As society vents its spleen upon itself, castigating everyone who is anyone for improper behaviour of the most venal kind, Swordplay asks: is it still possible to get a free lunch in London?
The Scene: a restaurant in the City. It is busy but the atmosphere is unusually subdued, as if those present have their minds on other things.
Enter a lawyer, a journalist and a PR. They take their seats and look at the menu.
PR: It’s so nice to get out of the office every now and then. What do you fancy?
Lawyer (brows furrowing): Are you offering to buy me lunch?
PR: Er, I hadn’t really thought so far ahead as the bill. I was just wondering what you fancied. The grilled rib-eye, perhaps? I’m told it’s rather good.
Lawyer: I might have the rib-eye, but I’d like to make it clear that you can expect no favours from me if you buy me lunch.
Journalist: Nor me.
Lawyer: We’re our own men.
Journalist: Independent, free-thinking, uninfluenced by free lunches.
Lawyer: Speaking for myself, I’m paid well enough as it is without having to accept the blandishments of PRs.
Journalist: Speak for yourself. For me it’s a matter of integrity. I like to pay my own way. If you bought me just a biscuit, to go with my coffee, there’s a danger I’d be compromised.
The PR is momentarily lost for words. However, being a good PR he is congenitally incapable of silence for more than 37 seconds. Soon, therefore, he is speaking again.
PR: It all seems a bit ridiculous. Are you really saying that if I paid for lunch you’d consider yourselves in my debt? Can’t we just enjoy a nice bite to eat without having to worry about the finer points?
At this point, as the lawyer and journalist clasp their chins and ponder, a senior BBC executive arrives.
BBC Exec: I’m sorry I’m late, I was held up by a select committee. Now then, what are we having? The steak looks good.
PR: We’re not sure yet. There’s some debate over whether this is a free lunch.
BBC Exec: Free lunches are excellent things! Trust me, I’ve been having them every day for 25 years.
Journalist: That’s exactly the problem with this country. Everyone expects a free lunch. I bet your programmes have been totally skewed in favour of those who’ve bought you lunch.
BBC Exec: The taxpayer, you mean?
Lawyer (brandishing a piece of paper): Would you please all sign this?
PR: What is it?
Lawyer: It is confirmation that, howsoever this lunch is paid for and by whosoever, its ingestion and underlying financial matrix is of no relevance to my work as a lawyer.
PR: You mean that if we sign this, you’ll accept a free lunch?
Lawyer: Yes.
Journalist: Can you draft one for me, too?
Lawyer: Yes, but it won’t be for free.
Journalist: What if I pay for lunch?
Lawyer: That would be sufficient consideration, yes.
PR: But I thought I was paying?
BBC Exec: No, I’ll pay.
Journalist: That means the taxpayer will be paying. That’s not right. I’ll pay.
Lawyer (hastily producing another document): Sign here.
As the journalist searches for a pen, a bedraggled but suited individual enters the restaurant. As she reaches the table it is clear that she is a former MP.
Former MP: Hello everyone, nice to see you again. What are we having?
PR: Not a lot, at this rate.
Former MP: I used to have a lot, when I was an MP. I had a moat and my husband could watch all the TV he wanted. Now he lives in our duck house, alone and without a television. At least it’s mortgage free though.
BBC Exec: Why don’t you order some food and take it back to him?
Former MP: I’m afraid I haven’t got any money. Would you be so kind?
Journalist: Hang on. Let’s redraft the document. I’ll pay for everyone, and we’ll say that it’s for an exclusive interview with Former MP. I need something juicy, though. What have you got?
Former MP: My husband killed one of the ducks last night.
Journalist: Excellent. How?
Former MP: He made it fill out an expenses claim form. The poor thing couldn’t cope. ‘Which bill, what bill, my bill?’ is what it said, over and over again. Its haunting cries will haunt me forever.
Journalist: Brilliant. If ever there was a story in the public interest, this is it.
Former MP: So it’s true – there is still such a thing as a free lunch?
PR: If the end justifies the means, all things are possible. Now let’s get on with some eating. I’m starving.
Five hours later the quintet stagger out of the restaurant, bloated and flushed. Our last image is of them haggling with a taxi driver, who is heard to say: “I had a free lunch in the back of the cab once. Those were the days.”
Pictured courtesy of Dr Claw’s Keeper: an empty black cab.
