"Robert Rankin - Brentford 01 - The Antipope" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankin Robert)

treat you in so shabby a manner, that harass and misuse you, that push you to the very limits of your endurance, and
which by their metaphysical and devious means deprive you of your hard and honestly earned pennies, and having
done so you will confess supreme embarrassment, implore the very ground to swallow you up and possibly shed the
occasional deeply felt tear, then and only then you will beg, impeach, implore and with supreme dignity of stature
approach me for the loan of the very ten shillings and sixpence most recently mentioned by our esteemed bar lord here.
'I am conscious that this request for funds will be made in the most polite and eloquent fashion and that the
wretchedness you will feel when it will be a profound and poignant thing to behold and so considering all this and
considering that Neville is not a man well known for offering credit and that you are my noblest friend and that to
attempt to drink and run as it were would bring down a social stigma upon both our heads I will gladly pay for this
round.'
Omally stood, head bowed, during this touching oration. No more words were spoken and Neville received the ten and
sixpence in a duly respectful manner. The two drained

16
their glasses and Jim excused himself quietly and vanished off into the direction of the bookie shop.
Neville pushed Jim's glass into the washer and spoke softly to the pensive Omally. 'You have a good friend
there in that Jim Pooley,' he said.
John nodded. 'God moves in mysterious circles,' he said.
'How so?'
'Well' - and here John Omally drained his pint glass to the bottom - 'I was touched to my very soul by Jim's
remarks over the purchase of these drinks but strange as the man is he mistook the remark that I made to him
completely.'
'Oh?' said Neville.
 'Yes,' said John. 'I had no intention of borrowing the price of a drink whatever.'
'What then?' said Neville.
'I merely thought to mention to him in as discreet a manner as possible that his flies were undone, but I shan't
bother now.'
John Omally offered Neville all his best for the time of day and left the bar.




Archroy had rented the section of allotment land nearest to the viaduct ever since it had been bequeathed to him
five years before by a half-forgotten uncle. Each night during the season he would come from his shift at the wiper
works and sit in the doorway of his hut smoking his pipe and musing about the doings of the day. Omally
owned two adjacent strips, having won one of them from Peg's husband at the paper shop, and old Pete had a
further one.

17
Over in the corner was the untouched plot that had once belonged to Raymond, who in a previous episode had
been snatched away into outer space by the invisible star creatures from Alpha Centauri. You could see a lot of
life on an allotment.
This particular warm spring evening Archroy lazed upon an orange box smoking the blend of his taste and
thinking that the world would be a better place if there was a bounty put upon the heads of gypsy car-dealers. Not
that he had anything against them in general, but in particular he was very resentful. Archroy was not only the
tenant of an allotment, he was also a man of marriage. Archroy's marriage was a nebulous affair, he working day
shifts and his wife working nights. Their paths rarely crossed. Omally thought this was the ideal state of
wedded bliss and prayed for a woman who might wed him then take a job overseas.
Archroy accepted the acclaim of his fellows for choosing so wisely, but privately he was ill at ease. Certainly he
saw little of his wife, but of her workings and machinations the catalogue was endless. Archroy kept coming home