Read Online Grantchester Grind by Tom Sharpe - Free Book Online Page B

with

    him.’
    ‘That ain’t ignorant. We did a series one time on Mormons outside Salt Lake City. Real

    nice.’
    By the time the Bursar went back to Cambridge the ledgers had been copied with some

    difficulty and he was feeling both elated and peculiar. In so far as he had been able to

    understand what Kudzuvine and Ross Skundler had been saying, Transworld Television

    Productions and Edgar Hartang were going to pour money into Porterhouse not only

    because Hartang was into philanthropy but, as Kudzuvine had put it, ‘Cambridge is where

    it’s at. You got it all.’
    ‘It’s nice of you to say so but–’
    ‘Listen. You live there. Cambridge. Place has got it over Disneyworld every which way.

    History, DNA, professors; a whole bunch of churches and stuff. Geniuses all over town

    like Hawking. You read  The History of Time. Great book. Teaches you. I been up to

    take a look-see and it was something else with all those cunts on the river and lawns like

    they give them facials every day.
    Cambridge. Man, Cambridge makes virtual reality look like it’s not happening.’
    The Bursar felt rather the same way about Transworld Television. He still couldn’t see

    how a man like Hartang could get rich by giving money away. It didn’t make sense.

Chapter 6
    Purefoy Osbert’s trip to London was pretty peculiar too. Purefoy wasn’t sure why or

    rather how he had been chosen to become the Sir Godber Evans Memorial Fellow at

    Porterhouse and Goodenough wasn’t sure he wanted to meet him face to face and had to be

    forced to do so by Vera who said he’d be pleasantly surprised; and Lady Mary made it a

    condition of her interviewing Dr Osbert that either Lapline or Goodenough–preferably

    both–should inspect him first to make sure that he was hygienic, wasn’t an alcoholic,

    wasn’t a raving racist who advocated mass transportation of black people like Dr

    Lamprey Yeaster from Bristol, and, most importantly, wasn’t from Grimsby.
    ‘Grimsby? What’s she got against Grimsby?’ asked Mr Lapline when he read the letter.

    ‘Perfectly respectable town. Cold in winter of course.’
    ‘If you remember the candidate from Grimsby was into’ Goodenough began.
    Mr Lapline had remembered. ‘Oh God,’ he said violently. ‘You don’t mean to tell me Lady

    Mary actually interviewed him?’
    ‘I think he tried to get into her too,’ Goodenough went on. ‘As she told it, she was

    lying on this chaise longue with a bad leg–’
    ‘I warn you, Goodenough, if you lose Lady Mary Evans’ account, I’ll…I’ll…’ Another

    gall-bladder spasm silenced him.
    ‘That’s why we’ve got to inspect Dr Purefoy Osbert,’ said Goodenough. ‘I thought if we

    took him out to lunch at the Savoy Grill…Now what’s the matter?’
    Mr Lapline explained what the matter was and why he bloody well wasn’t going anywhere

    near the Savoy Grill or any other restaurant in London and if Goodenough seriously

    thought…
    ‘All I meant was we’d be able to tell whether he’s house-trained and knows how to use a

    knife and fork properly and that sort of thing. We can’t possibly have some ghastly

    uncouth fellow going up to Porterhouse. Or molesting Lady Mary.’
    Mr Lapline looked up at him curiously. ‘Goodenough,’ he said finally, ‘there are times

    when I wonder if you are entirely sane. If you can think back that far, you may remember

    that when I first read that list, I said they were all impossible candidates and that

    swine from Grimsby ought to be behind bars. And now you have the gall to tell me we can’t

    have some uncouth fellow going to Porterhouse. The whole damned lot aren’t even faintly

    couth.’
    ‘But no one else wanted to take the post and we had to find her some candidates,’ said

    Goodenough. ‘Anyway I’ll wine and dine this Purefoy Osbert chap and tell you what it was

    like. I think I’ll have Omelette Arnold Bennett.’ And on this unfortunate note he left