Paul Ewen - Francis Plug: writer in residence

Paul Ewen was born in Blenheim, New Zealand, in 1972. He left New Zealand in 1996,lived and worked in Asia for six years including four years in Saigon, and now livesin London. He has published several short stories and a fictional guide to Londonpubs. How to Be a Public Author is his first novel.

The water in Salman Rushdies glass is rippling. The glass itself is perfectly still,sitting flat on the even table surface, but the water inside is rippling. Its Stillwater, but its rippling. I know its Still water because I can read the label onthe bottle. Still Spring Water. Im sitting in the front row. I can see it with myown eyes.

Salman Rushdie has barely touched his water, unsurprisingly. The water was placedon the table shortly before 18:30, and he didnt sit down until 19:07. So its beensitting there, warming, for nearly forty minutes. Imagine what it must taste likenow, especially under all those bright lights. Like a heated swimming pool, or aglass of hot-water bottle water. Sometimes I drink the warm water in the shower whenIm washing my face, but I dont swallow it because the taste is like something froman ornamental frog in a garden pond on a very hot day. So instead, I spit the waterout down my tummy. And then I give my tummy a good soap down.

Bacteria thrives in warm water. Its rampant in waterbeds. I heard of a couple whonever cleaned their waterbed, not once. Youre supposed to add chemicals to keepthe heated water free from bugs. But this couple didnt. Perhaps they didnt knowthey needed to, or maybe they just forgot. Anyway, one day they were preparing tomove house, and they emptied the contents of the waterbed bladder into their bath.The water that began to sludge out of the valve was filled with dozens of littlescaly things with legs and no eyes. Little hairy mites, kicking about in their cleanwhite tub. The couple were horrified. But there was more to come. A squelching noisewas heard, and out slid a huge slimy worm, two metres in length, maybe more, thickerthan your thumb. Theyd been sleeping on that. Sleeping on a bed of worm.

So dont drink the complimentary water at your author events, because you might getworms.

There are other dangers too. Perhaps your unattended water bottle in the empty auditoriumhas been tampered with. We only have to look at the lessons learned from Agatha Christie.People in her books are forever being poisoned. She even spells out what the poisonis and how its administered. In their drinks. The organisers of this event mustbe only too aware of Agatha Christies back catalogue, and of the brugmansia flower,formerly known as the datura, a South American pendant-shaped plant belonging tothe Solanaceae family, also famed for its spicy night scent, which is used by Amazoniantribes as distilled poison to tip their arrows. It doesnt take an idiot to workthis out.

Tonights event was scheduled to begin at 19:00, but Professor John Mullan, whosasking all the questions, and his guest, novelist Salman Rushdie, didnt sit behindthe light pinewood table until some seven minutes after. Authors, Ive noticed, arealways running late. Thats why, unlike other celebrities, they arent paid loadsof money to advertise expensive watches. In contrast, I entered the Shaw Theatrethis evening at 18:20, which is why Ive secured this top-notch seat in the middleof the front row. If Salman Rushdie were on TV, I would need to move further backbecause the light would be bad for my eyes.

Earlier, after saving my seat with my coat, I ran through the empty theatre playingCops and Robbers. Assigning myself the role of robber, I darted down a row, betweenthe folded up chairs, with my right hand tucked under my sleeve holding a gun. WhenI reached the wall and realised there was no escape, I spun around, drew my gun andbegun firing randomly, shouting AAARRGHH!! A policeman shot me in the face, and Ifell backwards over the row of seats below, my legs sprawling in the air. It wasall quite real to life, with mild concussion and everything, so I ended the gameearly and slowly crept amongst the rows, loudly flipping all the seats. Another thingyou can do before your author event is stock up on complimentary wine.

Drinks Table Woman: Back again?

FP: Yes, that was very tasty, thank you.

Drinks Table Woman: And you want another glass?

FP: Yes please.

Drinks Table Woman: [Holding up bottle.] White?

FP: Um, yes white and red, thanks.

Drinks Table Woman: White and red?

FP: Why not! [Laughing nervously.]

Drinks Table Woman: One of each?

FP: OK! [Laughing nervously.]

Drinks Table Woman: Youre quite early arent you? Still half an hour yet

FP: Yes. Do you have any Kasmiri brandy?

Drinks Table Woman: Kasmiri brandy? No

FP: Any Mercurochrome?

Drinks Table Woman: No, just the wine.

FP: Right. Does any of the wine contain pickled water snakes? For virility?

Drinks Table Woman: No, its just ordinary wine. With grapes.

FP: OK. Maybe I could take a bottle. Save me save you pouring all the time [Laughingnervously.]

Drinks Table Woman: You want to take a bottle?

FP: Ha, ha. Yes.

Drinks Table Woman: Hmm. Im only supposed to give out one glass per person. Andyouve had three glasses already. Three glasses, plus an entire bottle would be likeseven large glasses

FP: Im like a lawn, arent I? A lawn.

The empty bottle now stands beside my shoe as Salman Rushdie discusses his BookerPrize-winning novel, Midnights Children. Right now hes talking about the use oftopical issues.

Salman Rushdie: anyone who tries to incorporate, particularly contemporary historyor contemporary political material into a contemporary novel, its a very frighteningthing to do because, you know, the subject always changes, whether its next weekor next year or in five years time

The Sauvignon Blanc kept its chill far better than Salman Rushdies water. Why didntthe Shaw Theatre offer him a jug of iced water? Maybe they thought hed be impressedby the fancy bottle and the fact that the water came from a spring. Oh dear. If ahalfwit like me can see through that silly guise, Im afraid Salman Rushdie is verylikely appalled. Other stage performers have people running on from the wings withfresh drinks, but Salman Rushdie is lumped with water that probably smells like awet mitten drying on the radiator. What if he takes a large swig and has to spitit out? Where will he spit it? In his hand? What will he do with it then? Tip itinto his pocket? And what if theres too much water to fit in the cup of his hand?Will he keep it in his mouth instead and gargle it? Or will he allow it to run outof his mouth and down his bearded chin? No, he will do no such thing. This is a literaryevent, and Salman Rushdie has a reputation to uphold as a distinguished man of words.He will be forced, against his best wishes, to swallow the warm water, resigninghimself to the fact that he mustnt drink any more, even though his throat is dryfrom all this talking, something hes obviously not used to because hes a writer,and writers dont talk, they sit quietly.

Just to reiterate, DONT drink the complimentary water at your author event.

The ripples on Salman Rushdies water, I believe, are being caused by a series ofdeep sighs. Sighs that are escaping through his nose. Ill describe Salman Rushdiesnose, just as others may, in turn, describe yours. It is not a monumental organ,but it appears to have a lot to say for itself. From bridge to bow, it is about thelength of a modern mobile phone, and it resembles a bunch of small, upside down flowersthat have been pinned to his face without a message. The nostrils are shaped likemelting clocks, and their generous girth offers flume-like passages for volumes ofair to travel both down and up. A pair of stylish glasses are affixed to his nose Im not sure of the exact optician or designer, but perhaps closer scrutiny oninternet images will confirm this. Its important to note that his goatee beard andmoustache, which are succumbing to grey, are neatly trimmed.