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THIS IS A TRUE STORY

The artist Louis Wain

made the cat his own.

He invented a cat style,

a cat society,

a whole cat world.

Cats that do not look and live
like Louis Wain cats

are ashamed of themselves.

But that is not
what is important.

What is important is that
Louis Wain devoted his life

to making
all our lives happier,

and cattier.

In doing so, he undoubtedly
raised up the cat in society

and he changed our world
for the better.

Aside from
its bizarre social prejudices

and the fact that everything
stank of shit,

Victorian England was also
a land of innovation

and scientific discovery.

Many of the world’s
finest minds

were digging deep
into the nature of electricity,

to harness its power
for practical use.

But for the young Louis Wain,
electricity was something else,

something so extraordinary
and strange

that the human mind was barely
able even to comprehend it.

A mysterious, elemental force
that on occasion,

he could feel
shimmering in the ether,

and the key to all
of life’s most profound

and alarming secrets.

THE ELECTRICAL LIFE
OF LOUIS WAIN

1881

ANDOVER
ANNUAL COUNTRY SHOW

Please keep
your animals under control.

Sorry. Uh, thank...
thank you.

Thank you.

Ooh. Are you an illustrator?

Yes, I do illustrations
for money.

I’m also working on several
patents at the moment.

You’ve just come from
the country show, I take it?

Mmm.

You’re very muddy. Did you get
into a fight or something?

Uh, no, I was attacked
by a one-and-a-half-ton bull.

Oh. That was you, was it?

Yes, I heard about that.

How much would you charge
for a drawing of Cleopatra?

Oh, I... I don’t really
draw people.

Oh, no, sorry. Cleopatra.

Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm.

Ah. Well, that
you can have for free.

That’s awfully kind.

My sister usually takes her,
but she’s unwell,

so it’s up to me today.

Thought it might cheer her up.

Dan Rider, by the way.

Hello.

Yes. Good.

Find his weak spot,
but just don’t show him yours.

Move. Think.

All right, Wain,
that’s enough.

You’ll be late for your
meetings, you daft apeth.

Just allow me to have
one more crack at him, sir.

The Bendigo Shuffle.
Come on. Here we are.

Left to right, or right
to left. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

I’m so sorry. Sorry.

I received word
of your foolish antics

at the country show.

A whole raft of complaints

about an odd fellow
being dangerous,

climbing nonchalantly
into the Longhorn’s pen

and standing not three yards

from the largest
and most ferocious animal

on the entire site.

I wanted to get
a closer look at him,

and, well, he didn’t have
a very good sense of humour,

-put it that way.
-Thank you.

Not renowned for their
sense of humour,

-are they, really, bulls?
-Aren’t they?

Every time I commission you
to illustrate a story for us,

you manage to create
some kind of ridiculous chaos.

Why were you throwing peanuts
at a bull?

I heard they like peanuts
and that it calms them down,

but it didn’t work.

The trouble with these
show cows, huge egos.

It’s a good job you can draw,
Mr Wain,

or we would have parted ways
some time ago.

And don’t think
I haven’t noticed

the state of your visage.

Oh, this wasn’t from the bull,
Sir William.

I’ve just come from a boxing
class with the great Jem Mace.

-Boxing?
-Mmm.

So when did you draw this?

On the train. From memory.

-All of them?
-Mm-hmm.

So, how fast
do you work exactly?

Oh. I’ll just show you...

Hmm.

I’ll be frank with you,
Mr Wain.

One of our speediest and most
prolific staff illustrators

has been poached
by a rival publication.

Do you think
you’d be up to it?

Well, yes, obviously.
I mean...

Well, I don’t find this work,
um, very taxing, Sir William.

I do it to pay the bills

and to provide
for the five hungry

and precocious sisters
that I live with.

Until they get married,
of course.

As a matter of fact,

I find the whole thing
rather inconvenient.

I don’t think
you quite understand me.

On the basis of the speed
and quality of your work,

and with the proviso
that you can curb

your more imbecilic
behaviour,

I am offering you
a permanent position

on the staff of the
Illustrated London News.

That’s very kind of you,
but I can’t.

I have several
electric patents to finish

and, in fact,
I’m rather late

for a meeting with Henry Wood,
the celebrated composer.

-Henry Wood?
-I’ve written an opera.

This is not an opera,
Mr Wain.

By conventional standards,
it barely qualifies as music.

And this is not a plot.

It’s just
some of your thoughts.

I applaud your enthusiasm,

but you have to master
the basics of harmony first.

I-- I’ve invented
my own harmonies.

Yes, and that could be
part of the problem.

If it’s any consolation,

I thought the little drawing
you did on the cover sheet

was rather charming.

In the 18 months
since his father had died,

Louis had nominally become
the head of the household.

He was entirely unfit

to shoulder these new
worldly responsibilities,

but as the oldest and malest
of the six Wain siblings,

it had unfortunately
become his duty.

Evening, Louis.
-Yes, good evening.

Evening!
- Louis!

Yes, hello. How are you?

Ooh, are you back?
-Yes, I’m back, Josephine.

Of course I’m back.
What do you mean?

Louis, did you meet
an eligible

young lady of means
in Hampshire?

No, I did not, but I did meet
some goats, some geese

and a rather
cantankerous bull.

That’s no use.

You can’t marry a goat,
can you?

Far better suited

would have been his beloved
sister Caroline,

who had become frustrated
by their rather whimsical

and bohemian mother

and stepped up at a young age

to take charge
as the family’s matriarch.

Have you been boxing again?

I told you, Caroline,
he barely charges me

because I gave him
that drawing of Bendigo.

Louis, will you practise
quadrilles with me after supper?

Ah, you’ve come
to murder me at last.

-Felicie, defend me, quick.
-En garde!

Don’t! We have to talk
about finances.

How was your meeting with
Sir William? Is he satisfied?

Sir William is, if anything,
overly satisfied.

He has offered me the position
of staff illustrator.

Now, I really do need
to get to my room.

Oh, my goodness!
Did you say staff illustrator?

Yes, staff illustrator,
but I did not accept it.

I beg your very pardon? Why?

We already have twice as many
outgoings as you have wages

and we’ve just hired
a governess.

I told you to keep that room
for my secondary projects.

Besides, I can teach them.
I’m perfectly qualified

in all the relevant subjects.

No, you can’t! You need
to be out there working!

Quite right. You need to be
out there working, Louis.

Governess!
I’m afraid we do not require

-your services at present.
-Louis!

Sorry for any
inconvenience.

Governess? Governess?

Do not go into
that woman’s room.

Governess?

Where are you?

Is she not in there?

Where... Where are you?

Shh.

Governess?
Is that you in there?

Miss Richardson,
if you are in the wardrobe,

we shall be most displeased.

There’s no need
to be frightened,

but I am going to
have to open the door.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

After a count of three.

Three, two, one.

Right, yes.
No, I can see how...

I mean, as
first impressions go...

How do you do, Mr Wain?

Miss Richardson,
get out of the wardrobe.

Yes, of course. Would you like
to know my name, Mr Wain?

So you don’t have
to keep shouting "governess."

I believe your mother’s napping.
Not very thoughtful, is it?

Miss Richardson,
why were you in the wardrobe?

It helps me to concentrate
to be in a confined space.

And with Shakespeare,
I know it inside out already,

so I block out the world
and play it through in my head.

That’s all very nice, but the
thing is I was just saying,

I am perfectly well versed
in mathematics and chemistry...

You shan’t be needing
my services, then.

-I’ll be on my way.
-No.

Miss Richardson,
he’s just being an ass.

I’m actually relieved
not to have to get up

at 4:30 every morning
to prepare lessons.

And I was a bit worried
about the ancient Greek.

Homer’s use
of the metrical ictus

does make it rather hard.

All those feminine caesuras.

I have no doubt
they’ll be much better off

in your accomplished hands.

I was just thinking,
I promised myself to submit

my steady cycle patent
before the end of the month,

if I’m teaching my sisters
the feminine senoras...

-Caesuras.
-Exactly that.

I won’t have time.

So you’d like me to stay?

My poor husband William
was thrown out

by his family
in Staffordshire.

-They were all Protestant.
-Leek.

The town’s called Leek,
Miss Richardson.

-Isn’t that funny?
-That’s hilarious.

They talk like this up there.

He wanted
to be a Catholic,

but his father wouldn’t let him,
and so he just ran away.

-He was a Cathoholic.
-Shush, Marie.

-How did you meet him?
-I thought it was funny.

Through the church.

I designed tapestries
for the...

Ooh. You’re getting heavy.
...for the church

and he came from a silk family.

He was a draper.

And my own father...

-I’m French, you see.
-

...smuggled himself to England

by disguising himself
as a woman.

We’re a family
of mischief-makers,

Miss Richardson.

We may as well have been called
the Shenanigans.

You’ll have your hands full
with these three.

And as for you two,
high time you found

some nice husbands
of your own, don’t you think?

We will, Mother,
in time.

Well,
I was given quite the look

from a hatted man
with a moustache on the bus.

Absolutely enormous moustache

and a very prominent brow.

Yes, it was very prominent.

It was like a dome.
But, um, it...

Well, it was
quite the glance.

It was embarrassing.

-Did he seem wealthy, Josephine?
-Mother.

Josephine’s
going to marry a man

-with a big moustache.
-

Caroline,
he might have a brother.

Miss Caroline.

Is everything to your
satisfaction, Miss Richardson?

Very much so.

Why do you ask?

Oh, no.
Just, I was going to say,

if the room
wasn’t to your liking,

I would be perfectly happy
for you to swap with me.

That won’t be necessary.
I’m very comfortable.

Of course, but I wouldn’t
want you to feel... ill at ease.

Sharing the floor...

with a man.

Why would that make me
feel ill at ease?

Very well.

Please keep
all of your belongings in order.

You are here
as an example to my sisters.

Of course. You’re very good
with them, by the way.

It must be exhausting,
having to be the grown-up.

Well, I am a grown-up,
so it’s not exhausting.

Why are you holding a rock?

I travel a lot,

so I like to bring a few rocks
with me from Shrewsbury,

where I grew up.
Helps me to feel at home.

Why don’t you have this one?

Sleep well...

Miss Richardson.

-Morning.
-Morning.

Louis had learnt
to control the chaos in his mind

by always moving

and for many years
had been quite content

frantically pursuing
his various interests,

as failed art teacher,
failed musician,

aspiring inventor,
enthusiastic polyhobbyist,

and, of course,
part-time illustrator.

But the one thing
he had never considered,

in spite of constant pressure to
find an eligible young spouse,

was the possibility

of ever leading
any kind of romantic life.

And so, as a strange, tingly
feeling crackled in his breast

and sparkled
through this loins,

I think it would be fair to say
that the innocent Mr Wain

didn’t really know
what the hell was going on.

He had an inkling, of course.
But how could he be sure

that these feelings
would be reciprocated?

What of the unsightly harelip

that he so sproutily disguised
with his careful moustache?

Upon closer scrutiny,

she would surely notice
this unfortunate deformity

and run a mile.

Or perhaps, she would not be
so impressed to discover

that in spite
of the rather playful exterior,

his mind was a dark,
screaming hurricane

of crippling anxieties
and recurring nightmares.

Not to mention, of course,
the gossiping neighbours

who would all consider it
ghastly for a lowly governess

to be engaging in these
bourgeois games of courtship.

Emily Richardson’s slightly
unconventional attitude

to her employer’s privacy

had already caught the eye

of nosy-posy Mrs Du Frayne,

who was, by all accounts,

the blabberiest mouth
this side of the River Thames.

Suffice it to say,

there were a great
many obstacles

that stood in the way
of Louis and Emily.

And in a different world,
he might well have decided

not to disturb Sir William
Ingram’s daily splosh

at the Turkish baths
in Islington.

Ah. Good morning, Mr Wain.

Good morning, Sir William.

Don’t often see you in here.

I’ve come to speak to you.

-Have you got a moment?
-Yes, of course, Louis.

Just let me finish
my morning exercises.

Yes, of course.

Actually, I might do some laps
myself now that I’m here.

Careful! Careful, Louis.

Oh! Louis?

So you’ve come
to your senses, young man.

Why the sudden
change of heart?

Well, we’ve hired a governess
to teach my younger sisters.

-A governess?
-Mmm.

Ah, and you don’t want her
dashing off to some other family

because you can’t pay her.

Something
like that, yes.

Well, I’ll start you off
on poverty wages,

as is standard,
but they will be regular.

And I’m afraid we can’t pay you
for holidays

or expenses at the moment.

Will those terms be
to your satisfaction, Mr Wain?

Good.

Tap, tap. Advance.

-Advance.
-Tap, tap.

-Tap, tap. Advance.
-Advance. Okay.

En garde!

-En garde!
-En garde!

Caroline, can I show you
how I do fencing?

Not right now.

-En garde.
-Please be civilised, girls.

Mrs Wain, would you
accompany us on the piano?

I would love to
accompany you on the piano.

Let’s show them
what we’ve been practising.

Every penny-counting rogue
in London knows that trick.

-You’re not supposed to say yes.
-Did you not bargain with him?

-Have I taught you nothing?
-I’m happy with it, Herb.

Actually, I really ought
to be getting back.

I have to start work
on my steady cycle patent.

Forget that.
Nobody understands what it is.

Don’t be such a fucking drip.
If you’re happy, you’re happy.

I mean, you’ve been swindled,
so I don’t understand that.

Let’s have some fun. I haven’t
seen you for three weeks.

You’ve been spending too much
time with your weird sisters.

You are staff illustrator
for the top newspaper in London.

All you need now
is the loving touch

of a well-bosomed
aristocrat.

That’s the thing about
Phil May, the saucy fiend.

Always hosting a skulk
of wealthy young vixens.

We can’t celebrate
your success without you.

There’ll be dancing
later, perhaps?

There will be if you’re here,
I know that much.

-I’m in.
-Come on.

-Shh!
-

Be quiet.

Oh. I was so quiet.

Marie is having a nightmare.

Oh.

You’re drunk.

Perhaps a little.
I’ve been celebrating.

I accepted the job...

with Sir William.

Good.

Now go to bed.

Caroline.
I can feel prickles.

-It’s okay.
-I’m scared.

-I’m here. I’m here.
-I’m scared, Caroline.

It’s all right.
It’s just our silly brother

trampling up the stairs.

-Shh.
-

Try to think of a meadow
or a breeze.

Keep calm, Marie, keep calm.

Breathe.

Uh, good evening.

-No.
-What?

-Go away. Go away.
-Yes. What? Why?

-What do you mean, why?
-I don’t...

Yes, of course. Yes, sorry.

What are you doing, Mr Wain?

-I don’t understand.
-Get out!

Right, yes, of course.
Sorry. I apologise.

I am under your employ, Mr Wain,
but I do not expect

to have to tolerate you
barging in here after hours

while I’m...

Well, it doesn’t matter
what I was doing, does it?

Yes. Sorry. Of course.

It’s just I have
so many sisters

that sometimes I forget
that it’s...

Were you painting something?

That’s none of your business,
Mr Wain.

But, yes, if you must know.

I’ve got a drawing lesson
with the girls tomorrow,

and all you Wains
are such accomplished artists

that I rather thought I could do
with a bit of preparation.

I see.

Well, I was, um...

Well, I just wanted to
invite you to the theatre.

THE TEMPEST

As an educational trip,

with Felicie, Claire and Marie.

I’m so sorry again, Miss
Richardson. I do apologise.

I’m terribly embarrassed.

It’s just I was excited
to share the idea with you

and I just don’t want you to
think you have to be cooped up

in this house all the time,
that’s all.

I think it sounds
like a rather splendid idea.

Please just knock the next time
that you wish to see me.

Of course.

-Is something funny, Mr Wain?
-Not at all.

Not at all.

Good night, Emily.

Good night, Mr Wain.

Miss Richardson?

Yes?

When it comes to drawing,

there’s only really one rule
you ever need to teach.

It’s to look.

Mummy! Daddy! Help me!

I’m drowning! I’m drowning!

You’re so ugly! Ugly!

You don’t belong here!
You don’t belong anywhere!

It’s magic.

What a clever bugger
Mr Newton was.

Uh, language,
please, Felicie.

A clever sausage?
-Sausage I will accept,

although I fear
it rather fails to capture

the spirit of Newton’s genius.

I’m a genius.

If you work hard and continue
with your studies, Marie,

perhaps one day, you will be.

Thank you,
Miss Richardson.

You’re very welcome.
Thank you.

Quiet on the stairs,
please, girls.

Crumpets, biscuits, cake!

Ooh. Come in.

Good morning.

Morning.

How was your lesson?

It was very good, thank you.

Turns out that your sisters
don’t need my help with drawing,

so we tried something
else instead.

Good. That’s good.

I hereby atone
for my drunken imposition

by presenting myself
to you naked.

Please don’t present yourself
to me naked, Mr Wain.

I might consider that
to be a secondary imposition,

arguably greater
than the first.

But you cannot have failed
to observe

that I have quite
a profound harelip.

Yes. What of it, Mr Wain?

Sorry. Have I made a mistake?

No, I think you look
very handsome.

So, uh...

Well, am I forgiven?

Why do you need me
to forgive you, Mr Wain?

When do you think we might
make our trip to the theatre?

For the, uh, for the education
of the girls, of course.

Of course.

Well, I’ll just consult
my diary.

Excellent. Well, I shall
look forward to it.

Thank you.

I appreciate the gesture.

But, Mother, we have
not yet settled our accounts

with the coal merchant
and the butcher.

He should have
consulted me first.

We cannot let him out
looking like this.

Why you’ve committed
this most wanton

and violent act of self-harm,
I do not know.

How will he ever
meet a woman of fortune?

Caroline, he’s had a shave,
that’s all.

Marie, darling,
where have you gone?

Well, I think
we should all go.

Make an evening of it.

Josephine,
we at least must stay.

-Marie?
-

Don’t come in.

Marie, what’s happened?

Oh, it’s all right.

It’s all right.
It’s perfectly natural.

If anything, it’s a good thing.
It means you’re a woman.

Well, I should like to go
not so much for the play

but for the handsome
young bachelors in the crowd.

We can practise
our flirtations.

I should like to go
because I should like to go.

If you change your mind,
Caroline,

you’re more than welcome
to join us.

I think it fair to say
that Miss Richardson

has had a positive effect
on this family

and we should show
our gratitude.

I’m a woman!

Hurray!

Sorry, everyone.
Bit of a situation,

but everything’s under control.

Oh.

That’s the governess
I was telling you about.

-Oh.
-For the Wains.

-Uh, you look very...
-No, thank you. So do you.

-Thank you.
-Thank you. Shall we...

-Yes, let’s...
-Yes, let’s sit down. Good.

Is this...
Is this your first time?

-Yes, it is, it is.
-Okay.

-It’s exciting.
-Good.

Ooh.

-Here.
-Thank you.

-

Boatswain!

Here, master!
What cheer?

Good, speak
to the mariners.

Fall to’t, yarely,
or we run ourselves aground:

bestir, bestir.

Heigh, my hearts!

Cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!

Yare, yare!

Take in the topsail.

Topsail!

Tend to the master’s whistle.

Mummy! Daddy! Help me!

I’m drowning! I’m drowning!

Help me! I’m drowning!
Please!

Help me! I’m drowning!

Um... this is the
gentlemen’s toilet.

Yes. Sorry.

I...

I was worried that you might be
distressed about something.

No, no. Just a funny turn,
that’s all.

Right, yes.

No, I thought
it might have, um,

might have reminded you
of something.

Something you found frightening
as a child, perhaps,

like a recurring nightmare.

Like "The Sea
Full Of Big Ships."

I might have accidentally
looked in your journal.

Well, that... that was nosy.

I’m afraid it’s one
of my many flaws.

-Nosiness?
-I’m very nosy, yes.

It’s partly why I chose
to become a governess.

Did you find it horrifying?

All those dark
and disturbing visions?

No. I found it quite reassuring,
to be honest.

I tend to have nightmares about

not being able
to get out of places.

I once spent an entire dream

stuck in a
very complicated barn.

Well, thank God you didn’t
get stuck in that wardrobe.

Yeah, thank God.

Thank God I had you
to let me out of it.

Good God!

It definitely did happen
in the toilet.

Oh, hello.
- Hello.

Well, if it isn’t
my favourite family,

the Wains. Hello, girls.
How are you, Louis?

Very well, thank you,
Mrs Du Frayne. Um, how are you?

Quite well. Terrific eulogy
at your father’s funeral.

Thank you. You say that
every time I see you.

And you must be
the famous Emily Richardson.

-Nice to meet you.
-We were just remarking

that we don’t often see
governesses at the theatre.

Was it your first time?

I hear you got a little
bit confused...

about the lavatories.

Yes, confused.

Quite charming.

You are clearly
an intelligent woman,

Miss Richardson,

and we’ve been impressed
by your teaching.

But there are certain aspects
of your behaviour,

and certain aspects

of the behaviour
that you encourage

in my ridiculous brother

that we simply cannot tolerate.

This evening was intended
to be an educational event.

Yet now, thanks to you,

this family
is the talk of the town.

And not in a good way.

You have three days
to get your affairs in order.

I just wanted to thank you,
Mr Wain,

for a very pleasant evening.

I had a very nice time.

I’ve taught
of countless adventures

from the safety
of a schoolroom.

But it was exciting
to be taken on one for once.

I... I like your shawl,
by the way.

Thank you. It was my mother’s.

It’s blue.

Yep. It’s blue.

Goodbye, Louis.

I don’t care, I don’t care,
I don’t care what people think.

Nor do I.

-Mmm! Close the door.
-What?

Close the door. Ooh. Ooh.

What happened?
-I fell over my dress.

I’m sorry.
-It’s not your fault.

Sit down.

As this peculiar romance

blossomed clumsily into flower,

the discrepancy
in their social standing

became the cause
of great controversy.

One neighbour,
it was widely rumoured,

vomited immediately upon
hearing news of their courtship.

For the coupling of a gentleman
with a lady of the servile class

was considered
nothing short of revolting.

Not to mention

that the undeniably
charming Miss Richardson

was, by the standards
of the day,

positively geriatric.

But Louis cared little for
these foolish preconceptions,

and in January
of the year 1884,

he asked Emily
for her hand in marriage.

1884

Trim the bottom.
Trim the bottom.

It’s dusty.
-It’s a bit dusty.

MRS W WAIN
ONE POUND, TEN SHILLINGS

The weeks
turned to months,

and in spite of the newly
fractious relationship

with his sisters,

Louis quietly continued
in his endeavours

to support them.

Every week, he would
post a modest cheque

to his dear mother,

and even began to take on
private commissions

as a dog portraitist,

visiting dukes and duchesses,
lords and ladies,

and their pampered
canine friends.

At the same time,
he continued with his work

covering general news
and various agricultural shows

for Sir William.

And thus for six
precious months,

Louis and Emily
lived a perfectly normal,

if societally unconscionable
married life.

I gather you’re an
educated woman, Mrs Wain.

Yes, Doctor.
I was a governess.

I... I see.

Well, in that case,

I trust you will
understand me when I say...

you have terminal
cancer of the breast.

Yes, Doctor.

Just when I was starting
to enjoy it.

What was that?

Strange.

Oh, Louis, look.

Hello there, little thing.

-Hello.
-Hello there, cat.

You’re soaking wet.
You poor little thing.

Why don’t you
come in the warm with us?

Yeah? Hello.

We’ll take care of you.
Won’t we, Louis?

Yes, we will.

Hello. Hello.

Ooh.

It’s all right.
It’s all right.

Rain. It’s just raining.

Who’s that?
-

It’s Louis.

Got another
little towel for you.

-That’s better, isn’t it?
-See?

That’s better.

-That’s better.
-

-Hello.
-Hello.

-Hello.
-Hello.

Hello.

Where do you think
you’re going?

What would you like
to be called?

Percy?

-I quite like Percy.
-Paul?

Not Paul.

Peter?

Peter.

-Peter.
-Peter.

It’s sure to be a quick
kerfuffle when Bendigo’s here

with the Bendigo Shuffle!

Curious little fellow,
isn’t he?

Yes, but he’s electric, Herb.

Look how his fancy
all adore him.

Half his opponent’s size,

yet he knows how to harness
the electricity of the crowd.

Are you talking
about the photographers?

Look properly, Herb.
The electricity.

Finally, I’m starting
to understand it.

Is everything
all right at home?

-With Emily, I mean?
-Oh, yes, of course.

We have a new friend.
He’s called Peter.

-Peter?
-He’s a cat. We have a cat now.

-For mousing, you mean?
-No, Herb, as a pet.

Okay, Louis,
I’m worried about you.

-Why?
-You have a cat as a pet.

Do you know the true meaning
of the phrase,

"There’s no time
like the present," Herb?

It’s that there isn’t.
It’s too fleeting.

In fact, I have a hypothesis

that electricity is what
pushes us through time.

We turn the past
into the future

with the power
of our electricity.

But that process
is entirely reversible.

Remembering the past
is no different

from imagining the future.

And neither is different
to life itself.

I can remember Emily
in the future

and she will be there.

Do you see
what I’m saying, Herb?

Do you see what I’m saying?

Bendigo! Bendigo!
Bendigo! Bendigo!

Bendigo! Bendigo! Bendigo!

But these don’t capture
the spirit of the fight,

Sir William.

Yes, they do.

That’s why they’re in vogue.

They’re fast, they’re cheap
and they’re 100% accurate.

But where is the electricity?

Louis, I hear your wife
is very sick.

I know that you continue to
support your mother and sisters,

which is admirable, Louis,
so I’m...

I’m sorry
to have to say this.

But it may be
that I cannot use you

quite as much as I would like
for the time being.

I have to get
our finances in order,

and that means making
difficult, practical decisions.

But my advice to you is this:

Spend the time that you gain
with your wife,

because when she is gone...

it will hurt.

These are precious weeks,
Louis.

Do you understand?

Come on, Peter.
- Come on, Peter.

Up the stairs.
Come on.

I think he’s coming.
- Peter.

-Peter?
-

Good boy.

Good boy.

Good boy.

Well done, Peter.

-Well done, Peter.
-Well done.

Let’s go for a walk. Yes.

-After you.
-Thank you.

I think
Peter likes the oak trees.

Mm-hmm.

-They’re amazing, aren’t they?
- Mmm.

They live for a thousand years.

Three hundred years to grow.

Three hundred years to live.

Three hundred years to die.

Oh, that’ll do.
-

It looks lovely.
Peter likes it now.

-Don’t you, Peter?
-

Electricity.

I feel electricity.

Can you feel it?

This is our place.

This is where I’ll be, Louis.

When you need me.

Stuffed mouse for lunch,

Mrs Wain?

No, thank you, Peter.

I’m not partial to mouse,
personally.

Sparrow pie?

I don’t care for sparrow either,
truth be told.

-It’s a bit gristly.
-Oh.

-Perhaps a slice of...
-Oh, could you stop it, please?

I don’t have an appetite today.
I’m a bit tired.

What’s the matter?

I have cancer, Louis.

I’m in quite a lot of pain.

Ready?

That depends on what
you’re about to show me.

Ta-da!

When did you do all this?
Has Sir William seen these?

Sir William hasn’t seen these.
These are for you, Emily.

-Well, you must show him.
-Why?

Sir William doesn’t care
for Peter, does he, now?

And besides, I shall be...

I shall be spending more time
with you while you’re still...

I’m the one who’s ill, Louis.

Don’t you start wallowing
in it too.

Sir William!

Sir William! Whoo-oo!

Sir William!

Whoo-oo! Sir William!

Whoo-oo! Sir William!

Excuse me.

Excuse me, sir.

-Oi!
-Whoo!

Oi! Stop!

-Oi!
-

This club’s
for gentlemen only!

I’m sorry she wasn’t allowed in,
old boy. I did try.

It wasn’t a very
convincing disguise, was it?

She should be at home resting.

It was her idea.

CATTY MEWS

Hmm.

MILK

Very sorry if we’ve wasted
your time, Sir William.

Yes.

I have two pages earmarked
in the Christmas edition.

Reserved for a bit
of festive frivolity.

Something to raise the spirits
of our readers.

I’d like you to fill them
with cats.

With... cats?

Yes. With cats.

Don’t you think perhaps
a spread of silly dogs

would be more appealing
for your readership?

I’ve seen dogs before.

And you capture
something of the cat, Louis.

Perhaps because you yourself
are a bit of a renegade.

An outcast, dare I say.

How you’ve managed to conjure
images of such delight

at such a dark time...

I don’t know.

Merry Christmas.

Illustrated London News!

Illustrated London News!

Throughout history,

cats have been worshipped
as mystical gods

and maligned as the evil allies
of witchery and sin.

But I think you’re the
first person ever to see

that they are
in fact ridiculous.

They’re silly and cuddly.

And lonely.

And frightened and brave.

Like us.

One day, I don’t think
it’ll be so peculiar

to have a cat in the house
as a little pet.

What’s going on in that
funny little head of yours?

Sometimes...

I think about the day
you won’t be here...

and...

I have to say, Emily,

I find it intolerably
difficult to imagine.

I will be so very alone.

You’ll be all right, Louis.

You’ll have Peter.

This time with you, Emily...

playing with Peter in the
evening, sitting by the fire...

these have been the best days
of my entire life.

I don’t know why it is
that I find it so very difficult

just being here
on this earth, but...

I can say with absolute
certainty

that you have made it
much, much better.

You make the world beautiful...

and warm and kind.

I just wanted to say thank you
for that before it’s too late.

I don’t make
the world beautiful, Louis.

The world is beautiful.

And you’ve helped me
to see that too.

Just remember...

hmm, however hard
things get...

however much you feel
like you’re struggling...

the world is full of beauty.

And it’s up to you
to capture it, Louis.

To look.

And to share it
with as many people as you can.

You are a prism.

Through which
that beam of life refracts.

Here we are.

A special New Year’s breakfast
for you today, Mrs Wain.

Don’t worry, Peter.

Yes, I haven’t forgotten
about your eggs.

Thank you.

1891

Louis Wain special
in the Illustrated London News!

Come and get it!
Illustrated London News!

In the years following,

Louis buried
the pain of his grief

under a quite extraordinary
quantity of cat pictures.

Almost without realising,

he had achieved
an alarming degree of success

and completely altered
the public’s attitude

towards the humble cat.

Look! There he is!
Louis Wain!

Your cats have won you
many fans, Wain.

Congratulations.

He says thank you,
but go easy on the sherry.

You don’t mind if I work
for other people, do you?

That’s the cheek

that’s catapulted you
to fame, my boy.

Oh, we’ve had a telegram
from Miss Judith Shenton

of the National Cat Club.

They’re having
a kind of cat competition

and would like you
to judge it.

It’s so wonderful to meet

a kindred spirit, Mr Wain.

I’ve heard even gentry
are keeping cats as pets now.

-Hmm.
-And so handsome too.

I’m just astonished at your
level of knowledge, I really am.

Although I must admit, I don’t
fully understand your theory

about cats preferring
to face north.

Cats will always prefer
to face and walk north,

especially along a wall,
you will notice.

Their whiskers act
as antennae,

attracted to the positive poles
of the earth.

The tabby’s markings
are defined

by the electricity
of their feline heritage.

This particular animal
might have had

a great-grandmother
that was struck by lightning,

so defined are the markings
by the jaggedy lines.

-Fascinating.
-Electricity. From the head.

Right down the body
to the tail.

Cats are excellent
conductors of electricity.

Their features
are already changing

as they become more domesticated
and intelligent.

Their eyes will become larger,
their heads bigger

as their brains grow in size.

They will turn blue.

Eventually, they will stand
on their own hind legs

and communicate to us
in our own language.

Gosh. I’d no idea
it was so complicated.

Did you say
that they would turn blue?

-Yes. Of course.
-Wow.

Well, Mr Wain, thanks to you,

us cat people
are out of the shadows

and finally able to celebrate
in the open

with our feline children.

I’d like to thank you.

Oh, sorry.

Yep. Arm in.

The new president
of the National Cat Club.

Is that what it says?

NATIONAL CAT CLUB
DEPTFORD LONDON

I assumed you’d been spending
it all on frivolous luxuries.

’Cause you’ve forgotten
about your family.

Yet here you are
living in squalor and chaos!

-Don’t shout, Caroline!
-I am not shouting, Claire!

I’m explaining
to him with force.

There’s a cadaver now.
It’s eating a hawk.

Where has it all gone?

We’re in huge
amounts of debt.

It’s really starting to affect
Mother’s health.

-Where has it all gone?
-I didn’t copyright the images.

Oh, my God.

-Oh, my God, help us, please.
-What does that mean?

It means people have been
reprinting his pictures

all over the country
and he hasn’t seen a penny.

Which explains why he is living
rather like a pig.

The stench
is quite unbearable.

Some of the originals I have
exchanged in place of money.

So, in fact, they’ve become

a sort of currency
in themselves.

I gave the barber, well,
a handful of dancing cats,

and now I have free haircuts
for the rest of my life.

You’re not a child, Louis!

You’re the man.

You’re a man.

Our parents worked hard
for our reputation.

They worked hard to build
a fortune for their children,

and you have squandered it
on wretched cats!

And on a wilful, doomed,
tainted romance.

You’ve destroyed our family
with your selfishness

and you continue
with your childish delusions

which conspire
to keep us all in penury.

The indignity that we’ve
suffered at your hands, Louis.

-I didn’t do it on purpose.
-You didn’t do what on purpose?

You didn’t get married
on purpose?

No one told me I needed
to copyright the images.

What about Sir William?
He should have advised you.

I haven’t seen Sir William
for some time now.

-I am working for other people.
-We don’t have any money, Louis.

And poor Marie...

What?

What?

Just tell him.

What has happened?

They hate me, Louis.

They’re plotting.
They’re going to murder me.

-We’re not going to murder you.
-Liar!

They’re going to throw me out
because I had relations.

I had relations
in the graveyard.

And we laughed.

They’re just jealous
because I saw heaven.

And that’s why I’ve got
the leprosy as punishment.

They’re all spinsters.

They say it’s your fault.
Because of Miss Richardson.

But it’s because they’re ugly

and they lie
and plot and scheme.

Marie, why don’t you
come and stay with me?

-And you can play with the cats.
-No, no, no, no, not cats.

They’re poisonous
and they’ve got diseases.

And I’ve already got leprosy.

Get it off me, Louis!
Get it off me!

Get it off me! Get it off me!

It’s going to be okay.
We’re all here for you.

After a local
doctor’s tentative diagnosis

of schizophrenia,

the Wain family had done
everything they could

for poor Marie.

But Louis was at a loss,

and so he went to an old friend
for advice.

THE ILLUSTRATED
LONDON NEWS

I have a series of properties

in the village
of Westgate-on-Sea.

They’re quite habitable

and you’re welcome to stay there
for as long as you like,

at a reduced rate,
on one condition.

-You take your family with you.
-I...

I couldn’t possibly,
Sir William.

Especially after I’ve been
so callously unloyal.

I have plenty of illustrators
on my books, Mr Wain.

-Don’t flatter yourself.
-Why, then, Sir William?

Because in spite of your
rather irregular temperament

and nigglingly
peculiar foibles,

in this occasionally
bleak world,

you have shown a resilience
that I admire.

And if you must know,

you’ve brought me rather a lot
of cheer with your pictures.

Of cats?

Mmm.

But they’re not just cats,
are they?

You are a brave soul, Louis,

but you can’t do all this
on your own.

It sounds to me like Marie
needs a change of scenery.

Fresh clothes,
proper food, brisk walks.

-Thank you. Just in there.
-Yes, sir.

Louis!
-Hello! Hello! Hello!

-It’s wonderful, Louis.
-Welcome to Bendigo Lodge.

BENDIGO LODGE

Caroline, welcome.

Louis, it’s lovely.

Welcome to Bendigo Lodge,
Mother.

Ooh, Bendigo.
- Bendigo.

It’s perfect.

Bless us, oh, Lord,
for these, thy gifts,

which we are about to receive
from thy bounty...

Well done, Peter.
You show them how to eat.

Very good manners. Nina, try
and slow down a little bit.

You’re terribly tiny to be
eating that much so quickly.

Pass me your plate.

Felicie, plate.

That’s it. Well done.

We could go
and walk tomorrow,

wear our nice clothes
and smile at men.

They’ll run away.
- Run away?

I don’t want to run away.
We just got here.

So what
are we looking for, then?

A writer.
- Oh, no.

Who writes for the newspaper.

No. A doctor.

I would like dark hair.

Dark hair.
- Blond.

Oh, no. Untrustworthy.

Give me the pillow,
Josephine!

I think for you still
it’s better beside your legs.

That was good.

Triumph.
I get another go.

Shall we shell?
-

-Some plates.
-Bravo.

-They’re a little fancy.
-Ooh.

Yes, don’t drop them, please.

Felicie, did you see
a better knife than this?

Why?
-’Cause this one’s dreadful.

All right.

Or a sharpener.

I’ll go
and get the pie.

IN NURSERYLAND
WITH LOUIS WAIN

THE LOUIS WAIN
NURSERY BOOK

DADDY CAT
LOUIS WAIN

Louis?

It’s all right.
Not long now, Peter.

Where are we going?

Where are we going?

I think
we should stop quite soon.

Are you tired?
- I’m quite tired.

Louis?

-Lunch.
-Come.

-Come and eat.
-Come.

I think he’s trying
to divert the electricity.

Oh, that again.

I’m scared, Louis.

Me too.

1900

Get off me! Get off me!

No, I said, get off!

Let go of me!

His sisters
went several years more

without finding
a single suitor,

and in spite of Sir William’s
cheery prognosis,

Marie’s condition
did not improve.

-Dr Elphick.
-Miss Wain.

After the catastrophic marriage
of their only son,

the fact that one
of their number

was now officially
a raving lunatic

did nothing to help
the family’s social status.

-Thank you, Doctor.
-All the best.

And then, his great
teacher and best friend,

his dear old Peter,
passed away.

Like a frenzied bat
in a burning oven,

Louis’ heart was a screaming,
flapping mess.

He wept without ceasing
for several years,

but at the same time,

he was overtaken by an
extraordinary new discovery,

that the more intensely
he suffered,

the more beautiful
his work became.

He realised
that the memories he still held

of his dear wife, Emily,
and darling Peter

had become
powerful conductors

of that mysterious electricity
in the atmosphere

that he had so far
been unable to harness.

-Mr Wain?
- Hmm?

Are you aware of the reason
I’ve been summoned?

I assume it’s to inform us

on how Marie is doing
in the asylum.

That or to conduct a study on
the neural evolution of my cats.

Bridget’s already halfway
to talking. Aren’t you, Bridget?

I’m afraid not, Mr Wain.
Although since you ask,

Marie seems to be
coping much better of late.

I’m very glad
to hear it.

I have been working
on a psychiatric patent

that I meant to show you.

-It’s for an electric suit.
-An electric suit?

Full body suit.
Made of copper and silken steel.

Attached to a large
mechanical motor

that transmits
a positive current

through the nervous system
and into the brain,

thus curing the patient
of all harmful thoughts

and eradicating
their lunacies entirely.

Would you care
to take a look at it?

-No, thank you, Mr Wain.
-That’s a shame.

I think there’s
a very high chance

that it could cure Marie
entirely of her sickness.

I’ve been called here, Mr Wain,

because your sister Caroline
is concerned for your health.

My health? Why would she be
concerned about my health?

It’s not just Caroline
who is concerned, Louis.

I understand you’re
planning a trip, Mr Wain?

Indeed. I have sent

some colourful missives
to several publications,

including some new examples.

More electrically
influenced samplings.

I’m happy to say
the great William Hearst

of the New York American
has offered me a full-time post

as their cartoonist
at a considerable fee.

Why do you have to go
to New York? It’s too far.

Over 3,000 miles.

Because, as you are
all so keen to remind me,

we are lacking in funds
at the minute.

This is not our house.
We are in debt.

And for a variety of reasons

that we are very well
acquainted with,

my work is currently
of little value on these shores.

What’s more,
the people of America

are light years behind
in their attitude towards cats.

I assume you’ve been reading
about Roosevelt

and his Gentlemen’s Agreement
with the people of Japan.

Japanese children
will now be taught

in the same school
as their American compatriots

and their immigrant parents
can freely roam

in the streets of America,
but can their cats?

I have helped this country
a great deal in this regard.

Now I must help
the cats of America.

For better or worse,
Dr Elphick, I am a prism

and a transformative funnel
for negative electricity.

In these tumultuous times,

I want to make the people
of America smile.

I’ve never seen an American
smile in my life.

You have never seen
an American.

It’s time to change that.

The only reason
that you are here

is my sister has summoned you

because she is
extremely jealous

and has been
since I was 12 years old

and will do anything to prevent
me reaching my full potential.

Mr Wain, there is no question
that you are delusional.

But mere delusions
of grandeur

are not sufficient reason
to commit you to hospital.

I would quite strongly advise
against your trip to New York.

I’d suggest you stay here
to rest,

gain a little perspective

before you proceed to the
next chapter of your life.

But ultimately,
the choice is yours.

You can run away
from your family, Louis.

You cannot run away
from your grief.

It trails you.

Like a violent shadow.

1907

You, sir, you seem
like the kind of man

who wants to keep up
with the times.

The New York Times.

Chateau Guiraud.
Hurry up.

Yes, sir, yes.

Upon arriving
in New York,

Louis was immediately struck
by a palpable difference

in the material content
of the atmosphere.

It was clear
that this was a city

with an enormous surfeit
of electrical energy.

Get those drinks
to table nine now.

Yes, sir.

Every cat fancier knows
puss loves nothing more

than to sit
on a piece of brown paper.

Cats are aware of the dangers
of electrical rheumatism,

and of course if you ever need
to punish a cat,

you could just crumple the paper
to make the sound of thunder.

-Do cats get rheumatism?
-Yes, of course, Miss Simmonds.

Mr Wain, we have been showing
your cat pictures to our staff.

They’ve been laughing.
They’ve been smiling.

Tell him, Alicia.
Tell him I’m not lying.

One of our typists, she took
some your pictures to her kids

and she said that
they were running about

on their hands and knees,
pretending to be cats.

Pretending to be cats!
How cute!

And asking to have cats
for their birthday.

We’re gonna get you out there.
You’re a personality.

Wouldn’t you say, Alicia, honey?
You’re Mr Cat.

-You’re Cat Man.
- Cat Man.

-He’s Cat Man.
-Cat Man.

I think that has
a certain ring to it.

But I like Louis Wain.

I think that has
a certain ring to it too.

Can I ask you a question,
Mr Wain?

Why cats?

Just remember,

however hard things get,

however much you feel
like you’re struggling...

the world is full of beauty.

And it’s up to you
to capture it, Louis.

To look.

And to share it
with as many people as you can.

You all right, Mr Wain?

Her whispers come
in the leafy tickle of the wind,

or the wet crackle
of the electric rain.

And at night, I turn the dial
of the wireless,

hoping to catch clues
in the atmospheric electricity

that comes from the afterlife.

How to continue
with this crusade?

For it was Emily
who first taught me

the true nature of cats.

The true value of cats.

It is only
through understanding cats,

how they are misunderstood
and mistreated,

for no other reason
than simple blind prejudice,

that I came to understand
human beings.

How we are all corrupted
by a foul form of electricity.

And it is only
through the work

of those who have
the transformative gift

that we can defeat it.

Without change, we are
a fallen species with no future,

an animal whose only instinct
is to destroy!

Dear Louis.

After a long and valiant
struggle with the influenza,

our mother passed away
at 11:36 this morning.

Even in her dying weeks,
she lived at her own rhythm,

and regaled us
with stories about our father

and their time together
as young lovers in London.

She spoke of how dearly
she had missed you

but understood
that you had gone on your trip

for the good of the family.

I hadn’t shared with her
the truth about our finances.

But, Louis,
I’m writing to you now

because I want you
to come home.

I know we’ve had
our differences,

but we’re getting old.

And you’ve been too far away
for too long.

Meow. Ha, ha, ha.

Your sister, Caroline.

It’s funny. It’s funny.

Hello?

Let me out!

It’s not safe!

Help! We’re... We’re sinking!
We’re sinking!

Help me, please!

Please, help me!
Help me! Help me!

Please! Please!

Mummy! Daddy!

Help me! Help me! Help me!

Help me!

Just remember...

Just remember...

Mummy!

Daddy!

Help me! Please!

I’m drowning!

1914

You would be excused for hoping

that this is where Mr Wain’s
fortunes would change.

But, alas, a few years
after the death of his mother,

poor Marie was also taken
by the dreaded influenza.

While the creaking heart
of his friend and mentor,

the generous
Sir William Ingram,

finally gave in to his gout.

Louis had continued
to display

a woeful lack
of financial acumen,

and the family sank
ever deeper

in the quicksand
of their debts.

And then,
when attempting one day

to dismount
from a moving omnibus,

he fell head first
into a profound coma

and saw a vision
of the year 1999.

To everyone’s surprise,
his lucky futurist cats

were a great success

and orders were made
all across Europe.

But, at the same time,

negative electricity
around the globe

had risen to a critical level

and military tensions
blistered into a state of war.

He had worked tirelessly
for several months,

but almost all of his cargo
was destroyed

by a German U-boat
in the North Sea.

A number
of British cargo ships

have been sunk
by German submarines,

leaving thousands of pounds
worth of merchandise

to rest at the bottom
of the North Sea.

Initial reports imply
that these vessels

were caught in a crossfire...

Louis?

Caroline would like to see you.

Louis, sit down.

I want you to know that...

I want you to know
that I’m very proud of you.

Shh. Shh.

Enough!
Louis, enough!

Louis!

Stop it, Louis, please!
Calm down!

Louis! Louis!
Louis! Stop it!

Cats have been
worshipped as mystical gods

and maligned as the evil allies
of witchery and sin.

But I think you’re
the first person ever to see

that they are
in fact ridiculous.

They’re silly and cuddly.

And lonely.

Frightened and brave.

Like us.

What’s going on in that
funny little head of yours?

Much better.

You make the world beautiful.

And warm. And kind.

I just wanted to say thank you
for that before it’s too late.

I don’t make
the world beautiful, Louis.

The world is beautiful.

And you’ve helped me
to see that too.

I’ll take you to
what we call the paupers’ ward.

For, um... Well,
for obvious reasons.

I assure you, the patients
are taken care of

in a perfectly
professional manner.

1925

I hope you will report
favourably

back to the committee
you volunteer for?

I’m here to assess the welfare
of your patients, Dr Cooke,

and the running
of your hospital.

Not just on behalf
of my fellow committee members

but on behalf
of the government.

So I shall report back

-according to what I find.
-Indeed.

What is the average length
of stay here at Springfield?

Have you had much success
with turning patients out?

We have had some successes.

But it depends partly
on the patient’s willingness

to cooperate.

And as you can imagine,
Mr Rider,

that varies widely
from person to person.

Louis Wain.

Yes. This is Mr Louis Wain.

You might remember his rather
charming cat pictures

from all those years ago.

How are you, Mr Wain?

It’s, uh... It’s me.

Dan Rider. We met on the train
back from Andover.

I had my...
my sister’s Pomeranian with me.

Cleopatra.

Cleopatra?

Yes.

I’d no idea you were
a patient here, Mr Wain.

He is, I’m afraid,
quite insane.

Uh, but we do our best
to look after him.

Very sad, isn’t it, Mr Rider?

He seems almost entirely

to have lost a handle
on his craft.

Do you like it here, Mr Wain?

There are no cats.

I cannot see... outside.

Oh. That must be
rather difficult

for someone like you,
Mr Wain,

who’s spent his entire life
examining the world,

suddenly not to see it.

I have failed.

I’ve...

I have failed her, Mr Rider.

I don’t think you have failed,
Mr Wain...

from what you have been saying.

Why do you think
Emily wanted you

to keep painting pictures,
Mr Wain?

To help people.

To show them.

Perhaps.

And there’s no doubt
that you’ve done that.

But I have a rather
different theory.

I think she wanted you
to keep painting

so you would not be alone.

When you paint, Mr Wain,
you connect with other people

and you give them
a piece of yourself,

but... they are also
connecting with you.

And that electricity
that you describe...

that you felt
in the presence of Emily,

I’d call that love, Mr Wain.

And that is still here.

With the help
of the Wain sisters,

the plucky Mr Rider
decided to start a fund

in support of Louis

and to raise enough money
to move him

to a much more comfortable
hospital in the countryside,

where they allowed
their patients

to keep cats for comfort.

They were joined
by Wain enthusiasts

up and down the country

and even received the help

of some more influential fans,

like the renowned
author HG Wells,

who made a national plea

on behalf
of the Louis Wain fund.

The artist Louis Wain
made the cat his own.

He invented a cat style.

A cat society.

A whole cat world.

Cats that do not look and live
like Louis Wain cats

are ashamed of themselves.

But now,

as he approaches
the end of his own life,

Mr Wain and his sisters
desperately require

the most generous help
of cat lovers

and right-thinking
people everywhere.

CONTRIBUTE TO THE
LOUIS WAIN FUND

For Louis Wain,

electricity was not just
something that we use

to make toast or to power
a bulb in the bathroom.

It was something bigger,

something so extraordinary
and strange

that the human mind was barely
able even to comprehend it.

A mysterious elemental force
that on occasion,

he could feel shimmering
in the ether,

and the key to all
of life’s most profound

and alarming secrets.

Look.