‘Shut up now, Dad. I can’t tell if you are taking the piss or if you actually believe what you are telling me. And, anyway, they do not have a Queen of England any more. She retired when everything got sorted out.’
‘Just remember, son, I love you. I love all my children. And I love my grandchildren. But you, being my oldest, one day, when I die, you will become the King of all of Africa.’
Both men fall silent. They drink their cans of lager, stare into the early-evening sky and listen to the Twenty-Three Sparrows squabbling in the bush nearest to the veranda.
18:27
There are three halves of Guinness on the table.
The table is in the corner of a bar.
The early-evening sunlight is being filtered through the stained-glass window.
The stained-glass window depicts Saint Brendan in his coracle.
It is an Irish pub in the back streets of Rome.
The bar is called The Three Popes.
The three Popes sitting around the table do not address each other formally.
They are on first-name terms, their first names being Dion (Pope Dionysius XXIII), Ellie (Pope Eloise) and Tony (Pope Anthony).
‘Is this a joke, Dion?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dragging us to some fake Irish bar so we can discuss matters of the highest—’
‘You know more than anyone the whole of the Vatican is bugged. And probably you are behind all the bugging. But that’s as maybe. I thought it important for the three of us to have an informal chat over a half of the dark stuff.’
Pope Anthony turns to Pope Eloise. ‘Ellie, you are saying nothing. What are your thoughts on what Dion is proposing?’
‘Sorry, I was thinking about something else altogether. What was he proposing?’
‘He was saying he, as in Dion, as in Pope Dionysius XXIII, is still really the Pope in the eyes of God, and us two were just career-minded opportunists. And we know it and the whole world really knows it. And God definitely knows it.’
‘Tony, Ellie, I am going to make this as clear as I can. I am not going to raise my voice or embarrass you or expect you to … but the reason why the world over the past few years has lost not only any respect for the Roman Catholic Church but, more importantly, faith in God, is we have allowed ourselves to fuck with the idea of what the Pope is. It is like we went all post-modern with what the Pope is. I don’t mean to offend you, Ellie, but you just can’t have a black female Pope, let alone a female lesbian Pope. It makes a joke of the whole thing. Even though I think it is a funny joke.’
‘I am not offended. But it was you having opinions like that that meant you could no longer be the Pope. But I also think it’s funny. And I don’t hold it against you. I am still pretty good at the forgiving thing.’
‘Look, I was sacked because I lost my faith. But now I have found it again, I realise I had always been the Pope and you two were just interlopers.’
‘I don’t give a fuck what you say, Dion, or for that matter what you say, Ellie, you both let the Holy See down majorly. I have restored what you both managed to break.’
‘But, Tony, nobody gives a fuck any more. Nobody needs the Church any more. Or that is what I have been thinking, until this morning.’
‘This morning?’
‘This morning a white dove landed on my windowsill and she spoke to me. She told me there is a Baby to be born. And this Baby is to be the Daughter of … well, not Man, as she said something about a crow and a fox, so I am not too sure about that bit. But, anyway, a Baby will be born and this Baby will be the Messiah returned. It is my job, above everything else, as the one and only Pope, to be there to welcome this Baby into the world.’
‘And where is this baby to be born? In a stable in Bethlehem perchance?’
‘No, my hunch is it is going to be born in a prison cell off the Holloway Road in London.’
‘Okay, Dion, you have a choice. I will have you quietly and painlessly “put to sleep”, and then by this time next year will have you Beatified, as in made into a Saint. As Saint Dionysius you will have all the honour and respect you lost in your lifetime. Or, if you want to live, you will be stripped of everything: your title, your pension, your flat in the Vatican. And you can’t get to wear any of the costume, you’re back to civvies.’
‘There is no choice. I’m off now. Are you coming with me, Ellie?’
‘Coming with you? I’m going to write the musical as we go. By the time we get to London and this Baby is born, Cameron Mackintosh will be begging us to let him stage it in the West End. A Child Is Born – Two.’
On that note Pope Dionysius XXIII and Pope Eloise walk out of The Three Popes hand in hand. It would be good to say they left skipping or even doing the Morecambe and Wise exit, but Pope Dionysius XXIII’s sciatica in his lower back would not allow it.
Pope Anthony looks up at the stained-glass window and wonders if he should have joined the family business back in Palermo.
The halves of Guinness are left undrunk.
18:29
There are four glasses on the table.
There is maybe milk of some sort in the glasses.
We don’t know where the bar is.
But this is the bar where Tangerine NiteMare meet.
To have their band meetings.
They like to call it the Korova Milk Bar.
But I don’t think that is its real name.
Or if any of this is real.
Killer Queen takes charge.
‘So tonight we do our gig in the London Aquarium. Then over the next few months Mister Fox and the girls at the agency have sorted out a world tour for us. It takes in all of the places we have ever wanted to play. From the mountains in Madagascar to the High Plains of Nebraska. From the potholes of the Gobi desert to the dustbowls of the Outback. From the in-flight deck of the last flying Concorde to the far horizons of Lake Windermere. From the upper reaches of the Amazon to the tidal flats of the Ganges. From the—’
‘Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! We get the point, Killer,’ interjects Dead Squirrel.
‘But where and when does the tour end?’ enquires Crow.
‘Where it might have begun: in the Maelstrom, off the northern tip of the Isle of Jura, on Christmas Eve,’ answers Killer Queen.
‘And the gear?’ asks Dead Squirrel.
‘Drums of Death, as in Colin from Oban, has got all that sorted for us. He has this PA that can be taken anywhere and is powered by mind control. It’s massive but you can fit it in your pocket.’
‘We don’t have pockets,’ quips Crow.
‘I have,’ pipes up John Lennon.
‘Do we need to rehearse?’ enquires Dead Squirrel.
‘We have never rehearsed. Rehearsing would be selling out. We are for real. Everything we do is improvised. Everything we do is now. That is why they love us,’ says Killer Queen.
‘There is a rumour going around FaceLife that we are just an ordinary band made up of four blokes who have adopted stupid stage names and are playing derivative music. Should we try to scotch this rumour?’ worries Dead Squirrel.
‘No point. There are always going to be unbelievers. That is their problem. Their loss. We know we are real. Our fans know we are real,’ adds John Lennon.
‘If there is nothing else to discuss, I suggest we all get the bus down to the London Aquarium now and do our soundcheck. Oh yeah, and Drums of Death said he would do the desk for us,’ concludes the Killer.
They suck up the rest of their milk through the straws and leave just as Alex and His Droogs arrive.
18:31
There is a pint of lager on the table near the door.
The door is a door to a pub on Kingsland Road, Dalston.
Another pint of lager is placed on the table.
‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘Fine by me.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think I have ever seen a Hasidic Jewish person in a pub before.’
‘Wel
l, the truth is I never have been in a pub before.’
‘So what’s caused the big shift?’
‘Kinda complicated.’
‘Try me.’
‘Well, this morning when I was coming through Customs at Heathrow, I was handed a parcel. Inside the parcel was this book …’
‘Fuck me, I got the same sodding book this morning as well. Anyway, go on.’
‘So I opened the book and I found this page in Hebrew that I read, and it had this instant impact on me. My first name is Moses, see, and there is this page that is, like, addressing me directly, and I think I am “the” Moses. You know, the Moses who leads our people out of slavery in Egypt? I am somehow thinking that is what I have to do. Then sometime later, after I got home and had some of my mum’s cooking, I turned the page and there was some more in Hebrew, and after I read that I thought I was the Messiah.’
‘Like Jesus, bruv?’
‘Yeah, but for us Jesus wasn’t the Messiah. Us Jews are still waiting for the Messiah to come.’
‘But I thought Jesus was Jewish, bruv.’
‘Yeah, but we didn’t think he was for real, so we are still waiting. And like I said earlier, I thought I was the Messiah. And so I just got up, walked out of my mum’s and started walking down the Kingsland Road. And in my head I am going to be walking all the way to the Promised Land to rebuild Jerusalem. But I am knackered ’cause I was on a flight overnight and didn’t get any sleep. And I am thinking, “Maybe I am getting things out of proportion? Maybe I should just have a bit of a sit down and a think about it?” So I came in here, got myself a pint, and then you sat down with me. I know it all sounds like madness, but you did ask.’
‘None of that sounds like madness, bruv. In fact, I know my Bible well. I know all those Old Testament stories about you lot and Moses. Yeah, I used to like Moses a lot. Anyway, like I was saying, I got given a copy of the same book this morning. But it was a different page I read. You see, remember the Tottenham Riots back in the day? Well, it was me that burnt down the Co-op building. I became like a hero to all the other kids. It sort of went to me head. I sort of suffer from mental things; I get very angry sometimes. Sometimes I take pills to control the anger. And this morning, reading this page in the yellow book … what’s it called again?’
‘Grapefruit Are Not the Only Bombs.’
‘Yeah, good title as well. Anyway, I read these words, telling me to burn the Shard, you know, the building on the South Bank? I used to have all these followers on Twitter. Hundreds of thousands of them. I send out a tweet that tonight we will burn the Shard – it was the first in years. And now things have gone mental. Kids are coming from all over the place and they want me to lead them in burning down the Shard. So I have come in here to have a pint and think about it first. I mean, it’s mental. But sometimes some of the best things are mental. That is why I think you could be the Messiah. But I don’t think you need to go all the way to Israel to build Jerusalem – it would just start up all that shit again with the Arabs and stuff. You see, we have this song called “Jerusalem”. We used to sing it at school. I remember reading somewhere that some people thought it should be our national anthem, when we still had a national anthem. They were right. I loved that song. Anyway, in this song they sing about the Messiah coming, and we build Jerusalem here in Albion. That is what I think you should do. I will do it with you. We will build Jerusalem here. Maybe not here in Dalston. But somewhere where there is some room. I used to do acting when I was a kid. We did acting all over the place; there are some great places to build Jerusalem. Maybe up North, it’s pretty grim there, but up on the hills, the Pennines. It would be brilliant to build Jerusalem up there, with all its city walls and everything. And it could be where all you Jewish people live. It could become your Promised Land. I mean, no one lives up there any more. Not since everything got made in China, so they all got unemployed. And everybody started emigrating to Poland and Estonia and stuff. Plenty of space. You could do your Kosher farms and everything. I like bagels, me. I always like going to the twenty-four-hour bagel shop up on the Stokey bit of Kingsland. Smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel, that’s my favourite. That’s Jewish, right? We’ll sort it. What you reckon?’
‘How did the words to this song go, the one you were talking about?’
‘I will sing it.’
And without stopping to think or even take a sip from his pint Henry Pedders stands up and in a full tenor breaks out into song:
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen!
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
At this point a bloke walks into the pub with a painted face, all scary-looking. A bit like Jack Nicholson as the Joker, but with more black, and more scary. And he starts singing along with Henry Pedders, but in harmony.
Bring me my Bow of burning gold
Bring me my Arrows of desire
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
And now all these other kids – well, not just kids, all sorts of people – come into the pub and start singing with Henry and the bloke with the painted face.
I will not cease from Mental Fight
Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green & pleasant Land
And when it gets to the end the place erupts.
‘You see, Moses, that is why you should build Jerusalem here in Albion, even if you are not the Messiah.’
‘Yeah, Henry, I think you are right, but who is this bloke with the painted face? Is he one of your mates?’
‘My name is Drums of Death.’ He is addressing the whole bar and not just Moses and Henry. ‘And I want to invite you all to a gig I am doing tonight at the London Aquarium. I want to finish my set with everybody here singing “Jerusalem”. And, Yid boy,* I reckon you should get some of your mates down to sing along with us. It will look great. And I should also let you know Tangerine NiteMare are doing a set. It will be the first show on their world tour. Someone buy me a pint?’
And on that note we will leave this chapter, with Moses Tabick, Henry Pedders and Drums of Death, aka Colin from Oban, having a quiet pint before the rest of the evening unfolds.
* Okay, maybe ‘Yid boy’ does not sit right, but when I tried ‘Jew boy’ and then ‘Kike boy’ they looked even more loaded. If this book is ever to be published, maybe the editor will fix it.
8: LIVE FROM THE LONDON AQUARIUM
22:23 Monday 24 April 2023
Post-comeback warm-up gig, in the cramped dressing room of the Roadmender in Northampton.
‘That was fucking rubbish. I mean, Bill, do you actually know any of our songs? Or even what end of the bass you are supposed to be playing? And, Jimmy, how many times are you going to use that “my lead came out” excuse? As for the rock opera I was planning, I may as well hire a couple of lads that are eager, willing and, most importantly, talented.’
Jimmy and Bill say nothing. The roadies say nothing. The promoter who has just stuck his head around the door says nothing. Alan has some more to say.
‘I’m off for a smoke. Don’t try to contact me.’
And that was that.
22:27
Post-world-tour warm-up gig, in the cramped dressing room of the London Aquarium.
‘That was fucking amazing! I mean, Crow, you just showed them how to fly across the sky in a straight line. And, Dead Squirrel, your running up and down trees had them moshing like it was 1999. As for you, Lennon, that “For those of you in the cheap seats I’d like ya to clap your hands to this one; the rest of you can just rattle your jewellery!” quip will be quoted for years to come. And as for myself, I think I definitely made the c
ase for transgender killer whales making the best form of life to front any sort of band.’
The rest of the band are saying nothing. What can they say? They all know they just blew the place apart. The Stingrays went berserk. The Little Perch, who got in on the guest-list, will remember it for the rest of their lives as the greatest gig they ever went to. Killer Queen has some more to say.
‘So, Drums of Death wants us all to come on at the end of his set to do “Jerusalem” with him. Yeah, that “Jerusalem” – “And did those feet,” etc. He’s got all these Hasidic Jewish lads down from Stamford Hill to be, like, the choir. And then there is this mad bloke called Henry-something who said he should have been in those Harry Potter films as the fat boy. He has a spoken-word bit that Drums of Death wants us to do some backing for. We will just jam it. And Mister Fox is off scoring us some gravel. And lastly Dead Perch has just texted me to tell you all that he is on it.
‘In a word “Genius”!’
22:37
The thing is, your children never appreciate you until after you’re dead. When my son was around this afternoon, I knew he would not get it. But one day, after my state funeral, he will get it. But enough of that; the only reason why I am butting in here is to let you know I have now pushed the needle through the remaining two of my straw figures. As of now both Florence ‘the Princess of’ Wales and Marcia Zuckerberg are dead in their beds. But seeing as both of them were asleep, no one will know until the morning. As far as I am concerned, these small actions have been my first steps at saving the world.
I had a mate whose dad died a few years ago. I remember him telling me how, when he was a kid, his dad was like a giant, and the fount of all truth and wisdom. And as my mate grew up his dad just shrunk and then shrivelled, and when his dad got old he started to lose his mind and became incontinent, and his opinions about anything were worthless – but on the day after his funeral, his dad became this giant again. He could see his father for everything he really was – his strength, his wisdom, all of it. I just want you to remember that, as this might be the last time I get to be in this book.
2023: a trilogy (Justified Ancients of Mu Mu) Page 19
