"Robert Rankin - Sex, Drugs & Sausage Rolls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankin Robert)

тАШTwenty... twenty.., ass... sas... sass...тАШ SoapтАЩs jaw flapped like a candle in the wind.

тАШFair pulled the old shagpile rug from under us all, dontcha know,тАЩ said Mr Justice, shifting suddenly and
seamlessly into his Lord of the Old Button Hole persona*. тАШBut listen, me old pease pudding, canтАЩt spare



*It was a case of either Multiple Personality Disorder or Demonic Possession, depending on your
particular belief system. However, given events which are soon to occur, it is safe to assume the latter.



you any more time for the moтАЩ. Got me personal Penist popping over in five little ticks of the clock to,
give me me Tuesday reading. So why donтАЩt you cut along like a nice gentleman and call back Thursday
with the old snip-a-snaps. And hereтАЩ тАФ the Lord fished out his wallet and extracted from this a
one-pound note тАФ тАШyou seem a decent enough cove. Take this as a down payment on the exclusive.
CanтАЩt say fairer than that, can I?тАЩ

Soap took the oncer in a pale and trembling hand.

тАШAnd no naughties like going to another paper, eh? IтАЩm blessed IтАЩll be had for a bumpkin, you know.тАЩ

тАШNo,тАЩ said Soap, тАШno,тАЩ and he shook his head numbly and dumbly.

He gazed down at the oncer in his hand and then he screamed very very loudly.

For the face that grinned up from that one-pound note was not the face of Her Majesty. It was instead a
big and beaming face. A bearded face. A toothy face.

It was the face of Richard Branson.

Rain of Frogs




Down it came in great big buckets,

Emptied from the sky.

Watch the batsmen run for cover,
Cursing you and I.

Cursing rain and speedy bowlers,

Ill-timed runs and garden rollers.

Saying тАШThis is not my day, I wish that I would die.тАЩ