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Beasts of London Exhibition Character Script

Written by Robin McLoughlin

Guildhall Live Events

Guildhall School of Music and Drama

Milton Court

1 Milton Street

London EC2Y 9BH

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The first beasts of London

Beast We are the beasts of London and we’ve never spoken yet. We are the beasts of London and we sing of the older world. You’ve heard us grunt or bark or bray or squeak or whinny or roar, I’m sure. Well, those are all songs. Songs that are stories of the older world and the world that is still to come. The beasts were here before you and perhaps we’ll be here when you are gone. The beasts of London look on. We are the rats and hogs and cats and dogs and chickens and bears of London. We were watching when the first men and women arrived at this patch of land beside a river. We are the beasts that drank the waters of that river, that fed on the grasses and trees and on each other. We were the woolly rhinoceroses and mammoths who walked across Doggerland for warmth, across the land that linked these islands to Europe, before they were cut off by the new North Sea. We were the giant elk, the huge cattle called aurochs, ancestors to the cows you know. We were the sabre-tooths, the bears… We were the lions of London

Lion We are the lions of London. We remain. You can see us all around London as statues, door knockers, paintings, bollards and signs. And, if you know where to look, you can see us for real. We, the lions, look on. Have looked on since the first men and women walked across Doggerland and found a patch of land beside a river. The patch of land that you now call London. We have looked on as the men and women learned to hunt, to farm, to use the beasts as food, as servants, or as sport. We have sometimes seen the beasts fight back. We have seen the men and women learn to care for the beasts, we have seen you become our friends. We have seen you love the beasts and seen the beasts love you in return. We are the lions of London. We speak for the beasts who have never spoken. We live in stone and iron, in paint and in flesh. And we look on. We tell stories of the older world and the world that is still to come. We were here before you arrived and perhaps we’ll be here when you’re gone. Friends, I invite you to follow us into the London of the beasts. We’ll look after you.

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Then you arrived

Lion A long time after the native hippos and rhinos and mammoths of London were gone, long after the first men and women crossed Doggerland and made their home on the banks of the river, long after they cleared the forests for fields...a new group of humans came from the East on the backs of horses, some say on the backs of elephants too. Predator humans from Rome. The Romans are coming. At the head of their army their standard-bearers wear my image on their heads. They know that the lion is the symbol of power. They wear my image to represent their command. These human predators will build garrisons, then settlements, then cities. The city that you call London they will call Londinium. They will mark this patch of land beside the river forever. They will mark this place with the symbols of the lion and, shining in silver at the top of their staffs, the eagle.

Eagle I am Aquila, the eagle of Rome. I am victorious because I am victory itself. I fly above the storm and grip lightning in my talons. I live forever. I am the strongest and most famous of birds. I have the sharpest sight. I am the eagle that Romulus and Remus saw as they founded the city of Rome; the city that conquered the world. I am the servant of Jupiter, King of the Gods, who made me the ruler of the birds. I carry the spirits of the Emperors of Rome to heaven to make them immortal. Yes, I have the power to make humans into Gods. I have looked down from the staffs of the Roman armies as they have marched across the world and shown the people and beasts of Europe and Asia just who is in charge.

Dormouse Shown us who’s in charge? She can say that again! Now, I’m just a dormouse and I’m only very young, but the stories I’ve heard about these Romans make me want to hibernate ‘til they’ve gone home. You know what they do to bees? Stick ‘em in clay pots and catapult them over their enemies’ walls. No joke, that’s what I’ve been told. Geese? Feed ‘em up ‘til they’re so big they can’t walk. Hares and pigeons too. As their farms get bigger, the farmers brand their cows and they tame their horses in a very upsetting manner, I can tell you... Romans can be very rough with beasts to say the very least. I’m told that they brought us dormice over with them from Rome. I don’t know, I was only born three weeks ago, but I’ve seen what they do to us: fatten us in jugs, then stuff us with pork and rotten fish and nuts, or dip us in honey and poppy seeds. Then they eat us! Can you imagine? Lucky I’m quick on my paws!

Eagle My Romans have tamed the wild men and women of these islands as they tame the birds and squirrels that are their pets. My Romans have given the cows of Londinium jobs pulling my ploughs. They have given the bees of Londinium jobs making my candles and honey. They have given the dogs of Londinium jobs as my guards and have taught them to run boldly through the forests outside the city as my hunters. The cats and weasels of Londinium are employed as my pest controllers.

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My Romans have allowed the horses of Londinium to join my armies and to race with chariots for my pleasure... for the pleasure of Rome.

Dormouse In Rome, I hear they kill animals by the thousand to please the crowds in the circuses; bears and tigers, elephants, lions, crocodiles, ostriches. All sorts. Makes you sick to think about it. The chariot racing is brutal. Four horses to a chariot. Forty-eight horses to a race. Breaking through the starting gates, whipped for speed. No rules but to win. Crashing into each other all over the place. The men and women waiting on the bends to see ‘em fall. It’s a right mess. Here the animals aren’t so exotic, but don’t think they have it easy. Not for a minute. And the bulls! They hunt them in the ring. Men on horses with spears. It’s supposed to be a show about a god called Mithras but I reckon they’re doing it for fun! Hmm...not what I call fun, what about you? And they call this civilisation. They can keep it! Romans! But what do I know? I’m only a little dormouse, three weeks old, and she’s-

Eagle (cuts in)

-I am Aquila, the eagle of Rome. Look at my control over the whole world, over all men and women and beasts. Look on my works! Who can doubt my rule will last forever?

Lion Perhaps you know...Rome’s rule didn’t last forever. Other men and women saw to that...other predators. The Eagle returned to the East. But she had left a city behind. The city that was to become London. A city that would become home to beasts from all over the world. Follow us to medieval times and the beasts of the royal menagerie...

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The return of the magnificent wild

Lion These are the exotic beasts of London. This is where they live: The Tower of London. The humans of London began building this place when this city was little more than a town, when beasts were still in the majority. The men and women of London have used the tower as a prison for their enemies, a garrison in which to keep their soldiers, a palace in which to keep their kings and queens and, for six hundred years, it was home to the beasts of the world. It was the site of the Royal Menagerie; the ancestor of every zoo that came after. Meet the beasts that have made their home here.

Polar Bear I was among the first to come. The year was 1252, in the reign of a king called Henry the Third. Lions or leopards arrived before me, an elephant just after. We were beasts of the North, the South and the East but now we are beasts of London, of the tower. Given as gifts by kings to other kings. Huge beasts two metres long with barely room to turn...The rooms the lions live in are so small you couldn’t swing a cat. The elephant has more space but they decided it was a good idea to feed him on wine. Elephants might enjoy wine but it disagrees with them. Monkeys and apes like it well enough, too, but beasts don’t get on with alcohol. That doesn’t stop our keepers though. Oh no! They don’t have a clue! I manage well enough, though. There have, of course, been bears in London before me but never one so shining white and none so big and powerful. I am allowed to fish for the fat salmon of London while I sit on the banks of the Thames, idly swatting a fish with my impressive paws or taking a little swim, tethered to the shore with a strong rope.

Lion We are the lions of London. Over the years no cubs are born in the tower so they bring more of us from far-off lands. It is 1445. I have been brought here as a wedding present for King Henry the Sixth and his wife Margaret. Now it’s our turn to live behind the walls of the tower.

Sheep We are the sheep of London...I think. We used to be the sheep of Pucklechurch near Bristol...then suddenly these blokes start making us walk...walk out of the field and onto the blooming road! Walking for days we were. We went to Smithfield market where all the live animals are sold. What a place! The noise! The stink! The filth! Some sort of deal was made and now we’re on our way again. We’re very excited because they’ve chosen us for the menagerie! The tigers from India and the sheep from Pucklechurch will be looked at by all the fancy men and women and appreciated for our beauty and our good manners. We’re on our way now. To the tower. Can’t wait!

Lion Welcome sister sheep. Thank-you for the meal. Time passes at the tower. The kings and queens have different names. Plantagenet, York, Lancaster, Tudor, Stuart. For a time there is no king or queen. Time passes...

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Baboon 1 They started letting the ordinary men and women come and see us, not just the ones with jewels-

Baboon 2 -Shame, ‘cos I like grabbing people’s jewels! Then I throw ‘em! I love throwing stuff! On the ship over here I got hold of a cannonball. Threw that at a cabin boy!

Baboon 3 May he rest in peace.

Baboon 2 There’s no better thrower than me, the baboon, possessor of the swollen buttocks! I love throwing stuff. Especially my own-

Baboon 1 They started letting the ordinary men and women in for a piece of metal called a sixpence-

Baboon 3 That or a cat or dog to feed to the lions. Poor things!

Porcupine I am the porcupine of London, the only beast of the rodent family to be shown in the menagerie... and most of the visitors don’t even pay any attention to me. Even with my lovely quills the humans scarcely give me a second glance as they pass me on the way to those silly baboons. Huh!

Goose Christmas in the tower. And I am getting fat...ready for the keeper’s dinner. I don’t think it’s right that we Geese have to walk down the drover’s road, freezing our tails off while these turkeys frolic about in gardens, being admired.

Turkey I don’t make the rules, Goosey. I’ve been admired as an exotic beast since we turkeys arrived here in the sixteenth century. We turkeys will always be prized as the most amazing exotic birds while you boring old geese are good for nothing but lunch! Merry Christmas to you!

Zebra In the last days of the menagerie the humans tried to keep their visitors interested by selling tickets to feeding time for the lions and by parading me round the yard, a young boy riding on my back as though I were a horse. I was rewarded for good behaviour with beer. In all those hundreds of years the humans never learned to stop giving the beasts of London alcohol.

Lion In the end the menagerie keepers did learn kindness for the beasts of London... but the old buildings and the crowding would no longer do. And other things were happening, too. Tigers fought each other. A boy was bitten by a leopard. A wolf managed to get loose. A monkey bit a soldier. The fate of the Royal Menagerie was sealed. The only beasts of London that live at the tower now are a few rats and cats and, of course...the ravens.

Raven Caaaw! Caw blimey! They have to keep us here! Ravens have lived at the tower for centuries. The story goes that if we ever leave here England will fall.

Lion But we have got ahead of ourselves. Let us leave the walls of the menagerie and go back to a time of great threat to the beasts of London. Follow us to the London of the Great Plague...

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A killer among them

Lion Throughout the history of this patch of land beside a river disease has had an impact on the lives of the men, women, children and beasts that live here. The most terrible disease was the bubonic plague. It has visited London many times and here we join the beasts living through one of the worst: the Great Plague of London, 1665. We find them in this apothecary’s shop, a bit like a chemist’s shop today. The men and women and children of London run to the countryside for safety. Those that stay don’t know what’s spreading the disease but they suspect the beasts of London, particularly the dogs and cats. Look! The streets are so empty the deer of London are returning.

Cat Cull cats? Are you mad? You know what I think? It’s the rats who’re spreading the plague. And who kills rats? That’s right. It’s cats. Luckily the apothecary has seen the madness of the plan and kept me safe here in the shop to keep the rats at bay. Keep them at bay while he works on cures for this sickness. Cures like bloodletting and leeches on the infected areas, and preventative measures like tobacco smoking. Very wise man the apothecary. It’s a shame I’m stuck in the shop. London would be fun to explore without all those humans in the way. Not that I’ve got anything against humans. Quite the contrary. I love humans. Remember this: cats are kind! And remember too, if anyone asks, cats don’t spread the plague, we prevent it!

Rat The cat’s wrong! It’s the rat that is the real victim here. You know who I reckon is behind all this? The fleas! Stands to reason doesn’t it? Going around jumping from beast to beast drinking blood! Ghastly little things they are! Yes, certainly I sometimes get fleas on me but it’s not like I invite them is it? They’re actually something of a nuisance as you can imagine. Even the ones that just live on us. Anyway... the humans have got fleas too. And lice. It’s dirty humans spreading this illness by carrying fleas about.

Flea I know nothing of this plague of which you speak. I am a flea and above such concerns. In fact, I am the flea. That’s right, I’m famous. Famous for being the subject of a portrait in a very famous book called Micrographia by Robert Hooke, scientist, philosopher and artist. A real renaissance man! Micrographia means pictures of very small things. Like me. The flea! The beautiful and famous little flea! The author wrote about my strength and beauty and the wonderful decoration of my polished jet-black armour this very year, 1665, so I’m at the height of my fame. Also, are you aware of how far I can jump? Far! If I were your size, I could jump onto the top of the Great Pyramid of Giza! It’s unbelievable, really if you think about the mechanics of it... So, as you can imagine, I’m very busy with being very famous and adored and acrobatically gifted so don’t have the time to go round spreading something as nasty as a plague! The very idea! Now if you don’t mind...

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Bacterium I’ll admit it. It was all me. Ha! You didn’t expect that did you? Well I’m happy to confess it all. And I must warn you: my confession will shock you to your core, for I shall speak of abominable deeds, of murders manifold and mischiefs of the most Machiavellian making. Would that I had made a million more. I was invisible to humans as I travelled the ancient trading routes of the Silk Road. Through fleas, dogs, cats, camels, chickens, and pigs, through rats and through humans I journeyed. It was a perfect plan. Since then I have spread all over the world... completely unnoticed! To India, Tartary, Mesopotamia, Armenia. To Crimea and Genoa and Sicily. I conquered the world on the boats of travellers. For three hundred and eighteen years I’ve been carrying out my villainous plot in England, returning again and again. The Black Death first… small outbreaks every year until now... my masterpiece: The Great Plague of London. The docks: Ha! I took them. St Giles in the fields: Yes! Mine! St Clement Danes... the weather warming and the conditions growing better as I spread. St Andrew, Holborn and then... inside the city gates. I’ve kept the grave-diggers’ arms strong. The humans flee. Soon the city will be mine. I have killed one hundred thousand humans of London in the last year and a half and no-one even knows that I’m here. No-one ever suspects the bacterium.

Lion The bacteria failed. The plague ended and hasn’t been seen in London for more than three hundred years. In the nineteenth century many humans began to agree with the cat’s theory that rats had been to blame. That gave them one more excuse to hate rats. Follow us into a shameful scene...the London of the baiting pits...

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Catch them if you can

Lion I’m sorry to say that for a lot of London’s history beasts were made to fight each other so men and women could make bets on the result. The humans guessed the results of the fights and if they were right they won money. Cockerels fought cockerels and dogs fought dogs...and bulls and bears and apes and badgers and horses and hares...and here in this tavern, in this pub, dogs fight rats.

Tiny My name is Tiny. Tiny the Wonder. They call me Tiny cos I’m only five and

a half pounds in weight and wear a bracelet as a collar. And they call me

the Wonder because I am wonderful. Wonderful at killing rats. Don’t have

anything against rats myself. Not rats per se. Not your rat qua rat. A rat

what minds his own business I got nothing against.

But your rat comes here and bites a baby...nibbles through your bag of

grain...spreads her muck wherever she chooses without so much as a ‘by

your leave’...carries ticks and fleas all over the city like an omnibus! A bus

for parasites! Now, me and that rat is going to have a problem. That is a

rattus non grata if you follow my meaning. You put me up against a rat that

carries on in that manner, that rat is not going to be with us for very long if

you get my drift.

Drive me mad they do. The sheer front of them! Foul disease-spreading riff-

raff. Cannibals they are, too. Got as little concern for each other as they

have for you and me.

Anyone who tells me these rats are specially brought in from the

countryside for me to fight I tell ’em a rat’s a rat. Show me a friendly rat and

I’ll show you a rat what’s about to turn on you. They’ve had half my ear off,

chunks of my tail. The amount of sores in the mouth I’ve had from biting

‘em I couldn’t tell you. Would have had my eyes too if I’d let the blighters

near ‘em. Boils my blood! Gets right under my collar! Let me at ‘em. Rats! I

hate ‘em! The stink of them!

Keep it together Tiny. Save it for the ring.

When the time comes, I ignore the crowd. Entertainment ain’t my business.

Never took a bribe, not so much as a bone. Never threw a fight. My

business is to take out them bloomin’ rats, as many as I can and as quick

as I can. This ain’t a sport to me. This is me standing on the front line.

Defending London. Defending civilisation. ‘Cause decent dogs like me...it’s

our duty to hold back the swarm. Or next thing you know it’ll be the rats

what’s in charge.

Rats! Hate ‘em I do!

I’m going for the record today. Two hundred of the stinking little blighters in

five minutes! Just you watch!

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Rat Phew! That was a close one. Thought I was a goner there for sure.

So this is London is it? Only got here this morning. I say ‘where’s this then?’

and one of the other rats, never caught her name, says ‘Can’t you tell?

London isn’t it?’ and I say ‘London? Why in the name of all that’s good are

they bringing a crateful of brown rats from Middlesex to London? Thought

they were trying to get rid of rats in London. That’s what I heard’ and she

says ‘They’ll do anything for a laugh in the city. They’re putting bets on how

many of us that blasted dog’ll kill’ and I say ‘Kill?’ and she says ‘Yeah.’ And

I say ‘Yeah?’ and she says ‘Yeah’ and I say ‘Well!’ and she says ‘They do it

for sport. You know...entertainment’ And I say ‘Entertainment?’ and she

says ‘Yeah. Look at them arriving. They’re all at it, the humans, rich and

poor. They’ll bet on anything for grins and giggles.’ and I say ‘Blimey!’

She was one of the first he got his teeth into. That Tiny. He’s the very devil.

Wish I’d asked her name. One bite and she was gone. And her with twenty-

four little ones to look after.

I didn’t find it entertaining. Not entertaining at all. How about you? Are you

not entertained?

Time for me to make a run for it, scarper, bolt, head for the hills, leg it.

Leave as quickly as possible is what I’m trying to say. Get as far away from

that Tiny as I can get. Wish me luck!

Lion A time arrived when the men and women of London grew tired of the baiting pits. The time for that sort of cruelty was gone, for which every beast is thankful. But the men and women of London still wanted to be entertained. Follow us and meet the circus beasts of London...

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The city becomes a circus

Lion Showmen from all around the world brought beasts to make London laugh and gasp. In came the travelling shows, street performances and circuses. In came Buffalo Bill, Barnum and Bailey, Batty, Astley and Van Amburgh. Wake up, elephant! Wake up, Bibi Sahiba! Tell us all about how you came from India to this circus, tell us all about your life! She’s sleeping... let her sleep a little longer... she’s been performing three shows a day climbing a thin plank, doing handstands on a barrel. And she has a calf to nurse. Let’s hear from the others; the other circus beasts of London. Hey! Wake up beasts. We have visitors! Tell them about your acts! The ringmasters make jesters of us all, So tell them, beasts, what do your masters call?

Monkey See the monkey General Jackoo, see the puzzled punters roar-

Poodle For Munito the pet poodle with his magic sleight of paw!

Mouse (sings)

Come and see the singing mouse, the hundred rats aboard a train!

Pig Witness Toby, pig professor, counting hog of giant brain!

Pigeons Flock to pigeons riding balls, on tricycles and on trapezes!

Capuchin Monkey

See the coffee-coloured capuchin kneel down in prayer to Jesus!

Seal Witness Mr J. McGoverin with seals performing tricks!

Dog Look! A dog does country dancing and discusses politics!

Cows The wondrous curiosity: the famous double cows!

Opera Cats (sing)

And a chorus of black cats perform an opera of miaows!

American Bison

Barnum’s greatest show on earth with herds of buffalo and moose!

Goose Witness Pinkey, the world’s only living scientific goose!

Animal Chorus (sing)

Wolves and bears and leaping tigers and giraffes and hares and rats

German Cat

See the disappearing tails of Katterfelto’s magic cats!

Russian Flea

See the capers of industrious and learned Russian fleas! One can carry thirteen others, he’s the insect Hercules!

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Animal Chorus (sings)

Foxes leaping over mallards, chimpanzees performing stunts! See the clowning capabilities of Indian elephants!

The elephant stirs

Animal Chorus

Breslaw’s scene-stealing canaries! Crockett’s lion lying down! Down the ages sound the trumpets for the circus is in town!

A trumpet sounds. The elephant wakes, sounds her own trumpet. The other animals fall silent

Indian Elephant

Crowds love us when we’re funny on two feet Or tottering between three legs and two. Men think a rod is better than a treat To win a creature’s loyalty to you You see my four great legs are growing thin? The marks of training standing on my hide? Full belly is a threat to discipline And lack of fear shows arrogance and pride. To prove that man is master; that he reigns, To show our will is theirs to mould and shape, Obedience is bought with sticks and chains. A broken beast will never seek escape So sound no trumpets, silence in the town. The show is done, the curtain has come down.

Lion Performing beasts are now protected by law, and humans aren’t allowed to put lots of us in circuses. Do you think that beasts should be used as entertainers? Is that the right kind of job for a beast to have? Through the history of London lots of beasts have had jobs, though. Follow us and meet a few of them: the working horses of London...

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The age of the horse

Lion These are the horses of London, the hardest working beasts on London’s roads, towpaths and parks. They are transporters and labourers, athletes and performers, soldiers and law enforcers. They are the beasts that transformed this city and now they are almost all gone from its streets. Let’s celebrate some of the horses of London from its past, from Tudor times right up until the present day.

Governatore They call me Governatore. I was the steed of King Henry, the eighth of his name. Of all his stable of two hundred, the king named me his favourite. I loved being ridden by the king. Henry the Eighth was the best horseman in all of history. The horses of the king were taught by his grace to run against each other in races, to bear him in the hunt, to dance the dressage and to carry him in the joust. Ah, the joust! We horses were so excited before a contest that our legs shook, we champed at our bits, we couldn’t keep still. Were we scared? Did we hesitate? Nay! To be injured in a joust would have been an honour for us even if it meant we had to retire! Although...I do not see any of the horses that fell living here at the stables of Holborn where I enjoy my retirement. Where is the horse who fell on the king’s leg at Greenwich, armour and all? And where his kind young queen these days? Anne Boleyn she was called. Perhaps she has retired too.

Peacock They call me Peacock, racehorse in the sport of kings. The men and women called puritans didn’t enjoy watching us horses race for some reason...but when King Charles returned Hyde Park was once again the place for the greatest sport of them all. Before a race I eat boiled raisins and dates, aniseed, liquorice and sugar-candy on top of my normal diet of bread, oats, beans, hay and grass... all wholesome and beneficial to my body to make me ready for the race. My sprains have been treated with cumin, beeswax and camomile. I can run four miles in sixteen minutes for which I thank my diet and training. Today the cup will be mine!

Zephyr My name is Zephyr, horse of beauty On whom the grooms have done their duty, They brushed my fetlock and my mane, They shined my traces and my rein, My brass is burnished, highly shining, My passengers behind, reclining. My cab’s a passport into bliss A lesser lift would be remiss. On each avenue and gladed concourse I’m famed as Zephyr, beautiful horse.

Rag and Bone Horse

Any old iron, any old iron? Any any any old iron? I’ve seen the back of youth, isn’t that the truth!

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Yep, I’m as good as knackered from me muzzle to me hoof. I’ll pull this cart til I fall apart, How I dream of straw to lie on. But no-one cares tuppence for a rag and bone man’s horse. Old iron. Old iron!

Billie I am London Metropolitan Police Horse number 62. Known as Billie. Police Mount serving Wembley Stadium on April the 23rd 1923 on the occasion of the FA Challenge Cup Final. The match to be played between West Ham United and Bolton Wanderers. At eleven hundred hours persons began arriving at the stadium and by thirteen forty-five hours the attendance capacity had been reached. But they didn’t stop coming! It was heaving in there. Mad it was. So I went in, carefully getting right into the middle of the crowd, never known anything like it, could’ve been quarter of a million of ‘em. Could’ve been more! We’re in the middle and George starts steering me round in a slow circle, nudging the fans back with my nose and my tail ‘til you can see some of the green of the pitch. So we get ‘em to link arms, the ones in the middle, and little by little we urge ‘em back ‘til there’s just enough room to play the match. Heroes of the hour me and George! Well. I don’t know about that. Plenty of other horses and riders out there that day. I just showed up nicely on the newsreel.

Thomas Form fours, you ‘orrible lot!

Just joking! Tell you what... give me a mint or two and I’ll give you a kiss to

say thank-you!

Sometimes when I kiss a person they shout ‘Hey!’ and I think ‘Yes please,

I’m famished!’ Ha!

My name is Thomas and I’m one of the military horses of London. I’m in

the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment and I’m a veteran of all the

wonderful ceremonies and parades that go on in this great city. Trooping

the colour for the queen’s birthday for one... and I love a royal wedding;

I’ve seen my share of grooms! Ha! You must forgive me, it’s just my way.

My last ceremony was Her Majesty’s Diamond Jubilee procession. I was

there with all the army’s finest horses, escorting the queen. I’ve done

loads of those sorts of things but it still makes me happy every time.

Unbridled joy you might say. Ha! Though, in all seriousness I was wearing

a bridle. I had my hair brushed too. That was the mane event! Ha! I’m

joking again, sorry.

I’m retired now. Nineteen years of service! Most of my comrades retire

when they’re seventeen or eighteen but I’ve reached the grand old age of

twenty-four. I’ve done my bit so it’s time to take my bit out! Time to put my

hooves up in the green fields of Berkshire.

I’ll still be in London in a way, though. At the Animals in War Memorial on

Park Lane. I was the model for the sculpture. Just a job I got saddled with!

Ha!

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But seriously...it was an honour to be part of a tribute to all the horses and

other beasts of war that had a less lucky life than me. Those fallen in the

cause who had no choice.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

Lion You’d be surprised to see a horse wandering around London on its own

but there are many beasts that still do. Don’t believe me? I’m talking about

the birds of London of course. Follow us and meet a few...

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The pigeons of London

Lion These are the pigeons of London, the most criticised of birds, poor, slated beasts of sky and statue. Join the pigeons and some of the other birds of London.

Trafalgar Square Pigeon

Why did we keep coming back here? To Trafalgar Square? Let me tell you. Because the humans fed us. Day after day, the same faces with the same bags of breadcrumbs and seeds. We pigeons remember faces, you see? The humans were making it pretty clear that they wanted us here! They used to call us the ‘feathered gentry’! They loved it when we mobbed them. It was a photo opportunity. Come to London, see the famous friendly pigeons! Then the signs came. ‘Do not feed the pigeons. They cause nuisance and damage the square’. Damage the square? We are the square! Trafalgar Square without pigeons? Don’t make me laugh.

Carrier Pigeon

Name’s Commando. Army Pigeon Service. One of the quarter of a million British pigeons fighting the good fight in the Second World War. Here in London to receive the Dickin Medal for gallantry. I delivered messages from agents in occupied France in through storms and gunfire. We pigeons are a brave breed indeed, If I do say so myself. How many human lives have been saved by pigeons? I do not know. All I know is that Britain expects that every man will do his duty. Well, we pigeons have our duty too; we also serve.

Racing Pigeon

I live in the East End but I’ve been all over the place racing. Start the season in Peterborough, ‘bout seventy miles from home. Doddle. Takes me two hours in good weather. We build up the distances over the season. By midsummer I’m finding my way home from Thurso. Right up in the North of Scotland. Five hundred miles to fly back to Bethnal Green. Fourteen, fifteen hours that’ll take me. How do I find my way home? Is it the earth’s magnetic pull? Do I use the roads below to navigate? The sun? I’ll tell you how I do it, mate. Doddle that’s how.

Squab 1 Never seen a baby pigeon before have you?

Squab 2 Were called squabs!

Squab 1 I bet you’ve seen millions of pigeons but none as young as us.

Squab 2 That’s because our mum and dad are keeping us hidden away safe-

Squab 1 -until we’re big enough to go out on our own. Mum and Dad feed us on a milk made of skin-

Squab 2 Yum!

Squab 1 Me and my brother will spend weeks and weeks tucked up in the nest away from trouble on the side of one of these cliffs-

Squab 2 -They’re called buildings!

Squab 1 By the time you see us out in the street you won’t be able to tell the difference between us and grown-up birds.

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Bus station pigeon

Spare one of your chips mate? Bit of Bombay mix? Pizza crust? I’d even go for a bit of fried chicken. Yeah I know it’s a bird but I’m ravenous! Come on, mate, just a chip! Tell you what. A bus station pigeon just can’t catch an even break.

Fancy Pigeon

No I’m not a feral pigeon. The very idea. Wild? Not at all. I’m cultivated. Very cultivated indeed. I, my friend, am a fancy pigeon... can’t you tell? A Pouter to be precise. See how I puff out my chest? That’s refinement, that’s cultivation... that, my friends, is class. I am bred for my appearance while others in the fancy world show acrobatic skills or beautiful singing voices. We’ve come some distance since we were mere rock doves. A little breeding goes a long way wouldn’t you say?

Harris Hawk

Now let me straighten something up. I don’t kill pigeons on duty. I’m a deterrent: I’m here to scare them off. I’m trained, unlike those peregrines at the Tate Modern. I just make the environment a bit more...hostile... if you catch my drift. I’m a safe and kind solution to the pigeon problem. The problem being guano. Guano means birds’ droppings and this square used to be full of it til I started doing my rounds. Filthy acidic stuff getting all over the lions and eroding Nelson’s Column. If the situation was left unchecked, you’d be in guano up to your elbows. Up to your necks. Something had to be done.

Parakeet Chick

Where are we from, Mum?

Parakeet We’re the parakeets of London. You were born a ten minute fly from this very place.

Parakeet Chick

You know what I mean. I hear everyone saying parakeets aren’t from London! How did our family get here? Where did they come from?

Parakeet I guess the right and proper answer is India. Some say the London parakeets started with Jimi Hendrix setting a breeding pair free on Carnaby Street to brighten the place up.

Parakeet Chick

Who’s Jimi Hendrix?

Parakeet Goodness me, chick! He was a famous guitarist in the sixties!

Parakeet Chick

Before my time...

Parakeet Everything that’s ever happened was before your time! That doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter! Also way, way before your time is another explanation for how we parakeets came to be living in London. Who knows how we came to be here? We escaped from a cage. As long as there have been captive birds there’s been escaped birds. We don’t like cages you know?

Parakeet Chick

They say that we’re an invasive species...

18

Parakeet We invaded nowhere! Invasive? No way! We’re beautiful. Hendrix was right. We brighten this grey place up!

Lion Aside from birds you still might catch a glance of other wild beasts of London. If you’re very lucky and up late at night you might be able to see a fox. Follow us and join one neighbourhood fox and some other beasts that live here still: the pets of London...

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They’re still here

Lion The men and women who live in this patch of land called London have always kept some beasts as pets, beasts that the humans care for and are their companions. Some beasts have got so used to this life that it’s hard for them to remember that they are beasts at all. Join the pug of London as she meets her cousin the fox...

Pug What are you doing out there?

Fox Looking for food. I’m hungry.

Pug You woke me. I was sleeping.

Fox I know. I heard you snoring from fifty metres away. Why do you wheeze like that?

Pug I don’t know. I was born wheezy.

Fox You sound unhealthy. You should get some exercise.

Pug Maybe tomorrow. I’m tired now. Aren’t you tired?

Fox Oh, I’ve got miles to go before I sleep. Food to find.

Pug To steal more like...

Fox Foxes don’t have a system of ownership. Do dogs?

Pug Well...I know that I have an owner...

Fox What? Someone owns you? Who?

Pug The woman that lives here. She owns me and the budgie and the cat.

Cat She doesn’t own me. She’s my flatmate.

Budgie The cat is in denial

Cat The cat has a strong urge to eat a budgie...

Budgie Ignore the cat.

Fox What does she make you do? The woman who owns you?

Pug Do? I...I don’t do anything much. I sit on her lap and walk beside her. Keep her company

Fox And do you get anything in return?

Pug I’m fed. I’m kept warm and clean. Unlike you. You stink.

Fox I admit it! I have a strong perfume. Humans feed me often enough too, though.

Pug Humans feed you?

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Fox Some do. Some are frightened of me.

Pug Why are they frightened?

Fox Because it is unusual in their lives to come face to face with a wild beast. A genuine beast in a place where there are so few.

Peregrine Falcon (sweeps in)

So few? Sorry to interrupt, Foxy, but there are loads of wild animals in London: We peregrine falcons love a tower-block or a steeple just like the pigeons do. This is a city of birds. Kingfishers have come back as the rivers get cleaner. Parakeets abound. Then there’s badgers, squirrels, otters and deer. Gardens and parks full of butterflies and moths...the beasts of London are everywhere. More and more of us...

Fox But I’m the one that they see most often, Ms. Falcon. And when they see me they don’t know what to do. However there are plenty of other humans who admire me...

Peregrine Falcon

There’s a lot to admire. So long, Foxy.

Pug What do the humans admire?

Fox The amber of my eyes, the fire of my coat. They admire my elegance, my agility and my intelligence too. What they call my cunning.

Pug You don’t see it that way?

Fox I can’t help being a fox. I only do what’s in my nature. I’m not out to get anyone, I’m looking out for myself. And I’m really good at it. I’m not a criminal, I just need to eat.

Pug What will you eat tonight?

Fox Oh, I have miles to go before I sleep. And who knows what I’ll find in those miles. I have lots of ways to find food. I’m not a fussy eater. I eat worms, hundreds at a time.

Pug Worms? Yuk! Was it you that dug up the lawn?

Fox Of course. That’s where the worms live. I eat crane-fly larvae when they’re about. Grasshoppers, beetles. I’ve got a sweet tooth; I love gooseberries, strawberries, blackberries. There’s plenty of them in London at certain times of the year. I eat a lot of pigeons and rats. And of course there’s all the fried chicken boxes left around the place.

Pug Filthy!

Fox If I don’t eat it the rats will. Seagulls. What would you prefer?

Budgie I think...that I would rather be a falcon than a budgie.

Pug And I think that I would prefer to be a fox than a pug. To run at thirty miles an hour and jump over fences and balance on rails. To fend for myself and owe no-one anything. To be a bandit, an outlaw, a wanderer of the night.

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Sometimes I wonder if I even count as a beast. Whether there is any wolf left in me. I wouldn’t last five minutes on those streets. I’d be out of breath and lost. I’ve never even been outside on my own.

Fox You’re a pug, my friend. Just as the budgie is a budgie and I am a fox and the cat’s a cat. What we are is who we are and there’s no shame in any of it. Be cheerful, friend. What’ll you have for your dinner?

Pug Dog food

Fox Mmm. Delicious! One of my favourites. I hope the human woman doesn’t close the bin properly. Perhaps then we can share a meal. Farewell!

Pug Goodbye, fox, be careful on the roads!

Lion A cat is a cat, a budgie is a budgie, a fox is a fox.

All of the animals we have met were being what they are in an environment

that wasn’t made for them.

The dormouse of Londinium, the exotic beasts of the Royal Menagerie, the

rats and dogs and elephants and bears and pigeons. Even the pets of

London.

We sing of the older world and the world yet to come.

We are the beasts of London that have never spoken yet.

Beasts cannot speak so it is up to humans to speak for us.

We were here before you, but we cannot stay on this patch of land beside a

river without your help. We rely on the humans of London.

Perhaps this patch of land can be a place that we can share.

Be kind to the beasts of London.

As you go out into this city, look for the beasts that remain and the evidence

of the beasts that went before.

Look after us.