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I, Cautious Inventious
In my younger days I dreamed of being an imperious Roman General, but I neither had the historical fortune nor the suitable foot shape. I am also not predisposed to violence, which tends to be seen as a no-no in the Roman General game. That said, I trained for many years to be a Gladiator. Again, what with being a peacenik and all, this wasn’t a natural fit, but I was bloody good. If you can’t beat them, join them.
Regards, Andrew Patrick (on behalf of Julius Bevington)
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Gin and Tonyc
“Mine’s a pint, and the hubby’ll have a G&T” - the echo of a thousand public houses and domestic scenes up and down the country. The country we call this country, or our country (when we’re feeling a bit grabby). But it may well have never been, but for a man called Antonio.
Antonio Cesare Dorigi (1911-1999) will be forever associated with two latter day phenomena - that most zeitgeisty of millennial pears, namely the avocado (botanically, of course, NOT a pear but a BERRY), and the spirit of all-time, namely the aforementioned drink known commonly as Gin and Tonic. An exceptionally talented Cymball player, ACD's sporting career was cut cruelly short.
Dorigi’s origin is disputed within the academy. The most popular theory suggests that he was born in Derbyshire, England, to wealthy parents (who happened to be related). Although it is/was not illegal to marry your cousin, it is/was nevertheless very much looked down on by those in all classes of society. In fact, the overwhelming feeling is that it is most peculiar. In order to avoid the blunt instrument that is stigma, Dorigi’s birth parents smuggled the baby child onto a boat across the Atlantic to New York City. At Ellis Island Immigration Station the boy was found with a stamp on his forearm reading ‘To NYC’. He was subsequently processed through immigration as ‘Baby Tonyc’. When an adoptive family was found for the child their desire was to retain something of the name written on his immigration papers, and so Tonyc became Tony C. - Antonio Cesare. The boy was given the surname of his new parents - Dorigi.
The Dorigi family resided at Arthur Avenue, Belmont, in the Bronx. Young Antonio enjoyed a happy childhood, and a close relationship with his adoptive parents - Maria and Pepe. He adored Papa Pepe and Ma’ Maria who provided a safe and happy home for the young lad. An athletic boy, Antonio excelled at a range of sports, but showed particular talent for Cymball, a somewhat violent pursuit best described as a cross between Baseball and American Football (only without the helmets and padding, and with a bigger bat). The gladiatorial nature of the game made it wildly popular in the first half of the 20th Century, but somewhat short lived as a mainstream sport. Indeed, Mr Healthand Mrs Safetyhad their way and Cymball was officially banned in America in 1948 (a year after it had been outlawed in Canada and most of Europe). High profile injuries and resulting lawsuits brought about swift political intervention, leading to indulgently pun-heavy newspaper headlines including ‘CRASH! GOES THE CYMBALL!’ and ‘CYMBALL SILENCED’. Of course, it’s not entirely surprising that the sport was made illegal, owing to it being massively dangerous and all. Nevertheless, Dorigi became a household name across North America after making his Bronx CC debut at the age of 16 years and 22 days. He also became the youngest player to represent his country after making his international debut versus Panama two days shy of his seventeenth birthday. Dorigi’s Cymball career would, however, be short-lived. Persistent injuries and fearsome wounds led to his retirement at the age of 23. "My elbows are shot” lamented Dorigi after his retirement was announced. Regrettably, Dorigi would only make 2733 appearances for Bronx CC before being forced to hang up his Cymallet.
With a headful of characteristic chestnut brown hair (certainly worthy of praise), and surprisingly good looks for a supposed inbred, commercial opportunities soon came calling. Indeed, Dorigi was one of the first athletes to see the potential in being a walking billboard. His famous, “I’m good at Cymball because I eat beef”, advertisement for the Cattle Association of America was repeated enthusiastically around many a schoolyard, while his characteristic 'The BronX' catchphrase (in which the ‘Bron’ is spoken and the ‘X’ becomes a kiss sound) had advertising agencies queuing round the block to sign the handsome young man up to sell everything from candlewax to toenail clippers. Claims that Dorigi invented/discovered the avocado are overstated. However, what istrue is that he made the sale of avocado commercially viable. Previously the practice had been to eat the skin and chew laboriously on the stone, with the fleshy interior simply discarded (making the consumption of avocado something of a niche pursuit). Dorigi changed the course of modern history as he uttered those famous words - "Beef ain’t the only flesh upon which I gorge”. One thing Antonio Cesare Dorigi is verifiably credited to have invented is that most popular refreshing beverage, namely the Gin and Tonic.
The regular practice to treat Cymball injuries at the time was to apply, in this exact sequence, the following: ice would first be applied to the injured area. Alcohol (commonly, London Dry Gin) was then massaged in, with slices of lime placed over the offended area to provide a zingy protective covering. Once this had been given time to do its magic, a splash of Indian Tonic Water would then be poured over to wash away the gunk.
When injuries were treated in the changing rooms, a junior member of the team would hold a vessel underneath the injury to catch the resulting mess. Dorigi’s ‘G&T’ was the result of a locker room dare. After receiving treatment for a particularly egregious laceration, a junior squad member dared Antonio to down the contents of the vessel. After downing the aforementioned brew, Dorigi was overcome by his sense of refreshment, uttering the immortal words, ‘Gin and Tonyc, fellas!’ (Some jokes do not travel through time well - humour is a subjective thing after all).
The holder of this very particular vessel in this very particular case was a young man called Bartholomew, known for the tender way in which he went about his duties. Hence the term ‘Bartender’, which would later come to be solely associated with those in that particular business. The irony is, Bart's surname was in fact Temperance and he abhorred the consumption of alcohol (outside of the locker room, of course). Sober by name and sober by nature. And that is how the Gin and Tonyc came to be the Gin and Tonic (as we know it today). hence the popular phrase, ‘dat’s d’origin, Tonyc’. It should be added that Jim Tonice’s claims to the drink are widely known to be nothing but garbled nonsense.
So the next time you're pouring your slimline on your double shot, think of Antonio Cesare Dorigi and ‘cin cin!’ profusely in a posh Derbyshire-tinged Bronx accent.
A leading authority on Antonio Cesare Dorigi, Andy Patrick is fronting the campaign for the beatification and canonization of this not yet saint. A forthcoming biography of the life and legend of Dorigi is currently in the hands of publishers...
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Watchlist: Anecdotal Gold
A person, who I’ll only refer to as a very good friend, got me on to the subject of these online auction sites that have become very popular. He regularly places insultingly low bids on gothic plate armour, but that is by-the-by. After a few too many sherries he said to me, “Julius, what be on your watchlist?”. Without a moment’s hesitation I shot back, “Sundry Rolex, a cheap TAG Heuer for everyday, and a fancy Patek Philippe”. The guy lets out an almightily guttural laugh until he’s literally coughing up blood, and I pour us a couple more sherries and we get back to the details of my actual watchlist.
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Inventarium: Bid Me Luck
Have you noticed how on these online auction sites you always get outbid by people prepared to pay more than you are? (the same is true in location based auction houses, as it happens). That’s the damn market economy for you (of which I am a big fan). Hope remains that the following items will not be perennially on my watchlist*: (*Anecdote to follow)
32 rusty beagles
9 theoretical side plates
32 stuttering butchers (please specify any particular dietary requirements)
A mildy disgruntled tombola
A flatulent hypothesis
A mismanaged belly laugh
A disobedient silhouette
A deeply cynical lasso (not heavily soiled, please)
2-3 casual hoovers (metonymically speaking)
A resentful apostrophe
An incredibly monotonous hazelnut (skin on)
An executive-level baguette
I guess I could always ‘buy it now’.
Regards,
Andrew Patrick (on behalf of Julius Bevington)
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A further point of clarity
Julius has long considered me to be his private secretary despite the fact that I am not under his employment and do not receive financial benefits (nor any others for that matter). It’s a good job that I have his best interests at heart or else I could quite easily embezzle him mercilessly. That said, he is an outstanding man. Regards, Andrew Patrick (On behalf of Julius Bevington)
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Inventarium: A clarification.
For the sake of absolute clarity, and in accordance with my regular seasonal custom, I inventoried (with the upmost caution). You tech-savvies tend to call it a ‘wish-list’, but I would never stoop to the lows of tax-avoidance. Evasion? You may, I would never. That said, ‘I, Inventorius’, my influential if low-selling memoir happens to be sold on the aforementioned ‘website’. We, however, shall upon this occasion only go through reputable channels. Without being too presumptuous, I, therefore, cautiously recommend that you pack the following��:
A bottle of dilapidated cynicism 174 salivating bulrushes A concerned abbreviation An increasingly formal goshawk A recklessly informal buzzard 24 x 24-carat jump suits 24 dangerously envious carrots A non-plussed question mark An argumentative disco-ball A fountain of pens (fully functional) A left-footed dogfish (non-functional) A sugar lump of gloom
Regards, Andrew Patrick (on behalf of Julius Bevington)
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St Binocular’s Day
St Binocular is probably the most famous saint who ever lived, and while we cannot help but think of gift-giving when we hear the word ‘binocular’, Signor Regalo wasn’t always top of the class when it came to present giving.
Binocular was born to a moderately wealthy family in Ancona, Italy towards the middle of the 16th Century Anno Domini. As a child Binocular’s elbows were hugely disproportionate to his body, for which he was mercilessly teased, and nicknamed ‘il fondatore di Ancona’. An excerpt from an early diary reads “I accidently elbowed Lorenzo, the butcher’s boy, because he was jostling me. The other children held their elbows above their heads and shouted ‘you founded Ancona! You and the Greeks!’ ”. I told them to be quiet but they wouldn’t stop chanting, so I threw stones at them until they all ran home”. Despite this account, Binocular was known to be a kind and conscientious boy, if somewhat forgetful.
Of course, his forgetfulness would lead to his renown. The story goes that Binocular was asked to be the Godfather of a prominent Anconetani family’s firstborn son. Tradition demanded that such an honour required the Godfather to offer a suitable gift for the occasion. When it came to the moment that the gift was to be presented, Binocular remembered with horror that he had forgotten to purchase a gift. In an act of pure improvisation, Binocular lifted his hands to his face, curling his fingers towards his thumbs. Putting his hands together he placed them to his face and peered through, crying “Il dono che vedo è la vision!’ – “The gift that I see is (the) vision”. The child’s father was so overwhelmed by Binocular’s words that he overlooked the absence of a gift.
Sadly, Binocular later failed to remember to buy a present for the child’s birthday, for which the Father wasn’t so forgiving – he ordered the town elders to execute Binocular. Hearing that his life was at threat, Binocular fled to Pisa. Living in exile, Binocular longed to be reconciled with his Godson’s Father. He reflected on his absentmindedness and hatched a plan. To make up for all the occasions on which he had forgotten to buy presents for loved ones, Binocular announced a great day of gift-giving – Binocular’s Day. Binocular ordered a great hamper of gifts be sent to the people of Ancona, with a small gift for every child in the locality, and a special gift, an early prototype telescope, for his dear Godson. Binocular also sent a dozen plump geese to his Godson’s father as a peace offering. Sadly, and quite unbeknown to Binocular, the father had an extreme phobia of geese, and seeing the rabble of plump birds, was so terror-stricken that he fell to the ground and died instantly. This explains why, even to this day, roast goose is the traditional meat eaten on St Binocular’s Day. It is also the reason why St Binocular is also sometimes referred to as ‘Il boia oca’ (The goose executioner).
Tragically, the mother of Binocular’s Godson had also died in a goose related incident previously, having been trampled by a rowdy brood of gander during the mating season. Being a diminutive women, she was overcome by the bird-frenzy.
Custom demanded that Binocular adopt his orphaned Godson, but fearing a reprisal honour attack in his native Ancona, Binocular had the boy sent to his new dwelling in Pisa. Binocular, with his wife Donnaculare, brought the child up as their own, and the boy grew in stature and standing. The child had a keen interest in music, and became an accomplished lutenist, composer, music theorist, and singer. When he became a father himself, he asked his dear adoptive father Binocular to be Godfather to his firstborn son, namely, Galileo Galilei - the ‘father of observational astronomy’. “Il dono che vedo è la vision!’, indeed!
St Binocular’s Day continues to be a popular day of gift-giving. A moveable feast, based on the lunisolar calendar, St Binocular’s Day is celebrated in the month after the first sighting of the winter shrew.
Andy Patrick is an expert in the history and customs of St Binocular’s Day, and is the author of a forthcoming biography of Signor Regalo.
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Julius Bevington's Cautious Inventory
I always like to pack well for my travels. You see, the unprepared traveller is the untraveled preparer (i.e. a 'stand-stiller) . I don't want to be a predator who is licking my own wounds.
That is why I propose we travel with the following items:
An ornamental horseshoe A fox carriage vessel (the conventional kind) A pigeon-fancier's footwear accessory (or accessories) 4 x thumb modesty blankets 16 x self-sealing paperless envelopes 24 individual rocksalt crysto-granules A live (male/cock) pheasant A used-to-be-alive (female/hen) pheasant 90 sterilised jam jars (lids on) A postman's diary 2 unopened boxes of Cadbury's Milk Tray (Best Before Oct 1994) A very, very, very, very, very, very sharp pencil
The one thing we don't want to do is overpack though. We've all been caught out by those damn baggage allowances.
Regards, Andrew Patrick (on behalf of Julius Bevington)
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If you think about it very carefully, flapjack is simply porridge toast.
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Name: Tony Pikkle-Muss-Glaand
Class: Silkamphibiasilk
DOB: 12 December 1979
Notes:
Tony Pikkle-Muss-Glaand lives within a stikklesack. For many years he genuinely believed that he invented the dot matrix printer, although when asked for hard evidence, Tony would point to a primitive drawing of a parsnip blu-tacked to an old hairdryer. When it was pointed out that the dot matrix was invented before his birth, Tony replied “fair do’s”.
Despite the dot matrix assertion, Tony Pikkle-Muss-Glaand boasts a ludicrously high IQ (184). He names Norman Stingley as his all-time hero.
Tony’s biggest frustration is being frequently mistaken for an embryo.
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