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

Cried the Lord of the Old Button Hole.

Since I came back from Burma, IтАЩll frankly admit,

IтАЩve had scorpions crawling all over my kit,

And if thatтАЩs in the contract, then IтАЩm bowing out,

Cos IтАЩm blessed IтАЩll be had for a bumpkin.

2



Soap Distant strode up Brentford High Street.

There was the vaguest hint of stagger to his stride, but this was the inevitable consequence of two hours
spent in OmallyтАЩs company. Not that Soap was un-acquainted with the grape and grain. Like most of
BrentfordтАЩs manly men he took his sup, but rarely to excess.

However, on this particular occasion Soap had felt the need for a drop of that courage which hails from
the Low Countries. And why not? For hadnтАЩt Soap lately returned from some very low countries
himself? Had he not planted the nationтАЩs flag at the EarthтАЩs core and claimed the realm for England? And
was he not, even now, on his way to keep a three oтАЩclock appoint-ment with the editor of theBrentford
Mercury to negotiate the serialization rights for the account of his epic adventure?

In short, he had, and he had, and he was.

Soap paused before the window of Mr Beefheart the butcher to peruse his reflection. He wanted to
look his very bestest. Create a favourable and lasting impression. Exude a certain air. Make a presence.
Be the business. And things of that nature, generally.

Soap adjusted the filters on his solar goggles. His eyes, still sensitive to sunlight, would sort themselves
out in time. But what about the rest of him? He removed his broad-brimmed black hat and reviewed his
facial featurings.

A gaunt and deathly face peered back at him. It was a whiteтАЩn and that was a fact. Turning his head a
little to the right, Soap noticed that the sunlight shone clear through his hooter. His hair had become
similarly transparent, lending the crown of his head the appear-ance of a fibre-optic lamp.

Soap nodded in approval. He looked mighty fine.
 Within Mr BeefheartтАЩs, a lady in a straw hat caught sight of the ghostly visage staring in at the window,
took it to be the shade of the husband she had done to death and buried in the sprout patch and fainted
dead away.

The way you would.

Soap replaced his hat and continued up the High Street.