Mr Shylock of Little Venice

(With apologies to WS)

The judge at the bankruptcy hearing took his seat and called on the plaintiff to state his case.

“So, Mr Shylock, you say that you are without funds and unable to pay your debts?”

“That is so, your honour. I am broke, or – to put it another way – skint, in Queer Street, on the skids, brassic, stony, on my beam ends, financially embarrassed, without a bean and in straitened circumstances”.

“Quite. Would you care to explain how you came to be in this unfortunate position?”

Shylock gave a small cough and proceeded to do precisely that.

“Your honour, I was for some years in the moneylending business. I had some spare cash and decided to see what I could do to increase said sum by lending it out and charging modest interest on its return.”

“Quite so”, said the judge. “Did you not find that this was a profitable enterprise?”

“Oh, at first it was indeed so, your honour, especially lending to the merchants around Little Venice.”

“So what went wrong?”

“I had a few customers who were – shall we say – reluctant to pay me what they owed. I therefore came up with what I thought was a foolproof scheme for getting them to think very carefully before giving me the run-around.”

“I trust”, said the judge, “that you acted wholly within the law?”

“Well”, said Shylock, “that is for others to say, but it did involve going round to their place armed with a large and particularly sharp knife.”

“Really?” said the judge, “So you were quite prepared to employ mindless violence to gain your ends?”

“Oh no”, said Shylock, “hardly mindless. I thought about it quite a lot. I reckoned I would get paid every time if I put in the small print a clause that said that, should they refuse to pay up, I would use my sharp knife to extract a pound of flesh from them.”

“OK”, said the judge, “that sounds reasonable enough. So why didn’t your tactic work?”

“Well”, said Shylock, “the first time I tried it on I went round to this club owner’s place and had to get past his minder, who promptly searched my person and confiscated my knife. This made the removable of any pound of flesh a little tricky”.

“I can see how it would”, said the judge.

“It gets worse,” said Shylock. “I was shown into the owner’s office, and there on his desk was a pack of lamb chops, straight from Tesco. He said ‘you want a pound of flesh, there it is. It’s actually half a kilo but as near as dammit to a pound as you could want’.

“I wasn’t having any of it. I said to him ‘You can’t fob me off like that. The contract said it had to be a pound of your flesh’. You know what he said?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me”, said the judge.

“’It is mine’, he said. Bought and paid for, and I’ve got the receipt. It’s definitely mine, and now it’s yours in settlement of my debt, as per your contract”.

“A bit awkward”, said the judge, “but it sounds as though he had a point”.

“Which is more than I had, after his goon had stolen my knife. I had no choice but to exit stage left, holding a pack of Tesco lamb chops”.

“Most unfortunate”, said the judge, “However, one setback like that doesn’t explain your current predicament”.

“Oh, but that wasn’t the end of it”, said Shylock. “Word got around, and before long everyone was fobbing me off with packs of meat. Every time I went to collect a debt I ended up with burgers, brisket, bacon, bangers, all sorts of stuff. Before long my cash flow was in desperate straits.”

 “But surely you could have found some way round this problem?” asked the judge.

“Oh, I did”, said Shylock. “I might have had a steadily emptying safe, but my freezer was filling up with masses of meat. I had to buy more freezers just to stock it all. I then came up with a really clever idea.”

“Which was?”

“I decided to open a modest little bistro in a barge moored on the canal at Little Venice. Naturally, the menu would be heavily weighted on the meat side, but I didn’t see that as a problem. I was also aware that most of the meat I was being given was way past its sell-by date, but I didn’t see that as much of an obstacle either. It’s amazing what can be covered up with lots of spicy sauce and stuff.”

“It sounds as though you were on to a winner, then” said the judge. “So what went wrong?”

“This did”, said Shylock, waving a copy of The Guardian above his head. “This report appeared in the paper, saying that eating meat would give you all sorts of nasty diseases – quite apart from those that you might have got from eating in my bistro anyway.

“All of a sudden my trade disappeared. My customers stayed away in droves as the entire population of Little Venice went vegetarian.

“I tell you, your honour, things have come to a pretty pass when a man can’t even run a dishonest trade without going to the dogs”.

“You have my sympathy”, said the judge. “Your attitude to business is one that I admire, and I will certainly see what we can do to help you out of your financial difficulties. For example, do you need any cash for your immediate expenses?”

“I certainly do”, said Shylock. “I can’t see myself getting to the end of the month as things stand.”

“OK”, said the judge, “here’s the deal. I can lend you a thousand out of my own pocket, no questions asked. How does that sound?”

“Very generous, your honour”, said Shylock. “I’m most grateful. By the way, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Sorry about that”, said the judge. “I’m Mr Justice Wonga”.

© John Welford