LK: Sir Arthur, we meet again.
SA: Yes, indeed.
LK: And you’ve settled on this occasion on a swan motif.
SA: Yes, I’ve always been fond of swan, very graceful beasts, especially the young swans known as singlets due to their vest like appearance. And this is why in the winter of 1954, I started Greebling Mail Order.
LK: With virtually nothing?
SA: Virtually nothing, yes. Personally I think yes my entire stock consisted of two extra small army surplus long-necked singlets, which I got on the cheap because they had no armholes and half a dozen boxes of matches. I advertised the singlets as swan vests and anyone who replied would be sent a box of matches.
LK: Did anybody reply?
SA: Not really “reply” as such to be perfectly candid with you, no.
LK: But from these modest beginnings, you were able to diversify?
SA: Yes, fortunately, due to a mix up with the matches, both vests were burnt to the ground one night, and I was able to claim on the insurance. They were very noble about it, and I moved on to personalized light bulbs. I had a hunch that a light bulb with a Christian name on it, any name you care to specify, will be both a talking point and then a certain amount of kudos for for business and leisure activities.
LK: And was your hunch correct?
SA: Let me put it this way. Before I had even begun trading, demand was such that only two names were left available.
LK: And what were they?
SA: They were, if I remember correctly, Philips and Osram.
LK: Did you have many inquiries?
SA: Not from anyone called Osram. I suppose the Osrams of the world tend to feel a bit, bit shy, a bit shrinking violety in their behaviour for obvious reasons. We had a number of inquiries from people called Philip, but they are not willing to tackle the DIY element of the bargain.
LK: The DIY element?
SA: Yes. Crossing off the “s” with a magic marker or whatever. My best lead was a chap I ran into at pub called Watts, said he was toying with the idea of christening his daughter “Sixty”. It turned out he was lying, you can’t trust anyone in business, so I rather abandoned the light bulbs. But then luckily, along came the Balinese fighting fish.
LK: The what?
LK: Balinese fighting fish. It’s a tiny little fish about quarter of an inch long, but pound for pound, the most savage animal in the world.
LK: I’ve never heard of it.
SA: Haven’t you? We sold millions of the little blighters. The only trouble with the Balinese fighting fish, £19 a pair by the way, is that such is the savagery of these tiny little oriental animals that very often they would devour each other in the post, even first class mail. A day in the post, and when you opened your package, no sign of the fish whatsoever.
LK: Did you consider separating the fish and sending them individually?
SA: Of course not! To separate a Balinese fighting fisherman’s mate is an awful thing to do.
LK: They pine?
SA: A: they pine, and B: it’s bloody dangerous. Try to separate two Balinese fighting fish, and you’re gonna lose an arm. And even if you manage it using tweezers or a spade or a cattle prod or whatever and you actually get one of the little horrors into the envelope, chances are the consignment will never arrive.
LK: Because the fish will eat the envelope?
SA: The fish will eat the envelope, turn on itself in a feeding frenzy, and take its own life. The whole caboodle disappears en route and the customer gets bugger all, and that’s a teensy weensy bit dishonest, I think.
LK: Sir Arthur, were you ever accused of fraudulent trading?
SA: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Well, let me put that another way, yes. From time to time, there were complaints. Frequently, we had to install a whole hotline for complaints. But, fraud is very much in the eyes of the receiver, isn’t it? What I was doing was not so much fraud as teaching people a valuable lesson. Many famous figures in history have made mistakes, and they’ve been taught a severe lesson from them. And one of the lessons I like to think I’ve taught people is not to write away for mail order fighting fish. The whole notion is bloody ludicrous. And if you’re stupid enough to do that, far better you should learn your lesson for a very reasonable £19 plus 28 days for delivery rather than by say, losing a million men in the snows of Russia, I mean, that is really is idiotic.
iLK: Indeed. So, sir Arthur, “Seven Swans A-Swimming”, a line from Yeats, of course.
SA: What?
LK: Was he a friend of yours?
SA: Who?
LK: Yeats.
SA: What?
LK: W. B. Yeats.
SA: W?
LK: … B Yeats.
SA: Never heard of him. D Aits?
LK: Yes.
SA: D Aits Laurence I knew: Lady Chatterbox and her whatnot.
LK: Well, at any rate, sir Arthur, Seven-Swans-A-Swimming, your seventh choice.
SA: No it wasn’t.
LK: Thank you, sir Arthur.
SA: I distinctly remember ordering seven pairs of ex army binoculars. You know, those X-ray things, I’ve always hankered after those. Bloody inefficient, you order binoculars and you get swans, I don’t know what …