"Robert Rankin - Brentford 03 - East Of Ealing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankin Robert)

parish. His hand, which had even then been snaking across towards the peppermint packets,
returned itself to the tweedy depths of a bottomless trouser pocket. With a cheery, 'Good morning
to you, Norman,' Pooley bade the shopkeeper that very thing.
'Same to yourself, Jim,' said Norman. 'The daily, would it be?'
'The very same, five Woodys and a Sporting Life. I think that today I am a little more than usually
liable to pull off "The Big One".'
'Of course.' Norman deftly drew out a packet of
cigarettes and the aforementioned racing paper without for a moment removing his gaze from the
approximate location of Pooley's ever-wandering hands. It was not that Jim was by nature a dishonest
man, but living daily upon his wits, he dared never let any opportunity, no matter how small, slip by.
'You wear the smile of a man who has already pulled off that ever elusive big fellow,' said Jim,
noting well the twisted smirk still firmly plastered across Norman's face.
The shopkeeper passed Jim his life-support apparatus and nodded wildly. 'I have, I have,' said he,
amidst a flurry of nose-tapping. 'Although on this occasion, as upon others, I cannot take full credit
for it all myself.'
'No matter that. Many a wealthy man owes his success in life to the labours of a deceased relative.'
Jim slipped his cigarettes into his breast-pocket and rolled his newspaper. 'So what is it then?
Something of a scientific nature I have no doubt.'
'The very same.'
'Might I hazard a guess?'
'Be very pleased to.'
Jim stroked at the stubble of his chin, which he had been meaning to shave off for at least a day or so,
and cocked his head upon one side. 'Now, if I am not mistaken,' said he, 'your recent obsession, and I
use the word in the kindest possible way, has been with energy. The solar panels upon your roof do
not go unnoticed hereabouts and the fact that you possess the only Morris Minor in the
neighbourhood which runs upon coke has raised more than the occasional
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eyebrow. Am I right therefore in assuming that it is towards energy, power, and things of that nature
that you have turned your enormous intellect?'
Norman's head bobbed up and down after the fashion of a toy dog in a Cortina rear window.
'Aha, then if I am not mistaken I will hazard a guess that you have rediscovered the long lost secret
of perpetual motion.'
Norman clapped his hands together. 'You got it,' he crowed. 'Got it in one. I am glad that I did not
lay money upon it. You got it in one.'
'Naturally,' said Jim, blowing on his fingernails. 'But I feel you knew that I would.'
Norman nodded again. 'True,' he said. 'I must admit that I had been somewhat puzzled by the ever-
increasing number of little bright patches appearing upon the window of my kitchenette. However,
noticing of late that each corresponds exactly in size and shape to the blot of dirt upon the end of your
nose, all would seem to be revealed. But what do you think, Jim? The marvel of the age would you say?
Feel free to offer criticism; my shoulders although physically bowed are metaphorically broad.'
Jim thrust his rolled-up paper into a jacket pocket. 'If you will pardon me saying this, Norman, I
have never myself had a lot of truck with the concept of perpetual motion. You will recall, no doubt,
me saying that the chap in Chiswick who gave all those lectures at the Memorial Library propounding
the theory of reincarnation has died yet again.'
Norman nodded yet again.
 'And you will also recall my brilliant ban mot made
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upon the news of his passing, that the trouble with those fellows is that they are here today and
here tomorrow?'
Norman winced.