The Hippopotamus Page #6

you. You must embrace it.

Drain it, yes.

That's right, drain it.

- No! No, let her go!

- Yes. F*** off!

Aaah! Aaah!

' Eurgh!

- Oh!

Come on. We can't have

you going into the house,

looking like this.

- Let's get you cleaned up.

- Oh, she bit me.

Simon, you can't leave me!

Physicist, heal thyself.

'So much for the modern miracle.

'I don't recall

Saint Francis of Assisi

'ejaculating into

anybody's mouth.'

F***!

'Maybe they just left

that part out.'

Uncle Ted, she... she bit me.

Are all your cures like that?

Don't talk. Don't say a word.

Can you stand?

Yeah, come on.

'It's easier for the old

to judge the young.'

She bit me.

'And I'll admit it's been

particularly hard

'to warm to David,

'with his cricket sweaters

and soggy sonnets,

'but the truth is that

this boy is my godson.

I may be unreliable when it

comes to fonts

and silver napkin rings,

'but when I saw him suffering

a catastrophic sex disaster,

'I did feel a twinge

of the old esprit de corps.

I never was a boy scout,

'and I certainly don't do

a good deed every day,

'but one whopper every 15 years

'surely must earn me

a badge of some kind.'

Mr. Lennox?

Mr. Lennox?

[She clears throat]

Oh. Yes.

Yes.

[Doctor] Can you

tell me the nature

of your... relationship

with David?

Some days good, some days bad.

You are the boy's father?

For my sins.

Then perhaps you can explain

why David said to me,

"The pain got much worse

in the car,

"partly because

"Uncle Ted is

a terrible driver."

I'm glad to say it's rare

for a child to be admitted

with human bite marks

to the penis.

Even rarer for the

hysterical boy to be accompanied

by a famous public figure.

Well, if you knew who I was,

why didn't you say?

I think you'd better tell me

who David's parents are.

I'd like to talk to David.

I don't think the police will

allow you to do any such thing.

Police?

You're in a position

of authority, Mr. Wallace.

Let's be grown-ups, shall we?

This is just a pair of lovers

suffering an unfortunate mishap.

This may pass for acceptable

in your bohemian world, but...

I have a boy David's age.

If this happened to him, do you

think I'd kick up a stink?

It may interest you to know

that I'm a magistrate.

And a member of Calvinists

against cock-sucking

and housewives against

fellatio, no doubt?

The parents get involved,

the... The guilt, the shame...

If I do not have the number

of David's parents this minute,

I shall call the police.

One, two...

All right, all right.

I suppose you want the girl's

name too so two sets can be...

- Girl?

- The girl.

The girl. The girl.

Did you think he was being

sucked off by a giraffe?

I thought you were the...

other party.

You thought what?

If there's been a mistake,

I'm sorry.

It's my duty to...

establish the facts.

'Oh, fabulous.

'I have chanced upon one of the

very few people in the world

'to have my poetry

on their shelf,

'who have examined

the contents of my soul,

'and she thinks

I'm a f***ing pedophile.'

Well, I went down

to the woods today,

and I sure as hell

had a big surprise.

I missed the sex offenders

register by a whisker.

Sometimes the gift

demands a sacrifice.

Perhaps it would help

if you told me

about the exact nature

of your powers.

Stop the car.

No, I've done quite enough

running around after you

for one weekend.

I'll tell you, but not here.

[Door beeps]

I call it the gift, not my gift.

I can feel the power of nature.

I put my hand

on a sick creature,

and it courses through me

like lightning.

But I also have human feelings.

Hunger.

And cold.

And all types of hunger.

The first time I had

a wet dream was last year.

I know, which is late.

I knew that... that

I couldn't allow

such a terrible thing

to happen, all that waste.

It's not just my hands, you see.

Every part of me can heal.

My blood and my seed.

Okay.

I knew that if I only

used it for good,

and not to give myself pleasure,

then that could be

a powerful tool as well.

Which is why with Clara, you...

It started with Jane.

Her sickness was

too powerful for my hand,

but I knew that

if I got my essence in,

deep inside her,

then it would work.

These powers.

Do you think they're inherited?

Anyone can have a pure spirit.

Even me?

Especially you.

When you were a poet,

you were inspired to see

the glory of the world.

Bollocks.

You want poetry, you fight

with paper and pencil.

You muck in with humanity.

You don't wait for inspiration

to vomit bliss over you.

The world is charged

with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out,

like shining from shook foil...

Gerard Manley Hopkins worked.

He studied anglo-saxon

rhythmic structure.

He learned Welsh.

But the genius was inside him.

Look at Simon.

We have the same genes,

but he has an ordinary soul.

And your soul?

It's different and special.

Different and special.

Yes, and you should

respect that.

Bollocks!

'See what needs to be seen,

my ass.

'Miracles, my cock

and baggy balls.

'Sorry to piss on the parade,

'but we all see what we want

to see and no-one is immune,

'be it the shabby chic of Zen

'or the wanton razzamatazz

of high Catholicism,

'or merely sucking off

'some teenage Christ-come-lately

'in a bucolic woodland glade.

'It's all just

a fun-house mirror,

'a means to see yourself

happier, healthier,

'prettier, or less...

'well, less dying of leukemia.

'Poor old Jane.

You senseless cow.

'Maybe I am just too jaded

to be filled with wonder.

'Maybe I should sacrifice

'my every standard

of wit and reason

'and throw my lot in

with this imbecile cult.

'If any of us

could use a miracle,

'it's Ted f***ing Wallace.

'I wasn't always this bitter

bin bag of custard, you know.

'Tune me up, Jesus.

'Make me whole, God's son.'

Pour me a gin, would you?

Yes, of course.

My God,

look at the state of you.

If you're here, Rebecca,

who's ruling over Narnia?

Fancy you having the gall

to turn up here!

I bet Michael must have

loved it, when you rang.

I wrote to David, as it happens.

Oh, course you did.

Got some godfathering

to make up on.

'It appears we can evade

the truth no longer

'and must finally confront

the tangled story

'of my life with the Logans.

'Well, that story began

'with Michael's

younger sister, Rebecca,

'with whom I dared to dally

many moons ago.'

I'm joined this evening

by one of this country's

most celebrated poets,

and now in the running...

'our little folie a deux

came crashing to a conclusion

'after she invited me

to perform some

earnest chin-stroking

'on her tedious late-night

poetry stroke-fest, "Stanza".'

Let us return to the reaction

to comments that you made...

- Women hate me...

- In a newspaper interview.

Because I'm brave enough

to say what we both

know to be true,

that women don't enjoy sex.

Oh, maybe the women that

you've had experience with, Ted.

They put up with it

as the price they have to pay

for having a man,

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