Every Good Boy Deserves Favor and Professional Foul (6 page)

1. INT. AEROPLANE. IN FLIGHT

The tourist class cabin of a passenger jet.
We are mainly concerned with two passengers
.
ANDERSON
is an Oxbridge don, a professor. He is middle-aged, or more. He is sitting in an aisle seat, on the left as we look down the gangway towards the tail
.
MCKENDRICK
is also in an aisle seat, but across the gangway and one row nearer the tail
.
MCKENDRICK
is about forty. He is also a don, but where
ANDERSON
gives a somewhat fastidious impression
,
MCKENDRICK
is a rougher sort of diamond
.

MCKENDRICK
is sitting in the first row of smokers' seats, and
ANDERSON
in the last row of the non-smokers' seats looking aft
.

The plane is by no means full. The three seats across the aisle from
ANDERSON
are vacant. The seat next to
ANDERSON
on his right is also vacant but the seat beyond that, by the window, accommodates a
SLEEPING MAN.

On the vacant seat between
ANDERSON
and the
SLEEPING MAN
is lying a sex magazine of the
Penthouse
type. The magazine, however, is as yet face down
.

The passengers are coming to the end of a meal. They have trays of aeroplane food in front of them
.

MCKENDRICK
puts down his fork and lights a cigarette
.

ANDERSON
dabs at his mouth with his napkin and puts it down. He glances around casually and notes the magazine next to him. He notes the
SLEEPING MAN
.

MCKENDRICK
has a briefcase on the seat next to him, and from this he takes a glossy brochure. In fact, this is quite an elaborate publication associated with a philosophical congress. The cover of this programme is seen to read: ‘Colloquium Philosophicum Prague
77'.

ANDERSON
slides out from under his lunch tray a brochure identical to
MCKENDRICK's.
He glances at it for a mere moment and loses interest. He turns his attention back to the magazine on the seat. He turns the
magazine over and notes the naked woman on its cover. He picks the magazine up, with a further glance at the
SLEEPING MAN,
and opens it to a spread of colour photographs. Consciously or unconsciously he is holding the brochure in such a way as to provide a shield for the magazine
.

MCKENDRICK
casually glancing round, sees the twin to his own brochure
.

MCKENDRICK:
Snap.
(
ANDERSON
looks up guiltily
.)

ANDERSON:
Ah …
(
ANDERSON
closes the magazine and slides it face-up under his lunch tray
.
MCKENDRICK
'
s manner is extrovert. Almost breezy
.
ANDERSON
'
s manner is a little vague
.)

MCKENDRICK:
I wasn't sure it was you. Not a very good likeness.

ANDERSON:
I assure you this is how I look.

MCKENDRICK:
I mean your photograph. (
He flips his brochure open. It contains small photographs and pen portraits of various men and women who are in fact to be speakers at the colloquium
.) The photograph is younger.

ANDERSON:
It must be an old photograph.
(
MCKENDRICK
gets up and comes to sit in the empty seat across the aisle from
ANDERSON
.)

MCKENDRICK:
(
Changing seats
) Bill McKendrick.

ANDERSON:
How odd.

MCKENDRICK:
Is it?

ANDERSON:
Young therefore old. Old therefore young. Only odd at first glance.

MCKENDRICK:
Oh yes.
(
ANDERSON
takes a notebook, with pencil attached, from his pocket and writes in it as he speaks
.)

ANDERSON:
The second glance is known as linguistic analysis. A lot of chaps pointing out that we don't always mean what we say, even when we manage to say what we mean. Personally I'm quite prepared to believe it. (
He finishes writing and closes the notebook. He glances uneasily out of the window
.) Have you noticed the way the wings keep
wagging?
I try to look away and think of something else but I am
drawn back irresistibly … I wouldn't be nervous about flying if the wings didn't wag. Solid steel. Thick as a bank safe. Flexing like tree branches. It's not natural. There is a coldness around my heart as though I'd seen your cigarette smoke knock against the ceiling and break in two like a bread stick. By the way, that is a non-smoking seat.

MCKENDRICK:
Sorry
(
MCKENDRICK
stubs out his cigarette
.
ANDERSON
puts his notebook back into his pocket
.)

ANDERSON:
Yes, I like to collect little curiosities for the language chaps. It's like handing round a bag of liquorice allsorts. They're terribly grateful. (
A thought strikes him
.) Oh, you're not a language chap yourself?
(
The question seems to surprise
MCKENDRICK,
and amuse him
.)

MCKENDRICK
: No. I'm McKendrick.

ANDERSON:
You'll be giving a paper?

MCKENDRICK:
Yes. Nothing new, actually. More of a summing-up of my corner. My usual thing, you know …?
(
MCKENDRICK
is fishing but
ANDERSON
doesn't seem to notice
.)

ANDERSON:
Jolly good.

MCKENDRICK:
Perhaps you've come across some of my stuff…?
(
ANDERSON
now wakes up to the situation and is contrite
.)

ANDERSON:
Clearly that is a reasonable expectation. I
am
sorry. I'm sure I know your name. I don't read the philosophical journals as much as I should, and hardly ever go to these international bunfights. No time nowadays. They shouldn't call us professors. It's more like being the faculty almoner.

MCKENDRICK:
At least my paper will be new to you. We are the only English, actually singing for our supper, I mean. I expect there'll be a few others going for the free trip and the social life. In fact, I see we've got one on board. At the back.
(
MCKENDRICK
jerks his head towards the back of the plane
.
ANDERSON
turns round to look. The object of attention is
CHETWYN,
asleep in the back row, on the aisle
.
CHETWYN
is younger than
MCKENDRICK
and altogether frailer and neater
.
ANDERSON
squints down the plane at
CHETWYN.
)
Do you know Prague?

ANDERSON:
(
Warily
) Not personally. I know the name. (
Then he
wakes up to that
.) Oh,
Prague
. Sorry. No, I've never been there. (
Small pause
.) Or have I? I got an honorary degree at Bratislava once. We changed planes in Prague. (
Pause
.) It might have been Vienna actually. (
Pause. He looks at the window
.) Wag, wag.

MCKENDRICK:
It's Andrew Chetwyn. Do you know him?

ANDERSON:
(
Warily
) Not personally.

MCKENDRICK:
I don't know him
personally
. Do you know his line at all?

ANDERSON:
Not as such.

MCKENDRICK:
(
Suspiciously
) Have you
heard
of him?

ANDERSON:
No. In a word.

MCKENDRICK:
Oh. He's been quite public recently.

ANDERSON:
He's an ethics chap is he?

MCKENDRICK:
His line is that Aristotle got it more or less right, and St Augustine brought it up to date.

ANDERSON:
I can see that that might make him conspicuous.

MCKENDRICK:
Oh, it's not
that
. I mean politics. Letters to
The Times
about persecuted professors with unpronounceable names. I'm surprised the Czechs gave him a visa.

ANDERSON:
There are some rather dubious things happening in Czechoslovakia. Ethically.

MCKENDRICK:
Oh yes. No doubt.

ANDERSON:
We must not try to pretend otherwise.

MCKENDRICK:
Oh quite. I mean I don't. My work is pretty political. I mean by implication, of course. As yours is. I'm looking forward to hearing you.

ANDERSON:
Thank you. I'm sure your paper will be very interesting too.

MCKENDRICK
: As a matter of fact I think there's a lot of juice left in the fictions problem.

ANDERSON:
Is that what you're speaking on?

MCKENDRICK:
No—you are.

ANDERSON:
Oh, am I? (
He looks in his brochure briefly
.) So I am.

MCKENDRICK:
‘Ethical Fictions as Ethical Foundations.'

ANDERSON:
Yes. To tell you the truth I have an ulterior motive for coming to Czechoslovakia at this time. I'm being a tiny bit naughty.

MCKENDRICK:
Naughty?

ANDERSON:
Unethical. Well, I am being paid for by the Czech government, after all.

MCKENDRICK:
And what…?

ANDERSON:
I don't think I'm going to tell you. You see, if I tell you I make you a co-conspirator whether or not you would have wished to be one. Ethically I should give you the opportunity of choosing to be one or not.

MCKENDRICK:
Then why don't you give me the opportunity?

ANDERSON:
I can't without telling you. An impasse.
(
MCKENDRICK
is already putting two and two together and cannot hide his curiosity
.)

MCKENDRICK:
Look … Professor Anderson … if it's political in any way I'd really be very interested.

ANDERSON:
Why, are you a politics chap?

MCKENDRICK:
One is naturally interested in what is happening in these places. And I have an academic interest—my field is the philosophical assumptions of social science.

ANDERSON:
How fascinating. What is that exactly?

MCKENDRICK:
(
Slightly hurt
) Perhaps my paper tomorrow afternoon will give you a fair idea.

ANDERSON:
(
Mortified
) Tomorrow afternoon? I say, what rotten luck. That's exactly when I have to play truant. I
am
sorry.

MCKENDRICK:
(
Coldly
) That's all right.

ANDERSON:
I expect they'll have copies.

MCKENDRICK:
I expect so.

ANDERSON:
The science of social philosophy, eh?

MCKENDRICK:
(
Brusquely
) More or less.

ANDERSON:
(
With polite interest
) McCarthy.

MCKENDRICK:
McKendrick.

ANDERSON:
And how are things at… er …

MCKENDRICK:
Stoke.

ANDERSON:
(
Enthusiastically
)
Stoke!
An excellent university, I believe.

MCKENDRICK:
You know perfectly well you wouldn't be seen dead in it.
(
ANDERSON
considers this
.)

ANDERSON:
Even if that were true, my being seen dead in a place has never so far as I know been thought a condition of its
excellence.
(
MCKENDRICK
despite himself laughs, though somewhat bitterly
.)

MCKENDRICK:
Very good.
(
An
AIR HOSTESS
is walking down the aisle removing people's lunch trays. She removes
ANDERSON
'
s tray, revealing the cover of the sexy magazine, in the middle of
MCKENDRICK
'
s next speech and passes down the aisle
.)
Wit and paradox. Verbal felicity. An occupation for gentlemen. A higher civilization alive and well in the older universities. I see you like tits and bums, by the way.

ANDERSON:
(
Embarrassed
) Ah …
(
The turning of tables cheers
MCKENDRICK
up considerably
.)

MCKENDRICK:
They won't let you in with that you know. You'll have to hide it.

ANDERSON:
As a matter of fact it doesn't belong to me.

MCKENDRICK:
Western decadence you see. Marxists are a terrible lot of prudes. I can say that because I'm a bit that way myself.

ANDERSON:
You surprise me.

MCKENDRICK:
Mind you, when I say I'm a Marxist…

ANDERSON:
Oh, I see.

MCKENDRICK:
… I don't mean I'm an apologist for everything done in the name of Marxism.

ANDERSON:
No, no quite. There's nothing anti-socialist about it.
Quite the reverse. The rich have always had it to themselves.