Open Writing

Richard Mallinson gives a cautionary account of the sad manufactured life of Dan Tinsley.

The Fabricated Dan Tinsley

They decided to fabricate a new leader of the psychiatric profession. Or rather to have one fabricated for them.

They paid for him to be put together in that secret south coast research centre where there are millions of body parts and hundreds of surgeons.

The work was efficiently carried out and after a few weeks the new leader, looking about 35, was given physical and mental tests, which he easily passed.

They named him Dan Tinsley, for no obvious reason.

He carried out his duties with charm and intelligence and was often seen on television. A female columnist called him 'the acceptable face of psychiatry'.

He married a lovely young barrister called Anita, who knew as much, or as little, as she needed to know about his provenance.

They were a convivial couple and often gave dinner parties - during one of which Dan suddenly aged to look more like 85 than 35 and Anita rang the number Dan had given her in case of emergency.

Three men in grey suits arrived within minutes.

Guests were brusquely reminded of the official secrets act and the dire penalties for breaching it. Then they were ushered out.

Dan's minders bundled him into the back of a curtained limousine which sped down to the coast, reaching the research centre just after midnight.

(Anita, having been given an injection, was left behind.)

Sir Vernon Bracker, the warden, was waiting outside as the limo drew up on the gravel. He said something and Dan was removed and placed in a wheelchair.

Dan's minders and all the surgeons who were on night duty were asked to go to the main seminar room, where Sir Vernon spoke at length.

Meanwhile, in his wheelchair in a cold corridor with a blanket over his knees but nothing over his hideously shrivelled face and head, Dan sighed and died.

Now Anita, who is pregnant, is seeking compensation, and I can't say I blame her.