August Prince of Darkness Special

August Prince of Darkness Special

Terry, The Prince of Darkness, Lord Mandelson’s man Friday, is in the kitchen. He sits at the table. Before him is a large plate with sausages, bacon, eggs, fried bread, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, and black pudding. A side plate is piled with toast. There is a huge steaming mug of tea. A cigarette burns in the ashtray. A glass of Andrews fizzes alongside the mug of tea. Terry is slathering Daddies sauce over his breakfast. His eyes are bloodshot, barely open.

MANDELSON: [Entering the kitchen, stopping to take in the scene, and recoiling visibly] Good god Terry. Don’t you know what day it is?

TERRY: Er…just a sec, boss. Tied one on last night, good ‘n’ proper…er…

MANDELSON: I know. I heard you come in. After I heard the bins getting knocked over, followed by the improvised steel drum dustbin lid solo, followed by the improvised steel drum dustbin lid quartet, followed by the dustbin lid percussion and vocals Pogues medly, followed by…

TERRY: Yeah [grinning] ouch. Headache. The lads were lively last night.

MANDELSON: So. What day is it, Terry?

TERRY: Monday, boss.

MANDELSON: And?

TERRY: Dunno. Last month of the transfer window day?

MANDELSON: No, Terry. There’s more to life than association soccer, you know.

TERRY: I know boss.

MANDELSON: You do know?

TERRY: [Laughing] yeah, and when I find out what it is, I’ll be sure to let you know before anyone else…

MANDELSON: Very amusing, Terry. No, today is day six.

TERRY: [Puzzled, mouth full of full English] day six, boss?

MANDELSON: Day six. Of the seven day cleansing diet. I’ve been on lemon juice, cayenne pepper and water for five days now…

TERRY: [Slurping his builders’ tea, two sugars, then starting to choke] …you what?

MANDELSON: Seven days. Lemon juice and water with a dash of cayenne. For variety, laxative herbal tea…

TERRY: [In disbelief] Laxative…herbal…tea? What happened to that other diet? The…er…Thatcher, was it?

MANDELSON: Cut everything and no dairy? Didn’t work.

TERRY: [Wiping up beans and tomatoes with the toast] what about the Westminster diet?

MANDELSON: All hot air, Mars bars on expenses, and no substance? That one?

TERRY: The Atkins, that was it, you swore by that…

MANDELSON: Until my colonic irrigationist pointed out some unwanted side effects…

TERRY: [Stops eating, puts down his knife and fork, and downs the Andrews in one]…jesus, boss, I’m trying to get my hangover cure down my neck here…

MANDELSON: I can see that, and very selfish it is, too, when I’m…

TERRY: [Starts eating again] …on lemon juice and water…

MANDELSON: …working on another comeback. Terry, Ed might want me to run the election campaign…

TERRY: Good luck with that, boss…

MANDELSON: What do you mean?

TERRY: The other lot’ve got in Obama’s guy…

MANDELSON: …and?

TERRY: Barack Obama’s election guy? You know. President of the…

MANDELSON: I know who Barack Obama is Terry. What are you trying to say?

TERRY: [Realising the need to backpedal] That’s some stiff opposition, boss. Look what you’ve got to work with? The two Ed-ed monster, the elephant man and Talks-Balls, no union money…

MANDELSON: But look at that lot. Little Lord Fauntleroy, rhyming slang, the special needs kid…

TERRY: You need some proper grub boss, to keep your strength up…

MANDELSON: I need to look my size zero best, Terry, I’m going to be the focus of a lot of media attention…[exits, singing ‘There’s no business like show business’]

Terry continues to eat, drink and smoke, humming ‘Send in the Clowns’.