Read Online Sprout Mask Replica by Robert Rankin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Rankin
Ads: Link
slung beneath to catch the falling ash. Thus you could puff away to
your heart’s content, whilst having both hands free for the work in hand. So to
speak.
The
obvious applications were, well, obvious.
Certain
things in life require the smoking of a cigarette if they are to be done with
any degree of conviction. Things such as typing up a novel about an American
private detective, or playing blues piano in a nightclub, or even everyday
things, like working a lathe or digging a hole or driving a car or having sex.
The list
is endless. [15]
My
brother made several modifications to the smoke-eezee, in order to cater to all
tastes. He added extra attachments, to hold a pipe, a cigar, a cigarette in a
holder, a joint. He even constructed a plastic flask that could be filled with alcohol
and strapped to the top of the head. A straw depended from this and led to a
sucking arrangement positioned next to the cigarette. Thus you could smoke and drink without having to use your hands.
Brilliant!
But!
But, do
you ever see people walking around nowadays wearing the smoke-eezee cigarette
harness, with or without the optional head flask? When was the last time you
saw a blues pianist or a rock guitarist wearing one? When was the last time you
made love to someone wearing one?
Never!
That’s when.
And I’ll
tell you for why. The idea was stolen and perverted, and by its perversion it
became a thing of ridicule and contempt.
And it
was all the fault of Woody Guthrie.
He got
hold of one of my brother’s cigarette harnesses, made an adaptation of his own
and slotted in a harmonica.
And the
rest is music history.
And far
from bloody tuneful it is too.
Not
that I think folk music is something that should be tossed aside lightly. On
the contrary, I think it should be hurled with great force.
And
whilst on the subject of music, did you know that it was my brother who
invented the discothèque? Well it was. Sort of. There was once a time before the discothèque and this was the time when my brother came up with another
of his innovative inventions. The one that would lead to my REVELATION, but
one which was once again cruelly lifted and perverted.
My
brother invented the travelling discothèque. Which is not to be confused
with its subsequent rip-off, the mobile discothèque, although it was
mobile, for that was the point.
Allow
me to explain.
My
brother liked going to nightclubs. We had just the one in Ealing, the
imaginatively named, Ealing Club. Many bands, later to find fame, played their
early gigs there, Manfred Mann, The Who, The Rolling Stones, but we never got
to see any of them.
Although
we did get to hear them.
The
reason for this was that the Ealing Club was a bus ride away and once you had
paid your bus fare there was no money left for the entrance fee. So we just had
to stand outside and listen.
My
brother set himself to the solving of this conundrum and this led to the
innovative invention in question.
And it
came about in this fashion.
An
uncle of ours, I forget his name, Uncle Charles it was, had a big old box van.
One of those ones with plenty of headroom in the back and room for thirty or
forty people standing up. My brother’s idea was to start his own nightclub in
the back of this van and cash in on all those folk who only had money enough
for bus fares.
He
would pick up club members at their own front doors, drive them about, taking
in a scenic spot or two for romance and use of a toilet, then drop them home
again at the end of the evening.
Blinder!
In the
big box back of the van there would be a little bar in one corner, a pianist
with cigarette harness in another, a few chairs, a table or two nailed to the
floor and room for people to dance. A bit of moody lighting and away you’d go.
He put adverts in the local paper.
CLUB
300
The
most exclusive nightclub in town.
You
don’t have to go to it.
It will come to you.
Ring
this number for further details.
etc.
He got
some bookings
your heart’s content, whilst having both hands free for the work in hand. So to
speak.
The
obvious applications were, well, obvious.
Certain
things in life require the smoking of a cigarette if they are to be done with
any degree of conviction. Things such as typing up a novel about an American
private detective, or playing blues piano in a nightclub, or even everyday
things, like working a lathe or digging a hole or driving a car or having sex.
The list
is endless. [15]
My
brother made several modifications to the smoke-eezee, in order to cater to all
tastes. He added extra attachments, to hold a pipe, a cigar, a cigarette in a
holder, a joint. He even constructed a plastic flask that could be filled with alcohol
and strapped to the top of the head. A straw depended from this and led to a
sucking arrangement positioned next to the cigarette. Thus you could smoke and drink without having to use your hands.
Brilliant!
But!
But, do
you ever see people walking around nowadays wearing the smoke-eezee cigarette
harness, with or without the optional head flask? When was the last time you
saw a blues pianist or a rock guitarist wearing one? When was the last time you
made love to someone wearing one?
Never!
That’s when.
And I’ll
tell you for why. The idea was stolen and perverted, and by its perversion it
became a thing of ridicule and contempt.
And it
was all the fault of Woody Guthrie.
He got
hold of one of my brother’s cigarette harnesses, made an adaptation of his own
and slotted in a harmonica.
And the
rest is music history.
And far
from bloody tuneful it is too.
Not
that I think folk music is something that should be tossed aside lightly. On
the contrary, I think it should be hurled with great force.
And
whilst on the subject of music, did you know that it was my brother who
invented the discothèque? Well it was. Sort of. There was once a time before the discothèque and this was the time when my brother came up with another
of his innovative inventions. The one that would lead to my REVELATION, but
one which was once again cruelly lifted and perverted.
My
brother invented the travelling discothèque. Which is not to be confused
with its subsequent rip-off, the mobile discothèque, although it was
mobile, for that was the point.
Allow
me to explain.
My
brother liked going to nightclubs. We had just the one in Ealing, the
imaginatively named, Ealing Club. Many bands, later to find fame, played their
early gigs there, Manfred Mann, The Who, The Rolling Stones, but we never got
to see any of them.
Although
we did get to hear them.
The
reason for this was that the Ealing Club was a bus ride away and once you had
paid your bus fare there was no money left for the entrance fee. So we just had
to stand outside and listen.
My
brother set himself to the solving of this conundrum and this led to the
innovative invention in question.
And it
came about in this fashion.
An
uncle of ours, I forget his name, Uncle Charles it was, had a big old box van.
One of those ones with plenty of headroom in the back and room for thirty or
forty people standing up. My brother’s idea was to start his own nightclub in
the back of this van and cash in on all those folk who only had money enough
for bus fares.
He
would pick up club members at their own front doors, drive them about, taking
in a scenic spot or two for romance and use of a toilet, then drop them home
again at the end of the evening.
Blinder!
In the
big box back of the van there would be a little bar in one corner, a pianist
with cigarette harness in another, a few chairs, a table or two nailed to the
floor and room for people to dance. A bit of moody lighting and away you’d go.
He put adverts in the local paper.
CLUB
300
The
most exclusive nightclub in town.
You
don’t have to go to it.
It will come to you.
Ring
this number for further details.
etc.
He got
some bookings
Similar Books
