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By Root 2764 0

and govoreeted in a like learned manner to all the lewdies assembled. When he viddied me coming in he said: “Aha. At this stage, gentlemen, we introduce the subject himself. He is, as you will percieve, fit and well nourished. He comes straight from a night’s sleep and a good breakfast, undrugged, unhypnotized. Tomorrow we send him with confidence out into the world again, as decent a lad as you would meet on a May morning, inclined to the kindly word and the helpful act. What a change is here, gentlemen, from the wretched hoodlum the State committed to unprofitable punishment some two years ago, unchanged after two years. Unchanged, do I say? Not quite. Prison taught him the false smile, the rubbed hands of hypocrisy, the fawning greased obsequious leer. Other vices it taught him, as well as confirming him in those he had long practised before. But gentlemen, enough of words. Actions speak louder than. Action now. Observe, all.”

I was a bit dazed by all this govoreeting and I was trying to grasp in my mind that like all this was about me. Then all the lights went out and then there came on two like spotlights shining from the projection-squares, and one of them was full on Your Humble and Suffering Narrator. And into the other spotlight there walked a bolshy big chelloveck I had never viddied before. He had a lardy like litso and a moustache and like strips of hair pasted over his near-bald gulliver. He was about thirty or forty or fifty, some old age like that, starry. He ittied up to me and the spotlight ittied with him, and soon the two spotlights had made like one big pool. He said to me, very sneery: “Hello, heap of dirt. Pooh, you don’t wash much, judging from the horrible smell.” Then, as if he was like dancing, he stamped on my nogas, left, right, then he gave me a finger-nail flick on the nose that hurt like bezoomny and brought the old tears to my glazzies then he twisted at my left ooko like it was a radio dial. I could slooshy titters and a couple of real horrorshow hawhawhaws coming from like the audience. My nose and nogas and ear-hole stung and pained like bezoomny, so I said:

“What do you do that to me for? I’ve never done wrong to you, brother.”

“Oh,” this veck said, “I do this” - flickedflicked nose again -“and that” - twisted smarting ear-hole - “and the other” -stamped nasty on right noga - “because I don’t care for your horrible type. And if you want to do anything about it, start, start, please do.” Now I knew that I’d have to be real skorry and get my cut-throat britva out before this horrible killing sickness whooshed up and turned the like joy of battle into feeling I was going to snuff it. But, O brothers, as my rooker reached for the britva in my inside carman I got this like picture in my mind’s glazzy of this insulting chelloveck howling for mercy with the red red krovvy all streaming out of his rot, and hot after this picture the sickness and dryness and pains were rushing to overtake, and I viddied that I’d have to change the way I felt about this rotten veck very very skorry indeed, so I felt in my carmans for cigarettes or for pretty polly, and, O my brothers, there was not either of these veshches, I said, like all howly and blubbery: “I’d like to give you a cigarette, brother, but I don’t seem to have any.” This veck went:

“Wah wah. Boohoohoo. Cry, baby.” Then he flick-flickflicked with his bolshy horny nail at my nose again, and I could slooshy very loud smecks of like mirth coming from the dark audience. I said, real desperate, trying to be nice to this insulting and hurtful veck to stop the pains and sickness coming up:

“Please let me do something for you, please.” And I felt in my carmans but could find only my cut-throat britva, so I took this out and handed it to him and said: “Please take this, please. A little present. Please have it.” But he said: “Keep your stinking bribes to yourself. You can’t get round me that way.” And he banged at my rooker and my cut-throat britva fell on the floor. So I said:

“Please, I must do something. Shall I clean your boots? Look, I’ll get