A Voyage Round My Father Page #2

in love with his wife.

I don't know anything

about that.

Exactly, Mr. Thong.

You are hardly an expert witness

on the subject of love, are you?

Members of the jury,

love has driven men and women in

times past to curious extremes.

It led Juliet to feign death

and Ophelia to madness.

No doubt it disturbed the

serenity of the Garden of Eden,

and we are told

it started the Trojan War.

But surely there is

no more curious example

of the mysterious effects of

the passion than the spectacle

of Captain Waring

of the Royal Engineers

roosting in a tree,

complacently viewing

the seduction of his beloved

through a pair

of strong racing binoculars.

Is not the whole story,

members of the jury,

an improbable and impertinent

tissue of falsehoods?

Bu! As soon as possible,

he returned to the safety

of the dahlias,

the ritual

of the evening earwig hunt.

Visitors were rare,

and h' spotted,

my father would move further

into the foliage

- until the danger was passed.

- Oh, my God.

Oh, really.

Well, I'm going to ground.

Oh. Oh.

Oh.

- Coast clear?

- I'm sure she saw us.

Well, I hope she did!

Make the wretched woman

understand

we... we dread visitors.

Where's the boy?

[Whistling 1

I was to be prepared for Hie.

Complete with house shoes,

gym shoes, football boots,

shirts gray, shirts white,

Bulldog Drummond,

min! Humbugs, boxing gloves,

sponge bags,

and my seating plans

for all the London theaters.

MOTHER:

Mr. Lean's going to drive him.

A trois heures e! Demi.

Half past 3:
00.

Yes, dear.

Mr. Lean's going to drive him.

FATHER:
All education

is totally useless,

but it does pass the time.

The boy can't mope around here

all day long

doing the crossword

till it's time he gets married.

Married?

[ Chuckles ]

There's plenty of time

to think about that

when he's learned to keep

his bedroom tidy.

The headmaster seemed

rather charming.

FATHER:

[ Chuckles ]

No one ever got a word of sense

out of any schoolmaster.

You may at a pinch

take their word

about, uh, equilateral hexagons,

but life...

Life's a closed book to them.

I've packed you

some mint humbugs.

They're allowed humbugs.

Don't expect any advice from me,

lhope?

All advice is useless.

MOTHER:
I've still got to mark

your hockey stick.

You're alone in this world,

and there's nothing anyone

can tell you about it.

[ Sobs 1

Oh, what's the matter

with the boy?

You're never crying?

- Oh.

- Ah.

Uh, say the word "rats."

Nobody can cry

if they say "rats."

It's something to do

with the muscles of the face.

Rats. Rats.

Rats.

[ Sniffs ]

R-Rats.

[Door closes,

engine turns over]

HEADMASTER:
Now, new boys.

Stand up now.

Let me have a look at you.

Someday, some far distant day,

you will be one-yearers.

Then you'll be two-yearers,

then three-yearers.

You will go away,

and you will write letters,

and I shall try hard

to remember you.

Then you'll be old boys.

Old Cliffhangers

you shall become,

and the fruit of your loins

shall return to the school

by the water...

Leave the room,

the boy who laughed.

The fruit of your loins

shall return and stand here,

even as you are standing here.

And we shall teach them.

We shall give them sound advice

so that hungry generations

of boys

shall learn not to eat peas

with their knives

or butter their hair

or clean their fingernails

with bus tickets.

You shall be taught to wash,

to bowl straight,

and to wipe your dirty noses.

In the sixth form,

you shall see something of golf.

You will look upon the staff

as your friends.

At all times,

you will call us by nicknames.

I am Noah.

My wife is Mrs. Noah.

You are the animals.

My son Lance is Shem.

Mr. Pearce and Mr. Box...

Ham and Japhet.

Matron is Matey.

And Mr. Bingo Ollard is...

Mr. Bingo Ollard

is Mr. Bingo Ollard.

These mysteries have I explained

to you, oh, litter of runts.

[Piano plays]

Cliffhanger School

Cliffhanger School

F Home oi our happy Gays F

F Wherer we serve F

Where'er we rule

You are the school we praise

A Hanger

A Hanger

A Hanger

Strafe you, boy!

Bomb and howitzer and strafe

the living daylights out of you!

God bomb you to hell!

Get your tin hats on.

It's coming over now.

It's equaled on a square.

What square,

you unfortunate cretin?

On the other two sides,

a right-angled bloody triangle!

Strafe you, boy!

Bomb and strafe,

bomb you to hell!

All right.

All right.

War's over.

Armistice Day.

Demob.

I suppose you want compensation.

If you like, sir.

How many books did I throw?

Six, sir.

That's not counting the duster.

Threepence a book and, uh,

penny the duster.

Is that fair?

I'd say so, sir.

From Ham, I learn!

The heahng power of money.

I am writing to you from outside

the President's Court

at the start of a divorce case.

Like all divorce cases,

this one is concerned with sex.

The subject you will find

to be filled with comic relief.

Like you,

I shall today be rubbing up

against second-rate minds.

Hallelujah! Give us a handout

to revive us again

Hallelujah! I'm a bum

Hallelu...

Do you know what a bum is?

Yes, sir.

In the American colonies,

dear boy,

a bum is not your posterior.

"Bum" is a penniless person.

Seriously, sir?

Hallelujah! Bum again

Hallelujah!

Give us a handout...

[Bell ringing]

Now, look,

nobody's going to laugh at you

if you use two simple chords.

You see?

- This.

- [ Chord plays]

- And this.

- [ Chord plays]

That's all.

Just two simple chords.

Always.

For every tune.

When springtime does come

- Oh

- Take my tip.

Sing in the back of your nose

so that it sounds as if you've

crossed the States by rail road.

[Nasal voice]

When springtime does come

Oh, won't we have fun

We'll throw up our jobs

and we'll go on the bum

[Normal voice ] Look as

if you know what you're doing,

and nobody's going to laugh.

By the way, you don't tie

that tie of yours properly.

What's properly, sir?

With the big knot.

The way he wears it.

He?

The king, of course.

Oh, yes, sir.

Of course.

That's Lydia, isn't it, sir?

Oh. I-IS it?

She makes our beds.

The king and I,

we've got a lot in common.

Yes, sir.

Same tie... same trouble.

What trouble is that, sir?

Woman trouble.

Just like the jolly old king.

The king and Japhet were both

tussling with the problems

from which my father

made his living.

Ah, get on with it, shall we?

MOTHER:

Yes, dear.

FATHER:
Yeah.

You will be pleased to hear

I won Jimpson v. Jimpson,

and the wife was convicted

of adultery

in the front seat of a motorcar

parked in

Hampstead Garden Suburb.

One vital bit of evidence

consisted of footmarks

on the dashboard.

- Is that really suitable, dear?

- Oh, just put that down, dear,

and get on with it.

My own final speech

lasted four hours,

and I made several jokes.

At home, we are, uh, cutting

our Korean chrysanthemums

and making marmalade.

An unusually large plague

of earwigs this summer.

Ever your loving father.

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