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

`The helicopter,' said Soap.

`The helicopter. I had to take my leave at the hurry-up and it's hard to run with your trousers round your
ankles.'

`So you ended up back in the suitcase?'

`I did not. I shinned over her back wall and holed up on the allotments. I've spent the last week in
John's hut.'

`Myhut?'

`Living on nothing but John's spuds.'

`Myspuds?'

`And his spud gin.'

`Myspud gin?'

`And his nudie books.'

`I don't have any nudie books.'

`You don't now. I used them for kindling. It gets bloody cold on that allotment at night.'

`My hut, my spuds, my gin--'

`And your nudie books.'

`I donot read nudie books!'

`Nobodyreads nudie books,' said Small Dave.

`I've had enough,' said Soap. `I'm off'

`I'll come with you,' said Dave.

`You bloody won't. No offence, Dave, but I find all this kind of talk most upsetting. Penistry and nudie
books and knob ends getting bitten off It leaves a very bad taste in the mouth.'

Small Dave looked at John.
And John looked at Small Dave.

Soap looked at the two of them looking, so to speak.

`What?' said Soap.

`Nothing,' said Small Dave. `But if you're leaving do you mind if I use you for cover? You could
smuggle me out under that big black coat of yours.'