Chapter Text
MR TASKS: Good evening, Fallen London. I am Mr Tasks, and I am the Taskmaster of the Bazaar. My devoted myrmidons have brought together five of the city’s most eminent personalities and had them compete for the Neath’s most desirable reward: my personal approval, made manifest in the form of my gilded likeness. Pray reward them for the wisdom they displayed in agreeing to participate by giving them a round of applause; they are: Chuffy McAvoy-Dauntless!
CHUFFY: (waves cheerily to the audience)
MR TASKS: Emilia Hathersage!
APRIL: (looks up from the shorthand transcription provided to her by a Black-Clad Assistant to wave briefly)
MR TASKS: F.F. Gebrandt!
F.F.: (waves, briskly and efficiently)
MR TASKS: Mr Inch!
MR INCH: (twirls his moustaches magnificently)
MR TASKS: And the Pirate Poet!
PIRATE POET: (raises her hand to her brow in a corsair’s salute)
MR TASKS: Unfortunately, I have not been granted absolute authority over this competition. Instead, some portion of that authority has been devolved - in every sense of the word - to my so-called ‘assistant’ - who, I suppose, propriety demands should also be treated to applause. Please give a half-hearted, dispirited clap for the Efficient Commissioner!
(Griz neatly squares the pages in her clipboard and sits, clearly ready for an evening’s assisting.)
GRIZ: Good evening, Taskmaster.
MR TASKS: What exactly is your role here?
GRIZ: For the past eight weeks, I’ve supervised our contestants as they completed important and worthwhile tasks at the Taskmaster Manor. I also perform the introductions to the tasks, cue the projectionists, tabulate the scores, and ensure the entire production achieves its desired story-output and stays within its allotted budget.
MR TASKS: I’m sorry - that explanation was so tiresome, I stopped listening. What did you say after ‘weeks’?
GRIZ: I-
MR TASKS: Never mind! I understand the first task is that all of our participants must give me a present!
GRIZ: Yes, almost. We begin, as always, with the prize task. Each of our contestants has brought in a prize on a set theme. You’ll rank the prizes from worst to best, and whoever wins tonight will take home all five prizes!
MR TASKS: We let one of them keep them? (it sighs heavily) I suppose it saves us having to provide additional incentives ourselves, if they were so ungrateful that such things were needed. What is the theme for today’s prizes?
GRIZ: Ein Katzenjammer, une gueule de bois, the morning after the night before, the Gin Fairy’s calling-card. That’s right; this task is all about the deleterious effects of overindulgence in vinous and spirituous liquors, because we’ve asked our contestants to bring in the best hangover remedy. Tonight’s winner will take home five hangover remedies, and will presumably feel quite confident about the possible outcomes of having a celebratory drink afterwards.
(The two points of fire beneath Mr Tasks’ hood shift in a manner that could be interpreted as a roll of its eyes.)
MR TASKS: Chuffy!
CHUFFY: Hullo!
MR TASKS: What have you brought that can treat a hangover?
CHUFFY: Ah, well, it’s - my grandmother.
(On the stage: the Dauntless Temperance Campaigner, seated in a comfortable chair.)
CAMPAIGNER: Hello, dear.
MR TASKS: How, exactly, does your ancestor constitute a hangover cure?
CHUFFY: First of all, she’s always encouraging a chap not to drink, which I’ve heard can help prevent the old vino flu.
F.F.: (scoffing) You’ve heard?
MR INCH: Did you not think to try it yourself?
CHUFFY: Never been the scientific type, y’know. Second, if I do find myself wakin’ up with a headful of badgers, she makes me a slap-up brekker with plenty of toast, and only gives me a gentle talking-to about having over-done it on the old guzzle.
CAMPAIGNER: You’d feel much better if you showed just a little moderation, dear.
CHUFFY: Yes, Grandmum. Sorry, Grandmum.
GRIZ: To be clear, if you don’t win tonight, will someone else be able to take your grandmother home?
CHUFFY: Oh, corks - didn’t think of that. Um - well, they can’t keep her - she’s her own lady, y’know? But perhaps she could pop over and make them a slap-up brekker. Would that be alright, Grandmum?
CAMPAIGNER: I’m very busy, you know, dear, but I’m sure I can fit it in if it helps you win your contest.
CHUFFY: Thanks awfully.
CAMPAIGNER: Jeremy sends his best!
MR TASKS: I think that’s quite enough of the family reunion. Ms Hathersage, what do you recommend for a hangover?
APRIL: (writes on a big notepad for a moment, then holds it up) A really hot curry.
(On the stage: a steaming hot bowl of mushrooms, vegetables and rice in a rich green sauce.)
MR TASKS: Intriguing. How hot is it, exactly?
(April turns the pad around, draws a single line, then turns it back again.) A really hot curry.
GRIZ: I believe our infernal neighbours have developed a system to measure the hotness of foods. According to that… you know the commercial curry powder that one might purchase from a grocer?
MR TASKS: That would fall under Spices’ purview, but go on.
GRIZ: This is hotter than that by approximately five orders of magnitude.
MR TASKS: Very impressive. Very impressive indeed. F.F. Gebrandt, you are one of our fine city’s pre-eminent chemists; no doubt you sell some concoction that you recommend for such complaints?
F.F.: Post-intoxicative maladies are a challenge, but the most effective prescription I’ve found is a simple mixture of pure water and acetylsalicylic acid.
(On the stage: a conical flask containing a pale blue liquid.)
MR INCH: Acid? Is it dangerous?
F.F.: Not particularly. It can be derived from compounds found in the bark of the willow tree, has minimal negative effects if given in controlled doses and can be used to treat earache, toothache, tennis elbow and housemaid’s knee.
MR INCH: Pity.
MR TASKS: Intriguing. But you seem to feel you have something better to offer, Mr Inch?
MR INCH: Hair of the dog! The only thing for a hangover.
(On the stage: a quantity of stiff, fibrous material.)
MR TASKS: Why would he bring dog’s hair?
GRIZ: ‘Hair of the dog that bit you’ is a common metaphor for drinking more alcohol the next day.
MR TASKS: Ah, yes. I see. But he’s actually brought the hair, to make some sort of pun.
MR INCH: What? No. It’s the quills of a Varchaasi mastiff. Their noxious venom produces eight days of the most agonising convulsions - after which, you’re guaranteed to have forgotten all about your little headache!
GRIZ: Instead of removing the pain, you diminish it by introducing a more severe pain?
MR INCH: Life’s all about contrasts!
MR TASKS: Hm. Interesting. Now, Pirate Poet, do you believe you can contrast yourself from your competitor’s contributions?
PIRATE POET: I admit, F.F. and I have hewed quite close together on this one. I brought fruit juice.
(On the stage: a large glass of a cloudy orange liquid.)
F.F.: I have seen it recommended for replenishing sugars… but I’m detecting the presence of one or two additional ingredients.
PIRATE POET: Perishables don't keep on long voyages, of course, so I’ve mixed it with something to preserve it - just a spot of rum. And gin. And cinnamon, cloves, pepper, anise and ginger.
CHUFFY: If all physic were like that, I wouldn’t mind seeing the doc!
GRIZ: Does that actually help treat a hangover?
PIRATE POET: Not at all, but it is delicious.
MR TASKS: We’ve seen all five prizes - must I judge them now?
GRIZ: You must.
MR TASKS: How deeply tiresome. Very well. Mr Inch shall receive one point, because his so-called ‘remedy’ would leave the patient much worse off than they were, and unable to work productively for several days.
MR INCH: Damn and blast!
MR TASKS: The Pirate Poet gets two points - her prize seems to encourage the behaviour that caused the malady in the first place, but it does have the advantage of maintaining the status quo.
(The Pirate Poet scowls and crosses her arms, impressively emphasising her biceps.)
MR TASKS: F.F.’s submission seems perfectly sensible, but it failed to excite me - it can take three points.
GRIZ: Three points for F.F. Gebrandt.
MR TASKS: Now, the curry and the grandmother…
CHUFFY: I brought my actual grandmum!
APRIL: (holds up her pad and taps it for emphasis) A really hot curry.
MR TASKS: Four points for the grandmother, and five points for the blazing-hot breakfast!
(April writes a short note and passes it to the Black-Clad Assistant, who reads it, nods and conceals it in a waistcoat pocket.)