The Sleeping Army Awakes

Part 9 Food and more food

At the sound of the dinner gong, the doors in the kitchen had opened with a flourish and a sweeping centipede of superbly choreographed oriental waitresses had glided out towards them. The girls used steps so subtle that it was difficult to discern any individual movement of their many legs. Each coy beauty wore a bright red Cheongsam, the traditional Chinese dress, and smiled ecstatically as if their lives depended on it, which they probably did.

As they approached the large table, each of the beaming beauties broke off from the head of the serpentine procession in turn and presented their steaming tureens, or platters, or bowls to their guests, by bowing low and bringing the trays down for inspection. The ringmaster of this troupe was the rather short, self important, only vaguely oriental looking manager, Bung Chow, was now sporting full evening dress complete with a top hat all in the same lurid red colour as the waitresses wore. Bung Chow presented each dish with a flourish, mispronounced the dish's name and alluded to each dish's heritage. Once their dish had been announced, one by one the serving girls transferred the food from their silver trays onto the six square metre surface of the table, before shimmering away backwards empty tray behind them.

"Huíguōròu, Tlice cooked pok!" Bung Chow announced proudly, "Sichuan-style Chinese dish!"

"What did the damned fella say Ruthers?" Sir Gilbert asked.

Ruthers merely shrugged his aged shoulders, with an almost audible cracking of rheumatic bones and replied. "Indeed sir. I regret that could not hazard a guess!"

"Perseus?" Sir Gilbert asked, "Can you get your secretary to translate?"

"I believe that what he wished to say was twice... cooked pork sirs!" Spencer translated, with the aid of the menu on his Dudat.

The next dish glided in.

"Xièlián yúdù, Clab and Fiss Stomachs!" Bung Chow announced. The little man kissed his fingers dramatically, "Flom lecipe of Ming Dynasty!"

"I believe that what he wished to say was Crab and Fish Stomachs sirs!" Spencer translated.

"Oh Fred I don't like the sound of that!" Sir Percy commented, "Did you order that Crab and Fish Stomachs thingy Gilly? It sounds positively revolting!"

"No Perseus I didn't. "Sir Gilbert protested, "I thought that you had."

"Send it back!" Sir Percy commanded. "I can't stand fish at the best of times."

Bung Chow clapped and a girl removed the offending items from view before the next dish glided in.

"Nánguā zhēngjiǎo, Flied Pumpkin Dumprings!" Bung Chow announced, "Speciarity of de house!"

And the next.

"Shāo rǔzhū Loast suckring pig with flagrant sorted lice cakes!" Bung Chow said.

"God I wish that that man would improve his English," Sir Percy said, "Gilly it's enough to turn your stomach. Butler what did the chap say?"

"Shāo rǔzhū Roast suckling pig sir." Spencer translated, "and then I believe that it was supposed to be "Fragrant sautéed rice cakes! If I might proffer the information that the orientals have a single letter that is half way between an R and an L and to western ears the letters sound as if they are being transposed sir."

"When I want a linguistics lesson I will ask for one young man. That is unless you want to end up being stuffed and mounted," Sir Percy taunted, "or was it mounted and then stuffed." He chuckled to himself as if he had said something hilarious.

"No indeed not sir!" Spencer said contritely, knowing that despite his devotion to duty, the threat was a distinct possibility given Sir Percy's capricious and vicious nature.

Sir Gilbert also found the comment funny, especially when he regarded the worried look on Spencer's face. "Well if you ever wish to proceed with the punishment then I can highly recommend an excellent taxidermist." he offered chuckling away to himself.

The two men thought that this was terribly funny.

The staff were steadily covering almost every centimetre of the surface of the Arthurian table with a cornucopia of Chinese cuisine. The last few waitresses would attend at a reverent distance to pre-empt any possible whim of their customers, standing just far enough away not to overhear confidences. The rest of them scuttled elegantly back whence they had come to be disciplined for any minor fumble.

"Do you think that we've ordered enough food?" Sir Percy asked without any perceptible trace of irony in his voice. Spencer who had caught the comment could hardly suppress a laugh and tried to pretend that he had something stuck in his throat.

"I don't know until I tuck into the feast and I wish that he would bloody well get on with it. I'm starving!" Sir Gilbert complained sulkily grabbing a spring roll, dipping it in soy sauce, and stuffing it into his mouth whole.

"Mind that you don't bite your fingers you old porker!" Sir Percy mocked.

The burgeoning table, now held more translucent, blue and white flower pattern porcelain serving vessels, than you could comfortably shake a pair of gilded filigree ivory chop sticks at, making the elaborately woven leaping golden lions, on the shimmery satin and silk table cloth, totally surplus to requirements, as they were barely visible beneath. Most of the smaller bowls were balanced on their own heating devices. It wouldn't do for the food to go cold before it had been consumed.

The purpose of this annual meal of course was less of a re-union and more about a chance to brag about new projects, to taunt each other about the past failures, and to get one up on the other, if possible, and to keep score to see who was winning. The gloves were off, let battle commence. Any weakness discovered would be ruthlessly exploited.

"You know Gilly, that the towers of Grace will be my crowning glory, with the Aquarium apartment as the jewel in the crown." Sir Percy commenced his opening pitch. "It will be strung in a spiders web of cables, glistening in the sun half a kilometre in the air."

"So you want to suspend a transparent apartment between two tall buildings five hundred metres above the ground?" Sir Gilbert mocked, toying with an entrée of deep fried sliced venomous viper and dipping it in soy sauce, laced with gold leaf. He tried a bite and spat it out in disgust.

For Bung Chow it was a worrying sign that Sir Gilbert had spat out the snake steak. He motioned to one of the waitresses, who glided in to remove the fragment of food and the bowl and then glided back out again.