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Looking Forward

Scene:

• V.U.C. Old Boys' Sanatorium.

Year:

• 1999.

Time:

• Sunday Evening after Supper.

Cast:

• Lord Bishop, Chief Justice of N.Z.
• Sir Joseph Mountjoy, Bart.; Speaker of the House.
• Messrs. Justices Rollings and Hurley.
• Captain John Macduff, Salvation Army.
• Rev. Crow MacKenzie.
• Professor Richardson.
• Stanley Ramson, Junior.
• And others (at present in the cradle).

The bulk of the company are in bath-chairs, berets and blazers, and throughout the evening there is an average sleeping population of 75 per cent. Sir Joseph Mountjoy, a tall, distinguished, noble gentleman, exuding ease and grace, rises to his feet, a grape fruit in one hand and a scroll of paper in the other.

Sir Joseph: Gentlemen, to you this little foreign fruit means perhaps nothing—but to me it is simply teeming with romance. When I was but a lad attending lectures at Victoria College I visited America—

(The name of the well-known institution pierces the inner consciousness of an angular figure who has been dozing in a corner. He leaps to his feet.)

Lord Bishop (holding his back with one hand and his crutch with the other): Wikitoria!

Company (in spite of themselves): Heee!

Lord Bishop: Wikitoria!

Company (with a loud creaking of joints): Ha!

Lord Bishop: Kia rite! Kia rite! Wikitoria! (Falls back exhausted and ready for bed. One gentleman, completely overcome by the chain of associations recalled, bursts into tears, and is gently trundled away.)

Sir Joseph (glancing after receding figure): I am afraid General Sir Athol Fear is failing. He is losing his dash. Remember him when he returned in state from Samoa—young, cavalier, famous?

Mr. Justice Hurley: He captivated the whole of the Mau tribe with his ukelele, didn't he—and won the war on his own?

Lord Bishop: I used to be young, cavalier and famous myself. I feel more like a broken-down gentleman than anything these days. I've lost my stamina. The Padre read me a few psalms this morning and I simply went all to pieces. It was worse than a match with Karori A.

Rev. Crow (rubbing his eyes): By the way, where is the Padre? I say, don't any of you guys know where Macduff is? I have an awfully jolly little passage from Samuel to show him.

Lord Bishop: He's singing at Tory Street to-night, and then he's going to a Temperance meeting afterwards. It will be rather late before he comes in—nine, perhaps. We'd better not sit up.

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Prof. Richardson: I wonder what he will do when Prohibition is carried? He'll have nothing to save.

Mr. Justice Hurley: Except Ardath coupons. He has nearly enough for a pair of roller skates, I believe.

Sir Joseph: I'd like a few minutes with his meeting. Look at what I did for America in '29. But for my efforts they'd still have Prohibition over there.

Mr. A. H. Keys: And that will be ten guineas, thank you, Sir Joseph. American reminiscences seem to be rather a drag on your finances. Providing your voice doesn't give out, we shall be able to put up the Weir Hostel and the Gym. Block at College before the end of the century. The Mountjoy Memorial. (Sir Joseph passes across a cheque already made out.)

Sir Joseph (coldly) : No, my friend, that money will be used to provide gowns for every tram conductor in the country. Slowly, but nevertheless surely, mark you. the Word is being passed.

(The door opens and an old man in a red gown and hood glances around the room, turns off one of the lights, and totters out.)

Prof. Richardson: Poor old Brookey. He's getting on now. He's beginning to feel it, too. His fingers gave out last night and he has simply no means of asking us to hurry out of the Hall. It's breaking him up.

(Door is thrown open and a brilliant figure in red and blue regalia stands on the threshold.)

Company (another rising with a loud creaking of joints): The Padre!

Captain John Macduff: Bless you, my boys! Still awake!

Goodson: Let us sing! (Gives the key.)

Company:

Jump for joy!

Here's our John!

Let us pray, let us break into song!

He's the boy!

Jump for joy!

Always right, can't do wrong,

That's our John!

Sir Joseph (who has been dozing off) : Lord Bishop! Bless my soul! Man, where is your gown? What do you mean, sir? After spending my life popularising the wearing of gowns I find myself in the Winter of my Years faced with this wilful disregard of my orders. Where is it, I say!

Lord Bishop (sulkily): I lost it in a hooley.

Sir Joseph: Now I can see you are going to be naughty again. Put your wig on straight and promise Joey you'll buy another one in the morning.

Lord Bishop: Can't afford one.

Sir Joseph: How sordid. (Clicks his tongue distatefully.)

Lord Bishop: I can't help it. Macduff takes all my money for his Army Home endowments. I can't say no to him.

Sir Joseph (taking a toothless bite at his grape fruit): I'll give you Salvation Army, John Macduff.

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Company: Oh, Sir Joseph, how unjust. His life is Just One Grand Sacrifice!

Stanley Ramson, Junior (aged 60): I want a bed-time story. Tell me about the events that led up to the Second South African War. How Daddy maimed the whole Springbok team for life.

Rev. Crow: Well, come over here. I was at Athletic Park towards the end of the second spell in the Last Test on the Western Side of the paddock, in our territory, five yards inside the half-way line, in the Winter of '33.

Mr. Justice Rollings: And I rise to a point of order. To-day is the Sabbath, and if you wish to recount anything of a racy nature, Mr. Mackenzie, you may do so to your little heart's content—outside.

Rev. Crow (furiously): Just because football has nothing to do with the intellect, Mr. Justice Rollings.

Sir Joseph (awakening again): How proud my Alma Mater must be of me. Ten times returned Member for Salamanca, Speaker of the House, the Grand Master of the Gown, Order of the Professorial Board, President of the Night Schools' Union—

Captain John Macduff: She's just as proud of me. I'll lay ten to one I've reclaimed more lost souls than any other man in the country.

Mr. Justice Rollings: And what a testimony we are to the cooking of Mrs. Milligan. Gentlemen, I attribute my longevity solely to the meals I had at V.U.C.

Rev. Crow: But is she so proud of all her sons? Gee! What about Don?

Company: Ah—Don—alas!

S. Ramson, Jnr.: Who was Don? What happened to Don?

Captain John Macduff: Hush, my little one, hush.

Rev. Crow (in hard metallic voice): He went to Hollywood and became the World's Lover.

S. Ramson, Jnr.: Oh!

Mr. Justice Hurley: And he's not the only Skeleton in the Caf. cupboard. What about Macarthy and Toogood and Wynne Mason?

Mr. A. H. M. Keys (reading) : And little Max and Big Benjamin and Bobby Styche—

S. Ramson, Jnr.: What happened to them? Where are they? Who were they?

Prof. Richardson: Time for bed, my boy. Here comes Nanna. (Ramson wheeled off to bed.)

Mr. Justice Rollings (briskly); And now, gentlemen, I desire to bring something of a more serious nature to your notice. Gentlemen—There is Something Surreptitious Going on Here.

Rev. Crow: Are you Insinuating anything, Mr. Justice Rollings?

Mr. Justice Rollings: I repeat, gentlemen, there is something surreptitious going on. Something Underhand. Three times my copy of the Police Gazette has been removed from the table and in its stead I find this iniquitous rag—this foul publication! (Brandishes a copy of the Sportsman.)

Rev. Crow (trembling with fury) : I rise to a point of order! Aw, gee, I rise to two points of order! Gosh, I like that!

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Mr. Rollings (in calm, ringing voice): And I believe that the one responsible for this underhand surreptitious deed is characteristically inaccurate and not noticeably unconnected with the Referees' Association.

Rev. Crow; I call upon Mr. Rollings to withdraw that statement, whatever it was!!!

Justice Hurley: I rule you both out of order. I'm going to bed.

Mr. Rollings: I rise to a point of order, Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman, I rise to a point of order!

Rev. Crow: I call upon Mr. Rollings to withdraw that statement also.

Justice Hurley: Shut Up!

Messrs. Rollings and Mackenzie (in unison): I rise to another point of order, Mr. Chairman. My previous point of order, Mr. Chairman—

Captain John Macduff: Gentlemen! Gentlemen! You forget yourselves.

(All sit down ashamedly and take out their Bibles.) Mr. Goodson, will you lead the voices, please? We must never have a recurrence of this disgraceful scene. My Brothers, let us sing! (They sing.)

Lord Bishop (awakened by noise): Wikitoria!

Company (drowsily): Hee!

Lord Bishop (braying, with head in the air): Wikitor-i-AH!

(Silence.)

Lord Bishop: Wikitoria! (Removes beret from the head of the nodding Sir Joseph, places it over his own face, and falls asleep.)

Enter Mr. Brook. He glances around, switches off the remaining light and stumbles brokenly out, vainly trying to click his fingers.

—I.M.L.