I did something I’ve never done before. I scribbled some notes on a page from one of Harold’s yellow legal pads because I was waiting for a taxi to go to Mass, and too lazy to go upstairs.

I took all the leftover pads when Harold died on Christmas Eve 2008, and for sentimental reasons kept them. Although up till now, I have never written anything on any of them. But about a month ago, I installed one in a writing case in the drawing room in theory for occasional use, but really out of tenderness for the past.

When I had written the note, I stripped off the yellow page. Then I nearly fainted. Beneath lay Harold’s unforgettable handwriting – although rather frail – and a title: “The Pres and the Officer”.

Six pages followed, his handwriting getting noticeably stronger. Now the unbelievability of it all increased. Because I could have been reading something written today, written by Harold about Trump. This was a morning when nuclear war, or something like it, appeared to be threatened by Trump on the 8am news.

Everything was pure Harold, including the cutting of the last line (still visible beneath the line).

“What would Harold have thought of Trump?” People are always asking me that question. Now we know. As it were.

A.F.

The Pres and an Officer

by Harold Pinter

Pres. ruminating. Officer reading Washington Post.
P OK. Get me Strategic Air Command.
O Yes. Mr P. Anyone in particular?
P Who do you think?
O Well, I –
P The Commander. The Commander.
O Yes Sir.

Dials
O Commander? The President of the United States.
P Hi there – who’s this? Yes, I know you’re the Commander, but which one? Do I know you?

Voice
Charley! Of course I know you, Charlie.
How you doing?

Voice
Good. Good. And the folks?

Voice
Great. That’s good news. Now hear this. This is a Presidential Command and I want it deployed forthwith. Get me? Nuke London.

Silence. Voice.
That’s right. London. That’s right.
London. Straightaway.

Voice
Congress? Fuck Congress. What are you talking about?

Voice
What International Community? Are you joking? Listen, I’ve said it once and I’ll [say] it just one more time. Nuke London. This is a Presidential Decree.

Voice
Okay. Good. And let me know how it goes.

Phone down.

Silence.
You know what I’d really like? A double Jack Daniels on the rocks. But of course I gave up booze for God. The whole world knows that.
O You just gave instructions to nuke London.
P You bet. They’ve had it coming to them for a long time. What do you think?

(Rubs his hands)
They’ve had it coming to them and boy are they going to get it?
O But I’m just mildly surprised that it’s London.
P Those cheapskates. Those horizontal pricks. Those scumbags. An elephant never forgets. Nor does a President.
O But I thought they were on our side.
P Our side! Traitors. Stinkypoos. Can’t speak a damn word of English.
O They can’t speak English? Why not?
P Because they’re French, you fool. They live in Froggy land. Well, the Froggy Circus is over. Jesus. I think I’ll have a drink. I know God won’t mind. He’s very fond of me.
O London in England.
P What?
O London is the capital of England. They are our allies. Our best friends. Our only friends.
P London? What do you mean?
O London is not in France. Paris is in France. Paris is the capital of France.
P I thought Paris was the capital of England.
O France.
P You mean I’m nuking the wrong place?
O Afraid. So.
P Call Charley. Tell him I revoke the order.

O dials
O Commander. The Pres. says revoke his last order.

Voice
Thank you. (To P) London is being nuked at this very moment.
P But can’t somebody explain to them? I just got it wrong, that’s all. Don’t we have an Embassy over there, in London.
O They’re all dead. London has gone.
P OK. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. The bastards. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Give me the Commander.

Phone
Charley? It’s the President. How are the folks?

Voice
Good. Great. That’s good news. Now listen. They’re not going to get away with this. The bastards. Nuke Paris.

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