The Hippopotamus Page #2

what you have in mind,

but I'm not exactly

an investigative journalist.

You sure? No interest?

Well, it might be

ungodfatherly of me to suggest,

but it's a racing certainty

you're not in your right mind.

[Laughs] Well, you're forgiven.

But it's a pity, because

you know the people involved.

My Uncle Michael.

Michael Logan?

And I'd pay you handsomely.

25,000 now and the rest

either later or left in my will.

I... I thought you said...

The doctors say I'm going to

die. I don't believe I will.

Something happened to me

at Swafford Hall.

I want you to go there

and find the truth.

And if the truth is

you're not cured?

Then I'm dying of leukemia.

$25,000?

A hundred, all told.

Jane, there must be

1,000 journalists

who would do it

for a tenth of that sum.

But you're the only one

who'd get

through Swaffords front door.

- But Michael...

- You're godfather to his son.

Use him as your cover.

Delicious girl, since your

mother and I parted ways,

I've been as welcome

at Swafford as a...

A godson is still a godson.

Write to David.

Wangle an invitation.

And stay in touch.

I could be out of the house

'and filling in a deposit slip

in ten minutes.

'Jane was mad, certainly,

'but her check was crossed

and endearingly sane.

'I was perfectly happy to labor

'in the service

of Jane's delusions,

'but what were those delusions?

'I envied

those careless peasants

'tasked to find a needle

in a haystack.

'Mine was a more elusive quarry,

'an unholy mating of wild goose

and shaggy dog.

'My last visit to Swafford

had been amusing enough,

'but hardly revealing

of miracles.'

[I Louis Armstrong: "When

It's Sleepy Time Down South"]

Now the pale moon shining

On the fields below

The folks are crooning

Soft and low

You needn't tell me, boy,

I Because I know

I When it's sleepy time

down south...

Thanks for picking me up, Simon.

Davey wanted to come,

but I thought you'd enjoy

the two-seater more.

Built it myself.

[Car rattles]

[Engine sputters]

Davey says you're a poet.

That's the rumor.

Do one.

- [engine sputters]

- Do one?

A poem.

[Dog whines]

There was a young man

called Simon,

who hated the art of rhyming.

He thought it a shame

that his very own name

could only be mated

with "hymen."

Ha-ha-ha! Genius.

A limerick's the best I can do

at 60 miles an hour.

[Louis Armstrong:

"Hellzapoppin" ']

Hold your hats

The roof is 'bout to tumble in

Holy cats

The walls and floors

are crumblin'

Hellzapoppin'

Hellzapoppin'

Hellzapoppin'

The whole gang's whoopin' up

the whoop-de-doo

'Swafford Hall.

'The home of the Logan family

since 1984

'when globetrotting tycoon

Michael Logan

'debased himself for love

'by marrying into

the cash-strapped

British aristocracy.

'After doing something sinister

for Margaret Thatcher

'in the late 1980s,

'Michael was rebranded

"Lord Logan of Swafford"

'and has since successfully

managed the great house

'as a personal fiefdom,

'without compromising himself

'by running a wedding venue

or boutique hotel

'or, god forbid, a safari park.'

[Horn sounds]

[Engine sputters]

Uncle Edward!

Uncle Edward!

- Ah. Davey.

- Uncle Edward!

- Uncle Edward! Uncle Edward!

- Davey.

- Uncle Edward!

- Well met.

Hello, Uncle Edward.

Hello, Uncle Edward!

- Oh! Oh! Ha-ha!

- Just... just plain Ted.

Well, come on, Uncle Ted!

We've got so much to talk about!

Uh! Ooh!

Oh. Uh!

[Engine revs outside]

Ah! Podmore, is it not?

Welcome back to Swafford,

Mr. Wallace.

Hm.

Oh, er... don't worry.

I'll show Uncle Ted the house.

Oh, very well, Master David.

And then after dinner, I can

take you round the east wing.

Oh. Whiskey's right, isn't it?

Indeed.

But first perhaps a bath.

Er... followed by,

conceivably...

a nap.

Well, um... when you've...

I'll be on the south lawn...

in case you wanted a chat.

Bye.

- [Door shuts]

- [Ted sighs]

[Frog croaks]

'Since becoming his godfather,

'I had exchanged a series

of letters with young David.

'Mine, brief and infrequent

'and only occasionally

freighted with

a crumpled fiver.

'His, almost monthly,

impossibly tedious

'and often in iambic pentameter.

'He looked up

to his father, Michael,

'like a tiny daisy

looks to the sky,

'wishing he'll grow up to be

the blazing ball of the sun.

'The truth is,

'that men like Michael were

never willowy teenage poets.

'They were

the prep-school bullies

'punching the tuck money out of

cretinous boys like David

'and blowing it

on fags and jazz mags.

'Well, I'm here at least.

'How long I'll stay

depends, I suppose,

'on the kind of reception

Michael gives me.

'Michael and I were once

the best of friends,

'but a lot of water has passed

under that particular bridge.

'Then the bridge has been

dynamited by a core of engineers

'and washed down river

'into a vast ocean

of frosty indifference.

'It's a long story.'

Ted.

My love.

- Mwah! Mwah!

- Mm.

You're looking younger.

Lost some of that fat.

And you're looking...

wetter.

Tea?

Cake?

- It is so good to see you.

- HM!

Where's Michael?

He wants to have

a date with you.

- Mm.

- Before dinner.

Ah, best get it over with.

Hm. The stock platitude

of the untroubled mind.

I wish.

Oh, my love, what is it?

- It's david.

- Tell his godfather.

He... he's doing very well at

school, and he is a lovely boy.

It's just that he's a bit...

odd with people.

Well, Roman's a goth.

He's a bit odd with

people all the time.

Well, if only it was

a matter of...

of black eyeliner and clothes.

Give me a "for instance".

Well, at a dinner party last

weekend, he asked the local MP,

"Which animal do you think

has the longest penis?"

[Laughs]

She laughed and snapped

the stem of her wine glass.

- [Laughs]

- He persisted.

She said the sperm whale.

He said, "No,

"the male rabbit flea's

erect penis is two thirds

the length of his body.

Isn't that wonderful?"

Only if the female

has a sufficiently

elastic accommodation.

He's 16. He ought to know

how to avoid flustering people.

Ah, teenagers

are obsessed with sex.

He's pushing the boundaries,

finding his space.

It's normal.

Would you just keep an eye?

Both eyes.

That's why I'm here.

'You're late.

I had to start my practice.'

I was sleuthing.

Jesus suffering f***!

'Well, I expect you to be

on time. What have you seen?'

Simon is the boring teen

all-England trophy holder.

David is, well...

I don't know what David is yet.

But I've seen no sign

of anything even

faintly miraculous.

'I'm not sure

I'm getting value for money.'

Honey-munch, just tell me.

Don't tantalize. Tell me.

'If you're not objective,

there's no point.'

You need to keep your eyes open

and see what needs to be seen.

'Christ, she's absolutely

f***ing bat-infested.

'Right now, though,

I have a pressing engagement

'to be the recipient

'of some of Michael's

old-fashioned

mafia boss disapproval.'

Humiliating her on television!

Late-night television.

'I told you it's a long story,

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