Hyacinth and the Economist

The patience of the usually unflappable Richard Bucket had been wearing thin since breakfast, listening to his wife Hyacinth's crazy schemes to climb the social scale by inviting influential people to her 'candlelit suppers[.

Her latest wheeze was to send her husband to deliver a letter to the new UK ambassador to the USA to be forwarded to the newly elected president of that country asking the pleasure of his company at one of her famous banquets the next time he came to the UK to play golf.

He was saved by the bell when the telephone rang.

“The Bouquet residence. To whom do you wish to speak?”, Hyacinth asked the caller who identified himself as her son Sheridan.

“Oh hello, darling. How are you? What was that? You are taking a gap year and travelling around the world with your new friend Oliver and of course, you need additional cash.”

“MORE?” exclaimed Richard, outraged.

He was about to have an argument with his wife when Elizabeth, Hyacinth's neighbour came in for a traditional cup of morning coffee, so Richard decided to have a prudent retreat and went to his local pub to calm his nerves.

He was nursing a nice pint of bitter when he heard the familiar voice of his old friend  Jacob Micawber, a descendant of Wilkins Micawber on whom Charles Dickens had based a character for one of his novels.

“Hi Richard, what brings you here? It looks like you are carrying the world's weight on your shoulder.”

Jacob had inherited the optimism of his ancestor but not his profligacy. Unlike the hapless Wilkins, he prospered, became a financial whizz-kid, and held a chair in Economics at a prestigious University.

Richard realised that he was the answer to his prayers. With his impressive background, he was the right person to make Hyacinth see the sense of economy and proper budgeting.

He revealed that his wife's extravagant spending and the increase in the cost of living had left a black hole in his finances.

Back home at 22 Blossom Avenue with his friend, whom he had invited to lunch, he wondered how Hyacinth would react to his excuse that he had failed to contact Lord Mandelson, as instructed, but hoped that Profesor Jacob Micawber would be an acceptable substitute who she thought could enhance her reputation as a socialite.

Introductions were made.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs Bouquet”, said Jacob who had been advised by Richard on how she wanted her cognomen to be pronounced.

“Anshanté”, she replied coquettishly, digging into her schoolday French vocabulary. 

“You may like to know, my dear, that the professor's grandfather was mentioned by Dickens in one of his novels”, said Richard.

“Ah, Dickens. I never fail to include his exceedingly good cakes in my menus.”

Hyacinth seemed excited by the fact that he was an economist and assumed that he must know that other brilliant exponent of economy, Ms. Rachel Reeves, who had been in the news recently.

“You must both come to one of my candlelit suppers.”

It was at that time that Richard realised that she was beyond redemption.

© Luigi Pagano 2025 

[IP:  invite two fictional characters, from any book, film, poem or other confabulation … Imagine the conversation they - and you - would have.