Wednesday, 25th February 2009, 2:38 pm, The Dorchester, Park Lane, London
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Nope, just chilling.”
“Um, the Dorchester, I think.”
“Yes, was too drunk last night to pay attention but from the interior I guess it’s the good old Harlequin Suite at the D.”
“Decadent youth! So, you’re still in London?”
“What are ya doing?”
“Recovering from Bailey’s afterparty.”
“Ahh, how’s fashion week so far?”
“A nightmare. Christopher made me open his show, so did Viv and Stella and the press was all over me afterwards.”
“Are they heralding you as the new male supermodel?”
“Worse, they're calling me the first genuine It Boy!!! Made me pose with all the Pixiepeaches and some annoying redhead offspring of that obscure duchess.”
“Poor boy, I already told you in Stockholm: you shouldn’t have fucked that Scandinavian at the ball.”
“Yeah, well... too late for that now. Why didn’t you tell me she was a damn princess? If I'm not careful I’ll go down in history as the boy who fucked his way through the Royal Register.”
“Why, who else has been added to the list since Sweden?”
“You don’t wanna know.”
“Atta boy. Guess they’ll hang garlands on your door in Magdalen. When are you heading back to Ox?”
“Tomorrow morning. Have my tute with old Windermere on Friday.”
“How is he?”
“Good. We’re discussing Greek philosophers at the moment while playing chess and backgammon.”
“He’s keeping your fingers busy, huh? Is he still as obsessed about them as ever?”
“More, I am afraid. I dread that if I play the cembalo for him he’ll orgasm.”
“Wouldn’t be the first one. Remember Miss Kobayashi, the piano teacher?”
“How could I forget. The first time I got to touch a female there, man, and I couldn’t get enough.”
“It sure did wonders to your dexterity. Your Revolutionary Etude by Chopin never sounded quite as virtuoso once she was gone.”
“That’s your fault, fucker. Why did you have to do her on the damn concert grand and get caught by mom?”
“Well, it was an original Bösendorfer Piano or better Mösendorfer, had to do it justice.”
“Möse. That must be the only German word you remember from your days in Vienna, right?”
“Well, I did a lot of pussies back then.”
“I remember, the infamous Opera Ball. Am still amazed that mom didn’t realize that her eldest son had banged more than half of the attending female debutantes.”
“Best fortnight in my life. They should have given me an order for my special services to the country.”
“Yeah, engraved with Pretium laborum non vile... No wait, that is actually the motto on the Order of the Golden Fleece.”
“Perfect, there was definitely more than one golden fleece, I can assure you!"
"Wow, no laughter at my bad joke? What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Nothing. I was momentarily distracted, sorry.”
“Exactly. Am getting blown by a Russian topmodel.”
“How very European of you. Is she any good?”
“Sucks like a hoover. Judging from her emaciated frame I guess she’s hungry. Can’t be too bad for her to have a proteine shake, right?"
“If it’s one of yours? Most definitely! Wait, can she understand what you’re saying?”
“Good. Then get her sloshed. Come to think of it, when can we expect you in Cannes on the yacht? Better stock up the Bollinger if the Chosen One from Ox arrives. Even more so since the old head and his young bride are gonna join us on our trip along the Cote d’Azur.”
“Which, I guess, is an adequate affair for the Sons of Scylla, right? Well, my last mod is just before the end of Hilary in March and I have to get back in May for the Trinity prelims.”
“Hilary pillory, gee, don’t you crave Princeton and it’s simplicity of fall and spring terms?”
“No, not really."
“Wow, best neologism of the day, bro. Seems like you’re coping well with ivy league yourself, huh? How are you doing there, Tiger?”
“Just dandy. The old man used to have me under 24-hour-surveillance but with his new mistress he’s finally cutting me some slack. But wait till it’s your turn to be polished to perfection at Princeton. You’re gonna miss your innocent, glorious Oxford days as an undergraduate soon enough."
“Well not so innocent right now. Ohhh, fuck... hold on a sec... aarrggghh, fuck!!!!”
“You doing okay?”
“Fuck, yeah! Ooohh, that was... pppfffttt, bloody hell. Little Miss Romanova sure knows how to work those eggs.”
“Have her add some Roquefort, Caviar and Cayenne Pepper next time. And stop saying bloody hell. You sound like a pompous pommy to me.”
“Sorry, where were we?”
“Aegean. Greece. You coming, me listening to it... Aaahh, glorious days indeed.”
“Did it get you hard? As it used to?"
“Okay, I am right. It did get you hard.”
“How d’you know that?”
“Because your silence is louder than ever.”
“That’s no affirmation.”
“Do you miss me?"
“See, it is affirmative.”
“You little shit.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Even with Miss Moscow wrapped around you?”
“Yes. An infinite deal more!”
“Woah, you know I could actually hear your smile just now.”
“You little fucker.”
“Stop sobriquetting, you’re making me blush.”
“Okay, gotta go. See you soon. Give Russia my love.”
“Will do. By the way, are you still a free agent?”
“As free as can be. Price to pay of being Company.”
“I’ll deprive you of your liberty as best as I can once we’re on that boat.”
“What about our new mom?”
“Let her watch. Think she’ll be up for it?”
“Fine. See ya.”
Phone messages left on various answering machines/ mailboxes:
Monday, 2nd March 2009, 4:46 am, Daniel Harris for Michael Scofield
Dude, dude? Where the fuck are you??? I pray to god you’re already on your way down to the river because if you stand me up for rowing practice I will kill you!”
Monday, 2nd March 2009, 9:12 am,, William Dunleary for Michael Scofield
"Good Morning Mr Scofield, Dunleary here from the Porters’ Lodge. I am sorry to inform you that your pidgeon hole is bursting more than ever with mail since last weekend. Could you please be so kind and drop by to collect it? And may I suggest you pick it up daily from now on? Thank you."
Monday, 2nd March 2009, 10:43 am, Lincoln Burrows for Michael Scofield
“Hey, my little one. Congrats on advancing to the next level of possible candidates for The Race. Well done, man. I heard you saved their asses on the last day of Torpids. How very maudlin, hahaha, no wonder they want you on the team. My own training schedule’s pretty paranoid, too. Have to obliterate P and C. Sorry, but it looks as if I won’t make it over to cheer for you. But knowing you I guess Cambridge’s hopes will founder yet again. If you get picked for the team that is. Tell them I’ll personally deliver you back for practice on Isis after our sailing trip with me, the man and the foxy lady. We’ll all be there to see you in the Summer Eights, anyway. Okay, gotta go, miss you. See you on the yacht soon. Til then try to keep the Royal Register rogering to a minimum."
Tuesday, 3rd March 2009,4:28 pm, Jacinta Aranxa Santiso Rodriguez for Katie Lehman
“Katie, this is Jacinta…Damn, pick up the phone… Aren’t you back from your lecture yet??? … Humpf, apparently not, mierda! If you hear this, text me back URGENTAMENTE!!!!! I am at the Rad Cam in the lower reading section and your not gonna believe who is sitting two rows away from me!!!! Michael Scofield!!!! Madre de dios, he looks divine when he is studying. Is it just a rumor or really true that he… you know… has a habit of getting down and dirty with girls between the shelves in the Theology section? Mierda, he just looked at me... and I mean like that look, you know? Like he was totally checking me out. Christo amado, his glances are killing me! Do you think I’d be his type…? OH. MY. GOD. Katie… he is getting up!!! ... He is coming over!!! What am I supposed to do???”
Wednesday, 4th March 2009, 11:04 am, Doctor Smytheson for Professor Wilbur Windermere
“Professor Windermere, this is Doctor Smytheson calling from the Oxford Radcliffe Hospital. I would like to make another appointment for an examination. I don’t want to worry you but it would be good if we could schedule our meeting as soon as possible, maybe even this week? Just call the oncology department. The numbers are all in your folder. The sooner we know what exactly we’re dealing with the sooner we can start with the therapy. Okay, um, thank you. Bye.”
Wednesday, 4 March 2009, 5:22 pm, Professor Windermere for Michael Scofield
"Mr Scofield, I am fretfully sorry to cancel your tute on Friday at such short notice but I have some unpostponable issues to sort out. We will resume our conversation about the concept of Socratic Philosophy next week, instead. And since Miss Roland is still too sick to attend her tute you will have the honor of a double session with me. I don’t have to tell you which texts to prepare. Knowing you I assume you’ve already buried your nose in the Politeia and will probably drag old Seneca into the discussion as well. I wouldn’t mind that as long as you bring another cask of that lovely uisge beatha with you, deliciolae.”
Thurday, 5th March 2009,3:55 pm, Fern Dobson for Michael Scofield
“Mr Scofield? Fern Dobson, senior editor from Clotheshorse Magazine. We would like to print the article about you and your brother in our upcoming summer issue and I am calling again about scheduling a meeting between you and our reporter Alex Mahone. Just let me know what dates are convenient for you and he’ll come up to Oxford to talk to you. Of course you can always call him directly if that is easier for you. His number is 171-234876. Thank you!”
Friday, 6th March 2009, 12:18 pm, Tristan Selwyn for Michael Scofield
“Pretty one, oh pretty one where art thou? Hey, it’s half a T-twin. Me and Tom have decided to crash the bob over at Balliol tonight, wanna come? Let’s get wasted on their stash of Pimm’s and fuck their prettiest girls. Or boys. Whatever comes first. And if they all turn out to be a bore, well then it’s just your petal lips, Tom’s luscious body, my vile character and the first class coke in my pocket. Not to forget your excellent whisky collection. So very Marchmain of you. Later, Pretty! Btw what the hell did you do with the Pixiepeaches?”
Saturday, 7th March 2009, 9:00 pm, Lennert Wilcox II for SaraTancredi
“Hey Saralove, I handed Francis Greene your portfolio and he read a few of your articles and although he tried to hide it I could tell that he was impressed with your work. We don’t have any job vacancies at the moment but if I may suggest something? I know you’re pretty much stressed out with your transferral from Yale to Oxford but then again that will give you immediate access to the local college gossip. Everyone is going bonkers over that Scylla kid. You heard of him? Michael Scofield! He is an icon that’s quickly becoming a legend and if you could get up, close and personal with him for a story I bet my allowance that Greene would think benevolently about giving you a regular spot as contributing journalist for our mag. With your looks it shouldn’t be too hard to lure Scofield in and get some fascinating details of his sparkling persona. So think about it. I know you hate those shallow jet-set kids but he is the current craze and I am sure it would raise your profile and increase your chances to edge into journalism if you could get him, preferably exclusive. Well, think about it and call me as soon as you’ve settled into Oxfordshire. Ta-ta.”
Sunday, 8th March 2009, Lila Hammond for Michael Scofield
“Hey sex god, you’re still asleep right next to me and I am so sore I can barely move but I wanted to tell you what an incredible night that was. And if you hear this once you get back to your college room: turn around, come back and fuck me again. And again. Will ya?”
Porter's Lodge: is a place near the entrance of a building where one or more porters can be found to respond to enquiries from the public and direct them around the building. It is particularly associated with university accommodation. Porters' lodges at residences usually accept mail for the members of the college and have hubs for CCTV control and alarm systems. They also make sure that no annyoing tourists enter the college grounds without paying the access fee!!!
Pidgeon hole/pidgeon post/ to pidge something: traditionally an way to send letters by pidgeons but here another college form of mail service. All students have their own hole and can send letters and notes to each other within the college and to other colleges as well
The Race: short for the Boat Race, traditional and prestigious varsity rowing race between Cambridgeand Oxford, annually on the river Thames. Last race (155th) was on March 29th 2009. Oxford's won, defeating Cambridge for the fourth time in five years. Currently the wins are Cambridge (79), Oxford(75)
Torpids and Summer Eights : a special "Bump" rowing race in Oxford on the River Isis (short for latin name of Thames = Tamensis). Because the river isn't wide enough to row next to each other the contestants row behind each other with 1.5 boat lengths distance in between, trying to bump the boat in front of them and thus eliminating it. Aim is to become Head of the River and win. While at Torpids the bumped boat continues to row, making it easier to move up or down, during Summer VII's the boat has to stop rowing
Obliterate P and C: Lincoln refers to Penn and Columbia University, the adversaries in the Childe's Cup Rowing Race against Princeton. The race between these three universities was established in 1879 and Princeton has won the trophy every year since 1994.
to roger: colloquial term for fucking
urgentamente (spanish): urgently, as in right, f**ing now!!!!
Rad Cam: short for the Radcliffe Camera, reading rooms and part of the Bodleian Library, housing the texts for English, Latin American, Theology and Film students
Socratic Philosophy: dialectic method of inquiry, a concept developed by the greek philosopher. An inquiry in which the questioner explores the implications of others' positions, to stimulate rational thinking and illuminate ideas
Politeia: written by greek Philosopher Platon (380BC). One of the most influential works of philosophy and political theory and Plato's best known work where in which fictional dialogues the characters of Socrates as well as various Athenians and foreigners discuss the meaning of justice
Seneca: roman philosopher and dramatist, tutor and later advisor to emperor Nero whose work and theoretical ideas where inspired and based on Socrates. Note: Of course brilliant Michael is studying the necessary texts in roman and ancient greek!!!
Uisge beatha (gaelic): Water of Life, today known as Whisky
deliciolae (Latin): delicious one, darling
T twin: moniker of Michael's fellow students and friends in crime Tom and Tristan Selwyn (tall, blonde, gorgeous) part of the inverted Oreo cookie package!!! (Wanna guess who is the cream filling???)
Bob: big open party. This is the name given to parties that are open to all students of the university. Sometimes open to students from other colleges too, sometimes not!!!
Balliol: a college in Oxford on Broad Street
Pimm's: Britain's national drink, a herbal liquor based on Gin (No 1) There used to be five more versions with different bases of alcohol but only No 3, based on brandy, is being produced too as the Winter version. Favorite mixture is with 7-Up or Ginger Ale, a slice of cucumber!!! (orange peel and warm apple juice and slices for the winter version) and ice cubes served in a pitcher at British high class events like the Henley Regatta, Ascot Horse Race, the Boat Race and basically any kind of lavish summer party. Lemonade can be exchanged for champage to turn it into the so-called Royal Cup
So very Marchmain of you: reference to Lord Marchmain alia Sebastian Flyte, fictional character in Evelyn Waughs novel Brideshead Revisited, who became an alcoholic with a special penchant for whisky and red wine
to go bonkers: british slang to go completely crazy over s.th. or s.o.
ta-ta: british slang, also used in Australia by older people, meaning goodbye