J. Donleavy - The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

"Beefy do help yourself."

"My God what yummies. By whose hand was such mayonnaise wrought."

"Alphonsine."

"A true darling. O dear what will a chap like Masterdon say, awaken as I must memories of pulling each other's pecker. What a time to be without the bullion when so many beastly delicious freedoms abound. I nearly slid off your steps dear boy, only my good eyesight kept me from upending and writhing besmirched in awful doggie befoulment."

"I regret to say the dog across the street has learned that your little bow wows are only stone. He wee wees over them and they're rather stained on their little noses."

"By God Balthazar let us get some women and to hell with everything. Launch a major orgasm. There is that one you know, to which one mounts climbing up through those precious seconds and at the pinnacle explodes an imperceptible part of one's soul. The cream upon one's milk spilled without a pagan's apology. Which makes for serenity in one's life. God you know, you sit there so beatific and never beastly Balthazar. More than anything I'm sad for what has befallen the Infanta. She just lay on the floor holding her dear little hand to her face, not knowing what hit her. A defenceless creature struck down. And suddenly it seemed as if she reposed beneath a great marble arch on a bed of flaming roses, dead. I threw myself on her like a tearful child. Sorrow makes me awfully randy. Gave her a molto adagio rogering which was more in my later manner I felt than my usual earlier one. It defies me how I've got so fond of her. I suppose that in her own little way she is such a vulnerable creature and it would break my heart to see the world do her harm. As it is, the world is about to dump it on me in bulk."

"Beefy I'd like very much if you would allow me to help you."

"Balthazar, you are princely like no other and I'm touched. But so help me God, granny at her age can't go on befoggling me. Now that life is so terrifying and my fear of death nil I'm ready once more to have at her. She may be tough but by God I have taken the last of her diabolical, regrettable, shirty, shabby and tawdry antics. However, enough. Let us go in search of women."

A taxi with a jocular driver trundled them to Soho. Along with bottles of the golden wine, two dozen quails' eggs and bowls of the mayonnaise and lobster. They settled in the third row of the strip club. Packed out with a queue along the wall. And somewhat sulphurous with match lighting. The splendid friendly greeting to Beefy from the gentlemen at the doors. And a chap in the last row emitting a great gasping sigh after each act. Said to be a member of the peerage. Whose hand clapping could be heard as a lady skipped on stage wearing nothing but a well known old school tie.

As the lights blinked on in Soho and streets filled with night time traffic Beefy walked out with Balthazar into the evening, the wicker hamper balanced on his head. Past the doorway lurkers and book vendors busy with the toil of keeping their public satisfied. They lean over their wares with smiles and greetings. Beefy raising an ecclesiastic hand in blessing. To finally flag a taxi which roared off to a Mayfair address.

"You know Balthazar I have that feeling which comes when one is leaving the building site on a Saturday afternoon, a good week's work behind one. Even though I was mostly curled up asleep in an empty sewerage pipe. Yet will I see myself lodged in Sunningdale, carpeting laid thick under the occasional tables strewn with cigarette lighters. The Infanta 387 has the most interesting mole on the back of her thigh. In my leisure moments perusing her skin, I found parts of her unaccountably beautiful. About the armpit she is quite elegant. All I wanted to be was a great ecclesiastic. Offering up prayer in the sanctuary of a cloister with a fountain and ornamental waters. Amid moisty green swards and orangeries. Stamping out the lonely evil habits rife among civil servants. Calling upon solicitors to do penance and barristers to beat their breasts in contrition. Of course I'd also twist the ears of shopkeepers who put on airs. The Infanta has an incredible knack of cradling the balls. Gently squeezing them at the appropriate time. And I have been diabolical to her. Here we are. Wait Balthazar. I shall bring on the girls."

The taxi sped under a purple London sky. One's street lamp glowing and illuminating the expression of utter indifference on the face of the gentleman across the street as he raised his binoculars to view Beefy, two girls and two little dogs rushing up the steps of 78 Crescent Curve. Beefy in my doorway pointing a finger. And with a voice of window rattling resonance.

"I say, you sir with the binocs. You are clearly an impostor. Get out of that nun's habit immediately."

Sounds echo through this house where all has been so silent. My canes, my little prints of Dublin on the walls. As these two ladies of pleasurings fix their hair and tie up their dogs to the leg of the kitchen table. And Beefy holds out some fare. The rare faint blue of a shelled quail's egg in the palm of his hand.

"Welcome girls. Here is the invalid tray of goodies with the turtle and calves foot jelly. Your host, Balthazar. Isn't he a beautiful gentleman. While others are cunning and deceitful, he remains always witty and kind. Let the necklines plunge now. I'll paint your portraits for a start."

The girls giggled chased by Beefy through the house. They oohed and aahed to his gallant gooses given through bed and dressing rooms. Balthazar butlering with the buckets of ice brought forth. And champagne corks popped. Beefy mounting the dining room table upon which so many crystal cut bowls had crashed from Boats' trembling hands. He skidded back and forth in his socks. And shouted out gospel according to Beefy.

"Girls amid this forest of definitive degeneracy let us fan the appetites and incite the mind with black underthings. While I tremble over the extraordinary liberties pending. My old granny won't die. Lives on and on eating her own homemade jam, weaves her own cloth, sips heather honey and dandelion wine, and quaffs pot still whisky. No laughing matter. Her grandchild has been doomed to taking much roughage to clear the bowel. Ah both you girls have shallow navels. Which of you again is from Ongar."

"Me Winetca, your grace.' "Don't flatter me with title my dear girl. I am not quite that titular. But come into my little anglican communion. Up here you dears. Caper for Beefy. See how you gavotte. Neither of you I am sure send your vicar anemones on his birthday. No niceties remain. Such inclement changes have been wrought in England. Hardly a beastly beatitude is left. Stop that kissing and embracing girls. Too early. That caper is reserved for further and better particulars later. During my scripture lesson. Yes, pour the champagne on each other."

Balthazar sitting in the corner of the candle lit dining room. As Beefy dances away all his disappointments suffered. He lives on as if the world will bounce up again when you drop it. Yet one knows a terrible little sad secret stays in his heart. Which I read one day long ago. And found he was just a little boy like me chilled on an evening desert of sorrow. Even as he now gleefully puts a glass of wine to his lips. And slapping a narrow hardened buttock of Edwina. How did he get to us down through the centuries. To stand stark naked as he does. A belt around his belly, embracing the ladies of light fingered love.

"Girls I must caution you on that recent posture. Edwina remember you are the daughter of a long distance lorry driver and he would be ashamed. Can't you see my friend Balthazar is quite stricken with the outrage of your engripment."

The cries and screams of laughter. These three on the table pouring champagne on each other when suddenly the girls' poodle doggies came charging into the room. Trailing broken leads. Rushing to the sound of their mistresses' high pitched squeals. Beefy up into the air as one little doggie mounted a chair and nipped him about the legs. And he came down again with the other doggie's teeth clamped over his ankle. A swift kick upwards dislodging this clinging animal towards the ceiling and across the room to come crashing down on the candelabra formerly glowing gently on the sideboard. A mite of light left to see Edwina casting her bottle which crashed against the door. Just a little to the side of Beefy's head.