Sinister: Equality.

[Geoff Sheridan]

Chiao,

I suppose I ought to introduce myself. My name is Earl Sheridan 
d'Orange III, and I live in a converted castle above a shop in 
Greenwich. The shop is called 'Interiors' and stocks the sort of 
high-class fibreglass reproduction fireplaces which are in such 
demand in a well-heeled neighbourhood like what this one is. I once 
saved a small child from drowning.

It was nothing really, I just took my hand off the back of his head 
and let him finish his soup. Philanthropic, I guess you could call 
me. Yes. Many a time and oft I've espied a vagrant and, tossing him a 
Dime, bade him: 'Eat this, poor serf.' They are darlings, some of 
them, but oh! the smell. Pardon me, but if I left the house without 
my Tiffany's Eau d', I would feel practically naked.

Being rich isn't all about limousines and getting blowjobs from Zara 
Phillips. (Incidently, it was I who requested she have her tongue 
pierced.) There's the responsibility, the heavy, crushing burden of 
superiority. One would hardly expect you to understand, but really, 
one must always behave with such... dignity. Honestly, it's a 
dreadful bore.

How I long for the carefree life of the lower classes. The freedom to 
use prepositions to end sentences with. Navigating a push-chair 
through the double doors at 'Poundstretcher'. A cheery can of Special 
Brew and a park bench. The constant scrimping and saving. It gives 
one such... purpose. A far cry from those dreary cocktail parties and 
(I wince to say it) movie premieres.

When I graduated from Eton, with a 2.2 in Applied Woodwork, I hardly 
would have believed I'd be where I am today. Indeed, as I said to the 
CEO on my first day at Morgan Stanley Dean Witter; 'Are you sure I'm 
qualified to be Financial Director?' He just smiled and carried on 
talking about my father. My photograph usually appears in Tatler.

And I suppose that's what I love about Belle and Sebastian. I'm rich 
and you're all as poor as, well... as little church mice. And yet 
there is something in the soaring beauty of a song like 'Beyond The 
Sunrise' which unites us. Briefly, perhaps, for one must have one's 
standards, but in that moment we are almost... equal.

Bonsoir,

Earl Sheridan d'Orange III
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