Woodland Voles

	Stephen is at his horrible house, answering the door.
	He wears a cardigan with leather patches. He smokes a 
	pipe which has a stitched leather bowl holder. He opens 
	the door. Hugh stands without. He is dressed in similar 
	fashion. These are people with whom John Major would 
	have a great deal in common. Hugh is holding a hosepipe 
	reel.


Stephen		John!

Hugh		Afternoon, John. I'm returning the hosepipe you
		so kindly lent me.

Stephen		Decent. Very decent. In you come, for heaven's sake.

Hugh		Thankee.

Stephen		I was just rearranging my collection. I don't know
		if you've ever seen it.

Hugh		Collection? Now there's a thing. What do you collect
		exactly?

Stephen		Well, it ain't stamps.

Hugh		It ain't stamps. Coins, perhaps?

Stephen		It ain't coins.

Hugh		You find me intrigued, John.

	They are walking into John's den.

Stephen		Follow me into the rumpus den, John and all
		will be revealed.

Hugh		Lead on, lead on.

	Inside the rumpus den there is a large collection 
	of plates with woodland creatures painted on them. 
	There are statuettes called "Spirit of the Dance" and 
	glass figurines of robins. You have never seen such a 
	disgusting collection in all your life. It is spotlit and the 
	joy of Stephen's life.

Hugh		My word, John. My word, my heavens, my goodness.

Stephen		The plates are mostly the work of the artist Elizabeth
		Bridwell, ARA; one of the leading artists of today.

Hugh		(Examining a plate) I can see that she is one
		of the leading artists of today at a glance, John.

Stephen		She captures the spirit of woodland creatures in a
		variety of heritage series that you will want to keep
		for ever as a lasting joy and investment.

Hugh		Investment, John?

Stephen		For surely sure investment, John. Only a very
		limited edition of these is produced; ensuring rarity
		and individuality.

Hugh		(Holding a saucer) I am bound to say, John "what
		a marvellous thing to possess".

Stephen		The mischievious expression on that hedgehog's
		busy, enquiring little face as he snouts for black-
		berries is beautifully rendered and brings vividly to
		life the atmosphere of our heritage native woodlands.
		I bought a hundred of those.

Hugh		A hundred, John? I am gobsmacked. Simply
		gobsmacked.

Stephen		I instantly destroyed ninety-nine. In this way I
		have increased the rarity of this beautiful object
		considerably. Only forty-nine others exist.

Hugh		And where are they?

Stephen		In the hands of other connoisseurs, I must assume.

Hugh		Connoisseurs who also read the Mail on Sunday? 

Stephen		In a nutshell.

Hugh		John, if you could track down these other tasteful
		readers of the Mail on Sunday and offer to acquire
		their saucers of the busy enquiring mischievous ...

Stephen		(Correcting him) Mischievious ...

Hugh		Mischievious, I do beg your pardon. If, as I
		say, you could acquire the remainder of these
		heirloom heritage pieces you would be sitting
		on the only mischievious hedgehog left in the
		world.

Stephen		Such is my ambition, John. Who knows what
		this saucer would be worth should that be the
		case?

Hugh		When you think, John, of the amounts fetched by
		painting by Picasso which do not have a tithe of
		the character, saucy mischieviousness and enquiring
		business of this little heritage hedgehog ...

Stephen		It's quite a thought, John. And that is just one
		saucer. There is a series of statuettes here in frosted
		glass entitled "Spirit of the Dance" by John Petty
		C.R.A.P.

Hugh		John, they seem to crystallise in lovingly ground
		glass the movement, grace and gossamer freedom
		of a great ballerina.

Stephen		That they do, John. In spades. I bought two
		hundred of each in the series and ...

Hugh		Destroyed one hundred and ninety-nine of them?

Stephen		Precisely.

Hugh		(Very serious) John.

Stephen		Yes?

Hugh		I do hope you are properly insured. There are
		international art thieves around who ... if they
		got so much as a whisper of what a trove you
		have in this rumpus den ... well ...

Stephen		I know, John. Believe me I know. I'm well protected,
		believe you I.

Hugh		I do believe you I, John. I do. Tell me a thing.

Stephen		Gladdingly.

Hugh		What does Joanie make of these. She paints, I believe?

Stephen		Ah now. Now. Joanie is rendered speechless. I
		sometimes find her in here staring at these objets 
		with her arm sort of flung up in front of her face.

Hugh		As if unable to comprehend such talent.

Stephen		Exactly. I think she comes in to draw inspiration.
		Sometimes though she can't bring herself to look
		at them at all.

Hugh		As if dazzled.

Stephen		As if dazzled. I'll call her in. (Calling off) Oh Joanie.

Joan		(Off) What?

Stephen		Could you come in a second, my love?

Hugh		Is she at work at the moment?

Stephen		She is, yes.

	Enter Joanie. She is still holding her palette and is 
	obviously still at work. She enters the room sideways,
	as if trying to avert her gaze from the collection. Stephen 
	and Hugh catch each other's eyes and mouth the word 
	"dazzled" to each other with triumphant confirmation.

Joan		Yes?

Stephen		You remember John, don't you Joanie?

Joan		Oh. Hello.

Stephen		We were talking about the collection.

	Joan emits a little squeak.

Hugh		You're a painter yourself, of course, Joanie. You
		must marvel at this kind of artistry.

	Joan starts to make little retching noises.

		All the more so when you consider the rarity
		of these pieces.

Joan		Yes. (An idea begins to dawn) As a matter of fact
		John, I was going to tell you ...

Stephen		Yes?

Joan		I tracked down a man in Carshalton who has
		a collection exactly the same as yours.

Stephen		No!

Joan		Yup. Piece for piece.

Stephen		If only he would sell ...

Joan		He will! I've ordered the whole collection: it's
		on its way here.

Stephen		Marvellous. That is marvellous.

Hugh		Oh, congratulations.

Stephen		All I have to do is destroy it and this will be
		worth even more.

Joan		Or of course ...

Stephen		Yes?

Joan		(Trying to be casual) You could destroy this lot
		and keep the one that's on its way.

Hugh		True.

Stephen		Well, there's no need. These are in place.

Hugh		Be fun though wouldn't it?

Joan		(Almost hysterical) Yes! Think what fun it would be.

Stephen		All right. Let's do it.

	Joan, like a savage animal, unleashes herself on the 
	collection. Hugh joins in. Stephen too, slightly puzzled by 
	the incredible ferocity of Joan and Hugh's attack. Soon it 
	is all in pieces. Joan is frenzied with joy.

		(A little doubtful) Well. There we are. Can't wait
		for the new set to arrive.

Hugh		Congratulations.

Joan		Thank you.

Stephen		This calls for a drink I think. Fancy a gin and
		ton, John?

Hugh		Hoo, why not?

Stephen		Coming up.

	Exit Stephen.

	Joan waits for him to go and then falls into Hugh's arms.

Joan		Thank you, John. Thank you a million times over.

Hugh		Think nothing of it. Sometimes a public duty can
		be a private pleasure. But for God's sake cancel that
		subscription to the Mail on Sunday.

Joan		I have.

Stephen		Used to be this chap at my school
		called Richard Braine. You'll never
		guess our nickname for him. We
		used to call him Rick Brain. Oh
		no, that can't be right.