The Anatomy Of Ghosts

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Late in the evening of Thursday, 16 February 1786, the Last Supper was nearing its end. The new Apostle had taken the oaths, signed the membership book and swallowed the contents of the sacred glass presented by the late Morton Frostwick, to the accompaniment of whoops, cheers and catcalls. Now it was time for the toasts that preceded the grand climax of the ceremony.

‘No heeltaps, gentlemen,’ Jesus commanded from the head of the table. ‘All rise. I give you His Majesty the King.’

The Apostles shuffled to their feet, many with difficulty. Four chairs fell over and someone knocked a bottle off the table.

Jesus raised his glass. ‘The King, God bless him.’

‘The King, God bless him,’ bellowed a chorus of voices in return, for the Apostles prided themselves on their patriotism and their attachment to the throne. Each man drained his glass in one. ‘God bless him!’ repeated St Matthew at the far end of table, and his passionate exhortation ended in a hiccup.

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