By Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com
Pertwee & Twotimer had just finished there fifth earl grey tea at the opening of the CHOGM heads of state banquet. Pertwee was doing his job as usual – massaging Twotimers fragile ego. Twotimer never did well at these official engagements. The problem is that while his well faked false persona of equal parts ‘bluster’ ‘charm’ and ‘blokeyness’ had worked brilliantly on the largely uneducated masses – it was a real hit & miss affair at these illustrious official diplomatic engagements. Yes there were some very very stupid people at these events, but at most they accounted for perhaps only twenty percent of the total number of people in any particular room.
There was also the problem of Twotimers natural snobbery. You see you might logically conclude that Twotimer would simply find the other twenty percent of the crowd at these CHOGM type events, and get on like a house on fire with the other fools. This sadly did not happen with Twotimer. You see Twotimmer really was stuck quite immobile in his snobbery. In fact one bright Fleet St wag by the name of Pete Hotchins had noticed this better than most of his colleagues. Pete Hotchins was one of the many that Twotimer had referred to as “The Damned Maggoty Pressers Inc”. Hotchins had recently drawn Twotimers ire by pointing out his bufoonery by the following verbatim description that he wrote in his weekly political round-up column. Hotchins was a well battle-scarred senior at the at least still half well respected centrist publication called The Daily Belter. This was the by now infamous Hotchins’ fly on the wall commentary on Twotimer when he was at the previous edition of the CHOGM meeting:
………..while I was looking over at all the various dignitaries I could overhear the following conversation between the Canadian Foreign Minister Frank Hands and our Twotimer – I noticed that the Canadian Minister was every now & then holding his nose, as if the Prime minister had forgotten to use deodorant. I wanted to see if this was indeed the case. I slowly sided over, & I can confirm our PM was at least a little ‘wiffy’ & perhaps even a little bit worse that that. But I overlooked this fact & listened in a little, as although the PM’s personal hygene was less than to be desired – it still only half accounted for the bemused look of disgust on the Canadian diplomats face. As I listened in over the course of perhaps five minutes I heard the PM describe his wifes bottom, using his hands often in a cupped fashion as way to illustrate her curvy-ness. He then went on to discuss his old Etonian days and how he had indeed had a great time on the stage in pantomime, and had once even been simultaneously been both ‘dressed gloriously in blackface’ and in drag as he played the part of a troubled crossdressing minstrel. The third topic before I scuttled away out of this lamentable evesdropping was Twotimer’s reflection on how hot it had been, & how ‘lusty the heat had made him’ – he then pointed literally with his index finger at the various nubile young female snack & wine waiters that were wafting about the dignitories, offering the standard CHOGHM canapes, oysters kilpatrick, Camenbere, NZ sauvignon blanc, French Merlot among other equally tasty things. Needless to say in that five minutes of stealthy evesdropping, I think I could understand the pained expression of the Canadian Foreign Minister Frank Hand’s face. When I thought it over, I had relised it was a form of snobbery that allowed our PM to behave like this – for he seemed to behave this way far more with diplomats from poor non-private school backgrounds, as was indeed the case with Frank Hands, who was in his homeland publicly well known for having experienced and risen above both conditions admirably.
Twotimer had never forgiven Pete Hotchins for this outing of what he would say himself was simply his his ‘boyish and disarming charm allowing him to able to break the ice like no other British politician ever had’. It had been a full year since the article was published, but it was again, a subject he would raise at least once or twice a week with Perteee. In fact at the current CHOGM Twotimer had been talkign to the very dull & fish eyed special non CHOGM invitee – this was the very blank faced German Trade Minister Ursula Von Neighschneigh. When he was trying to pretend he was listening to this strange robotic lady, he then started to think of Hotchins. When Twotimer thought of Hotchins & his ‘takedown article’ of him from last year – this usually meant a panic attack was coming. It came like clockwork. Whereby now he then rushed away from the German minister using his favourite feeble but believable excuse of ‘needing to go to the little boys room’. As he moved away from the German bore, he made strategic eye contact with Pertwee. He rushed to a side room with his always reliable savior & man who was always there Pertwee sliding in not far behind, in Twotimers ‘slipstream’ but also in his usual perfected inconspicuous manner. Here now in one of the many empty adjacent rooms, Twotimer leaned against the wall gasping for air with acute anxiety. He now begun unloading on Pertwee.
‘Pertwee, I’m thinking of that bastard Hotchins again – I’m having another little panic attack….quick give me some of those….’ Pertwee was already on it and had proffered up Twotimer a small paper bag of gummy bear sweets. Pertwee emptied the bag over Twotimers mouth in a similar way as an Australian bushranger might throw a whole chicken safely into a massive crocodiles snapping mouth. Twotimer finished the twenty odd gummies in one gulp. ‘Oh god..yes…Pertwee…you are my Charlemagne….you’ve headed off the monsters for me yet again….oh I feel so much better now…ah I can talk again…ah where was I…oh yes Hotchins! He could now talk, though with the spectre of Hotchins fresh in his mind his face was quite a red bloom. As he talked to his trusted Pertwee, he was still only half breathing properly.
‘Ah Pertwee can you believe that Hotchins – how could he say that bilge about me – imaging me a snob?’
‘Well Sir, he doesn’t know you like I do sir – I mean he doesn’t know your difficult upbringing in the intimate way I do’
‘Exactly Pertwee – you know me, you know I am not in any real way a snob -as if I would be a real snob! i just know the people that make a difference in this world are us special ones that have been hand-picked by some cosmic force to lead….be it me, Ceasar, Churchill, Charlemagne or Collingwood!’
‘Quite sir – by the way did you do that on purpose’?
‘What the devil do you mean Pertwee’?
‘Ceasar, Churchill, Charlemagne or Collingwood – they all start with C Sir’
‘Well spotted Pertwee – YES I was just testing you….har har har…again Pertwee you never fail to notice my little linguistic puzzles…my I don’t know how I would survive without you Pertwee’. Twotimer slapped Pertwee’s back. Without fail when Twotimer was just over a panic attack and then followed it by said something congratulatory like this towards Pertwee, he always slapped Pertwee’s back. Always just once, and always far too hard, so much so that Pertwee always lurched forward, having to steady himself by putting a foot forward past the other, to stop him toppling over. Of course Pertwee took it graciously as always without saying anything to alert Twotimer of his being made to be quite uncomfortable.
‘Oh no Sir – it is you who helps me far more than the reverse….and yes I agree with you Hotchins is a ghastly man who told a boldface lie about you in his column last year in The Daily Bugle – I mean the factoids were correct, but his implication that you were a true snob was atrociously unfair in the extreme’. Why did Pertwee say that Hotchins’ factoids were correct? Sometimes Pertwee would risk a little to try to help Twotimer try to live in the real world – just a little. When Pertwee used this method, Twotimer would raise his back up a little – but then agree with Pertwee, at least by a tiny amount.
‘Pertwee! What do you mean his factoids were correct! He’s a scoundrel! All he says are lies,,,,lies lies damnation dangled dreary drudged dilled lies!’
‘Well Sir let me remind you – he said he overheard you talking of you wife’s very round bottom – you tell me this every other day, & you do indeed make the hand motions. In fact the time he wrote about that, the last CHOGM, you had only just not ten minutes before talking to the Canadian Minister done the same thing with me’
‘Oh yes Pertwee, you are right she has a very very round bottom’ Twotimer again used his hands. ‘But Pertwee yes that factoid was true – but the other stuff was all crapity crap crap!’
‘Sir but you did play that part at one of the many pantomimes you did at Eton – that one certainly required you to wear drag and wear blackface – again I’ve heard your story about how you had to do all of that and how at the finale you had to do ‘the splits’ & you broke wind and Rector then gave you a months detention and a month of cleaning up dirty socks and underwear under your fellow boarding schoolers beds. That’s one of your favourite stories Sir. A million times you’ve told me that story – so Hotchins got that factoid right as well.
‘Oh yes….oh that was glorious fun Pertwee, I so much loved those Etonian pantomimes…ahh now that you remind me I remember that embarrassing fart moment as if was yesterday – yes the Rector hated me for that – but my chums thought I was like an Etonian Icarus!’ Twotimer slapped his leg emphatically, & beamed a wide smile. ‘But Pertwee that other thing he said…that factoid….that was wrong – wasn’t it? Twotimer’s hangdog eyes pleaded with Pertwee to at least allow him a little boldface lie, to save a little face. Pertwee wisely decided to throw him this last crumb – even though the last factoid that Hotchins has said in his article was indeed totally true. This was the one about how Twotimer had pointed and talked of the passing nubile waitresses so inappropriately & so lustily to the Canadian.
‘Oh you might be right about that Sir – it’s all a bit fuzzy now – a lot has happened since that last CHOGM conference after all – the main point is that yes, Hotchins of that ridiculous half-tabloid ‘The Belter’ is quite wrong about you being a snob – & he does not know at all how bad your childhood was like I do Sir’.
‘Yes EXACTLY Pertwee EXCACTLY! I hardly saw my diplomat father at all! Of course that’s why I am like I am & stupid people like HOTCHINS ET AL confuse me for something I am totally not! You are right Pertwee that Hotchins is terrible, he’s a bilge rat, a pap filled paparazzi in disguise as an esteemed journalist! He’s basically a traitor to his profession Pertwee’
‘Quite Sir, quite – as if you are a snob – ridiculous’
‘Stupid’
‘It’s insanity Sir’
‘Pertwee I won’t argue!…but…’ Twotimer didn’t need to finish his sentence. Pertwee had already expertly read his mind .
‘Yes, Sir of course – I have another bag of gummi bears’ Pertwee could read Twotimer like a book – he knew the look in Twotimers eye that meant he wanted a fifth earl grey tea, he say the slightly different curl of his mouth that meant he wanted gummi bears. Again Pertwee emptied the bag over Twotimers crocodile snapping jaws. Twotimer wolfed thm down with glee and sighed as he stopped leaning against the wall & then knelt on his haunches. Pertwee copied his movements & then whispered ‘Sir we better now get back to the engagement – don’t worry it’s almost over, & you can just eat the food & wine from now on, I’ll tell them that trick of ours where you’ve suddenly lost your voice’.
‘Pertwee – where would I be without you’
‘Well you wouldn’t be at the ‘toppermost of the poppermost’ as you are now, Sir’. Pertwee said blowing some well timed figurative smoke up Twotimer’s large posterior.
“Pertwee…..once again you are my perennial knowingly calm ying to my ever raging yang…and I’m not talking about next months trip to China either’
‘Don’t be silly Sir – I owe everything to you, I’m lucky to be here – now lets practice your ‘I can’t talk gesture’. Pertwee was so good at lying to boost Twotimers lack of confidence it was scary, you would never know it by how straight he could say the words looking flush into Twotimers eyes without blinking, flinching, not even an eye-twitch. As they walked back into the CHOGM formal engagement room Twotimer pointed at his throat with one finger, waved his other hand wildly & shook his head like a trout with a lure in it’s mouth.
‘Excellent Sir as always, your voice has now entirely gone – no need to talk to that dreaded Australian now after all’. Twotimer gave a knowing wink as they strutted into the CHOGM room, within a meter the Australian diplomat had clocked them & was strutting over at pace. Our men Twotimer & Pertwee gave each other a weary nod as they both signaled to a wine waiter & a canape waiter to come over quickly.
End of Part four….Part five to follow soon
This writing piece is owned by Martin Smith Creations ltd (NZ). If you are a person or a small non-profit please read or reproduce freely. Commercial Users or NGO’s: If you want to purchase for reprint of this work for a commercial project to reach a wider audience – then contact me via martinantonsmith@gmail.com to gain written legal permission.
Anton Martin Smith Writer 