The Final Test Page #10

But you and I can manage it together.

A conspiracy, Auntie.

Probably end like that little

conspiracy of ours last night, eh?

- Do help me, Auntie. Will you?

- Alright.

Its very important to me, you know.

Its important to my amour propre.

And whats that when its at home?

Do me up, Ethel, will you?

Blasted things.

Alright dear, dont get over excited.

Youll choke yourself.

Of all the evenings to invite a

ruddy poet to supper.

Well, thats what Ive been telling him.

Now look, Reg, if I get a bit

stammery, and get myself ...

... into a sentence, and dont know

how the blazes to get out of it ...

... and thats very likely mind you,

you chip in quickly, you understand.

Rescue work is what I want from you tonight.

And anyway, I expect you to do

You and Ethel.

Oh Lord, here we go.

I havent done this blooming tie yet.

Well, I never. If it isnt you again.

What are you doing?

Are you following me about?

No no. This is Balmoral isnt it?

Of course, its Balmoral.

Now you be off or Ill call the police.

- But Ive been invited.

- Oh. Oh it isnt. It couldnt be.

Mr Whitehead.

Oh do come in please.

How dreadful. What ever must you think of me.

Id no idea.

Oh, youre dressed.

Will the great man be dressed too?

- You mean my brother?

- Hello, Mr Whitehead.

You wretched boy. Why didnt you warn me?

Look what Im wearing.

Oh please, Mr Whitehead.

Dont you worry one bit.

My brother and I often slip into

something decent for dinner.

It makes us feel more relaxed.

You know.

Now would you just excuse me while

I nip into the kitchen ...

... because its our maids night out, see?

Now Reggie, look after Mr Whitehead, dear.

- Come in here, Mr Whitehead.

- Shhh. Hold still.

- Can I get you a glass of sherry or something?

- No thank you.

- A cigarette, Mr Whitehead?

- No thank you.

Reggie, its quite on the cards that

Im going to make ...

... an embarrassing spectacle of myself tonight.

Im absolutely paralysed with nerves.

I once met Jack Hobbs, you know ...

... and for 10 minutes, I could do nothing

but make incoherent clicking noises ...

... which luckily he took to be my

observations on the weather.

If anything like that should happen

tonight, I want you to help me out.

Oh. This is my father.

Dad, Mr Alexander Whitehead.

How do you do.

Bad luck it raining this afternoon, wasnt it.

Yes, very bad luck.

Of course, there wouldnt have been

a finish to the game anyway, would there.

I suppose not.

Pardon me, Mr Whitehead.

Reg would you come and help me, dear.

Alright, Auntie.

Excuse me.

We saw a play of yours, last night on television.

Did you?

- Yes, quite remarkable I thought.

- Did you indeed?

Quite remarkable.

- I saw you bat this morning.

- Did you?

- Bad luck, your getting out like that.

- Oh, I dont know.

Tell me, Mr Palmer.

Did the ball go with his arm?

Well, Mr Whitehead, quite frankly thats

the sort of thing ...

... we say in the pavilion, afterwards.

Between you and me ...

... it didnt do a blooming thing.

It was straight and I missed it. Thats all.

Oh, thats wonderful. Thats exactly

what I thought youd say.

You see, I think I ought to tell you,

Mr Palmer. Youve been a hero of mine ...

... ever since I was at school.

- Really?

- Yes.

And this morning, when you were out

like that and the ...

... crowd stood for you, well I blubbed

just as if ...

- ... I was at school again.

- Well, I never.

At the same time, I dont mind

telling you, I envied you a bit.

- Envied me?

- Your choice of profession.

You see, others arent quite so rewarding.

Well, take my own for instance.

I mean, when the time comes for me

to retire and I write my last play ...

... if Im bowled for a duck on the

first night, I dont quite see ...

... the audience standing and cheering

me for five minutes.

Yes, but your profession ...

well, I mean it is a profession.

After all, what you do lasts.

What I do ... what I have done rather ...

Well, theres nothing to show.

Nothing to show?! But youre out of your mind.

I beg your pardon, Mr Palmer

Its just that I always get so excited about this.

You see its the old argument of the

non-creative artist being forgotten ...

... while the creative artist lives on.

Well, am I a, what was it, a non-creative artist?

Of course you are, but now tell me Mr Palmer,

do you think Paganini is forgotten?

Is Pavlova? Is Nijinsky? Is Garrick?

Of course, theyre not.

The non-creative artist has it over

the creative artist all the time.

Because what hes done or has done

must go on getting better and better ...

... as the years go by, until a

legend of greatness is built up ...

... which goes far beyond the actual truth.

Do you think Paganini was as good as all that?

Of course he wasnt.

Its just that his legend has grown up

with the years ,,,

... just as your legend will grow up

until in 50 years time ,,,

... youll be enthroned on Olympus

between Don Bradman and W G

There wont be any legend about me Mr Palmer.

Because Ive left ...

... record behind for posterity to read

and probably sneer at.

They cant sneer at you, Mr Palmer.

Thats why I envy you so deeply.

Well, I cant say that Ive understood

everything youve said, Mr Whitehead ...

... and one or two of those names

youve mentioned just now ...

... I have to confess I wasnt too sure of myself.

Still, coming from a man like you

that's quite a comfort.

Quite a comfort.

Because I dont mind telling you,

Ive been worrying a bit lately.

- Damn collars too tight.

- Take it off.

I think I will.

Mr Palmer, I want to ask you something

really important.

Do you hold your hand further over

for the hook?

Oh no.

Never move your hands for any stroke.

Now look, Ill show you.

Now this is my grip.

I suppose it isnt what you call classical ...

... but still it works.

Now for the hook, I put my foot across ...

- ... and hit into it. Like that.

- I wonder if I might try that while ...

- ... its still fresh in my mind.

- Yes do.

Now then, get the grip right. Thats right.

Thumb over. Thats right.

Now foot across and ...

Thats not bad. Now try again.

Thumb over. Get that grip right. Thats right.

Now put ... Now hit right into it.

- Im frightfully sorry.

- Oh, thats alright never mind ...

I always hated it.

Now, I dont think you got that quite right.

- Just let me show you that again.

- Dinners quite ready.

Oh. My best Chinese vase.

Sam Palmer, how could you.

- Im afraid I did it.

- Oh.

Oh well, Mr Whitehead, it doesnt matter a bit really.

- Wheres your collar?

- I took it off. Its more comfortable.

Well, shall we go in?

I still dont see how you get any force

into the stroke without changing the grip.

- Well its all a question of timing.

- Excuse me.

- You mean like this.

- Oh thats alright Mr Whitehead.

Now watch my hand.

- Oh hello Cora dear.

- Could I see Sam a moment please, Miss Palmer.

Were having a guest to dinner, and

weve got rather an important guest.

- I only want a word, just one word.

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