ask? Well -
It seems as though the Upper Vaxham Culturally Relevant Amateur Players - yes, I’m aware of the acronym, but these people wouldn't notice such a mundane thing as that. They’re far too self involved to notice anything. No, the name is thus, and thus it remains, as a point of mockery. Silly bastards.
CRAP is putting on a play, to which they are currently rehearsing. It’s called ‘Ermentrude And Lionel’, written by an up and coming young local writer, called Jacob Holpe, though it seems he prefers to be called ‘The Bard’ Jacob Holpe. He isn't a Bard, let me tell you. He’s certainly something, though. I just don't know if I dare speak it out loud.
Anyway, as far as I can gather, the play is about a man who is to be King, who falls for a common woman, and thus has to choose between Duty and Crown, and the woman he loves. Bleh. Load of rubbish if you ask me? Which you didn’t. But it’s given me an idea. I’ve thought of a way to distract the town from me for a while.
Yes, I’ve started a rumour that His Majesty, Chucky Stewpot is coming to the theatre to see them. So far it’s working, because the Players seem to be working that bit harder, and the whispers have done the rounds at least three times now.
And yes, I am aware it’s the penultimate day, and therefore the day of reckoning with the Roundabouts, but while I’m in here, at Clubman Headquarters, I feel a little safer. Even the Roundabouts aren't mad enough to do something in here. Well, most of the Roundabouts wouldn’t. Actually, now I come to think about it -
“I tell you, it’s our golden opportunity!” Are they talking to me? No. But someone’s talking to somebody.
“Nod, you’re insane! I know you believe in the cause, but -“
“It is not a cause, Graham! It is a way of life!”
“Shh! Someone could hear your seditious -“
“Let them! I tell you, my friend, sooner or later, this country will become a Republic! And if it is I who is to make the first cut, then -“
“Nod Pinckle! Enough! The odd little terror here and there, fine, but you’re talking about -“
“Yes, I know. Regicide!”
“I was right! You are insane!”
Nod Pinckle? Where have I heard that name before? Of course! It’s on the Playbill! He’s one of the Actors! Oh, this has just hit the bloody road running! It’s moved on a step, that’s for sure. I better get on it.
I know. I need someone to act as Charlie. Then, when this Nod Pinckle does his thing and botches an assassination, then - then no one will give a crap about me, don’t you reckon? What do you mean a long shot? And who said unnecessary? Whoever that was, get out! I don’t want your sort dirtying up my plans! Some people, eh?
Right, I think I’ve got an idea who I can use. I’ll get Flit to bring him to the Church, when I return to the Rectory to wash and - dare I say it? - eat. Okay, let’s get there faster, eh? No point dawdling about out here. I mean it’s quieter than - a mouse with it’s vocal chords torn out, floating in a vacuum? Buggering subtlety has left me over the last sodding few days, it bloody seems. Speed of narrative travel! Whoosh!
“Flit? One of your heart-cloggingly best breakfasts, if you please? In fact, even if you don’t please. Just make one, eh? And a brackish liquid in a cup, barely resembling anything even close to tea. Then get out the box of disguises. We’ve got some subterfuge to do.” Right, while he’s doing that, I’m going to do something with this sodding phallus finger. Where’s that file? Ah, got it. Here we go. A little bit off there. A little bit off there. A bloody load off there - God, I’ve never felt more like a Mohel in my life - smooth that down, and - ah! Now it looks like a - thumb? But it’s a damn sight closer to a finger than it was. At least it’s less suggestive. I’ll perhaps stop getting those weird looks now. Well, most of them. No, I’ve no idea why either. There are strange people abroad. Aren't there always?
Right, there’s breakfast done. And the - gulp - tea? Yes, I know it was quick. Expediency is the watchword today. Amongst some other, far more dirty and unrecognisable ones, which I will not repeat in polite company. But seeing as its just you lot, then -
“He’s waitin’ at the Church, Boss.” Bugger. Oh well.
“Alright, Flit. Bring the box of disguises.” Yes, I know it would be easier for the both of us to carry it, but how will he ever learn otherwise? Well, we’re here. The Church. Yes, that was quick too. Stop pointing it out, will you?
“‘Ere’s Harry Tittlewood, Rector.”
“Ah, Harry! Has Flit told you what we want you for?”
“No, Rector.” Hmm. The voice is going to be a problem. We’ll put it around that he’s lost his voice or something. And his face is a little - misshapen? Still, what with the ‘tache and the wig - a little bit of eyeliner - no one’ll know the difference. From a distance. With particularly bad eyesight. In a fog. Under water. Sod it, it’s gone too far to turn back now. We’ll just have to improvise.
“Flit? The Royal Clothes, if you please?” I really should stop saying that. It gives him the impression he’s got a choice, “Now, Harry, old chap. Put them on, eh?” Good. At least they fit. It was going to be a miracle of persuasion to get people to believe His Majesty had lost a substantial amount of weight in the last few days. Now to apply the facial hair, the beauty spot, the eyeliner - you know what? He’d fool me. If it was at a distance, with bad eyesight - etcetera, “Right, Flit. Look after His Majesty, and make sure he understands what we want of him. And if he doesn't get it, help him get it, if you know what I mean? Oh, don’t worry, Harry. This won’t be painful - oh, who am I kidding? Just - you know - do it Flit, Okay?” Right, that’s all taken care of, I suppose. I’m just going to grab a quick pint in the Frozen Arm, before it all kicks off. Flit knows what to do. He may be some sub-human species, but he has a brain, somewhere. Probably in his arse.
It’s certainly quiet in the pub today? I think it might be because of William Street. I mean, get over it? It was ages ago. Still, better not say that out loud.
See, of course, I’m used to people staring at me. It’s my devastating handsomeness, I’ve no doubt. But look at this girl staring? Wow. Oh, look out. She’s coming over, "Have you heard of the birth of Augustus, Duke of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Plön-Norburg?” The who with the what now?
"No, should I have?"
"Damn. Sorry. Thought you were someone else." I can be anyone you bloody well like, young lady!
“Uhm - who is this Augustus, Duke of Somewhere-or-other?"
"Never mind." Oh, look how that curled hair dances over her cheeks delectably, "It was a code. You should have replied, 'No, but did you know his Mother's name is Dorothea Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein-Gottorp?'"
"Alright. I can say that if you would like me to?" Okay, attractive as you are, can you stop staring now?
"Uhm, would you be interested in some intimate work?” Holy shitsticks! At last! Posster? Your luck’s in!
"Just tell me where and how hard, young lady."
"Mary Gup.”
"Oh, I am sorry -“ Poor girl.
"It's my name?"
"Oh. Uhm, sorry?" Poor girl?
“Wait here, for just a breath or two. I’ll be right back.” Oh, what a glorious, captivating smile! She is melting my heart as we stand here, entwined in our souls!
"Certainly." Come on! Who wouldn't answer a call like that?! I mean - oh, she’s gone. That has to be almost the strangest proposal for sex I’ve ever had? Almost. I’m not telling you the most. Discretion is the better part of - oh, whatever. Mind your own business. Let’s just say it had much to do with a wall, a stoat and the Princess of Spain. Any more and - well, you know.
Whatever. I’m totally under her spell.
Okay, well, right now I don't seem to know how and where to put my hands. Palms down on the table, I suppose - the classic. And here she comes again, “I am to inform you that there is a ground swell against the King brewing. I am part of a small band of Republicans who wish to see an end to this tyrannical rule. I bid you meet our leader, Nod Pinckle." Now that’s one way to make a dramatic entrance. Here he comes, out of the darkness of the corner of the pub. I’d say he’s in his mid-twenties. He’s a handsome chap as well, isn't he?
"I know your face, don't I? The Rector?”
"Well, technically, I'm a farmer from Leaswood -“ Shit! I don't know why I said that? That’s a piece of my past I always keep hidden!
"Wilfred Posster. Rector for Upper Vaxham. Mary, I look to you. I will trust your judgement in him." Oh, look how he says that so handsomely!
"I - I guess -"
"There you are! She vouches for me!"
"I - yes, okay. I vouch for him, Nod."
"Then that is good enough for me. Come. Listen to what we have planned.” Okay. Where are we going? The Outside Toilet? Really? I mean, couldn't he think of somewhere, I don't know, less crowded? Not to mention less smelly? But then - oh, Mary. Mary Gup. You are so - so - excuse me? Can I just - that’s it. Put my foot there and - okay, go!
“For the good of the Country, we are going to assassinate the King.” Right. Nothing in that sounded odd. Nope, nothing. Carry on, “With prejudice." Still nothing odd, ”That is where you come in."
“Right. How? How do I come in?"
“There is a point in the play, where the Actor playing Lionel talks to the audience as part of his monologue. Then the stage goes dark, and a loud bang sounds - this is when the King is to be killed, by you, hopefully unseen in the Royal Box.”
“You know what? There is nothing you have said so far that is against my principles? Everything is congruent with my own opinions. Isn't that right, Mary?”
“I - suppose so?” Isn't she great?
“It would be my honour to do this.”
Oh, Mary’s just put her hand on my arm! Can it be? "I really can't believe you're doing this for us! You know, I think I love you?” She just kissed me! On the cheek! Holy shit! I care not for the consequences of this Regicidal action now! Let it be so! Huzzah!
Here comes Nod again! What a guy! Still, I’d prefer it to be Mary -
"I was wrong about you, Posster. I thought you couldn't be trusted, thought you an enemy of the people? But you have proved yourself, that you are a true believer in the Cause. I would be glad to call you Brother, Brother." Right, well - "Now go, Brother. A friend will be waiting for you at the Stage Door. Go!”
Yes sir! And here I go, toward my destiny! Oh, the streets are full, but I care not! I am doing this for her! For Mary Gup! Here I am! At Tinkerleys! Ah. No one at the door after all. Never mind. It cannot stop me. Hang on - I do have the right door don't I? Yep. Says Stage Door right there. Ah, it’s open, at least. Right, well, I guess it’s up here? No one seems to be paying any attention to me. They must think I’m just another Actor, or one of the Crew. It’s alright. Ah, here I am. The doors leading to the Boxes. Not this one. Not this one. Nor this. Yes, this is the one! Right. I’ll just get down here and wait for my cue -
There he is! The perfectly pampered man sitting upon a dark brown, wooden chair, decked out in a long brown curly wig and a Kingly beard trimmed with precision and to perfection -
Wait a minute -
This is not right. Who said that? Me. Who’s me? The spirit, you dolt! Who you calling a - yes! you’re right! How could I have been so enchanted? It’s that Mary Gup woman. How so? She is the Vessel of Temptation. So none of that was real? Nope. None of it. Which means -
“Psst! Harry! Yes, down here! It’s me, the Rector? Trust me, it is. Look, come over here into the shadows! Just - do it! Okay, now take off that disguise. Give it here. Right. Harry? Slip out of here and go. Just go! It doesn't matter what Flit told you - look, run away, or I’ll get Flit to -“ That got him. Here goes -
“- And so shall it be!” There’s the darkness and the bang! Time for revenge.
“Arrest and execute those two! Nod Pinckle and his accomplice, Mary Gup!” Hah! Just look at their faces! That’ll teach you to take advantage of me, you bastards! Yes! The Clubmen are taking them away! See, no one argues with the King, when he - shit! I’m dressed as the King! What the bloody Hell do I do now? I really didn't think this through, did I? That’s right - run!
And so it is. Poor, stupid, delusional me - I didn't even get to touch her boobs proper, you know? What a shame, eh? They looked - well formed.
I’ve noticed the Roundabouts have been particularly absent as well today? Maybe I’ve broken the curse? Maybe, just maybe, the whole spirit thing, the predictions - they could all be wrong?
Who knows, or dares to dream -
Ah, there you are! No, I haven't quite left Tinkerleys yet. I’ve been spending some time listening to this odd lot of Actors rehearsing. Who, you might ask? Well -
It seems as though the Upper Vaxham Culturally Relevant Amateur Players - yes, I’m aware of the acronym, but these people wouldn't notice such a mundane thing as that. They’re far too self involved to notice anything. No, the name is thus, and thus it remains, as a point of mockery. Silly bastards.
CRAP is putting on a play, to which they are currently rehearsing. It’s called ‘Ermentrude And Lionel’, written by an up and coming young local writer, called Jacob Holpe, though it seems he prefers to be called ‘The Bard’ Jacob Holpe. He isn't a Bard, let me tell you. He’s certainly something, though. I just don't know if I dare speak it out loud.
Anyway, as far as I can gather, the play is about a man who is to be King, who falls for a common woman, and thus has to choose between Duty and Crown, and the woman he loves. Bleh. Load of rubbish if you ask me? Which you didn’t. But it’s given me an idea. I’ve thought of a way to distract the town from me for a while.
Yes, I’ve started a rumour that His Majesty, Chucky Stewpot is coming to the theatre to see them. So far it’s working, because the Players seem to be working that bit harder, and the whispers have done the rounds at least three times now.
And yes, I am aware it’s the penultimate day, and therefore the day of reckoning with the Roundabouts, but while I’m in here, at Clubman Headquarters, I feel a little safer. Even the Roundabouts aren't mad enough to do something in here. Well, most of the Roundabouts wouldn’t. Actually, now I come to think about it -
“I tell you, it’s our golden opportunity!” Are they talking to me? No. But someone’s talking to somebody.
“Nod, you’re insane! I know you believe in the cause, but -“
“It is not a cause, Graham! It is a way of life!”
“Shh! Someone could hear your seditious -“
“Let them! I tell you, my friend, sooner or later, this country will become a Republic! And if it is I who is to make the first cut, then -“
“Nod Pinckle! Enough! The odd little terror here and there, fine, but you’re talking about -“
“Yes, I know. Regicide!”
“I was right! You are insane!”
Nod Pinckle? Where have I heard that name before? Of course! It’s on the Playbill! He’s one of the Actors! Oh, this has just hit the bloody road running! It’s moved on a step, that’s for sure. I better get on it.
I know. I need someone to act as Charlie. Then, when this Nod Pinckle does his thing and botches an assassination, then - then no one will give a crap about me, don’t you reckon? What do you mean a long shot? And who said unnecessary? Whoever that was, get out! I don’t want your sort dirtying up my plans! Some people, eh?
Right, I think I’ve got an idea who I can use. I’ll get Flit to bring him to the Church, when I return to the Rectory to wash and - dare I say it? - eat. Okay, let’s get there faster, eh? No point dawdling about out here. I mean it’s quieter than - a mouse with it’s vocal chords torn out, floating in a vacuum? Buggering subtlety has left me over the last sodding few days, it bloody seems. Speed of narrative travel! Whoosh!
“Flit? One of your heart-cloggingly best breakfasts, if you please? In fact, even if you don’t please. Just make one, eh? And a brackish liquid in a cup, barely resembling anything even close to tea. Then get out the box of disguises. We’ve got some subterfuge to do.” Right, while he’s doing that, I’m going to do something with this sodding phallus finger. Where’s that file? Ah, got it. Here we go. A little bit off there. A little bit off there. A bloody load off there - God, I’ve never felt more like a Mohel in my life - smooth that down, and - ah! Now it looks like a - thumb? But it’s a damn sight closer to a finger than it was. At least it’s less suggestive. I’ll perhaps stop getting those weird looks now. Well, most of them. No, I’ve no idea why either. There are strange people abroad. Aren't there always?
Right, there’s breakfast done. And the - gulp - tea? Yes, I know it was quick. Expediency is the watchword today. Amongst some other, far more dirty and unrecognisable ones, which I will not repeat in polite company. But seeing as its just you lot, then -
“He’s waitin’ at the Church, Boss.” Bugger. Oh well.
“Alright, Flit. Bring the box of disguises.” Yes, I know it would be easier for the both of us to carry it, but how will he ever learn otherwise? Well, we’re here. The Church. Yes, that was quick too. Stop pointing it out, will you?
“‘Ere’s Harry Tittlewood, Rector.”
“Ah, Harry! Has Flit told you what we want you for?”
“No, Rector.” Hmm. The voice is going to be a problem. We’ll put it around that he’s lost his voice or something. And his face is a little - misshapen? Still, what with the ‘tache and the wig - a little bit of eyeliner - no one’ll know the difference. From a distance. With particularly bad eyesight. In a fog. Under water. Sod it, it’s gone too far to turn back now. We’ll just have to improvise.
“Flit? The Royal Clothes, if you please?” I really should stop saying that. It gives him the impression he’s got a choice, “Now, Harry, old chap. Put them on, eh?” Good. At least they fit. It was going to be a miracle of persuasion to get people to believe His Majesty had lost a substantial amount of weight in the last few days. Now to apply the facial hair, the beauty spot, the eyeliner - you know what? He’d fool me. If it was at a distance, with bad eyesight - etcetera, “Right, Flit. Look after His Majesty, and make sure he understands what we want of him. And if he doesn't get it, help him get it, if you know what I mean? Oh, don’t worry, Harry. This won’t be painful - oh, who am I kidding? Just - you know - do it Flit, Okay?” Right, that’s all taken care of, I suppose. I’m just going to grab a quick pint in the Frozen Arm, before it all kicks off. Flit knows what to do. He may be some sub-human species, but he has a brain, somewhere. Probably in his arse.
It’s certainly quiet in the pub today? I think it might be because of William Street. I mean, get over it? It was ages ago. Still, better not say that out loud.
See, of course, I’m used to people staring at me. It’s my devastating handsomeness, I’ve no doubt. But look at this girl staring? Wow. Oh, look out. She’s coming over, "Have you heard of the birth of Augustus, Duke of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Plön-Norburg?” The who with the what now?
"No, should I have?"
"Damn. Sorry. Thought you were someone else." I can be anyone you bloody well like, young lady!
“Uhm - who is this Augustus, Duke of Somewhere-or-other?"
"Never mind." Oh, look how that curled hair dances over her cheeks delectably, "It was a code. You should have replied, 'No, but did you know his Mother's name is Dorothea Augusta of Schleswig-Holstein-Gottorp?'"
"Alright. I can say that if you would like me to?" Okay, attractive as you are, can you stop staring now?
"Uhm, would you be interested in some intimate work?” Holy shitsticks! At last! Posster? Your luck’s in!
"Just tell me where and how hard, young lady."
"Mary Gup.”
"Oh, I am sorry -“ Poor girl.
"It's my name?"
"Oh. Uhm, sorry?" Poor girl?
“Wait here, for just a breath or two. I’ll be right back.” Oh, what a glorious, captivating smile! She is melting my heart as we stand here, entwined in our souls!
"Certainly." Come on! Who wouldn't answer a call like that?! I mean - oh, she’s gone. That has to be almost the strangest proposal for sex I’ve ever had? Almost. I’m not telling you the most. Discretion is the better part of - oh, whatever. Mind your own business. Let’s just say it had much to do with a wall, a stoat and the Princess of Spain. Any more and - well, you know.
Whatever. I’m totally under her spell.
Okay, well, right now I don't seem to know how and where to put my hands. Palms down on the table, I suppose - the classic. And here she comes again, “I am to inform you that there is a ground swell against the King brewing. I am part of a small band of Republicans who wish to see an end to this tyrannical rule. I bid you meet our leader, Nod Pinckle." Now that’s one way to make a dramatic entrance. Here he comes, out of the darkness of the corner of the pub. I’d say he’s in his mid-twenties. He’s a handsome chap as well, isn't he?
"I know your face, don't I? The Rector?”
"Well, technically, I'm a farmer from Leaswood -“ Shit! I don't know why I said that? That’s a piece of my past I always keep hidden!
"Wilfred Posster. Rector for Upper Vaxham. Mary, I look to you. I will trust your judgement in him." Oh, look how he says that so handsomely!
"I - I guess -"
"There you are! She vouches for me!"
"I - yes, okay. I vouch for him, Nod."
"Then that is good enough for me. Come. Listen to what we have planned.” Okay. Where are we going? The Outside Toilet? Really? I mean, couldn't he think of somewhere, I don't know, less crowded? Not to mention less smelly? But then - oh, Mary. Mary Gup. You are so - so - excuse me? Can I just - that’s it. Put my foot there and - okay, go!
“For the good of the Country, we are going to assassinate the King.” Right. Nothing in that sounded odd. Nope, nothing. Carry on, “With prejudice." Still nothing odd, ”That is where you come in."
“Right. How? How do I come in?"
“There is a point in the play, where the Actor playing Lionel talks to the audience as part of his monologue. Then the stage goes dark, and a loud bang sounds - this is when the King is to be killed, by you, hopefully unseen in the Royal Box.”
“You know what? There is nothing you have said so far that is against my principles? Everything is congruent with my own opinions. Isn't that right, Mary?”
“I - suppose so?” Isn't she great?
“It would be my honour to do this.”
Oh, Mary’s just put her hand on my arm! Can it be? "I really can't believe you're doing this for us! You know, I think I love you?” She just kissed me! On the cheek! Holy shit! I care not for the consequences of this Regicidal action now! Let it be so! Huzzah!
Here comes Nod again! What a guy! Still, I’d prefer it to be Mary -
"I was wrong about you, Posster. I thought you couldn't be trusted, thought you an enemy of the people? But you have proved yourself, that you are a true believer in the Cause. I would be glad to call you Brother, Brother." Right, well - "Now go, Brother. A friend will be waiting for you at the Stage Door. Go!”
Yes sir! And here I go, toward my destiny! Oh, the streets are full, but I care not! I am doing this for her! For Mary Gup! Here I am! At Tinkerleys! Ah. No one at the door after all. Never mind. It cannot stop me. Hang on - I do have the right door don't I? Yep. Says Stage Door right there. Ah, it’s open, at least. Right, well, I guess it’s up here? No one seems to be paying any attention to me. They must think I’m just another Actor, or one of the Crew. It’s alright. Ah, here I am. The doors leading to the Boxes. Not this one. Not this one. Nor this. Yes, this is the one! Right. I’ll just get down here and wait for my cue -
There he is! The perfectly pampered man sitting upon a dark brown, wooden chair, decked out in a long brown curly wig and a Kingly beard trimmed with precision and to perfection -
Wait a minute -
This is not right. Who said that? Me. Who’s me? The spirit, you dolt! Who you calling a - yes! you’re right! How could I have been so enchanted? It’s that Mary Gup woman. How so? She is the Vessel of Temptation. So none of that was real? Nope. None of it. Which means -
“Psst! Harry! Yes, down here! It’s me, the Rector? Trust me, it is. Look, come over here into the shadows! Just - do it! Okay, now take off that disguise. Give it here. Right. Harry? Slip out of here and go. Just go! It doesn't matter what Flit told you - look, run away, or I’ll get Flit to -“ That got him. Here goes -
“- And so shall it be!” There’s the darkness and the bang! Time for revenge.
“Arrest and execute those two! Nod Pinckle and his accomplice, Mary Gup!” Hah! Just look at their faces! That’ll teach you to take advantage of me, you bastards! Yes! The Clubmen are taking them away! See, no one argues with the King, when he - shit! I’m dressed as the King! What the bloody Hell do I do now? I really didn't think this through, did I? That’s right - run!
And so it is. Poor, stupid, delusional me - I didn't even get to touch her boobs proper, you know? What a shame, eh? They looked - well formed.
I’ve noticed the Roundabouts have been particularly absent as well today? Maybe I’ve broken the curse? Maybe, just maybe, the whole spirit thing, the predictions - they could all be wrong?
Who knows, or dares to dream -
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