Meeting of the Brotherhood

"Brothers, I hereby call this meeting of the Brotherhood of Brothers Ignored by the Bard to order. I am delighted to welcome a special guest today, but before I introduce him to you maybe it would be a good idea if some of you said a few words to give him an idea of your particular grievance. Can I start with the Brother to my left?"

“Thank you, Mr Chairman. My name is Eggslet, the result of a rare example of humour shown by my somewhat dour and gloomy Danish parents when I was born a year after my better-known brother.

“It was a huge mistake leaving me out of the play. I’d have sorted everything out in no time at all. For one thing, I’d have whisked that gorgeous Ophelia off her feet and out of Hammy’s reach, so that awful father of hers wouldn’t have spied on him and got himself killed. There are far too many nasty deaths in that play, and I’d have saved quite a few, you mark my words.

“Mind you, I’d soon have sorted Claudius out. None of that ‘To be or not to be nonsense’ from me, I can tell you. That’s one death that I’d definitely leave in.

“On the other hand, I might also have put paid to my dear brother. He’d have made a terrible king, and with me being next in line … ”

“Thank you, Brother Eggslet”, said the Chairman. Let’s move on, who’s next?”

“That’s me”, said the tough-looking guy sitting next to Eggslet. “My name’s Branwell Lear. It’s a great name, maybe it’ll set a trend for future brothers who have three sisters, who knows?

“I reckon Dad got it all wrong when he only visited his daughters after dividing the kingdom. If he’d turned up at my place with all his knights we’d have had a whale of a time, jousting, hunting, all that sort of thing. There’d have been no need for him to go bonkers and if either Regan or Goneril had caused any problems we’d have settled their hash pretty quickly.

“But Will Shakespeare chose to leave me off the cast list and we all know what happened as a result. Death and misery all over the place – who wants to go to the theatre and see that sort of thing? They can get their fill of that by watching Eastenders.”

The next Brother to speak was a suave Italian who introduced himself as Milaneo Montague, brother of Romeo.

“I should certainly have been in the play”, he said. “It was awful when Romeo topped himself, along with lovely young Juliet. I wept buckets when I heard about it.

“It was all so unnecessary. If they’d only left the wedding arrangements to me, instead of that stupid Friar Laurence, it would all have worked out so differently. I’ve got a mate who runs the perfect wedding venue just outside Verona, everything laid on – wine, cake, flowers, the lot – and all for a very reasonable price. My best man’s speech would have been wonderful, then I’d have whisked them off to start a romantic honeymoon in Sorrento with a short cruise round the Bay of Naples. They’d have loved it. If only I’d been in the play.”

“That was my problem too”, said the next in line, who gave his name as Brashlock. "Everything went wrong for my brother Shylock. We’re in the same line, namely moneylending, but he had a misguided notion about the best way of dealing with bad debts. Far too carnivorous, if you ask me. Now, if the Bard had let me give Shylock a bit of advice I’d have suggested that he adopt my vegan approach. I never demand a pound of flesh. A pound of carrots will suit me just fine, and the following day I’ll demand a pound of potatoes, then leeks and then parsnips. A different vegetable every day until I get my money back, plus interest. By the time the debtor is in the clear my larder is usually full enough not only to feed my family but allow me to stock a veggie stall in the local market. If Will Shakespeare had given me a part in his play, he could have called it The Fruit and Veg Merchant of Venice – much more wholesome if you ask me.”

“Thank you, Brother”, said the Chairman. “Before we go any further, I see that one of the Brothers is handing round a bag of sweets. Going by past experience, I would advise you all not to actually eat anything he offers you.”

“That’s a bit unfair”, said the Brother in question. “It’s months now since anyone has actually died from any of my products, which is more than be said for what my weird sisters turn out. Their death rate is starting to attract the attention of Health and Safety, which is why I reckon that the Bard should have let me have a role in their culinary offerings.”

“You see,” he continued, “those recipes of theirs, with newts’ eyes, dogs’ tongues and the rest, always lacked a certain something. They could have made it big in the world of catering if they’d only listened to their brother’s advice and got the taste balance right.

“You see it’s all very well sticking Turks’ noses and dragons’ scales into the pot – the latter are very difficult to get these days, I can tell you. Sainsbury’s hardly ever have them in stock – but where’s the seasoning? No salt or pepper, and the closest they get to herbs are yew slips and hemlock roots, which do the digestive tract do good at all.”

“I think we’ve heard enough now”, said the Chairman. “So let me introduce our guest, who I think might be able to satisfy most of you with his proposed scheme. Given that you are all ignored brothers, it is only appropriate that he should be another one. He wears flowers in his hair, he writes potted versions of his twin brother Bill’s plays, and his name is Ben Shakespeare.

© John Welford