read by Hugh Laurie
Long time ago, before the United Kingdom became a laughing stock to the rest of the world, its inhabitants were famous for their sense of humour. To the degree they themselves seriously believed that their sense of humour was more subtle, more refined and in general far superior to any other nation’s sense of humour. And a fundamental feature of British humour, together with understatement, is self-deprecation. It allowed the humorous Brits, among other things, to gently poke fun at the Americans, French or, indeed, Germans, without sounding patronising or xenophobic. Not without exceptions, of course. Take the late Prince Philip: he sure could afford to be blunt — or downright rude — which certainly contributed to his reputation of someone who speaks his mind as well as, in his own words, “a cantankerous old sod”. Here you go, endearing self-deprecation again. Those were the days.
Fortunately, Alexander McCall Smith CBE is still around. Well, I didn’t read his latest books*, but I am confident that they are of the same high standard as those that I did read — or, as is the case with The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs, listened to. I bought this 4-CD box years ago in Oxfam, together with another audiobook, At the Villa of Reduced Circumstances, for a ridiculous sum of £4. First time we attempted to listen to it was while driving somewhere on holidays. We had to stop when the sausage dog business got gory as not to upset the kids too much. Later I finished listening to it on my CD Walkman when travelling on train.
Earlier this month, I re-listened to it on MP3 player. It’s lost none of its charm, and the famous British humour still works, as Professor Dr Moritz-Maria von Igelfeld, the author of Portuguese Irregular Verbs, goes to America, operates a sausage dog, is entrusted with Santa Claus’s bones, tells off the Pope, and is presumed dead. Hugh Laurie’s masterful delivery makes the whole experience a pure delight, from Chapter Eins to Chapter Fünf. Wunderbar.
| * | I just read an extract from Your Inner Hedgehog, “the long-awaited return to the von Igelfled series”, and it fills me with hope. |
‘The sausage dog,’ he began, ‘is a remarkable dog. It differs from other dogs in respect of its shape, which is similar to that of a sausage. It belongs to that genus of dogs marked out by their proximity to the ground. In most cases this is because of the shortness of the legs. If a dog has short legs, we have found that the body is almost invariably close to the ground. Yet this does not prevent the sausage dog from making its way about its business with considerable despatch.’
‘I see,’ said the priest. ‘And now you are feeling guilty?’
‘Yes,’ said von Igelfeld.
‘Guilt is natural,’ said the priest quietly. ‘It is a way in which the Super-ego asserts itself in the face of the primitive, anarchic urges of the Id. Guilt acts as a way of establishing psychic balance between the various parts of the personality. But we should not let it consume us.’
‘No?’ asked von Igelfeld.
‘No,’ said the priest. ‘Guilt fuels neurosis. A small measure of guilt is healthy — it affirms the intuitive sense of what is right or wrong. But if you become too focused on what you have done wrong, then you can become an obsessive neurotic.’
‘You are an extremely insolent man,’ said von Igelfeld. ‘I am very surprised that anybody comes to this appalling restaurant.’
‘Very few do,’ said the waiter.
‘Good morning,’ said the Pope warmly. ‘Good morning, and blessings. Please sit down and I’ll pour the coffee.’
Von Igelfeld sat down.
‘I’ve come to say how sorry I am about that regrettable incident yesterday,’ he said. ‘I had no idea it was Your Holiness.’
The Pope laughed. ‘Oh that! Think no more of that. It’s good of you to come and apologise. You know, there are so many who expect us to apologise to them. They ask us to apologise for the Inquisition, to apologise for the over-enthusiasms of missionaries of the past, to apologise for all sorts of terrible things that happened a long time ago. And nobody ever comes to apologise to me! Except you. It’s really quite refreshing.’
‘The Patriarch Angelos Evangelis?’ asked von Igelfeld. ‘A tall patriarch with a beard?’
‘They all look like that,’ said the Cardinal. ‘I can never tell them apart.’
By the end of dinner, von Igelfeld was exhausted. He had spent the entire meal dealing with the ladies’ questions. What were his hobbies? Did he have relatives in Münster, by any chance? There had been a Professor Igelfold there, had there not, and the Igelfolds could be a branch of the same family, could they not? Did he enjoy walking? The hills above Freiburg were very suitable for that purpose! Was he ever in Freiburg? Did he know the von Kersell family? There had been a Professor von Kersell once, but something had happened to him. Did he know, by any chance, what that was?
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