The Way We Live Now – a selection of articles

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Banker puts up everything for sale.

Kev Rink, the celebrity banker who recently declared his boredom with banking and bonuses, has put up all his possessions for auction on e-Bay. These include:

Lamborghini Pseudo 3000 tdi sl - with trailer.

Borgess Twin Turbo 75 Springwhale Yacht, with full bar and sauna

Georgian Grade I listed 750 acre estate near Hackney Wick, with stabling, all-weather manege, Olympic pool and dart board.

Bath plug - gift from MP

Croesus 3 Modified Software. There is a £40 million pound reserve on this item, it being the software that bankers use to track share and commodity price movements. Mr Rink said 'Hey, £40 mill is nothing! This thing earns you that much in two years bonuses.'

Mr. Rink is to undertake a world walking tour. ‘Sitting looking at the goddam computer watching the goddam algorithms all day is no fun, I can tell you. I’m gonna see how the world lives,’ he said.

Unknown Sherlock Holmes Manuscript Discovered

If there's one thing I don't like at all about taking breakfast with Holmes it is that, between the kipper and the scrambled eggs, he takes up his violin and starts playing something. To my ears, at that time of the morning, a violin - no matter who is playing it - sounds like a cat screetching. Quite frequently I have to invent an excuse to avoid taking breakfast with him.

On this particular morning, we had consumed some kippers, excellently cooked by Mrs. Hudson, when Holmes stood up to reach for his violin. At that very moment we heard a loud crashing noise on Baker Street, right outside Holmes' window. We leapt to the window and looked down. A sleek gleaming motor-car had collided with a rag and bone man's cart. The motor-car's uniformed chauffeur was offering a fistful of new bank notes to the filthily-dressed rag and bone man. A most elegant young woman, clearly the owner of the motor-car, was gliding across the road towards Holmes' front door. We repaired hastily to our respective arm-chairs and took up the morning newspapers. It was not long before Mrs. Hudson announced our visitor.

“A Miss Elisabetta Delapole to see you, Mr. Holmes,” said Mrs. Hudson. “Show her in,” said Holmes.

We jumped to our feet as the most beautiful creature I have ever seen glided into the room. She was tall, willowy, with a perfect complexion, gray expressive eyes and a mountain of gold hair piled high on her head. Although far from knowledgeable in such matters, I believed she was dressed in the latest Paris fashion. I looked at Holmes. He appeared shaken, his eyes fixed, his hands trembling.

“Please sit down, Miss Delapole,” I said.

Holmes shook his head and muttered 'Good morning.'

I waited for Holmes to speak but he did not. He was pale.

“Please tell Mr. Holmes the purpose of your visit,” I said to this dazzling creature. “I 'ave come for your 'elp,” she replied.

I assumed from her accent that she was French. I stole a look at Holmes. He seemed dumb-struck. And then he shook himself and spoke.

“Madamoiselle comes from the southern part of France, possibly Tarn et Garonne, is from a wealthy aristocratic family, is contemplating marriage but is unsure of her suitor who is a man of mystery.”

“'Ow can you know this?” exclaimed the vision.

“So I must help you,” he said. “It will be my sincere pleasure, madamoiselle. You can rely on my best endeavours. I assure you.”

He wiped his brow with his handkerchief. I coughed.

“Oh. Ah, yes. Allow me to present my esteemed colleague, Dr. Watson.” “'Ow do you do?” she said, fluttering her eye-lashes.

The effect of this on Holmes was astonishing. His normally pale features flushed and I am almost sure his ears twitched.

“What is the name of your suitor?” asked Holmes, pulling himself together.

“Sebastien de Moriarty,” she replied.

“Moriarty!” exclaimed both Holmes and myself, astonished. “You know of 'im?” asked the vision.

“Indeed we do,” replied Holmes. “Please excuse us for two minutes, Madamoiselle.” Holmes indicated to me to follow him to the ante-room. There he turned to me, with a most serious expression on his face.

“Watson. We must do everything in our power to save this young woman from that dreadful villain.”

“Of course,” I replied. “ You may rely upon my complete assistance. We must save her from such a terrible marriage.”

“Indeed we must,” said Holmes. “I want her for myself!”

Gang Warfare Erupts in House of Commons.

Police were called to a bar in the House of Commons last night when fighting broke out between two rival gangs at about ll.20 pm. The fighting lasted one hour and twenty minutes resulting in 158 casualties and 234 arrests. Extra police were called in to stop the gangs destroying bar furniture and valuable Victorian mirrors.

DSI Cramp commented that it was a deplorable fact that more and more of this sort of mindless violence characterised the House of Commons since a younger set of MPs had been elected at the last General Election. When questioned, he acknowledged that older MPs were also involved.

“This behaviour is alcohol-fuelled,” he said, “And is a strong argument for increasing drinks prices in this bar. It is a regrettable fact that both older and younger members will over-indulge on occasion, particularly if they have been passed over for a fact-finding mission overseas or some other reward for party work.”

According to an eye witness, who wishes to remain anonymous, the fighting broke out when several members started talking in insulting tones about other members. This encouraged a group who had been drinking steadily since about six o'clock, to respond, using foul language. The eye witness confirmed that these two gangs - known as the ToryChaps and the LabourLads - are constantly causing trouble in the bar and outside in the hallways where sometimes running fights almost erupt into the Chamber.

On this occasion the insults grew louder and then tables were pushed back and chairs thrown and one member ran forward and head-butted another before being floored by a blow from a bottle. A Minister was heard to shout, “He's down! Put the boot in!”

Other members came running in from the hallways and joined in the fighting, some shouting “Tally ho!” and others “Kick the buggers!” There was broken glass, broken chairs, torn clothing and bloodstains on the carpeting. When the police arrived it was some time before they could restore order as a number of the members turned on them shouting, “Go back to your bloody speed traps!” “Where's your retired horse?” And “Where's your mate, Murdoch, then?” Eventually the police took control and a large number of members were arrested. Many of them started to shout, “What about parliamentary privilege, eh?”

A spokesman for Number Ten said that the whole incident had been exaggerated and merely involved some good-natured joking between party members.

Theatre Review: 'The Tempest' at the Bangmore Warehouse Theatre, London.

Part of the Shakespearean Celebration in London.

From the moment the curtain rises to reveal the interior of a small supermarket one realises that here is another treat from ground-breaking German director, Amadeus Schinckel. His award-winning direction of one of Shakespeare's more charming plays has received international acclaim from theatre-goers and critics alike.

Prospero, played by Dame Judi Lent, is here defined as a whingeing old gentleman who must regret his exile from Milan despite the friendship of Ariel (Derek Wackaby) queen of the frozen food area. Caliban is portrayed by Orlando Fidget - fresh from his Oscar winning movie, 'Blood Hurricane' - as a football supporter with a leer and a rattle but no team. However he is befriended by two courtiers from Naples who arrive in the back of a delivery truck and who with him make merry in the drinks aisles.

The blooming romance between Miranda (Vicky Peckham), a checkout girl, and Ferdinand (Brad Wit), a prince, is handled with great delicacy behind the vegetable aisle and in the customer service section, with Prospero realising slowly and with rancour that he is going to lose his beautiful daughter to another. Ariel comforts him by appearing and disappearing in the pet food section and then the cheese and butter aisle with news of the Neapolitans who sing merry melodies as they walk about marvelling at the produce on offer. 'There is sweet music here that softer falls….' was never more enchantingly represented.

The last act, with Prospero departing in the delivery truck driven by Ariel clutching travel sickness pills, Miranda and Ferdinand looking into each other's eyes and the drunken courtiers with Caliban cheerfully waving them off, is sheer joy. The audience wept.

When asked why he chose to add 'The Tempest' to his repertoire Amadeus Schinkel said it was because he was intrigued by the use in English of the word 'isle' and 'aisle'. It is widely believed that his production will sweep the theatrical awards this season. Bravo Mr. Schinkel!