Bartholomew Mosse lecture

I worked in Dublin for eighteen months in a famous and historic hospital, one of the first "Lying-in" hospitals in the world. At my interview I was asked what I thought of Ireland. Since I thought there was no chance of getting the job, I had been to the equally historic pub over the road from the hospital and had a pint of Guinness. I told them that I thought the beer was very good and I had already rung my wife and told her that I had drunk a pint in an Irish pub. They were amused, and I wondered if that was why I was selected. Six months later the Master (elected to be in charge of the hospital every seven years) told me that one of the other candidates had a reference from Sir Malcolm T.,the doyen of British obstetrics, to say that he was the best resident he had ever had. The Master said that they didn't want someone who knew he was that good so they chose me instead  - the advantages of mediocrity.
Every year the hospital would invite a famous speaker for a lecture to celebrate the founder of the hospital. I attended in the two hundred and fortieth year of the institution, honoured by the presence of one of the creators of in vitro fertilization. This was followed by a formal dinner for all the medical staff. Drinks were served with each of the numerous courses. Calls were made for speeches. I had secretly prepared an epic poem in rhyming verse mentioning all the well known members of staff. I stood up when the audience were properly lubricated and announced my intention to speak. It was a lengthy and hallucinogenic tale in the tradition of Alice in Wonderland, well received by the party. When I finished, Professor Browne leaned over and spoke to me for the first time. He said,"You surprised me." Afterwards those who wished to continue the evening grabbed bottles from the tables and repaired to the residents' lounge.
Here my memory becomes a bit hazy. I can remember my slender young wife bouncing up and down on the ruddy-faced Master's knee as the music played amid general uproar. The hospital pathologist deliberately tipped a glass of red wine into our illustrious guest's lap for reasons unknown, then they both left abruptly. And the paediatric senior registrar had turned a pale shade of green so I suggested he head back to his room. He was found face down on the cold stone floor of the corridor next morning with his pants round his ankles having tried to prepare for the toilet but failing to stay conscious for the conclusion. He said he had no memory at all of the previous night.
Now I understood why I had been selected for the job.