MARTIN: OK: so as long as we average at least eleven miles an hour, we should get to Ottery St Mary by six.
DOUGLAS: Well, it’s a punishing pace but I think I’m up to it.
ARTHUR: Why’s it called that, then, Skip?
MARTIN: What?
ARTHUR: Ottery St Mary.
MARTIN: I’ve no idea.
ARTHUR: Do you know, Douglas?
DOUGLAS: Yes.
MARTIN: Do you?
DOUGLAS: Certainly I do. You see, St Mary is the patron saint of Devon and she, of course, was famously martyred by being eaten alive by otters.
ARTHUR: Really?
DOUGLAS: Oh yes – rabid otters. So she’s always portrayed in pictures absolutely covered in otters.
ARTHUR: What, eating her?
DOUGLAS: Sometimes, in the more fire and brimstone churches. Elsewhere, the assumption is they’re all in heaven now and have made up, so they’re just shown milling about her, nuzzling her affectionately and offering her ottery kisses and gifts of haddock.
MARTIN: Douglas ...
ARTHUR: Why would the otters go to heaven if they ate a saint?
DOUGLAS: You’ve put your finger, Arthur, as is so often your way, on the crux of a thorny theological problem. So far, our best guess is simply that St Peter’s got a real soft spot for otters. He looks into those whiskery faces and goes, (in an affectionate voice) “You guys! I can’t stay mad at you!” and lets them into heaven.
ARTHUR: So heaven is full of otters!
DOUGLAS: More than you can possibly imagine.
MARTIN: So, in your case, Arthur, probably be about twelve.
ARTHUR: Hey, I can imagine loads of otters!
DOUGLAS: Really? How many?
ARTHUR: A million!
DOUGLAS: You see, I don’t think you can. I don’t think anyone can.
ARTHUR: I can. I’m doing it now! (Long pause) Wow!
DOUGLAS: No, you’re just imagining a lot of otters and then saying that’s a million. I don’t think anyone can actually genuinely imagine more than about twenty otters at a time.
MARTIN: Oh, come on. I mean, I can definitely imagine a hundred otters.
ARTHUR: Mmm, me too, yellow car.
DOUGLAS: All right. How much space do they take up?
MARTIN: Er ...
DOUGLAS: Could you, for instance, get a hundred otters on board Gerti?
MARTIN: Yes, I reckon you could.
DOUGLAS: And is it a jam-packed RSPCA-nightmare of a plane, or are the otters lounging in relative comfort?
MARTIN: Well, OK, there’s, er, there’s sixteen seats, so, say, two to a seat.
DOUGLAS: They’re good friends, these otters?
MARTIN: Let’s hope so. Then one in each overhead compartment ...
DOUGLAS: Always remembering to open them with care because otters may have shifted during the flight.
ARTHUR: And, er, one under each seat?
DOUGLAS: Yes! Good thinking.
MARTIN: But that’s where the lifejackets are.
DOUGLAS: That’s all right – otters can swim. Now, how many in the galley?
MARTIN: Er, four on the floor, two on the worktops? Well, it depends – are we carrying Carolyn and Arthur?
DOUGLAS: To wait on the otters? I think that would be an indulgence, frankly. I think we’d be better off replacing them with more otters.
MARTIN: Might be better off replacing Arthur with an otter anyway!
ARTHUR (indignantly): Hey!
DOUGLAS: So, thirty-two in the seats, sixteen in the overhead lockers, sixteen under the seats, six in the galley ...
MARTIN: ... fifteen in the hold?
DOUGLAS: Oh, twenty easily; and six or seven in the aisle.
MARTIN: Call it seven.
DOUGLAS: That’s, what, ninety-seven; and three in the flight deck. A hundred!
ARTHUR: Brilliant!
MARTIN: No. Not in the flight deck.
DOUGLAS: Hypothetically, though ...
MARTIN: I don’t care how hypothetical it is, I’m not flying with a live otter in the flight deck.
DOUGLAS: I don’t see why not. Historically, very few hijackings have been carried out by otters.
MARTIN: Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think the Civil Aviation Authority would be too keen on the idea.
DOUGLAS: To be quite honest with you, Captain, I don’t think there’s a whole lot about this plane full of unsupervised otters the CAA is going to love.