THE HOTEL PORTER AND THE STAR(Bernie Martin) I had to admit the room was a mess. Empty beer bottles, champagne bottles and whisky bottles lay scattered around. Some, not quite empty when they had been abandoned, were still dripping their last vestiges onto various pieces of furniture or patches of now damaged carpets. I could hear someone in the bathroom. Now was I able to remember who? Probably a former, or soon to be, Miss World.

On the bed lay thousands of pounds in banknotes. And yet, despite all that surrounded me, the beautiful girls, the money, this deluxe hotel room. ...... yes, despite all this, I had a nagging voice within that was trying to tell me something. Who knew, or cared, how much I'd drunk last night? I was at the point where the next bottle or two had no effect. It would, however, be a nice surprise to see who finally emerged from the bathroom.

Trying to piece together the events of the previous twelve hours was like seeing all these clouds floating past in an otherwise blue sky. As I grabbed each one they contained a half-formed image of something then the sky would go clear. Occasionally a vapour trail of connected memories would pass by. It was like I was in my own picaresque novel bit I was a long way from the lovable rogue.

A knock at the door.
"Porter sir," he said, in a pleasing Irish lilt.
I didn't bother with a dressing gown as I removed the bolt to allow him in. He looked at me in my boxers then surveyed the room.
"Sorry it's such a mess," I said.
"Don't worry about that sir. I've seen worse. We had the Who here last year. There is something bothering me sir."
"You're not going to give me a lecture are you?"
"No sir that's not my style. Maybe you should get something to wear."
"What? Oh yes, okay." I slipped on my trousers and shirt from last night.
"Is that better?" I asked.
"Thank you sir."
"What's your name?"
"Gregory sir."
"Well Gregory I can see you have something you want to say. I'm not sure what I can read in your eyes but it looks an awful lot like pity."
"Not exactly pity sir. More disappointment."
"In me?"
"In you sir? Maybe just a little bit sir."
"Enough of the sir. So why are you disappointed? Isn't all this a sign of my success?"
"But you don't need this to prove you are a success. Every boy wants to be you, every father, grandfather wants to be you. Every girl wants to be with you. Every mother, grandmother wants you as a son. That is success, not the money scattered on your bed or the Miss World in the bathroom."
"So this disappoints you Gregory?"
"No but the fact that it's important to you does. Since you were eighteen months old it's like your future was mapped out for you. I've seen the pictures in the backyard."
"Yes, cute wasn't I?"
"Indeed. And innocent, just as you were when you first started. To me, and lots of others, you will always be the greatest we have ever seen, but I have to ask you - where did it all go wrong?"

---