A Tragic Loss

Photo: Greg Melia

The Christian community on campus has been left stunned today by the sudden death of Dorian du Richard, the famous aesthete and pioneer of the ‘Decadent Christian’ movement. M. du Richard, who was famously said to “possess the faith of a 10 year old, the body of a 20 year old and the sexual appetites of Don Giacomo di Casanova” passed away over the Easter break, in a bizarre accident which nevertheless highlights the man’s indefatigable spirit and tireless work in the interests of indolence and ‘La Dolce Vita’.

The coroner’s verdict of death by “a surfeit of great bustards” will surprise few who knew Dorian, a man whose epicurean love of physical pleasures in all their forms was, perhaps seemingly counter-intuitively, a central tenet of his Christian faith. It appears that Dorian’s quest for the ultimate culinary delights of the world had led him to some obscure recipes surrounding the elusive great bustard, and he consequently led a hunting party onto Salisbury Plain over Easter to claim a couple. Dorian being Dorian, he travelled in a large sedan chair made from converted mahogany pews which was capable of seating twelve, though only if carried by thirty six strong men. This magnificent opulence of mind, body and spirit, though commendable, was ultimately to lead to his doom.

Upon the group’s arrival at Salisbury Plain, Dorian and his group set up their yurts, the property of chief hunter Edwin Khan, direct descendant of Mongol emperor Ghengiz Khan. Dorian’s had been specially converted to allow him to live in the manner to which he had become accustomed. Again, this luxury would contribute to his death.

The group’s hunt was not successful — the great bustard is a large but reclusive bird and very heavily protected due to its rarity, and it is unsurprising that the hunt failed to see one for three weeks. In this time, they also ran extremely low on supplies.

Finally a crisis meeting took place in Dorian’s yurt. Present were Dorian, Khan, fellow decadents St John Ambulance-Mann and Dr Vincent Faustus, and Christis columnist and Dorian’s amanuensis, Chris Charlton.

Ambulance-Mann’s suggestion of giving up was rejected out of hand by Khan, whose natural proactivity contrasted with the natural idleness of the decadent Christians’ lifestyle, while Charlton’s idea of asking the National Trust where the bustards were likely to be was dismissed as being, in Faustus’ words, “a damn stupid idea”. Dorian remained quiet while his friends and colleagues argued, and then, calmly, suggested prayer.

Dorian’s rationale was simple. God had fed the Israelites in the wilderness with manna, but also with ‘miraculous flocks of quail’. In his opinion, miraculous flocks of great bustards would be working along the same principles.

The next morning, the group rose at dawn for the service. Dorian, a fully-ordained Maptocostal Angloholic minister, performed the ceremony, culminating in a heartfelt prayer for God to hear his people and send them bustards from heaven.

Chris Charlton described to me how still everything was — not a sound but the faint hiss of incense burning, no movement but the rising of the mist.

Then a ninety-pound bustard landed on the makeshift altar.

Alas, Dorian’s delight and worshipful joy at the thrill of miraculously answered prayer was short-lived — as was he. It swiftly became apparent that this fall of birds, though wonderful, was potentially lethal. Great bustards weigh rather more than quail, and when the first hunter was concussed the reaction was one of panic, and swift running for shelter.

Dorian’s yurt, alas, had been modified to include a translucent silk panel in the roof, that Dorian might gaze up at the sky while he lay abed, as he was wont to do for upwards of fourteen hours a day. A small bustard not only tore through this panel, but caused substantial beak damage to a small but valuable Portuguese camphor-wood escritoire, before being despatched by Dorian’s boot. However, with the structural integrity of the yurt compromised, Dorian and his colleagues had little to do but to run for it.

The fall of bustards had slowed by the time the group left the yurt, and had Dorian not decided to process out in his sedan chair, all might yet have been well. Sadly, Dorian was convinced that he would be able to start bagging up the birds ready for departure, and wished to use the sedan chair to carry them. A more manoeuvrable transportation device would have saved him, as the driver was well aware of the latefalling, particularly large bird dropping out of the sky. He attempted to steer away from trouble, but the bulk of the sedan chair could not be steered. The roof was rendered matchsticks by the bird, estimated to be the world’s largest ever at a startling four hundred pounds weight, crashed through and crushed Dorian. His last words have been variously reported. Khan distinctly heard him say, “Prayer works!”, while Faustus claims the great man’s final words were in fact, “I need a drink…” It seems thus that M. du Richard died as he lived — an enigmatic and elusive figure, and source of puzzlement and wonder to even those who knew him best.

Perhaps Chris Charlton’s words serve as an epitaph as well as any; “Dorian was a deceptively simple man, with deceptively simple tastes. All he ever wanted was the best of everything.”

Stavros Andropoulos