Just ahead of the Van Doren Quartet in the line is Trevor Hickey, aka 'The Duke', who with no visible means of making music is staring into space, mumbling a speech to himself: '… since the dawn of time… our oldest and most indefatigable foe…'
Geoff keeps catching snatches of this, and curiosity eventually reels him in. 'Uh, Trevor, where's your instrument?'
'Shock and amaze – oh, I'm not giving a musical performance.'
'Not musical…?' Geoff repeats, and then the penny drops. 'Here, you're not going to do Diablos, are you?'
'Mmm-hmm.'
Geoff gazes at him with a mixture of awe and concern. 'It's just,' he says, after a moment, 'you know, the Automator's in there.'
'Mmm-hmm.' Trevor's ceaseless shifting from foot to foot is only partly to do with nerves; he has eaten five cans of beans on either side of going to bed in order to build up a plentiful supply of trapped wind, or as he calls it, 'The Power'.
'I'm just wondering, you know, whether the Christmas concert might not be more of a family-type show?'
'Your family don't fart?' Trevor turns on him.
'Well, they mostly wouldn't set them on fire –'
'That's the beauty of what I do, you see,' Trevor interjects, eyes a-glimmer, already lost in his own myth. 'Turning tedious bodily functions into a magical encounter with the elements – it's what the whole world dreams of…
Geoff keeps catching snatches of this, and curiosity eventually reels him in. 'Uh, Trevor, where's your instrument?'
'Shock and amaze – oh, I'm not giving a musical performance.'
'Not musical…?' Geoff repeats, and then the penny drops. 'Here, you're not going to do Diablos, are you?'
'Mmm-hmm.'
Geoff gazes at him with a mixture of awe and concern. 'It's just,' he says, after a moment, 'you know, the Automator's in there.'
'Mmm-hmm.' Trevor's ceaseless shifting from foot to foot is only partly to do with nerves; he has eaten five cans of beans on either side of going to bed in order to build up a plentiful supply of trapped wind, or as he calls it, 'The Power'.
'I'm just wondering, you know, whether the Christmas concert might not be more of a family-type show?'
'Your family don't fart?' Trevor turns on him.
'Well, they mostly wouldn't set them on fire –'
'That's the beauty of what I do, you see,' Trevor interjects, eyes a-glimmer, already lost in his own myth. 'Turning tedious bodily functions into a magical encounter with the elements – it's what the whole world dreams of…
( Paul Murray )
[ Skippy Dies ]
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