Cedric Dearie (1958-2022)
The life of Cedric Dearie sends a cautionary warning to profligates the world over. Born into wealth, Cedric is the youngest scion of the mighty Dearie dynasty - the renowned inventors of the self-levelling empire-line trouser. Coming into his inheritance early he proceeds to blow the family fortune in a tawdry saga of repeated entrepreneurial failure.
His first business venture is a budget remake of 'Jaws'. Predictably, cut-backs in the props department mean the film tanks on its opening night.
Undeterred, Cedric begins an unexpected but rapid descent into the seedy underbelly of the criminal world. Whilst on holiday in Italy he enters a sordid backstreet cafe´where he's propositioned by a steely-eyed Mafioso searching for an assassin to take out the head of a rival gang.
Sadly, poor Cedric mishears the job offer. His subsequent venture into on-line millinery merchandising fails spectacularly and he's forced to close 'The Hat-Man' barely a month after its launch.
Here's a picture of Cedric with the remnants of the 'fire-sale'.
Things go from bad to worse for the increasingly desperate Cedric. His next move is into the hospitality trade, but sadly his decision to sink the last of his inheritance in 'The Naked Chef's Bistro' proves disastrous.
Cedric sustains third-degree burns to a sensitive part of the anatomy during an unfortunate incident with a hot wok. It brings a sad and painful end to his latest venture.
Fame and fortune having eluded the aging Dearie for so long he has but one last roll of the die. Cedric turns his back on the world of commerce, declaring, "A poet I shall be!"
Seated uncomfortably on a stool in his kitchen he begins to write, the words pouring out from his tortured soul...
It's all downhill from here
I was born to this world incredibly young,
bereft of control over bladder, bowels and tongue,
but as I grow old I'm sorry to say
I'm hurtling downhill with no means to delay.
For that which was supple and flexed with great ease
is now fused solid from hips to the knees.
Whilst a thing once rigid, jutting proud, firm and bold
droops limp in reverse, a sad sign that I'm old.
The waist grows thicker, the hair starts to thin.
Spare me the tonic, just bring me the gin.
So with stoic resolve it's the final big drop,
a vertiginous fall from life's mountain top.
It'll bring me full circle to where I've begun,
bereft of control over bladder, bowels and tongue!'
As the ink dries on his masterpiece Cedric is overcome with emotion. He falls from his perch to an untimely death, the Rake's Progress now complete.
