The Hippopotamus Page #8

Davey!

David!

- Darling!

- Davey!

[He pants]

Simon, bring Soda here!

[Dog barks]

- What have you got, Ted?

- His pajamas.

Okay. Hey. Hey.

Huh? Go on, find Davey.

- [Barks]

- I think he's got something.

- David!

- Find Davey, Soda.

- David! David!

- Find Davey, Soda.

[Dog whines]

What the hell is he playing at?

[Wheezes]

We've got him! We've got him!

- He's not breathing.

- Ted, let me.

- Davey! Oh, God!

- Five, six, seven, eight, nine,

ten, 11, 12, 13...

ls he alright?

- Help him!

- I'll call an ambulance.

Righto. Thank you, darling.

Look, I'll go with him.

- You follow with Simon.

- Okay, yes.

I love you.

[Engine starts]

Thank you, Ted.

You... you did very well.

It was nothing.

I've been a terrible father.

You got carried away

with your own story.

Something we're all

occasionally guilty of.

Would you look after

things here?

[Phone rings]

[He sighs]

[Phone rings]

[Phone rings]

Swafford Hall.

Yes, I'm her godfather.

Yes.

Yes, I'll tell her.

[Rebecca] Was that the hospital?

Yes.

He could well have died

out there.

Yes.

But you couldn't help yourself.

Your pompous speech,

tearing his ego to shreds.

And you do realize,

if you're right,

then my daughter is dying?

I know.

Can't resist grandstanding,

can you?

Have to be the smartest person

in the room.

I know.

No matter what damage

it does to those around you.

I know.

I know.

I know.

My darling, I'm... I'm so sorry.

I... I have some terrible news.

It...

It

It's Jane. The... The phone call.

I am right.

She is...

You bastard.

You f***ing bastard.

You f***ing bastard!

[She cries]

[Congregation sing

"Amazing Grace"]

Oh!

[Congregation sing

"Amazing Grace"]

[Mutter]

I We've no less days

to sing God's praise

Than when we'd first begun

From the wreck of the past

which hath perish'd,

This much I at least may recall,

It hath taught me that

what I most cherish'd

Deserved to be dearest of all:

In the desert

a fountain is springing,

In the wide waste

there still is a tree...

[Whispers] It's alright, Dad.

And a bird

in his solitude singing...

It's a f***ing awful poem.

Which speaks

to my spirit of thee.

Well read, young pup.

Thanks, Uncle Ted.

We'll make a poet of you yet.

How's the magic-free life going?

Normal life.

It's a bit like hard work.

You'll get used to it.

So, you're the guy who hung out

in an open grave?

- This is my son Roman.

- Er... Yeah.

Huh. Cool.

'Where is Jane now?

'In heaven?

'Hell?

'Well, neither, obviously.

'She's just been chucked

into the ground

'with all the many million

Janes who have gone before.

'All the Toms and

all the D*cks and Harrys, too.

'All the priests and poets

and rock stars.

'All the fish and all

the badgers and the beagles.

'Cucumbers and camels.

'Hello. Goodbye.

'Destination f***ing nowhere.'

Hm.

Ah, sod it.

'But if you're looking for

a miracle, try this on for size.

'Last night I wrote five poems.

'That's five more

than I've managed

'in the larger part

of three decades.

'This morning, another two

came tumbling out

'and I barely broke a sweat.

'How? Why?

'Inspiration

from a clear blue sky.

'I may be jaded, I may be old,

'but, f*** my best boots,

I'm filled with wonder.'

To miracles.

'Now will you all

kindly f*** off?

'I have some writing to do.'

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