"Robert Rankin - Brentford 05 - The Brentford Chainstore Mas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rankin Robert)

Eyes starting from his head and mouth wide in ?, silent scream, Jim hobbled about the office, fanning at
himself with one hand while holding his steaming
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trousers away from his seared groin region with the other.
Til make my own then,' said the secretary. 'How do you like yours? Two lumps?'
Jim hobbled, flapped and held out his trousers.
'It was horrible,' said the secretary, handing Jim a paper cup.
'It still is,' croaked Jim.
'No, Mr Compton-Cummings, dropping down dead like that.'
'Oh yes. It must have been.'
'One moment, big jolly bear of a man with his trousers round his ankles, the next-'
'Hang about,' said Jim. You don't mean that you and he were-'
Well, of course we were. It's Tuesday, isn't it?'
Yes, but-'
We always do it on Tuesdays.'
What? You and him? I mean, well, you're so . . . and he was . . . well, I mean.'
'A Mason,' said the secretary.
'Eh?'
'A Freemason. I always helped him dress for the lodge meeting on Tuesdays. Here, you weren't
suggesting . . .'
'Perish the thought,' said Jim, crossing his heart with his cup-holding hand and sending tea all over his
shirt. 'Oh, damn.'
You're very clumsy, aren't you?'
'I try not to be.' Jim plucked at his shirt and shook his head. 'So he died while he was putting on his
Masonic regalia.'

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'It was the way he would have wanted to go.'
Was it?'
Well, no, I suppose not really. But you can't choose how you die, can you? It's like you can't choose your
parents. No offence meant.'
'None taken,' said Jim. 'So he just dropped down dead while you were helping him on with his apron and
whatnots.'
'I never touched his whatnots.'
Jim looked the secretary up and down. She was a beautiful young woman, but she was clearly not for
him. Jim had never harboured a love for the toilet gag or the double entendre. The entire Carry On canon
left him cold. Imagine having a relationship with a woman who could turn anything you said into a willy
reference. Nightmare.
'So,' said Jim, once more and slowly. You think that the exertion of putting on his Masonic vestments
caused him to have a heart attack?'
Well, it was either that or the blow job.'




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4

'She said that?' Omally spluttered into his pint of Large. "You're jesting.'
'I am not.' Jim crossed his heart once more, careful to use the hand that was not holding the drink. 'Of