And so it was that Brian began to spend, spend, spend his inheritance, splashing out on meals, drinking binges, gambling, various shows and clubs and theatrical events and more gambling and a lot more eating and drinking and recreation of all kinds. And Rochelle was always there, ready to encourage, to consume, to be entertained and to absorb his generosity.
Within a shockingly short time, considering the size of his inheritance, the money dwindled to nothing. In fact, to pay the final meal and drinks bill at the Fivestar, Brian had to offer Frayn the gold ring his father had given. It was worth more than the debt, but it was all he had left. Frayn accepted it eagerly, and immediately quit his job and went off to a distant country, far away from the famine, setting up a new business rearing cattle, fulfilling his dream of many years. He bought his land with the proceeds from the sale of Fivestar, and exchanged the ring he had obtained from Brian for several head of cattle.
Once the ‘friends’ he had accumulated realized Brian was no longer able to finance their revelries, they dropped him and went off to seek out another sugar-daddy.
Without friends, money, his ring and without any means of support, Brian knew he’d have to get a job.
He applied for a post working for the Plainest Bacon Company (suppliers of no-frills Gammon, Ham, Pork and Rashers), but their staffing needs only stretched to a job looking after their least-well-fed porkers.
Hunger gnawed at his innards while the hogs snorted and sniffled among the rotting corn pods and household waste slopped into their trough. He longed to eat the pods, and suddenly came to his senses.
‘My father’s men (including Butler) want for nothing, and yet they are merely employees. I shall arise and go to my father and say to him I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me one of your hired men.’
So he made his way home.
Meanwhile, Frayn’s business was taking off. He got the farm (and the livestock) from a man named Porcia, who used to keep pigs until he realized there was very little market for them, and had switched to cattle. Porcia was delighted that he had the ring, knowing he could exchange it for some land on which to experiment with chicken, geese, grouse, woodpigeon and turkeys, so he approached Hay Ricks, who needed to sell of a lot of land (cash-flow issues) and made the deal. Ricks accepted the ring and one calf in exchange for several acreas of quality arable land – yes, the very same ring he had given to Brian such a long time before.
Porcia’s Fowl Farm ended up being way more successful than the name deserved.
While Brian was still a long way off, planning his speech and wearing out his shoes, Hay Ricks spotted him from afar, since he was keeping watch.
‘My son!’ he shouted, and rushed down the steps and out along the road. He ran to greet him with a kiss.
‘Father, I am no longer…’ began Brian.
‘Butler, fetch him some shoes and a coat. Oh, and bring the ring I exchanged for the upper fields and put it on his finger. And kill the fatted calf and let us celebrate!’
The whole village turned out, including Porcia, who roasted a turkey for the occasion. But the hot beef was definitely the favourite.
‘This my son was lost – as lost as my trousers on the day the civic dignatories came to visit – but now he is found! He was dead, but is alive!’
And there was hilarious and random opening and closing of doors (plus likelihood of confusion and mistaken identity and kisses stolen in the dark from various maids and happy resolutions and accidents with props and surprise entrances and secret passageways and amusing happenstances and spiked drinks and shinnanegins of all kinds and chasing and exchanges of clothing and mentions of the land where the nuts come from and Whitehall and slapstick and pratfalls and aunts and handbags and noises off and screwball repartee) until the break of dawn.
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