Tom and Viv Page #2

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Bertrand Russell, the pacifist villain?

The one the newspaper wallahs call

the most hated man in London?

That sounds like him, yes.

If I can put your minds at rest, I recently

have received an offer for six lectures

on French symbolism.

So, to be precise...

...you have $2 a week...

...you intend to share an attic

with the most hated man in London...

and you might be giving a few lectures

on French percussion instruments.

In the meantime, the whole of Europe

is at war with the Kaiser.

Nothing could make me feel more secure.

How was the wedding?

Of course, Eastbourne's proudest boast is that

you won't find one shop window on the front.

It reminded me of Forest Park in St. Louis.

Did it really?

- Was the weather kind?

- Very bracing.

Had you a sunny room?

Hardly had time inside to find out.

Ho-ho, bliss.

"Dear Mrs Haigh-Wood, thank you for

your cheque to cover the damage to room 86.

Throughout this whole episode I may say

that Mr Eliot behaved

with considerable forbearance."

Before Vivienne rushed you headlong

into this, did she tell you anything?

Nothing?

Nothing at all?

I really am rather proud of you.

I don't condone anything, but all in

all I feel you've behaved very well.

And you are discrete, I sense that.

Yes, I think you're going to make

a wonderful member of the family.

Bertie Russell says that war is a crime.

He says that killing in uniform

is merely licensed murder.

Oh thanks very much.

What do you think, Tom?

Not at the dinner table please, Vivienne.

Of course.

Millions of young men are going to die and it

mustn't interfere with the cream of broccoli.

Good lord, is that what it is?

Bertie Russell says war must be abolished.

Bertie's Tom's friend.

He paid for all my dance lessons.

Your friend wants to go to bed with me,

did you know that, Tom?

He seems keen, even if you're not.

That's enough.

You should tell him what it would be like.

These are my men, Tom and Bertie.

But they can't always communicate.

I unlock their minds!

Could you hear yourself shouting

in there, could you?

Now... very calm.

Very still.

Have you taken your medicine?

How often is Granny visiting you?

- I thought Granny was dead.

- Very well then.

How often do you get the curse?

- Two or three times.

- In a month?

Sometimes in a week.

Tom's not quite what I

imagined a poet to be.

- Was he a virgin?

- He most certainly was!

It can't be easy for a new husband.

No.

Have you enough ST's?

Yes Mummy, I have enough sanitary towels

to make a patchwork quilt.

- In two colours.

- Please Vivienne, try not to be vulgar.

There is never any occasion for it.

Life is quite vile enough as it is.

Oh it's all right, Mummy.

You don't have to worry anymore.

Because whatever else happens,

I've got Tom.

He's mine.

And you can't stop it now.

"You see here on the sill is a boot

mark, a heavy boot with broad metal heel...

...and beside it is the

mark of the timber-toe."

Ah, a wooden-legged man of course...

There's always a wooden-legged man!

Was there one in the last one?

"There has been someone else,

a very able and efficient ally.

Doctor, could you scale this wall?"

LAUGHING:

Yes, but not quite the same without

that Moriarty chap, though.

Here we are, Vivvie!

"I looked out the open window

The moon shone brightly

on that angle of the house.

We were a good sixty feet above the ground,

but look where I would

there was no foothold, nor as

much as a crevice in the brickwork..."

Oh, careful!

Hey!

Ha, ha, ha!

LIVELY MUSIC PLAYS

You can't fall over my feet.

Ha, ha, ha!

I never know... when it's going to strike.

It's overwork, as the doctor says.

No, you think you write best

when you get sick

so you make yourself sick,

you know you do.

And you can't expect to teach

and give lectures...

...and write book reviews and articles...

...and write your poems

and not get sick, Tom.

Poetry is a mug's game.

Yes?

Yes.

Without a shadow of a doubt.

BOTTLES RATTLING

VIV MOANS:

PIANO MUSIC PLAYS ON RADIO

Hello, Maurice.

I say, I had no idea

philosophers danced like that.

The most hated man in London?

What do you know.

He's been very good to us.

We couldn't have done without him.

I've come to say goodbye, Tom,

just had orders.

- Gallipoli next.

- I envy you.

Yes. Well you did try.

- If they wouldn't have you, well it's their loss.

- Physically unsound.

That's me, Maurice.

Please.

- Cigarette?

- Yes, please.

So, how's the old poetry business?

It isn't a business, it's a mug's game.

In fact, I've been thinking

about getting a regular job.

- Gosh.

- Well it's advisable for a poet to have...

...to, to lead a commonplace life

if he's to do his work.

Yes, yes well...

I must say, I can't quite get used to

having a poet in the family.

- Sort of, married to my own big sis and such.

- Fratris.

- What?

- Brother-in-law.

Ah. Sorry, my Greek's not up to much.

- It's Latin!

- Ah. Squelch.

Listen, Tom...

Man to man...

There isn't anything...

awful between you and Viv, is there?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Well...

I say, good luck with you two.

- It'll all turn out massive fun in the end.

- Massive.

That's the ticket.

Three out of four junior officers

don't come back, Tom.

Say cheerio to Viv for me, will you?

Yes, of course.

Tom, how wonderful you look.

...That the boys are out

upon a holiday

You'll notice half a dozen fellows

when they're on the spree

In half a dozen minutes,

they are full of jollity.

And they all walk

the wibbly wobbly walk

All talk the wibbly wobbly...

MUSIC STOPS:

- Blank!

- Who has the question?

- Blank.

- Ah. - Ah, the bishop.

Approximately how many teeth has a turtle?

- 40?

- Hopelessly wrong!

The Bishop of Oxford is out!

A turtle has approximately no teeth at all,

you're out, out!

Give his bishopric

to someone who knows something!

MUSIC RESUMES:

...All wear

the wibbly wobbly ties

and wink at all the pretty girls

with wibbly wobbly...

MUSIC STOPS:

Who has the question?

- Blank!

- Blank!

Minus 40 degrees Centigrade,

is the same as minus 40 degrees Fahrenheit

True or false?

CROWD MURMURS:

- False!

- True, you're out!

Ignoramus!

MUSIC RESUMES:

...Oh they all smile

the wibbly wobbly smile

When the day is dawning

All through

the wibbly wobbly walk...

MUSIC STOPS:

Blank.

A lady when asked her age

replied she was 35

not counting Saturdays and Sundays.

What was her real age?

I think she was...

- ...60!

- Wrong!

Tom may answer.

Come on,

for the cleverest man in England.

Come on, come on.

49?

What was that?

- 49?

- Correct! Correct!

I declare Tom Eliot

the cleverest man in England!

Ah, the benefits of an American education.

Well done, Tom.

Why are you glaring at me?

How dare you look at me like that!

Why give them the pleasure?

They'd have been perfectly happy

for you to lose.

We cheated.

Don't be so sanctimonious!

For an American,

you really are a god-awful snob!

Why do you take them so seriously?

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