The Real Inspector Hound and Other Plays (23 page)

BERNARD
(
waking up
): Ever seen one of these before, Arthur?—I won this fiver off——

ARTHUR
(
violently
): Ten thousand head of cattle on the hoof, packed together in a rolling river of hide and horn, meet our eye when we are woken with steak and eggs by a surly Redcap! The Silver Chief is on the Chisholm trail to Abilene! Amarillo—Laramie—El Paso—Dodge! The wheels roll, the rails curve, past the crude wooden crosses of Boot Hill where other lean-jawed men who once rode tall now lie in gunslingers’ graves. (
He reveals a Sheriff’s star on his waistcoat
.) And beyond, the open prairie. Tumbleweed races the train on either side. Lone riders whoop and wave their hats from lathering ponies and are lost to sight as we hit the dustbowls of Oklahoma! Where once the corn stood high as an elevator boy, and the barns shook with dancing farmhands changing partners to a fiddler’s call, now screen doors bang endlessly in the wind which long ago covered up the tyre tracks of bone-rattling pick-ups taking the Okies on their tragic exodus to the promised lands of El Dorado. How easy now on the gleaming rails, now carving a path through the heart of the grain lands where the gigantic mantis-forms of harvesters trawl the golden ocean that fills the breadbaskets of America!
    We climb with the sun out of the plains … Carson City—Sioux City—Tucson—Tulsa—Albuquerque—Acheson, Topeka and the Sante Fé—Wichita. … Snow-capped mountains shimmer on the horizon, and still we climb. From the observation platform at the rear we watch the shadows turn the thousand-foot walls of the Colorado River deep red and purple. Huddled in our blanket we sleep. Once we seem to wake to a nightmare of acrylic lights—against a magenta sky huge electric horseshoes, dice, roulette wheels and giant Amazons with tasselled breasts change colour atop marble citadels that would beggar Kubla Khan. But when the
cheerful Redcap shakes us all is peace. The Silver Chief is rolling through vineyards and orchards, a sun-bathed Canaan decked with peach and apricot, apples, plums, citrus fruit and pomegranates, which grow to the very walls of pink and yellow bungalows to the very edge of swimming pools where near-naked goddesses with honey-brown skins rub oil into their long downy limbs. Could this be paradise?—or is it after all, purgatory?—for look!—there, where picture palaces rise from the plain, searchlights and letters of fire light up the sky, and a screaming hydra-headed mob surges, fighting and weeping, around an unseen idol—golden calf or Cadillac, we do not stop to see—for now beyond the city, beyond America, beyond all, nothing lies before us but an endless expanse of blue, flecked with cheerful whitecaps. With wondering eyes we stare at the Pacific, and all of us look at each other with a wild surmise—silent——
(
The door opens. Several men and a woman barge in as though they owned the place, chatting among themselves
.)
I think you got the wrong room, buster.

The room is occupied by two men, both Home Office Civil Servants, both formally dressed
(
ARTHUR
and
BERNARD
.)

ARTHUR
has a file of papers among other paraphernalia
.

(
The door opens and in come
WITHENSHAW, COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE, MCTEAZLE, MRS. EBURY
and
CHAMBERLAIN
,
chatting
.
WITHENSHAW
goes to confront
ARTHUR
at the secretary|clerk’s desk
.)

WITHENSHAW:
What?

ARTHUR:
I’m sorry—this is a Home Office Departmental Meeting.

WITHENSHAW:
What are you doing here?

ARTHUR:
We are meeting here for the convenience of the Home Secretary who has to answer the Division Bell.

WITHENSHAW:
Well, I’m very sorry, but as you can see this room is occupied by a Select Committee.

ARTHUR:
On the contrary, as you can see, it is occupied by a
Home Office Departmental Meeting.

WITHENSHAW:
Yes, but we were here first.

MCTEAZLE:
Hello, Bernard—still soldiering on?

BERNARD
(
standing up
): Mr. McTeazle, isn’t it?—yes—yes—I was just showing young Arthur here—I bet you haven’t seen one of these for a while (
produces
£5
note
).
(
Meanwhile
WITHENSHAW
is writing another note for
MADDIE.
By this time
COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE, MCTEAZLE, CHAMBERLAIN
and
MRS. EBURY
have sat down. The
HOME SECRETARY
enters with a rush of words and sits in the Chairman’s place
.)

HOME SECRETARY:
Good afternoon, gentlemen—what a large gathering—difficult case?—I thought it was only that American—goodness me, let’s keep things tidy can we? (
He starts stacking the mess of newspapers on the table
.) An
orderly table makes for an orderly meeting. (
He has the
Mirror
in his hands
.) Strewth!

Tit-tit-tut-tut-oh! (
Sees
WITHENSHAW
whilst folding the pin-up picture away
.) Hello Malcolm.

ARTHUR
: This lady and these gentlemen are here for another
meeting, Minister.

WITHENSHAW
: Sorry, Reg, first come first served.

HOME SECRETARY
: Are you Send-In-A-Gumboot?

WITHENSHAW
: What?

HOME SECRETARY
: Are you Rubber Goods Import Quota?

WITHENSHAW: NO
—no—we’re Moral Standards in Public Life.

HOME SECRETARY
: Oh yes, so you are—no hard information, I hear.

WITHENSHAW
: We’re not sure, Reg—something came up this afternoon.

HOME SECRETARY
: Yes, well, I’m sorry to pull rank on you, Malcolm …
(
The Select Committee Members stand up
;
ARTHUR
and
BERNARD
sit down
.)
… but I’ve got to deal with a very sensitive and difficult case——
(
The
HOME SECRETARY
picks up
WITHENSHAW
’s
note to
MADDIE,
who by this point has entered and is hanging up her coat
.)
What’s this? ‘Forget Claridges, the Olden Bottle …’
(
WITHENSHAW
snatches it out of his hand and tears it into four and scatters the pieces
.)

MADDIE
(
to
HOME SECRETARY
): Hello, what are you doing here?

HOME SECRETARY
: How do you do? My name’s Jones. (
To
WITHENSHAW
.) As I was saying you must have the room of course.
(
ARTHUR
and
BERNARD
stand up
,
WITHENSHAW
crosses to his Chairman’s seat and the Select Committee sit down again. The
HOME SECRETARY
continues, the italicized words aside to
MADDIE
.)
Noblesse oblige—say no more—anyway I’m expected at an Intrusion of Privacy Sub-Committee of the
Forget Le Coq au Vin and La Poule au Pot
Departmental Committee on Rag and Bone Men, Debt Collectors and Journalists.

ARTHUR
: But Minister what about …?
(
ARTHUR
holds out the folder. The
HOME SECRETARY
whips out a pen and signs with a flourish
.)

HOME SECRETARY
: One more American can’t make any difference. (
BERNARD
approaches
WITHENSHAW
with the
£5
note
.)

BERNARD
: Mr. Withenshaw, isn’t it? Take a look at this—there’s quite a story behind it——
(
WITHENSHAW
snatches the note and tears it into four pieces
.
BERNARD
is crestfallen
.)

WITHENSHAW
(
shouts
): Get out!

HOME SECRETARY
: A word in your ear, Malcolm. Have you got time for a drink?
(
The Home Office men leave
.)

WITHENSHAW
: Well …
(
FRENCH
enters and crosses to his place
.)
… not really Reg.

HOME SECRETARY
: I’ll give you a ring.
(
The
HOME SECRETARY
leaves. An uncomfortable silence descends as the Select Committee settle down
.)

WITHENSHAW
: Well now … where were we …
(
Pause
.)

FRENCH
: Mr. Chairman …

WITHENSHAW
: Oh yes … you were about to make a point, Mr. French.

FRENCH
: Thank you Mr. Chairman. I have been giving this matter a great deal of thought during our short adjournment. I think I can say that never has the phrase
O tempora O mores
come so readily to the lips.

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: Meaning what?

FRENCH
: Meaning, ‘Oh the times Oh the …——’

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: I know what it means. Why was it on your lips?

FRENCH
: I am not a whited sepulchre, Mr. Chairman. I take no pleasure in crying ‘j’accuse’. But I have been talking to Miss Gotobed. She has poured out her heart to me and I may say it was a
mauvais quart d’heure
for the Mother of Parliaments. Not since Dunkirk have so many people been in the same boat—proportionately speaking. I am faced now
with a responsibility which I would dearly like to be without, but it seems I am presented with, to put it in plain English, a
fait accompli
. I have struggled with my conscience seeking an honourable course and not wishing to drag this noble institution through the mud.

WITHENSHAW
: A very responsible attitude, Mr. French.

FRENCH
: Thank you. I think I have indeed found a way. I propose we scrap the Chairman’s Report as it stands and replace it with a new report of my own drafting. (
He holds up a piece of paper. He clears his throat and starts to read
.) Paragraph i. In performing the duty entrusted to them your Committee took as their guiding principle that it is the just and proper expectation of every Member of Parliament, no less than for every citizen of this country, that what they choose to do in their own time, and with whom, is …

MADDIE
(
prompting
): … between them and their conscience.

FRENCH
(
simultaneously with
MADDIE
): … conscience, provided they do not transgress the rights of others or the law of the land; and that this principle is not to be sacrificed to that Fleet Street stalking-horse masquerading as a sacred cow labelled ‘The People’s Right to Know’.

Your Committee found no evidence or even suggestion of laws broken or harm done, and thereby concludes that its business is hereby completed.

WITHENSHAW:
Is that it?

FRENCH
: It’s the best I can do.

WITHENSHAW
: How am I going to spin that out until Queen’s Jubilee?

FRENCH
: You can’t. This is the last meeting of this Committee, unless you want to do it your way.

WITHENSHAW
: No—no——
(
MADDIE
throws her report and all her appendices in the waste-paper basket
.)

COCKLEBURY-SMYTHE
: You’ll have to get your peerage another way.