When I got to Meyer's in Yorkville Richard jumped to his feet to introduce me to a bunch of Toronto Movie people that I already knew. They were more than a little surprised to see me with Richard and probably thought I had some deal cooking.. The lunch was in aid of yet another movie project that Richard soon laid to rest. Ron introduced me to his daughter who had just flown in that morning and they kept a little separate from the main group.

With lunch mostly out of the way we were all treated to a performance of Richard the Raconteur and he was wonderful. He told struggling actor stories, about young repertory actors on the summer theater circuit. As I found out a dozen or so stories later, He seemed to interchange the names sometimes using himself or other English actors of note in the starring role.

This young actor is playing the summer circuit, up in the Lake district, at a place called Ashton on Sod, or the likes.

For that week in town, he is the local hero, the Star and Celebrity about town and of course he is always invited up to the local Lord and Lady's Manor for the weekend.

Now you know there is an old saying "At the palace, the butler is more Regal than the King."

So he arrives at the Manor on his old motorcycle and is met at the door by this Butler, who insists on carrying his old suitcase up to his room.

"Unpack your bags, Sir?"

He of course refuses, he doesn't want the Butler to see his shabby belongings.

The butler sniffs. "Baath before dinner, Sir?"

The Butler has him so intimidated that he reluctantly agrees.

The Butler leaves and to his horror returns with an entourage of servants dragging a huge old fashioned metal bath tub that they place in the middle of the room.

He watches stunned as they parade in and out with buckets of steaming hot water. "Wash your back Sir?" The butler sniffs and reaches to help him off with his clothes.

He adamantly refuses and finally gets them all to leave and looks at the monstrous tub.

What can he do, he doesn't want a bath, he doesn't need a bath, he'd had a shower before he left. What can he do, he doesn't want to insult the Butler either, so he takes the soap and lathers it up and stirs the water around a bit to make it look like he had a bath. But it doesn't look dirty enough, so he looks around for bit of dust or something and then he sees the fireplace, so he goes over and gets a fingerful of soot and stirs that in the bath.

To his absolute horror the water now turns jet black.

He is aghast, he can't possibly let the butler think he was that dirty. He peeks out the door but there is no way he can drag the tub to the loo. He looks around the room and sees a large window so he desperately drags and pushes the tub over to it.

He opens the window, and tries to lift up the heavy tub. He can barely tip it up but he gets around behind it, and with all his strength he manages to lift up one end. So he lifts it up and tries to pour it out the window, only the heavy tub overbalances, and flips itself right out through the window and down it goes. It crashes through the glass roof of the conservatory barely missing the Lord and Lady who are waiting for him over tea.

He looks down and sees the total mess he has made.

What can he do? He can't face up to it.

He just grabs his old suit case sneaks down the stairs, hops on his motorcycle and chugs off back to town hoping he will never see them again.

We all laugh but there is more.

Of course next weekend the Lord and Lady have guests all gathered around and the Lord says "We had this actor chap up here last weekend. . threw his bath tub out of the window."

"Strange people these actor chaps."

Richard's eyes shone, and he sounded very much the upper class English Twit as he repeated it again.

"Strange people these actor chaps. threw his bathtub out the window?"

With his usual perfect timing Richard downed his wine as we roared with laughter.

A man sends over another bottle of white wine. Richard salutes with his glass. The waiter refills our glasses.

Richard fingers his freshly filled goblet and starts another tale.

I was on that same sort of circuit myself early in my career, I was playing one of the summer theaters and the Lord and Lady invited me out to the local Manor for the weekend.

I meet the Butler at the door and he sniffs down his nose at me and shows me to my room. I didn't pay too much attention at the time but I knew vaguely that it was in the old part of the manor, it was a long narrow room, painted white with a four poster at the far end with a night table and a lamp. I was to find out later that there was no electricity in this part of the manor.

There was also a fireplace and near the door an ornate antique writing desk with a fresh bouquet of flowers in a vase.

So the Butler starts to open my bag and offers to help me dress for dinner but I don't want him to see my poor belongings so I got him out of there and put on my old threadbare theater tux and went down for cocktails before dinner. We had dinner, it was pleasant enough. I of course already had a taste for fine liquor in those days and not a lot of money to buy it so I was delighted to find the Manor had a well stocked bar and a fine collection of single malt whiskies and I got right in to it. I must have drank A total of three bottles by the time I tottered off to bed about twelve and fell into deep sleep.

Well, after all that Scotch I wake up in the middle of the night totally dehydrated and absolutely parched. I must have a drink of water, and it's then that I realize there is no electricity in this old part of the mansion, that I can't find a match for the lamp and I don't know where the loo is, and its pitch black as well. I am absolutely dying of thirst after drinking all that scotch and I must have a drink, of anything. II am lying there feeling very miserable When I remember the vase of flowers. Ah water! So I get out of bed and feel my way from the night table to the window and pat my way down the wall, past the fireplace down the wall I feel around blindly for the desk and the flowers. Only in the dark I tip it all over and I can feel the water dripping everywhere, so I push and pat the water on to the floor and since I can't see anything I must give up and head back to bed. I feel my way along the wall and past the fireplace, then I pat my way along the wall until I feel for the night table and crawl back into bed. I pull the sheets over me and lay there very miserable until first light and then to my horror I see it wasn't the flowers I knocked over. I had knocked over a huge writing horn full of ink and the ink was everywhere, over the desk and the floor then there were my hand prints all over the wall across the mantelpiece, then all along the wall, again across to the night table and all over the bed clothes. The mess was everywhere it was hopeless.

What could I do? I was thoroughly embarrassed. How can you possibly explain it?

I packed my things hitchhiked back to town and then caught the next bus to London

 We all wait for it.

 You can see the Lord telling his guests the next weekend. "We had this actor chap over last weekend, you know he dipped his hands in ink and printed his hand prints all up and down the walls of his bedroom wiped them off on the bed sheets and then disappeared"

"Strange people these actor chaps."

Long pause. twittish

"Strange people these actor chaps."

Again Richard tipped his glass and drained it in his unusual manner while we cheered his tale. It is hard to describe how well he told them. The stories were completely new to me and the perfection of the voice and timing were awesome

I believe The Voice could read his laundry list to thunderous applause.

  Back to top

The rest of the locals excused themselves and paid for the lunch. Someone else sent over another bottle of wine and Richard smiled and saluted. Ron and his daughter stayed at their end of the table. Richard and leaned over to me and in a conspiratorial tone whispered.

You know, I have a terrible confession to make. . .

I waited expectantly.

I love puns.

It was not exactly what I expected, but I do love puns myself.

My favorite is "One man's Mede is another man's Persian."

Mine is the cry of the 60's hippie

"Give me Librium or give me Meth."

He smiled and lifted his eyebrows in appreciation for a fellow devotee.

We traded puns back and forth and more, the ritual of the wine moved just a little quicker, we no sooner filled the glasses then another bottle appeared. Rich nodded and smiled and saluted with his glass again and whispered to me that Susan would kill him. But he bravely had another glass anyway.

We traded a bunch more puns until even another bottle was offered.

Ron noticed that Richard had had enough and he and his daughter got up and started to the door. Rich politely refused the bottle of wine and we followed them along the street. As we came to the corner we were stopped by a strikingly handsome and extremely well-dressed woman in her thirties. "Oh Mr. Burton Mr. Burton I have been waiting for hours to get your autograph. "Richard took her pen and signed her book

Isn't that lovely darling.

He smiled broadly and looked at me and winked.

I tell you what, how would you like to join us?

For any fan it had to be the invitation of a lifetime but she looked suddenly coolly distant, "what for? ""You are just going to the Windsor Arms to get drunk aren't you?"

Rich grabbed my arm and pulled me off with him laughing and laughing. We caught up to Ron and told him the story and headed off to the 22 for just one more drink.

It takes all kinds . . .

It was close to four and the 22 had filled up and the producer's table was jammed full so we sat at a booth near the piano and ordered a drink. Daytime Don had seen us come in and hurried over.

"Jerry is looking for you," he warned me" and he is furious."

Ron and Richard were both concerned that I would be fired but I explained a bit of my special situation and they were both eager to join the game. I was inspired.

"Watch this." I saw Duke Redbird at the producer's table wearing a new huge white cowboy hat. I walked over and borrowed it from the somewhat surprised but obliging Duke and walked by Jerry and went to the washroom. The 22 was a dark and smoky place and Jerry squinted and strained to see but when I came back, Jerry didn't see well without his glasses but I saw out of the corner of my eye that he recognized me OK. I walked back over to Duke and gave him back his hat with thanks and sat back down with Rich and Ron. Jerry staggered to his feet and reeled towards the cowboy hat and fired Duke 5 times

"I don't even work for you" offered Duke.

"Don't give me that shit" said Jerry You are fired and this time I mean it."

He staggered back and forth another four times firing the hat while we roared with laughter. Susan came in shortly and collected the fairly drunken Richard, she was not a happy camper and Richard left sheepishly without a word. Jerry's secretary showed up within the hour with my severance cheque and Ron and his daughter and I went out for dinner and on the town and my rent got paid for another month.

Jerry phoned me Monday morning, and as usual I was forgiven if I would stop at the Liquor store on the way to the office.