 from Victor Mollo’s Bridge Club By Victor Mollo
 “Master Points!” scoffed the Hideous Hog. “Why, the whole idea is cockeyed.” H.H. was not in a good mood. His doctor had told him to lose a stone—or rather not to put on another—and he was dieting rigorously. No refreshments between tea and dinner, foie gras on weekdays only, and no carbohydrates except bread and potatoes. Unaccustomed to privations, the Hog was taking a jaundiced view of life.
“Why cockeyed?” enquired Oscar the Owl, Senior Kibitzer at the Griffins. “Because,” snapped the Hog, “if you reward success, you should punish failure. The two go together.”
“Are you suggesting . . .T’ began the Owl.
“Certainly I am,” replied the Hog warmly. “If you present Master Points for merit, you should inflict Monster Points for demerit. I have nothing against virtue, as such, but why should sin go unpunished? Minor peccadilloes don’t come into it,” went on H.H. “Anyone can be careless and miss some baby smother play or common trump squeeze. For that sort of thing a black mark or two would suffice. It’s the enormities that call for special treatment.”
“But some enormities are more enormous than others,” objected O.O. “Where would you draw the line? And who would do it?”
Thoughtfully the Hog sipped my sherry. Having consumed his ration—his Spartan diet allowed two drinks only before dinner—he had ordered the barman to remove his glass. After a while he resumed: “Anyone would be entitled to submit a claim. Should it be contested, a panel of experts would arbitrate. We’ll have a Monster Points Committee with the Owl, the Penguin and yourself. And in due course we’ll have Master Monsters and Life Monsters, just as they do with Master Points.”
That’s how the Monster Points idea was born. It was largely inspired by the debut of Timothy the Toucan, a new member who owed his nickname to a large, polished rubicund nose and to a habit of bouncing in his chair as if he were on the point of hopping over to another. Smooth, sleek and shiny, draped in a suit of midnight blue, with a satin tie of burnt orange, Timothy’s colour scheme blended perfectly with his unusual personality.
It took us some time to get used to his curious habits at the card table. Instead of gloating, moaning, reviling partners and jeering at opponents, as do ordinary players, he oozed an unnatural humility from every overworked pore.
“How kind of you, partner, to explain so patiently where I went wrong,” he had told the Hog after being subjected to a flood of abuse.
“Sorry,” he said to Papa the first time they played together, “of course, I should have realised your singleton was top of nothing. I am afraid I am not really with it today.”
And on cutting Walter the Walrus for the third time in succes-sion, he greeted him with: “Splendid! I’ve got my favourite partner.” The startled Walrus thought for a moment that there were only the two of them there to make up the four.
The Rabbit was delighted to find someone at last who would play with him all his cherished conventions.
“I haven’t quite mastered Monaco …” began R.R.
“The strong notrump?” broke in the Toucan, on a more mundane plane.
“By all means,” agreed the Rabbit.
“We’ll keep to 16-18. Astro in defence, Baron responses over 2 NT, Flint, Jacoby transfers and Roman Blackwood, or would you prefer the Culbertson 4-5? I like both myself,” added R.R.
 “Then let’s play both,” agreed Timothy, who never said ‘No’. “Ace from ace-king?” “Certainly.”
The Elegant Way
Such had been the preliminaries when the Rueful Rabbit cut Timothy the Toucan against Papa the Greek and Walter the Walrus. These were the North-South hands on the first deal:Â 
The Toucan opened the 
A. Then, seeing his partner’s three, he switched to the 
4. The Rabbit won the trick with his king, cashed the A and exited with the three. The Greek, who had thrown his Q under the ace, took the trick with the jack in dummy and continued with a small diamond, which he ruffed in his hand, with the 
8, carefully preserving the deuce.
When both opponents followed to the first round of trumps, Papa put down his hand with a characteristic flourish. “I won’t waste your time,” he announced. “There are several ways of making sure of the contract, but we can make assurance doubly sure and we can do it, what’s more, the elegant way.” After drawing the remaining trump, the Greek overtook his 2 with dummy’s 3 and proceeded to explain exactly what he would do.
“I will play the Q, discarding the 
2 from my hand. Since you lead ace from ace-king, Timothy is marked with the K and whatever he returns will present me with my eighth trick.
“Mind you;” went on Papa, “I could just as easily lead a heart. I couldn’t go wrong, for once Timothy has shown up with seven points in diamonds, R.R. must have the  A Q for his 16-18 notrump. The result would be the same, but the loser-on-loser play is prettier, I think.
” Suiting his action to his words, he detached dummy’s Q, and without waiting for the Rabbit, threw on it his 2.
“You can lead a heart up to me or concede a ruff and discard. Please yourself,” he told Timothy. “It won’t make the slightest difference.” But it was the Rabbit, not the Toucan, who came up with the K. With tremulous fingers he placed on the table a nondescript heart.
The Greek shrugged his well padded shoulders. “Ace from ace-king? Really? Ah, well, I suppose they look much alike to some people,” he observed. “However, it makes no difference. If R.R. is no longer bound to have both heart honours, he must still have the ace. Even so his 16-18 notrump is the barest minimum.”
As he spoke Papa went up confidently with the K confidently Timothy took it with the ace. The Rabbit’s Q won the sixth decisive trick for the defence. This was the deal: 
“I am frightfully sorry,” said T.T. to the Greek, who was spluttering with indignation. “I know that we agreed to lead the ace from ace-king and though it’s no excuse, of course, I just didn’t have the king. I promise it won’t happen again.” “No, no, it’s all my fault,” the Rabbit hastened to comfort him. “I forgot for a moment all about the strong notrump. We all play the weak one here, you see, and we nearly doubled them into game through it all, dear oh dear.” “The elegant ways” seethed the Walrus. “People shouldn’t be allowed to use conventions they don’t understand. It’s not fair to opponents,” fumed Papa.
Esta entrada también está disponible en: Spanish