The Wind in the Willows Partygate
Written by Hilary Thain
Party like it’s 1832: huge bash for 190th birthday of Jonathan the tortoise
‘And I must go, I must, I must!’ said Mr Johnson, quite regardless of law and order.
Sitting in wicker-chairs out on the lawn, evidently telling each other stories, roaring with laughter and kicking their short legs up in the air. ‘A popular fellow such as I am – my friends get around me – we chaff, we sparkle, we tell witty stories, somehow my tongue gets wagging.’ A man who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea. ‘Of course, I don’t really care, I only want to swagger about and enjoy myself. That’s my motto.’
He took care to include a yard of long French bread, a sausage out of which the garlic sang, some cheese which lay down and cried, and a long-necked straw-covered flash wherein lay bottled sunshine. He waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with a sigh of full contentment, and leaned back blissfully into the soft cushions. They found him in a sort of a trance, a happy smile on his face.
‘This is splendid!’
At last they were toasted, intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the scents and the sounds and the sunlight. The afternoon sun was getting low as they clattered off, very grateful and showering birthday wishes, with their jacket pockets stuffed with remembrances for the small brothers and sisters at home. When the door had closed on the last of them, he dreamily fell to considering what a day he was having.
‘What a jolly life’.
Boris Johnson’s last party?
‘There’s going to be a big banquet to-morrow night. It’s somebody’s birthday – The Chief Weasel’s – I believe – and all the staff will be gathered together in the dining-hall, eating and drinking and laughing and carrying on. We will make all the necessary arrangements in the course of the morning to-morrow.’
At last the hour for the banquet began to draw near. He dipped his hairbrush in the water jug, parted his hair in the middle, and plastered it down very straight and sleek on each side of his face; and, unlocking the door, went quietly down the stairs to greet his guests, who he knew must be assembling in the drawing room. ‘The hour has come!’
All the staff cheered when he entered, and crowded round to congratulate him and say nice things about his courage, and his cleverness, and his fighting qualities. At last, as the cheering and hammering slowly subsided, a voice could be made out saying ‘Well I do not propose to detain you much longer’ – (great applause) – ‘but before I resume my seat’ – (renewed cheering) – ‘I should like to say one word about our kind host, Mr Johnson. We all know Johnson!’ – (great laughter) – ‘Good old Boris, modest Boris, honest Boris!’ – (shrieks of merriment).
Boris was at his best, feasting with his friends, singing songs and telling stories, carrying on generally. He had ordered everything of the best, and the banquet was a great success. There was much talking and laughter and chaff among the staff. All was a-shake and a-shiver – glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and bubble.
By pressing delicacies on his guests, by topical small-talk, and by earnest enquiries after members of their families not yet old enough to appear at social functions, he managed to convey to them that this dinner was being run on strictly conventional lines, so they finished their supper in great joy and contentment.
Instead of having an uneasy conscious pricking him and whispering, ‘It’s no good Boris; you know well that your songs are all conceit and boasting and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise and – and – well, and gross exaggeration and – and …’, his face wore a placid satisfied expression as he murmured to himself, ‘This has been a wonderful day!’
Boris Johnson loses cool as he shouts ‘complete nonsense’ at partygate committee
Policemen again! His pleasant dream was shattered. The call was clear, the summons was plain. He must obey it instantly and go.
‘Let me see: he has been found guilty, on the clearest evident. First about the banqueting hall – the position’s about as bad as it can be, you stayed to supper, of course?’
‘This was an impromptu affair,’ explained Mr Johnson, ‘however, you are right, I know, and I am wrong. I see it all now! What a pig I have been! A pig – that’s me! Just a pig – a plain pig! It’s only my way you know.’
‘Look’, he went on, ‘this is what occurs to me. I am very sorry indeed for my foolish conduct. Henceforth believe me, I will be humble and submissive, and will take no action without your kind advice and full approval!’
‘I am pleased that you have at last seen the error of your ways. I see you are truly sorry for your misguided conduct in the past. Now the very next time this happens, I shall be exceedingly angry.’
Mr Johnson rose from his seat and remarked carelessly, ‘Well, well, we won’t linger over that now.’
‘Mr Johnson, I want you to solemnly repeat, what you fully admitted, that you are sorry for what you’ve done, and you see the folly of it all.
Mr Johnson looked desperately this way and that while they waited in grave silence. At last he spoke, ‘No!’ he said, a little sullenly, but stoutly; ‘I’m not sorry. And it wasn’t folly at all! It was simply glorious! I find that I’m not a bit sorry or repentant really, so it’s no earthly good saying I am now, is it?’
‘What? You backsliding animal, didn’t you tell me just now…?’
‘Oh yes, yes, I’d have said anything. Why can’t fellows be allowed to do what they like when they like and as they like, instead of other fellows making remarks. What nonsense it all is!’
There was nothing else to be done, he had the world all to himself, ‘I’m not going to be ordered around by you fellows!’ No criminal laws had ever been known to prevail against cheek and plausibility such as his. This is the end of everything, at least it is the end of the career of Mr Johnson, which is the same thing; the popular and handsome Mr Johnson, the rich and hospitable Mr Johnson, Mr Johnson so free and careless and debonair!
‘You know you must turn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to begin; a sort of turning point in your career. You ought to go where you’ll be properly appreciated. You’re simply wasted here, among us fellows’.
‘Don’t ever refer to it again, please. Now then!’ he heaved a deep sigh: a long, long, long sigh, ‘I know exactly what I’m going to do, and I’ll tell you, I’m going to…’. Casually, then, and with seeming indifference, he said, ‘There’s only one thing more to be done, you see, we ought to have a Banquet at once, to celebrate this affair. It’s expected, in fact, it’s the rule.’
Bibliography:
GRAHAME, Kenneth. 1995. The Wind in the Willows [e-book]. Available at: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/289