NEWS ITEM: According to the Guardian News Service, Charles, Prince of Wales, is tightening his belt. The Royal once reputed to have his valet squirt his toothpaste onto his toothbrush for him has even stooped to wearing the same outfits several times. Charles has also cut down on his use of electricity and is apparently doing his part for his country by vacationing at his estate in Scotland rather than in more exotic locales.
SCENE: A dark, damp groundskeeper’s cottage in the Scottish highlands, fuelled by a peat fire and lit by kerosene lamps. Several freshly killed rabbits dangle from hooks on the wall over an old table, on which are splayed an assortment of grimy just-plucked vegetables -- several leeks and three potatoes. A tall 60-year-old man, Charles, dressed in a dusty top hat and rather snug tails, sits on a wooden chair, awkwardly attempting to pare a fourth potato with an old knife. A second Man stands across from him, hands twitching, trying to contain his criticisms of Charles’s technique.
MAN: Your Highness, if I may…
CHARLES: (Fumbling
absently with the paring knife) In
these less flamboyant times, Jeeves, you may simply call me “Highness.” Or
“Duke of Rothesay.” Or “Duke of Cornwall.”
MAN: Yes, er, Highness.
CHARLES: And may I continue
to call you Jeeves?
MAN: Certainly, Highness,
although in truth, my name is Anthony.
CHARLES: (Greatly
surprised) Is it? But haven’t I
always called you ‘Jeeves’?
ANTHONY: Yes, Highness, you
call all your manservants ‘Jeeves.’ Perhaps you find it simpler to refer to
every one of us by the same name.
CHARLES: Not at all, Anthony!
I thought it was an amazing coincidence that wherever I went, all of you were
named Jeeves! Well, the things one discovers when one gets off one’s polo horse
and mucks about, eh?
ANTHONY: Indeed, Highness.
CHARLES: (Indicating the
potato) I say, Anthony, how do you
get the, er, hair and whatnot off this monstrous carbuncle?
ANTHONY: (Eagerly) Shall I give you a hand, Highness?
CHARLES: Yes -- but don’t do
it for me, old man. Just show me how. Soon Camilla and I may be forced to, as
it were, ‘fend for ourselves’! ‘Live as the common folk do’! ‘Break daily
bread,’ and, er, you know …
ANTHONY: (While deftly
paring the potato) Cook, Highness?
CHARLES: Yes, that’s it. Like
cavemen and other primitives have for, well, ages, I suppose. I did rather
think Camilla might already know how, but she claims she can’t even harden up
one of those elliptical things, you know, those damnably brittle white ones --
ANTHONY: An egg, Highness?
She can’t boil an egg?
CHARLES: Yes! Shocking, isn’t
it? She can wrench a burr from the haunch of a bucking horse with her teeth,
but when it comes to, er, whatzit…
ANTHONY: Cook-ing, Highness?
CHARLES: (Brushing dirt ineffectively off a leek and growing irritated) Oh, do stop calling me ‘Highness’! ‘Sir’ is fine.
ANTHONY: Certainly, sir.
CHARLES: At any rate,
Anthony, the Duchess of Rothesay and I are, er, ‘downsizing.’ We’re seriously
thinking of moving permanently into simpler digs. Like this -- this cottage
would work, wouldn’t it?
ANTHONY: Well, sir, yes, of
course. Only --
CHARLES: (Curtly) Out with it, Jeeves -- I mean, Anthony!
ANTHONY: Er, only somebody
already lives here.
CHARLES: Ah! Really? Who?
ANTHONY: The groundskeeper,
sir.
CHARLES: Anthony, this is why
I’m the Prince of Wales and you’re a serf, or whatever we call you now. You
see, if we downsize, and sell off our mansionhouse here at Birkhall Estate,
we’ll have no need for the groundskeeper.
ANTHONY: I suppose not, sir.
But what shall Brownleigh do for a living then, sir? His family has served
yours for hundreds of years.
CHARLES: You mean his name
isn’t Jeeves either? Zounds! Oh, honestly, Anthony, I can’t be thinking about
such drivel as Brownleigh’s daily comings and goings. I have my landscape
painting to preoccupy me -- should I fill the sky with seven clouds, or just
use one? -- that sort of thing. And there’s my abiding interest in illusionism
-- I’m a member of the Magic Circle, you know. That requires constant practice,
Jeeves.
ANTHONY: Will you be getting
rid of all your staff here in Scotland, sir?
CHARLES: Well, we might keep
a gardener. I must maintain the organic vegetable garden and that Jeeves is
awfully good.
ANTHONY: You mean McAdams,
sir. And what will you do for security?
CHARLES: I’m not certain
we’ll need any. If we aren’t unspeakably rich any more, terrorists and
hooligans and Irishmen and the like will lose interest, won’t they?
ANTHONY: I doubt it, sir. I think you’ll still be seen as an important if
powerless figurehead.
CHARLES: (Offended) Powerless figurehead? I hardly think --
(A crash is heard outside
the window. Charles freezes in
fear. Anthony rushes over to the
window and looks out.)
CHARLES: What ho, Jeeves!
ANTHONY: I’m afraid I can’t
see anything, sir, what with the smoke from the peat.
CHARLES: (Hopefully) Could it be a herd of marauding rabbits?
ANTHONY: Sounded rather larger, sir.
CHARLES: Well, I say, I don’t
like that. D’you think terrorists know about this place?
ANTHONY: Most likely, sir. They probably have Google Maps.
CHARLES: (Petulantly) I did ask Mummy to make sure we weren’t on it.
ANTHONY: She may not have had
any say in the matter, sir.
CHARLES: Now, see here,
Jeeves, Mummy --
(Another crash comes from
outside the other window.)
CHARLES: (Frightened) Heavens! What shall we do?
ANTHONY: I’ll call security,
sir.
CHARLES: I’m afraid you
can’t. I gave them the week off -- without pay, of course. I thought we’d
experiment with, you know, ‘roughing it.’ As you can see, I’m wearing an
ensemble from 2007! You haven’t heard a whisper of complaint about it from me,
either. Please leak that to the press.
ANTHONY: Sir, I think we’ve
had a security breach. I’m not sure how to protect you. And, I must say, since
I’m in imminent danger of losing my job after a lifetime of faithful service,
I’m not inclined to defend you to the death with that paring knife. Did you
dismiss the hounds, as well?
CHARLES: (Elated) Jeeves, thank-you for reminding me! I actually do
have an attack beast. It’s dozing in the back room, and due to my heroic
efforts to cut back, it hasn’t had a gin and tonic in a fortnight.
ANTHONY: (Alarmed) Sir?
CHARLES: (Confidently) Yes, Jeeves -- release Camilla!
