By Anton Martin Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com
Yes, as I was saying – Arthur B. Pertwee was a totally different person from Britain & England’s PM Twotimer. It was very important that this was the case. Given the fact that Pertwee was the one who had the unpaid, undeclared, unadvertised job of saving England from Twotimer. Pertwee had , seemingly out of the ‘goodness of his own heart’ saved England from Twotimer’s as regular as a swiss watch, & forgive my crassness for effect – his fucking awfully thought out ideas.
As the declining returns that are the history of England & Britain post World War 2 prove, It never works out very well when an idiot is responsible for another idiot not making & installing their idiotic plans. Dear reader, it’s certainly worth a few direct comparisons between the man-boy Twotimer, & the real-man-in-every-sense Pertwee – the contrast is of course quite extraordinary.
Where Twotimer was rash, Pertwee was considered. Where Twotimer would slug back seven drinks back to back like the alcoholic he probably was, while at a uniquely important state reception, Pertwee on the other hand, would sit all night on a single glass of wine – for unlike the Twotimer, he had long the understood social risks of not doing this. It was no accident that Twotimer was still known by his old oxford pals ‘Sir Glugmeister’. Where Twotimer would shout down the wait staff, Pertwee would thank them personally for their excellent efforts & slip them a sensibly sized tip. Where Twotimer would spout off buzzwords from outdated social & economic theory to fool people into thinking he was knowledgeable, Pertwee actually knew about the economy, both from his ex-private-sector based life experience & from his often concerted & targeted diligent observation & research.
Where Twotimer would usually forget to comb his straw-like mop of blonde hair, or have a shower or brush his teeth, Pertwee’s personal grooming was reliably impeccable. Where Twotimer had cheatingly often paid someone else at Oxford to sit his narrow entirely non quantitatively orientated degree course consisting entirely classics exams, Pertwee had gained genuine straight A-plusses, all off his own back, in a multidisciplinary course that was laced with many difficult mathematically based subjects. Where Twotimer has had countless scandalous extra marital affairs, Pertwee was a on the whole a confirmed bachelor. A lifelong bachelor who had a few very good lifelong females as confidants, with perhaps two of them also doubling – but never during the same time period of course – as once-in-a-while-lovers who never asked more that was wise to ask for or expect.
Forgive me dear reader in laboring the point, but it’s worth it to underline the fact that Twotimer was a badly disguised bufoon, while Pertwee was the obvious-to-everyone-who-saw-or-heard-him – model of the gentrified intelligent man.
Pertwee would make a great the poster boy for the bygone period of history which was the true height of the modern enlightenment based western world. To illustrate the differences it is worth telling the reader or listener of a recent but very common themed private conversation between the two.
“Ah Pertwee, I don’t know how you do it! Keeping so ice cool all the time! I’m such a lusty fool, even though I’m now fifty, my loins have a heart attack every time a bit of skirt floats in front of me. I’ve tried of everything & nothing works. Nothing can stop my forever teenage boy libidinous ways! it’s outrageous Pertwee! Sometimes when, as the Australians say, when I’m atrociously toe-ie all it takes is that the woman in my crosshairs to have hair not much longer that a foot long, is of age under forty-nine, wears those clicky-clacky-high-heels, has a dress cut perhaps only a centimeter above the knees, & then she sends me her crooked-world-weary-smile from a hundred feet across any long stately room! Oh dear Pertwee! The pain of it all! These as yet undealt with constant erections that pop up are driving me mad! I’m sure the Chancellor of the Exchequer even saw one through my pants once! In fact, I think he looked a little to long for a married man, if you ask me – makes me think Nordston bats for the other team! – but I digress…where was I ah yes, my insatiable redder than red red-bloodedness!. I mean I try my best to disappear of to the lavatory where I can do my best schoolboy methods to make them go away – but Pertwee, I tell you what! when you’ve half way through a dryer than the Sahara desert, long-winded economic discussion with those boringly dunderhead heads-of-state & their long list of advisor’s slash Ministers slash entourage’s, sometimes it’s impossible for me to sneak away for a quick diddle to stop the crooked walking if you catch my drift!”
When Twotimer drew towards the end of this particular ‘why am I so teenage-horney all the time’ themed theatrical spiel, he always looked at Pertwee with open pleading hands and with a blank schoolboy face. He was waiting for the wise, soothing Pertwee reply. Like as if he was an alternate version of Oliver twist saying ‘please sir I’d like some more’, knowing that Pertwee in dishing out the soothing verbal sustenance he desperately needed, wouldn’t ever shout at him ungraciously – he knew Pertwee would effectively say ‘More – of course my dear boy – eat up’. Like Twotimer’s performance, Pertwee’s closing reply was as always almost exactly word for word the same:
“I am aware of your various emotional afflictions Sir – I mean you tell me a version of this story daily – often in fact twice a day, & every now and then three times a day – but this is no complaint of course Sir – don’t ever think that I’d openly criticise for no good return. As I always say Sir, & I know you don’t mind me observing – the problem with this kind of thing is that it stems from a dark hidden recess of your psyche. It’s love & acceptance that you are at heart dying for – not a flash of boob, or a hearty display of leg flank. Don’t worry Sir, I’m making it my personal mission to one day get you to learn to love yourself, as hard as that may be. This ridiculous over-sexed nightmare that you are forever sleepwalking inside of – is not entirely your fault – if in fact, your fault at all. You acquired this behaviour in true adaptive fashion, simply as a survival mechanism, if you will. In its wider form, your overall outlook & behaviour profile is a coping mechanism that enables you to stave off complete emotional collapse. I mean it’s not your fault you had near absolute zero love & affection from either of you parents, particularly your cold diplomat & businessman father. As I keep telling you – & I don’t mid that by the way, that’s why I’m here – this problem of yours is so common in the halls of power in England & Britain, & indeed certain patches of the privilidged world itself – ultimately it’s a wider boarding school syndrome type of affliction that you have. One day Sir we might even safely beat this motley assortment of afflictions than haunt you entirely. Peraps our combined efforts will one day leave you almost completely free of this type of emotional pain. Pain that spills over, nay manifests so freely into your daily affairs in the way you outline with words & show in your erratic self destructive, self-sabotaging behaviors”.
Pertwee was always careful to add a certain ‘unfounded optimism ofthe chances of improvement’ into the equation. Privately of course Pertwee was highly skeptical that anything more than a cosmetic improvement in Twotimers emotional & behavioural life was ever possible. But he knew it was prudent to keep up an attitude of ‘overt hope’ towards Twotimer’s at heart deeply fragile ego. Some might assess this as a pig-headed refusal to look facts in the face – but this would be to ignore, as the American’s say the realpolik of the situation. Pertwee knew if he didn’t add some sugar frosting now & then, Twotimer wouldn’t get out of bed at all for acute depression, & he himself would be ex-communicated from his crucial, albeit clandestine, job – & then where would England be? It would go from the current state of ‘stable but fading grandeur’ to ‘collapsing anarchic tatters’ in a matter of weeks. Pertwee’s sugercoating would sdefinitely stay, & for good reason.
With this typical kind of adult-to-child conversation I’ve outlined above, Pertwee would always end his considered, owl-wise-words with a certain look over at Twotimer, looking squarely into his angling downwards, a little too-close-together eyes. It was the kind of look that a school principal might give when he charitably & once again spared the forever un-reformed naughty schoolboy who’d again re-appeared in his office. Saving him from any real punishment for his schoolboy crimes. At this point Twotimer would always defect with positive sounding bluster:
“Ah Pertwee, alas you are as always lamentably one thousand percent correct! I was never loved! Woe is me! I should probably be embarrassed now shouldn’t I? Here I am as the Prime Minister of a former glorious empire, & I still have these horrible situations that are essentially wide awake wet dreams! it’s a unmitigated travesty dear Pertwee! What are we going to do with me!? Ah I despair Pertwee! I’m truly truly cursed! But I think you are a bit wrong with your assessments – I did have some love as a child – remember my little dog Eccles? I’ve told you about him haven’t I? That was the sweetest little dog ever Pertwee! Whenever I had been crying my eyes out all semester long at Eton, I always cuddled up to fluffy little Eccles! Ah that helped magnificently Pertwee – it really did – don’t underestimate that Pertwee! I mean why can’t a boy get emotional love from his beloved pet? Surely he can!”
Even though the two had almost the exact same conversion daily, Twotimer could never quite accept that Pertwee was right about him in not ever receiving the unconditional love he sorely needed from his parents as a child. This was why he was the way he was in the world, & it explained his low self-esteemed internal dialogue. In the various repititions of the conversation, occaisionally certain phrases from above were forgotten, but the dog story was never left out. There was always but always in these ultimately entirely therapeutic conversations, the appeal to the fact he had a lovable fluffy dog called Eccles to cry away too as a palliative to his total lack of parental love as a child, and to combat the standard Etonian boarder stresses. Twotimers memory of fluffy happy Eccles was, like Pertwee himself, a constant tonic always on hand.
Pertwee as always ended with these same themed words, similar each time in fact almost to the letter.
“Well, let’s just pick this up again later shall we Sir, I’m sure we’ll reach a breakthrough on that matter one of these days – that breakthrough will come when you finally allow yourself to see the true darkest moments you had as a child. You’ll see them for what they are, without at all blaming yourself. As glib as it has become to say – one day you’ll learn to love yourself Sir, & I’ll darned well be there when it happens too”.
At this point Pertwee always made sure he smiled a little at Twotimer. On the face of it they were big words aimed at the boy-PM, but he had had long had Twotimer’s complete trust & confidence – for such a long time now that he knew their was no chance of any real offense, or ill feeling breaking out about the deeply personal matters Pertwee brought up. This being the case, it would be a lie to say that Twotimer didn’t feel a little embarrassment. Pertwee could see it easily as he could read him like a book, & new exactly who he was right down to his bones. That’s an understatement – he knew him down the level of his cellular dna.
Twotimer in a final retort to release his slight embarrassment, would always then ‘shut the book with a mighty clap’ on the particular daily revisited conversation in question by saying:
“Pertwee – god! – how long has it been since someone gave us a cup of Earl Grey? We’ve been standing around lwarbling like a couple of empty handed fools for at least an hour and ah half! Where’s the help when you need them most – god save us Pertwee let’s find some ourselves!”.
Then that was exactly what they did. They both walked over together & sourced the Earl Grey tea’s, pouring it for themselves at the nearest refreshment table. Once both standing there with full cups of tea they sipped away not saying a peep for the four point five minutes it took them both until they reached the bottom of the cup at the exact same time. Of course there was a final in unison Ahhhh sound – the universal sound signifying contentment.
(End of Part 3….tune in soon for the next edition, coming very soon)
Anton Martin Smith Writer 