Read Online Fatty O'Leary's Dinner Party by Alexander McCall Smith - Free Book Online Page A

too large for the bath. Is that what happened? Were you just too large?”
    Fatty mumbled something that Rupert O’Brien did not hear. “I remember,” went on Rupert O’Brien, “when I was at school – Campbell College, you know it? – we had a fellow who got stuck in an armchair. He was a large fellow, a bit like yourself but maybe not quite so large, and he sat in this armchair and he simply could not get out of it. His father was Irish Ambassador in Paris at the time, I distinctly remember. He was considered a possible president at one stage, but he was rather too fond of the ladies and you know what the bishops are like in this country. Frightful bunch of killjoys. But anyway, there was his son, stuck in an armchair and no amount of pulling seemed to be able to do the trick. I thought one of the springs might have got hooked into him, you know, and this would have made it difficult to dislodge him. Then I had a good idea, which was to turn the armchair upside down and let gravity do the trick. So we did, and out he eventually popped, barely damaged by the whole experience, even if he did have a large rent in the seat of his pants, which gave us a good laugh. You know what boys are like. Cruel bunch. Ha!”
    Fatty clenched his teeth in desperation. He was as captive an audience as those unfortunate Romans who were obliged to hear Nero play his fiddle and who could only escape the auditorium by pretending to die.
    â€œFunny that,” mused Rupert O’Brien. “We couldn’t tug him out, but gravity, exercising its force in the opposite direction …” He paused, and Fatty opened his eyes to see a thoughtful expression on the face of his unwelcome companion.
    â€œMy goodness, we could do the same for you,” said Rupert O’Brien. “If I just roll this tub over, you’ll be upside down and then you’ll probably come out through the operation of gravity. Why didn’t I think of it before?”
    Fatty shook his head. “No,” he protested. “They’ll be back soon. Just leave me.”
    â€œWouldn’t hear of leaving you,” said Rupert O’Brien. “Now, don’t you worry. I’ll just give this a bit of a push and you’ll be over. Let me see, just here.”
    Fatty felt the bathtub rocking and then, with a sudden lurch, it toppled over onto its side. There was a ringing clang, like a deadened bell, and then the movement started again and he felt the bathtub roll once more.
    â€œThere!” shouted Rupert O’Brien. “That’s it.”
    Fatty was now upside down, his view of the sky beingreplaced with a dark view of the cobbled surface of the courtyard.
    Rupert O’Brien tapped loudly on the bathtub. “Are you all right in there, Mr. O’Leary,” he shouted. “Are you beginning to slip out?”
    â€œI am still caught,” said Fatty miserably. “Turn it over again. I don’t like being upside down. Just mind your own business.”
    â€œNow, now, Mr. O’Leary,” said Rupert O’Brien. “I can understand that you’re upset, but this really is the only way. I’ll stay and talk to you while gravity gets to work. What would you like to chat about? I’d like to be able to talk about that place you come from – what was it called? – but I don’t know a thing about it. I’ve never been there. I’ve been to New York, of course. I’ve been there a lot, in fact. Do you know that I used to write the occasional piece for
The New Yorker
? Do you read
The New Yorker
, Mr. O’Leary? Can you buy it down in Mississippi? There are some who say that it’s gone off and that the standards of grammar are not what they used to be. There may be some truth in that. What do you think? Do you think that
The New Yorker
has gone off at all?”
    â€œGo away–” Fatty started to shout, but was cut short by a sudden pain in